#cause the way it is now it feels so out of the blue like you joined my party yesterday why are you already trynna fuck

[lunarxcity]

Why now? (Part III to Why Me?)

azriel x rhys' sister! reader

angst/eventual comfort (Reader is in her healing era, finally being able to process the mating bond, growth may not always be exciting but it is very necessary )

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Parts I and II if you missed them

-

The first few days in the Autumn court were dreadful to say the least. You couldn't open your blinds for the first day, couldn't open the blinds for the second, and couldn't get out of your room until the third. Being in love with Azriel and having to watch him pursue Elain was one thing, but finding out Azriel had been your mate this entire time and watching him possibly invoke a Blood Duel with one of your friends over Elain was something completely different.

Eris in all his cruelty had actually backed off and left you alone to sulk for the first few days. An enchanted tray of food that never goes empty was brought with a cup that magically replenished itself. You didn't even begin to process all that had happened, you've just been allowing yourself to sulk in your misery.

The shadow had tried to make sure you ate and drank, bringing you the cup and insisting you drink water to replenish the liquids you had lost from crying. You drank the water and then proceeded to launch the cup at the shadow which swiftly caught it and put it back on the tray. Even in your absolute misery, Azriel was still taking care of you and you hated him for it.

By day 3 your melancholy had been replaced with fury and you were angry. Angry at the Mother for putting you in this situation, angry at Azriel for not reciprocating your feelings or even noticing, angry at Elain for being so perfect.

On this day, you actually opened your door to allow in a visitor. The visitor was the fox you had initially chased down, and yes, you let it in so it could terrorise the shadow, but it was company nonetheless and provided you with some form of entertainment.

Day 4 you had sat in your room and stewed in your thoughts. Where did your feelings for Azriel end, and where did the mating bond begin, or had they been one and the same this entire time? Some cruel, desperate part of you contemplated telling him, only to see the hurt on his face when he realises the damage he has done to you. Another part, tells you that maybe he has known this entire time, but hasn't cared about you enough to tell you, or worse he cares so much that he can't reject you.

You wanted to hate him, but most of all you wanted to hate Elain. Sweet and lovely Elain, who was always compassionate and brave, but you didn't have it in you to hate her for being what you weren't. You couldn't hate her because she wanted a choice in who she gets to end up with, after everything she has been through, she deserves to be happy with someone whom she loves. The same goes for Azriel, and if that isn't you, you're going to have to find a way to make peace with that because you would never want him to be shackled to you by a mating bond when his heart yearns for another. Keeping him bound to you for any reason outside of his will isn't love that's a prison. You couldn't be the reason that he would be bound to another against his will, not after what your father did to him in the War. You could never do that to him, not matter how badly you wanted to be with him

The first time you had noticed something was going on between them is when you had been on a shopping trip with Nesta and Elain. She gravitated towards this one pair of sapphire earrings and had asked you how you think she would look like in blue, it wasn't her normal choice of colour, but she wanted to try it out. Alarms started blaring in your head, but you decided to think nothing of it not wanting to entertain the idea of her going after Azriel.

Then you saw Azriel gaining a sudden interest in gardening and spending time with Elain in her garden. He is allergic to pollen. He has always disliked gardens, they leave him with watery red eyes and an itchy throat. He would never take you to the gardens of Velaris, but he would tolerate them for Elain.

The final nail in the coffin was when he started to do all the things he would normally do with you with Elain. At that point you knew and you didn't need any evidence to confirm it. Yours and Azriel's coffee runs and bakery crawls became far and few in comparison to him and Elain's plant nursery trips and walks in the garden. When she came back gushing about how lovely the gardens of Velaris were, you had to leave the room and immediately head to training for the safety of yourself and everyone around you.

Yes you still saw Azriel every day. Yes you guys would still train together. Yes you were still close, but the it was never just the two of you anymore. It was family game nights, training with Cassian, or debriefs with him and Rhys. As second in command of the Night Court, you had many duties and threw yourself into your week to deal with this. You went on trips to Dawn and Day back to back when you first started realising that maybe Azriel's priorities were shifting and that maybe you weren't his number 1 anymore.

-

It was now day 5 and Eris has had enough of your sulking. He barges into your room, opens the blinds and yanks off your covers. "Get up. You've had your days to wallow in self-pity, it's time to get back to the real world and stop moping around . You're making the place very grim, you know." You could kill him. How dare he-

"I will set the bed on fire if you don't get up." How dare he? That bastard- "Move." You get up at the first sight of flames emanating off of his fingertips.

You assumed that you looked as awful as you felt. Finding and losing your mate will leave you caring very little about your appearance. "Give me time. I am going through a lot have patience-" You grumbled at Eris, pouting like a child.

The fire that had previously danced between Eris' fingertips was nothing compared the fire now flickering in his gaze. "I had patience 400 years ago when I first began to hear about this whole ordeal. I had patience watching you pine after this male for hundreds of years while you threw yourself into different things, whether it be family or work. I had patience when you lied to me a hundred times over, saying you were done with this." He swiftly walks up to you, making sure you don't shy away from his tough love that feels almost like cruelty at the moment.

He grabs you're shoulders, almost as if he was trying to snap you out of whatever trance you had been under for the past few hundred years. "My patience ran out the second he became your mate, and yours should, too. I refuse to sit and watch you fall apart over the prospect of a rejected mated bond, and I refuse to watch him kill my brother because he can't be bothered to deal with his own feelings and would rather die a martyr because he feels like he doesn't deserve to live out a happy life. You deserve better, and frankly, if you want to let yourself fall to his depths, I will let you drown. "

His gaze is cruel and unwavering, but you know Eris well enough to know that he is trying to bring out the worst feelings in you. All the anger and resentment and hurt to try to force you into action. It's hurtful but it fully might be working.

"I had begun to think that you abandoned the mask of a villain. Good to see you still have it in your arsenal." You respond cooly, just because you saw his point doesn't mean you were happy about it. Siding with Eris over Azriel feels like a betrayal in its own right.

"Fine. It appears that I've been so focused on him for so long, that I forgot to shift the focus back on myself. Now, what do I need to do to move on?

Eris' fox-like grin returned and you immediately regretted agreeing to whatever plan he was scheming up.

-

Apparently the key to dealing with a one-sided mating bond is focusing on yourself and becoming your own individual that isn't dependent on anyone else. Shocker.

Everyone says it, but it's like when you were sick and your mom would force you to drink this disgusting medicine saying it would make you feel better. You would fight her with everything you had to not taste that gross liquid and you would fail every time, immediately after drinking it all your symptoms are relieved and you end up feeling much better. It's a terrible feeling really.

Even though you had hobbies, you rarely did anything for yourself anymore. When Eris asked you what it was that you liked doing in your free time, you just kind of blanked and were about to respond telling him that you read a lot.

"Reading doesn't count. I mixed up our novels and I still cannot get the deplorable scenes I had read out of my head. I barely think it counts as literature at that point." You were about to offer a retort about how all forms of literature are valid and that you actually do read educational texts when an arrow came nearly flying at your head.

"First hobby we're trying, Archery." Eris says excitedly, much to excited for someone who nearly killed you. You look at him, appalled, "Archery? How is this going to help with anything?" He leads you around the hedges of his gardens to an archery range and hands you a bow from a storage shed that appears to house weapons. Where he got his bow from who knows? It's Eris.

"Trying new things is a good way to find out what you like and don't like. When was the last time you did something that put you out of your comfort zone? Besides, I haven't had anyone to compete with in a while, and Lucien refuses to play with me after I shot him in the shoulder." He says this so casually like he didn't shoot an arrow at his brother because he was probably winning.

"You don't have many friends do you?" You ask half sarcastic because really who is he spending his time with? "It's not my fault. I confused the red of his hair with the red of the bullseye, truly a mistake anyone could make." You send a prayer to the Mother to help you and to get Eris more friends to terrorise, so his focus isn't on you.

He shoots an arrow, and it lands perfectly on target. You guys go back and forth for hours. You struggle at first, but finally win the 27th game. You don't care that its' because one of the foxes decided to run interference by biting on Eris' pant leg. You will take the victory where you can get it.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you guys fell into a routine. You would begin to feel useless if you were just sitting in Autumn, not doing anything, so Eris put you to work. You would help Eris with his plan to overthrow Beron, actually doing your courtly duties and gathering intel from your spies. You would balance out the work with new hobbies that you guys would try because while you needed help shifting your focus back to you, Eris needed some fun in his life.

The next hobby you guys did was painting, which you were terrible at, and Eris excelled. Then baking, which you were surprisingly amazing at, leading to Lucien, who was visiting, getting into a sparring match over the last cupcake with Eris. You had to intervene and cut the cupcake in half when you saw flames being thrown. You accidentally exploded a lab during potions making which led to a temporary hobby ban. You learned how to sew, which Eris was terrible at as he kept accidentally poking his hand with a needle. Blowing glass, origami, gardening, curses, card tricks, candle making you guys had done everything you could name and before you knew it 3 months had gone bye.

Yes you still thought of Azriel, but the mating bond had gone from feeling like you had been stabbed in the chest to the feeling of a fly landing on your arm. Slightly annoying and you know that it's there, but if you aren't focused on it you weren't able to feel it.

After the first month, you had saved the shadow that followed you here from the fox's reign of terror. It had been keeping an eye on you, but it was giving you space. You wore it as a bracelet from then on, it was actually so nice having a little helper you could see why Azriel liked them so much.

You wrote to Rhys almost every day, missing your brother more than anyone. You guys even talked mind to mind whenever you both were free, which was not as often as you liked. He told you how things were and how everyone was doing well. He tiptoed around Azriel and Elain, not wanting to bring them up for obvious reasons. When Cassian heard that you had been writing to Rhys, he demanded to have a weekly letter as well, and when he told Nesta she needed to be included in his, which led to Mor finding out, which led to Feyre, and well, now you're regularly corresponding with all of the inner circle except Azriel and Elain. Amren will leave a sentence or two on someones letter if you're lucky.

You missed your family, but you're glad you left. In your time away you rediscovered an old passion of yours that had been long forgotten, learning. You were able to read and research to your hearts content, which you hadn't had the time or energy for in over 150 years. You are always so preoccupied on the things that you do know that you forget about how much there is that is out there waiting for you to learn. You learned about botany and even created a new type of Autumn maple tree that you planted on Eris' estate. You talked to one of Eris' healers when you fell of your horse during your trial with horse jumping and she told you about there is steal a lot to be uncovered in how fae magic reacts to healing and how the healers don't know why they can't heal certain wounds. Wounds that take longer to detect, illnesses of the body that slowly deteriorate it, unlike a swift arrow wound that one could easily see, were almost immune to magic relying on pure medicinal healing. While medicinal healing is a lot better than nothing, it was not on the same level as magic and could not always heal.

You read every fae magic anatomy book you could get your hands on, every healing book in the Autumn Court library. You even took a trip to the Dawn Court for a week to conduct your research with their healers. You guys actually hit a real breakthrough and the high healer of Dawn said she was going to meet with the other courts to discuss your findings. Nothing tangible yet, but it was looking good.

This leaves you right now, looking at a letter from Madja. She heard about your research and wants you to come back to Night and continue working with her. She says she has the resources to possibly find the answers you're looking for. You've had this letter for a while, almost two weeks now, and you have yet to respond. When you first got it, the prospect of even seeing Azriel again put your head in a tailspin. Then you realised, you didn't care as much as you would've. You have found a passion for something bigger than yourself, something that could help your court and the fae of Prythian. You've had your ups and downs and yes you have missed Azriel more than you have ever imagined, but you have been able to grow into your own person.

You're comfortable with yourself and being alone in a way you never have been before, always so preoccupied with the fear of Azriel not wanting you, you never questioned if you had even wanted yourself. These past 3 months had forced to you grow. You never considered what life would be like post-Azriel or post-when-you-find-your-mate, being alone was something you had equated to failing, especially when Rhys found Feyre and Cassian found Nesta. The idea of not having someone became a fear that was in the background of your mind. Now you realize, that it is okay to not have a mate. You can still have a fulfilling life filled with doing the things you love and being around the people you love. Just because your mate had found another didn't mean you had to fall apart. You had found the peace within yourself. Damn Eris and his ways.

You pull out a piece of paper and begin to write out your response. Your time in Autumn has ended, looks like it's time to go back to the Night Court.

part iv

-

taglist: @alimarie1105 @chaosabroad @bbontenswhhore @tele86 @ashblooddragons @circe143 @i-am-infinite @princesssunderworld @thestartitaness @tiffany-xx @cpfantasybooks @lucia-valentinaa @jennigsonl

note: This story is really going a lot slower than I thought, I think I'm going to turn it into a full-blown series now since I really want to do justice to this relationship. I know the chapter is a bit of an annoying self-help arc and is uneventful compared to the last two, but sometimes the key to finding a fulfilling love is self-acceptance. Thank you for all the support on this series I can't wait to see where this takes us <3

note note: I wanted to get this part out quick so it is unedited...

[gpcwsl]

Prompt: Leah is upset, prob crying and r is comforting her xxx

With THIS request too - Mixing these two together cause it fits.

Leah Williamson x Reader

Three tests

WC: 528

MasterList

Warnings: Pregnancy, Strong emotions (happy tears), short, Nothing heavy, just lots of love and joy.

Song: You Are The Reason - Calum Scott & Leona Lewis (duet version).

The house is quiet. A soft hum from the fridge, the occasional creak of the floorboards as you shift your weight. The test sits on the counter, its tiny screen changing your world with one word. Pregnant.

Your hands tremble as you pick it up, your breath uneven. It’s not real—not yet. These things can lie. You grab another test. Then a third. Minutes stretch like hours, the silence pressing in. The results appear. Positive. All of them.

A shaky laugh escapes you, tears welling in your eyes. You press a hand to your stomach, a subconscious movement. There’s life there. A part of you. A part of Leah. A family you had only dreamed of, now growing inside you.

The front door unlocks. Your heart leaps as you hear Leah’s familiar footsteps, the rustling of shopping bags as she steps inside.

“Love? I’m back,” she calls out, kicking the door shut behind her. She’s balancing bags in her arms, her blonde hair slightly messy from the wind. Her eyes find yours, and she smiles, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to your lips despite her full hands. “Missed me?”

You nod, your throat suddenly tight. “Put the bags down. I need to tell you something.”

Something in your voice makes Leah pause. Her blue eyes search your face, and you see the flicker of concern, the way her brows pull together slightly. But she does as you say, setting the bags aside before stepping toward you again.

“What is it?” Her voice is gentle, but there’s a tremor beneath it.

You swallow hard, gripping her hands. “Leah,” you whisper, barely able to say the words before emotion clogs your throat. “I’m pregnant.”

The air shifts. A moment of stunned silence. Leah’s lips part, her eyes flickering between yours, searching—needing to confirm she heard you right.

“You’re—” Her voice breaks before she can finish. A deep breath, then another. Tears brim in her eyes. “You’re serious?”

You nod, feeling your own tears spill over. “Three tests. All positive.”

A shaky laugh bursts from her, disbelief and joy tangling together. Then she moves. Fast. Her arms wrap around you, crushing you against her chest, her body trembling with the force of her emotions. “Oh my God,” she breathes, her voice breaking completely. “Oh my God.”

You hold her just as tightly, feeling the damp warmth of her tears against your neck. “We’re having a baby,” you murmur, running a soothing hand through her hair.

Leah suddenly pulls back, her eyes wild with joy. She drops to her knees before you, hands resting so delicately against your stomach as if afraid to press too hard. Then, she leans in, pressing the softest kiss to your belly.

A choked sob escapes her. She looks up at you, her face flushed, tears streaming freely now. “I can’t wait to start a family with you,” she whispers, her voice raw with love.

You sink to your knees with her, cupping her face as she cries. “Me neither.”

And in that moment, with Leah holding you like you were her entire world, you knew—this was the beginning of something beautiful.

[vauer]

The Trophy

��∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰

SUMMARY: fucking your best enemy in the club bathroom at the LA GP afterparty

CW: Formula-1!au, fem!reader, sub!Jinx, kinda looser!reader, fingering, degradation, squirting, ass and pussy slapping, mention of pee, that's all(?)

NOTES: kinda late with this idea, but anyway. Can be mistakes, english isn't my first language 💌

You couldn't believe it.

Your car was way better.

Your team was way better.

You were better.

And she still was first. That damn little red bull with her dumb blue pigtails that she always had to tuck into her suit, making the other drivers laugh. On the track next to her, there was no laughing matter. She was the driver who justified the name of her team. With her driving style, it was surprising how she was allowed on the track at all. And how she hasn't earned a million penalty points in her racing license in just a couple of races yet.

Your team has been the absolute favorite since the beginning of the season. The car was perfect. McLaren has done a great job here. And there she was. The one who managed to beat you by a hundredth of a second when her partner was barely making it to the middle of the peloton.

So, standing on the podium next to her, you wanted nothing more than to stick that damn bottle of champagne in her pretty round ass.

And now, in the public bathroom of some club in Los Angeles, you wanted nothing more than to make her go dumb on your fingers, which you were pumping in and out of her wet tight cunt.

You scissor your fingers inside her spongy walls while she whimpers pathetically, pressed against the full-length restroom mirror. You can feel that sweet fluttering of her walls every time someone passes by the toilet.

“Please… Faster… I know it's not your forte, but still,” she giggles dumbly, rocking her hips against your fingers. Her face looks even more slutty than her dripping pussy, and her magnetic voice is even more husky than usual.

You smack her ass cheek roughly, feeling her walls deliciously squeezing your fingers inside from the sudden slap. You like the way her face is pressed against the mirror, the way she drools down her chin, the way her eyes roll back in pleasure and excitement at being caught, the way her pussy muscles squeeze your fingers so hard when she looks at herself in the mirror. It was the only way to feel like you could control her. And the only way to recoup your defeat on the track.

You roughly pulled your fingers out, leaving her pussy torturously empty and leaking with slick arousal. The only evidence that your fingers were inside is the thin threads of her arousal connecting your digits to her puffy cunt. Jinx squirms pathetically, trying to get at least some kind of stimulation, but you interrupt her with a sharp slap on her pussy, causing her to squeal and almost fall.

“What was that for?” she whines and tries to hold on to the mirror while you squeeze her tiny clit between your fingers, gently rubbing it. You can feel it throbbing and pulsing, signaling Jinx's impending orgasm. She's squirming and desperately trying to rub against your hand to get some relief.

“Beg for it, champ,” you chuckle wickedly, teasing her sensitive dripping folds with feather-light touches of your pads. Your thumb taps her poor clit making her squirm and whine from lack of stimulation.

You need to see her beg. To see her surrender. And she knows it. So she begs.

“Please, love… “ she moans, pornographically arching her back to give you the show you want.

In the end, you're the one who surrenders. Sticking your fingers back into her needy hole and fucking her until she can't stand or think straight. All she can do is buck her hips to meet your hand, as you rub her favorite sweet spot inside, and squirt all over the restroom floor without caring in the world. She giggles a little hysterically and bubbles some rubbish, and now you're wondering if she really came or if she just peed herself to make a mess on the damn floor.

This thought should have made you uncomfortable, but you press yourself closer to her back, biting the almost transparent, porcelain skin on her neck, fucking another orgasm out of her now loose hole.

And even if next week you want to kill her on the track, right now the most valuable trophy is having her cumming on your fingers like this.

NOTES: guys, would you actually pay for my writings, if I made a boosty account? Gonna post some controversial(?) works there (and I just really need some money ｡ﾟ･ (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡) Btw, I won't stop posting here anyway.

You can still send me request here ♡(>ᴗ•)

[seasidefallenangel]

now say i'm the only one you need

ranking the bllk men on how good of a boyfriend they are ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, karasu tabito, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu, michael kaiser, alexis ness

song from here listen to it to get a kiss from me

༄ isagi: 10/10

one third of the “perfect boyfriend trio.” he’s incredibly attentive of all your needs and overall is very good at balancing his soccer career with your relationship. dictionary definition of “walk him like a dog.” anything you say goes and he’s more than happy with things being that way. actually has a pretty high tolerance for whatever things you might put him through, he tends to be good at solving problems before they can spiral out of control. the most you’ll have to deal with is the fact he can be kind of on the more awkward and shy side of things, unsure how to really be in a relationship. he wasn’t really popular or well known at all before blue lock, so at most he had crushes that were one-sided. his friends joke and tease about how you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. he doesn’t even care that they’re right.

༄ bachira: 9/10

the thing with bachira is that you’re not gonna date him unless you’re okay with all of his quirks, so there’s really nothing “bad” or unexpected going into the relationship. at his worst he can be clingy and a smidge overbearing, but he’s terrified of you deciding you want something more, better than him. he’s very easy going because of this, and really won’t have any disagreements with whatever ideas strike you. you’re actually a rock in this life, and he feels safe confiding all the thoughts clawing at his mind when he’s being held in your arms. despite what people may think, he does have a calmer temperament to him - generally after practice or late at night. he’s a big cuddle bug and will most likely fall asleep on your stomach, clinging to you so you can’t leave him.

༄ chigiri: 5/10

rose-glasses off, chigiri kinda sucks. he’s very selfish without the whole egoist thing going on, and it’s confirmed in canon that a lot of people get turned off by his personality after being drawn in by his looks. he obviously has some interest in you if you’re dating, but that doesn’t mean his bad traits magically go away. his mindset is very “me before you.” if you’re arguing he’s going to bring up points for the sole purpose of hurting you because he has to be right. he has too much pride to admit when he's wrong but also to apologize for his actions. on the opposite side of that, though, is compliments and the like are easy for him to give you. he’s pretty open with his opinions so if he likes a certain thing about you he has no qualms with telling you as such. he would never deny you're dating and generally likes to show you off, wanting everyone to know he bagged an incredible person. he’s not the worst person to date, but it probably won’t be worth anything as a long term relationship.

༄ nagi: 6/10

nagi is my favorite character and that’s why i need to say this. he does have some merit for what it’s worth. he’s very physically affectionate and is also really easy to be around. i see him as being more open to compromise if you’re stern enough with him. he might complain a bit but he’s not that hard to convince. the biggest issue with him is that he just… doesn’t care. if he goes to a new cafe with you it’s cause you asked him, not because he wanted to. it’s not that he doesn’t love you, he just doesn’t process things like this in his brain. the concept of ‘doing things for your partner before they ask’ doesn’t click. he’s not a mind reader, so isn’t just being vocal about what you want the easiest? he doesn’t really expect much from you as a partner so easily grows confused at why you have these random demands and expectations from him when you know exactly how he is. it might not be a dealbreaker, but it does make you question if he’s ever actually enjoying his time with you.

༄ reo: 8/10

reo’s biggest issues are 1.) he's absurdly jealous and 2.) his money. the thing with his money is the fact he uses it almost as a deflector of sorts. if you have a genuine problem you need to sort out with him, he's giving you new jewelry, designer bags, dinners at michelin star restaurants instead of talking it out. he doesn’t want to give you the chance to bring up your displeasure in regards to something he’s done. it’s his default answer because it’s the only thing people have wanted from him. reo is actually very scared of conflict. he’s worried you’ll leave him at the first sign of him not being the picture perfect boyfriend that’s expected from him, which ties into the jealousy. if someone has a trait you admire, he’ll mold himself to fit that thing you seem to like.  he hates when you even acknowledge other people’s talents or attractive features  (save for nagi.) speaking of nagi, it’s played out but i do believe he’s the only person reo will share you with. if nagi wants to cuddle, kiss, act like your boyfriend, reo has no issue as long as he’s involved too. when you’re someone reo truly loves, he’ll let you do pretty much anything to him with no repercussions. it’s very easy to take advantage of him as long as you promise stay by his side.

༄ rin: 7/10

no matter how much he denies it, rin tries very hard to be sae. he wants to be the nonchalant boyfriend, never losing his cool and making it seem like you’re always running back for more. in truth, he couldn’t be more obvious about how badly he needs you. he has this sort of non-stop identity crisis going so he’s going to have this front of “fine with you, fine without you.” he wants you to think he doesn’t need you that bad because he’s worried you’ll seem him as weak. the thing that makes it obvious is that when you’re threatening to leave because he’s just too hot and cold, he caves instantly. teeth gritted, he’ll ask what you want him to change, what kind of person should he be for you? after sae, he became so desperately starved for love that the second you started dating  he felt like he was suffocating, always needing your validation but unable to ask for it. similarly to reo, he’s easy to take advantage of if you insinuate that you’re unhappy with something currently in your relationship. be gentle because you can break him apart and he’ll always think it was his fault.

༄ sae: 9/10

i’m gonna go against the grain and say that sae is actually a great boyfriend because he wouldn’t bother getting into a relationship to begin with if he didnt think it’s worth his time. he’s an incredibly self assured person so he has no reason to be all wishy-washy with who he’s interested. sae’ll make it clear he wants to date you and obviously you’re reciprocating because duh, he’s sae itoshi. from the get go he’ll remind you that soccer is his career, his lifeblood, and while he loves you more, his priorities lay there. the fact he straight up admits it instead of letting it become a festering issue is exactly why he’s so good because neither of you will have wasted time in the relationship. he’s also easier to talk to than one might think. sae generally believes drawn out arguments are pointless  and wasting energy on them doesn’t help anyone, so any that you two have are squashed pretty quickly. affection comes pretty easily to him but he can be a little emotionally absent at his worst. it’s not really something that changes over time, but he has other methods of making sure you know he adores you. it’s very “what you see is what you get.” if you’re acquainted with him at all, there’s really no negative surprises or unexpected twists that put a damper on the romance between you both. if nothing else, he makes sure the whole world know exactly who you belong to, and it leaves you with no room to doubt he plans to keep you by his side forever.

༄ karasu: 10/10

one third of the “perfect boyfriend trio.” this is generally a shock to people who know the kind of company he keeps around but the thing is that karasu doesn’t approve of otoya’s behavior. he goes from insinuating otoya could be doing better things with his time than leading girls on to flat out telling him he’s pathetic for not holding down a relationship. most of the girls who have their hearts broken by otoya fall in love with karasu right after from how kindly he treats them and the way he apologizes for his friends nasty habits. karasu holds a lot of respect for you as a person since he’s attracted to people he can analyze and read into. a common bonding activity is just him asking your opinions on certain topics or how you’d approach a theoretical situation and he’ll sit back and listen, trying to dig into your mind. he’s also very self aware of his flaws and will admit he isn’t perfect but is always working to better himself (“his weakness is that he can't be nice to people he thinks are mediocre and knows he needs to fix that.”) it’s not like you’ll never have issues, but he always resolves them in a way that doesn’t add tension or doubt to your relationship. he’s also good with all 5 love languages and prefers to show them all to you, but if you have ones you prefer or dislike then he can easily adjust. he’s always listening to you, learning about you, wanting to be the best version of himself he can for you.

༄ otoya: 6/10

the glaring bone of contention with otoya is obvious to anyone who knows him - but not in the way you think. otoya can be a good boyfriend if he wants ; he knows what girls like, what makes them happy, how to keep them satisfied. he’s had enough practice for it to be second nature. once you're in a genuine relationship with him, he’s going to treat you pretty well. thing is - that’s exactly his problem. in the back of your head you know why he’s so good at this. you know you’re an idiot for thinking you can change him despite the fact you did. it’s just impossible to believe. every time he tries to reassure you that yes, you’re his only, he doesn’t want to go back to his old ways, you’re just staring at him thinking to yourself, ‘wonder how many times he’s used this line on someone.’ you’re just never going to have a sense of security with him because there’s always this lingering "what if" bouncing around. the worst part is that it’s not an unreasonable line of thought. mindless paranoia is one thing, but there’s so much proof against him that you’d be more humiliated for assuming he isn’t cheating on you - you can’t date a serial cheater and be really that mad or shocked if he does. you know what you signed up for accepting his confession, so your entire viewpoint is that it’s a matter of ‘when’ and not ‘if’. you can never ever say with full confidence he's 100% yours, even when he is.

༄ yukimiya: 10/10

one third of the “perfect boyfriend trio.” i know it’s like beating a dead horse since this is a commonly shared sentiment but he really is incredible. a big part of the reason why is actually the fact he’s emotionally mature. he’s in tune with how he feels and knows how to convey it respectfully but isn’t so set in his ways he can’t see what points you want to make if you were to disagree on something. something else is that he’s very good at reading your micro-behaviors and can fall in line pretty well with how you act without compromising his own personality (in comparison to how someone like bachira or alexis would.) if you tend to be on the shyer side, not really one to defend yourself, he has no issue stepping in and solving whatever problem is going on. on the flip if you are more outgoing and not scared to bite at people then he'll fall back, only intervening when he can sense things’ll get ugly if he doesn’t tug on your leash a little bit. something he particularly enjoys doing is picking up hobbies or skills that you enjoy or would appreciate. he’ll learn how to cook if you hate it or asks you to read your favorite books to him at night, wrapped in his arms while he presses a gentle kiss against your temple. 

༄ kaiser: 4/10 to 8/10 

the thing with kaiser is that he’s a really good boyfriend, but you have to go through hell to get to that point. he has so many walls and has all these little “tests” where he tries to catch you using him for his money, status, looks, etc. kaiser wants to convince himself that love obviously isn’t real ; look at his parents for god’s sake. so he’s always trying to plan some “gotcha” thing and catch you in the act. the issue is, he doesn’t. you’re really like this from the bottom of your heart and he can’t wrap his head around that fact. so he goes to the emotion he knows best - anger. he’s lashing out at you for lying to him, accusing you of all sorts of things because surely there’s no way this is real, that he has something fully his, someone who cherishes him and sees him for his best. this entire process isn’t a few months either - this is a good two or three years. he has a lot of built up trauma to navigate both on his own and with you. if you somehow have the conviction to get through this then he’ll be a really incredible guy to have around. he loves you so fiercely that he’d rather die than let the one good thing he’s been gifted to slip from his fingers, but everyone in your life is going to hate him by then and insist he hasn’t changed, feeling like you’re going to eventually be broken by him.

༄ alexis: ?/10

alexis is actually pretty similar to bachira, just more extreme. in any other context, his obsessions would be viewed as something of concern or distasteful but dating alexis means you already would know about it and in turn only get into a relationship if you were okay with it. it’s not as if his attachment to kaiser is a secret. if you’re going in with the “i can fix him” mentality then you’ve doomed yourself already. you have to already accept his quirks and such to really reach him in a way that matters. a relationship with him is this unending back and forth. you're actually not really going to be viewed as this untouchable deity because he's already yours. he doesn't have to prove his worth like with kaiser. the thing is that kaiser molded who he is now so kaiser is kind of his tie to humanity - without him, alexis doesn’t really have much keeping him tied to earth. don’t think you’re not important to him because and he’s going to insane lengths for you to accept his unhealthy outlets of showing his love and devotion to you. he feels so much more human with you because you’re giving him the attention that he has to beg kaiser for but without the requirements to earn it - you just love him naturally. he’s not trying to prove that he deserves your love, he’s trying to prove that he loves you just as much back but he doesn’t know how to do it normally. he doesn’t know how to offer himself to you in a way that isn’t self destructive. he’s stuck in this non-stop cycle of you trying to convince him he doesn’t need to like earn your love and him thinking that it’s you saying he’s not doing enough to to earn your love and thus he goes to more extremes. if you can handle it then he’s great for you, you’ll never question that he’s madly in love with you. but if you get overwhelmed then he grows more unstable, and you’re stuck trying to make him better while he makes himself worse to hopefully get you to finally praise him for shattering who he is.

[cherryw0n]

NOCTURNA — enhypen

chase atlantic inspired series

each of the seven parts is based on a chase atlantic song that provides the feeling throughout the whole story, taking you on an emotional journey and showing the real raw side of each character's struggles.

CAREFUL, this series contains some sensitive and serious topics. Read at your own risk!

CONTAINS: profanity, drug abuse, drug addiction, mental health problems, family problems, toxic relationships, organized crime, infidelity, smoking, violence, alcohol consumption, explicit sex description

MDNI!

Lee Heeseung — The Walls

pairing: dabbler!heeseung x addict!reader (afab)

synopsis: the world of intoxication and ecstasy was something you never thought could be so enchanting, so tempting. until you went spiraling into it, unable to suppress the inner cravings and strong thirst for something so forbidden but so euphoric.

"Everybody's leaning on the walls,

I don't think they're ready for the fall

Had a little, now she wanting more

Told her that I gotta make some calls"

read here

Park Jay — Moonlight

pairing: downbad!jay x grumpy!reader (afab)

synopsis: having a pain in the ass at your heels all the time was not on your bucket-list for this semester. but still he was chasing you, not giving up even if you said it to his face, every time.

"Busy on the weekend

Caught up in your own small world

Well, I might wanna see it then

Call it hesitation, girl"

read here

Sim Jake — DEVILISH

pairing: toxic!jake x toxic!reader (afab)

synopsis: the relationships was falling apart, no thing could salvage the damage it faced, not when you keep drifting from him every chance you get and he is always up for the payback.

"Devilish, fucking with my guys, yuh

I make sacrifices you make lies up

Heaven lost an angel when I signed up

I might fuck your friend, I made my mind up"

read here

Park Sunghoon — OHMAMI

pairing: druglordsson!sunghoon x frutera!reader (afab)

synopsis: fast and luxurious lifestyle wasn't anything spectacular to sunghoon, and it can't be when he grew up bathing in it's glory. who knew that just by stopping at the random frutería in puerto vallarta would be the moment he spotted his next target, you.

"Ooh, Mami, I got blue molly

I throw Louis V, Supreme on top of Murakami

Bitch, I'm fuckin' styling, yeah

I might say I love her, but I'm lying, yeah-ah-ah"

read here

Kim Sunoo — Tidal Wave

pairing: boyfriendsfriend!sunoo x friendsgirlfriend!reader (afab)

synopsis: he shouldn't be doing this. you shouldn't be doing this. you both can't be doing this, but the tension and connection was something you didn't feel with anyone before, not even with your own boyfriend — but his friend was there to make up for it.

"Throw another stone at a glass house

He might kick my ass if he finds out

I don't wanna share, it's a damn shame

I'll still play it fair, won't drop no names"

read here

Yang Jungwon — Right Here

pairing: desperate!jungwon x done!reader (afab)

synopsis: you were done. done with this empty game of leading on. he was like that, everyone told you that but you didn't listen, only ended up being hurt and feeling like the only right thing you could do was finally walk away, and you did just that. but he was not done yet.

"It's happening again

Well, I don't give a fuck about your friends,

I'm right here"

read here

Nishimura Riki — Numb To The Feeling

pairing: addict!riki x goodgirl!reader (afab)

synopsis: who knew that the accidental encounter in a campus library would be such a turning point in your life. was is destiny? or something else?

"I need you to show me love

'Cause I'm getting numb to the feeling, yeah

I need you to ride me harder when we fuck

'Cause I'm getting numb to the feeling, whoa"

read here

COMING SOON...

! this is all work of fiction. in no way this is a representation of enhypen members nor do I believe this is how they behave in real life or condone these actions!

©cherryw0n

[gtgbabie0]

{Waking up beside your wife the day after your wedding}

very short, something I wrote in between working on requests <3

Warm rays of sun peak between the gaps of the curtains, catching over Violet's freckled cheeks (the summer always brought them out)— A honeyed stream splays through the hotel room and oh so rudely over her sleeping eyes, unbothered by the intrusion. It was the gentle caress of your knuckles grazing across her jaw that causes her to stir slightly, thick lashes fluttering as she turns her head to press her face into the pillows with a low groan.

“It’s noon, honey.” You whisper, shuffling closer to her beneath the blankets— resting your head against the same pillow hers, attempting to coax her out from where she’s burrowed herself with gentle fingertips working over the nape of her neck.

She all but sighs, heavily— rather dramatically to be completely honest as she turns to face you, nose almost brushing against yours— just an inch away that you could feel the heat radiating from her.

“And?— we’ve got all week baby—” she grins, nuzzling her nose against yours. “‘Sides I wanna lay in bed with my gorgeous, sexy, beautiful wife.” she absolutely revels in the little squeal that escapes you unceremoniously, the word wife still feels dizzying leaving for lips— making your inside feel all mushy.

“Oh you like that, huh?— my pretty wife.” Her grin widens as she presses her face into your neck, nose nuzzling over your fluttering pulse point— chuckling into the crook of your shoulder. “All mine,” kiss, “mine,” another kiss “mine.”

“I was always yours, Vi.” You whisper back leaning into her lips as they linger over the curve of your jaw— and she swears she’s falling in love with you all over again, in the haziness of the afternoon sun, still wrapped up in bed, tangled with her, all sleepy eyed and tender smiles.

“I know. The moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew.” Her hand squeezes your hip before slipping away to find your own— her fingers fumbling to curl around your palm to admire the ring that glimmers beneath the sunlight, “But now it’s official— and I get to call you my wife for the rest of my life, forever.” her lips press against the gemstone as if it was something to worship, fingers lacing between hers and she takes a moment to admire the way her ring looks beside yours.

Her blue eyes soften, deep, glossy pools of devotion a look that hasn’t changed since yesterday afternoon when you walked down the aisle looking like something out of a dream— her most precious dream came true wrapped up in such an angelic white dress that trailed behind you like a cloud.

“Forever” You whisper back, smiling, with a shy flutter of your eyes, watching her pepper feather light kisses over your knuckles— your stomach swoops and you surge forwards, blankets falling to pool around your waist as your arms circle around her firm shoulders, melting back into her body with your head tucked beneath her chin, soaking up all her warmth whilst her rough palm rubs the expanse of your back— her embrace safe, homely.

You could spend hours— days— just cuddled against her, listening to each of her breaths, to every beat of her heart that lives for the rhythm of yours, but at last, her stomach grumbles— “I’ll order room service,” she murmurs against your hairline, leaving a kiss to your temple as you nod in agreement. “Whatever my pretty wife wants.” and you go all giddy in her arms once more.

[sulphuricgrin]

WIP Wednesday

tagging: @skyrim-forever @changelingsandothernonsense @hircines-hunter @pocket-vvardvark @sanzas-reverie @scholarlyhermit @ggghoulish

@truth-01001001-liar @yansurnummu @theoneandonlysemla @thequeenofthewinter @firefly-factory @fangsandsoftgrass and anyone else cause I dunno how long I should make this ever growing list of mutuals I now have. god damn I love you all <3

Anyways, since I finished last week's oneshot, I'm back to the main fic. So not remotely as... interesting. If you see a mistake, no you didn't. (it is a wip and editing is a long ways away lol)

Her gaze sweeps the refectory for familiar faces ― well, familiar faces she’s willing to suffer the company of. It doesn’t take long to find a mer with familiar black hair pulled into a ponytail and wearing finer clothes. He was hunched over a book, drawing more than likely. With a smile, Lilliandra cloaks herself with an invisibility spell. It was unbelievable how easy it’s become, as if second nature, to feel the magicka kiss her skin and spread out all around her with her illusion work. She weaves through the room― others couldn’t see her, but they’d surely feel her if they touched. When she’s behind her target, she peeks over his shoulder, paying mind to hold her hair back from touching him. She bites her lip, whether from keeping herself from laughing or letting out a satisfied hum, she isn’t sure.  Her own face stares back at her, a talented hand carefully going over the details of her eyes in charcoal. This always amused her, pleased her, knowing she was this mer’s muse. All she had to do was breathe and it inspired him. Fascinating. She continues to observe for a few more seconds, this weirdly peaceful moment of Talserion’s, drawing her; but she grows bored quickly and lightly blows on his ear.  He reacts in a delightfully expected way― his shoulders stiffen and his hand halts over the paper, before closing the journal altogether. His head turns to look at her, blue eyes wide but cannot see her still. His eyes briefly dart over the place before narrowing. “Andra, could you not.” She loves how his pretty face pinches in annoyance. She lets the spell drop while laughing aloud, a grin plastered on her face. Tal is hardly amused. “You do realise how creepy that can be, yes?” he asks her, a small sigh leaving him.  She takes a step back, straightening her posture. “Get better at fighting illusion magic then,” she counters as her attention shifts to finding something to drink. There’s some food and water and maybe tea at the table Talserion sits, but not what she’s interested in. She over her shoulder, at the table behind her. Ah, there, a pot of black coffee kept warm on an enchanted hot plate. Due to its bitterness, it wasn’t a particular favorite to many here, surprisingly ― but Lilliandra thoroughly enjoyed it and the energy it gave her. She pours herself a cup and turns back to Tal. He’s simply watching her now, annoyance already gone away. She looks left, then right, figuring out where to sit. She wasn’t interested in sitting next to him, rather preferring to be across; but the long tables would mean she’s had to take a long walk around. Without hesitation, she takes a step onto the bench he sat on and then a step onto the table. Her stride is quick and confident as she makes it to the other side and takes a seat across Talserion. She takes a sip of her coffee, savoring the lovely mixture of bright tanginess and mild bitterness.  He smirks at her, unfazed by her brazen behavior. “It’s like you want the teachers to yell at you.” Her hands cup the porcelain, relishing in the warmth. She grins. “They can try. As if that stopped me the first time.” They both laugh. 

[dmitriene]

Arthur Morgan brushing your hair in a platonic way by the fire until it accidentally turns into sex because why not

the fire's soothing scent comes from gradually burning logs that have been piled up in a circle on the ground and the branches thrown over the top, exuding an enveloping warmth over where you sit between arthur's spread, muscular legs, slotting the curve of your back against his broad chest as he divides your hair between his long, nimble fingers, smoothing and disentangling through them, sometimes forgetting about the comb that lies next to him on the log.

arthur is as warm as the fire, as if you were to put your hand down and let the bright, stretching flames burn your delicate skin, however, his warmth suffuses right into your veins, rushes through the bloodstream and stays in every nook and cranny of your body, causing you to lean closer to his chest like a cat absorbing sunlight, feeling the vibration of a rough, hoarse laugh that runs through every muscle in his body as he allows you to curl into his form and cuddle closer.

continuing to weave your strands together and then unravel them, taking a comb to run over the ends, paying attention to the small shudders of your body as he sweeps over the area of your head that gives you a scatter of goosebumps, and so on, the arcane until your hair is docile, strands no longer tangled, streaming downwards without knotting together, allowing him to put the comb aside, bowing his head forward, squaring his body and nosing in the top of your head, leaving there a soft, lower descending kiss.

your shoulder quiver, and you feel arthur's face nudging in between your hair, fingers pushing your strands out of the way, allowing him to press his chapped lips to the skin on the curve of your neck, arching to the side towards every touch and kiss, your lips parting in a languid sigh, forgetting that there are many eyes around you, unable to resist, not with the way he looks at you, hungry, piercing to the very muscles from which you are composed, when you catch a glimpse of his blue green eyes within your peripheral vision.

the orange glow of the fire smoothes the features of your face, sets your eyes on fire, softening and making them even warmer than before, and arthur is grateful that he is sitting, because otherwise, his knees would have already buckled, and he would have fallen exactly at your feet, without a twinge of conscience, without worrying about the people around you, just like now, when he covers your delicate skin with spreading, stubble tickling kisses and playful bites, making you gasp, wrenching to hide your warming face against his stretched out shoulder.

arthur can't hide the sudden spark of an arousal, resist the molten heat soaring through his stomach, the heaviness of groin, where his cock swells under the fabric and underwear, filling with blood, pressing into the small of your back, lower, where he can feel the swell of your ass even through all the layers of skirts at your dress, and his hips canting forward to chase the ghost of a plushness that hides beneath, stutter, when he realizes that this is not a place to do so, groaning low against your shoulder blade, where he nuzzles in, before gathering you up in his arms.

the low snickering and teasing from some of the men in the vicinity are just a passing buzz through your ears, as arthur carries you through the camp towards his tent with long steps, you know you're going to have to be quiet, and he's going to help you do that, because you lose and swallow all the words when you meet the gaze of his eyes, eclipsed by dilating pupils, full of carnal need, all dedicated to you, his tongue filling your mouth with greedy force and drawn out, gravelly moan.

you're all sopping wet through your undergarment, soaking beneath the skirts that arthur works on to discard, rip in sherds that would decorate the floor beneath, press his calloused fingertips against the plushness of your skin, leave the indents of his touch on you, while ravaging you whole, spread the tender lips of your cunt around the sheer, engorged girth of his cock, listen in to your hiccups of his name, before silencing you, feeling the sting of your teeth's against his shoulder, as he puffs warm breath against your sweating temple, grunts sweet names, working you to your orgasm.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: sad Daryl hours, angry Tess hours, swear words, drama?

Word Count: 2k

a/n: 👀

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter Nine 》 《 Chapter Eleven》

Chapter Ten...

... in which Daryl desperately tries to find you, but you seem out of reach - especially with your protective sister being involved...

Oh, and baby I'm fist fighting with fire Just to get close to you Can we burn something, babe? And I run for miles just to get a taste Must be love on the brain That's got me feeling this way (feeling this way) It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good And I can't get enough

'Love on the Brain' by Rihanna

"Daryl fucking Dixon..." A voice suddenly spoke up behind him. "I never thought I'd have to see your damn face again, and yet here we are..." Daryl froze for a moment. He knew that voice well. That much was clear... Swallowing hard, he turned in his bar stool; now face to face with none other than Tess. Wrong sister.

"What the hell are you doing here, huh? Looking for the next girl to ruin?" The woman hissed; definitely not amused to see him and certainly angry – understandable.

"Tess, I-" She cut him off immediately. "Nu.Uh. None of that shit. I'm talking, Dixon - and since you are here, you're going to listen." Before the biker could even blink grabbed your sister him by the lapels of his angel-winged vest and harshly dragged him off the stool; catching him off-guard. "We're gonna settle this once and for all. Outside," she hissed; the death glare she sent Daryl didn't leave anything to discuss. He had to endure this. It was only fair. He knew that he absolutely deserved it.

"No..." Daryl huffed out a breath. "Look, Tess, I screwed up big time, yes. I ain't nothin' more than a asshole, I know. But I regret wha' I did. Truly. I need to see 'er. Please." The woman scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Mhm, sure, Dixon. Keep telling yourself that... And why would you want to see her? What do you want from her? Tell her you're sorry?" She snorted out a laugh. The biker swallowed hard. "I... I wan' her back." It was the truth, but it elicited another sarcastic laugh from your older sister. "Why? So you can use her once more and break her poor heart all over again? Dream on. I won't let that happen." He shook his head; wanting to explain, "No, I-" but got cut off straight again. "Ohh, of course, how stupid of me! You need her back to warm your bed, right? What? Can't you get a single woman in Georgia to suck off your dick? That's sad. Even for such a wannabe playboy like you."

Wordlessly, he followed Tess outside the bar; waiting for hell to break loose upon him - and it did... "You fucking prick," Tess started with a growl. She was fully locked in in her big sister mode. "Who do you think you are, huh? Who gave you the right to toy with the feelings of a woman who's so much younger than you and doesn't know better?! Are you just blind or stupid? Probably both!" She snarled. "Y/N suffered so much because of you! You should be ashamed of yourself; thinking only with that pathetic thing between your legs!"

Daryl ducked his head; all his usual confidence flown out of the window. "I-I know..." He mumbled after a few beats of silence, in which only Tess' angry breathing could be heard. "Oh, you know?" She exclaimed. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Congratulations! Want me to give you some kind of trophy now? Or a certificate?"

Daryl clenched his jaw. Yes, he deserved the wrath of Tess, but so slowly, she was crossing a line. He had heard enough. "Goddammit, no!" Daryl suddenly exclaimed; causing the woman standing opposite him to flinch at his sudden outburst. "Since that damn day I just left Y/N standin' at tha' fuckin' gas station, I haven't been myself! Barely slept at night... Thoughts keepin' me awake. I was pissed at anyone 'n anything 'roud me!" He yelled; digging his nails into the palms of his hands in frustration. "Hence, I tried ta touch another woman! Believe me, I did! But I couldn't... 'S not right... Ain't felt right..." His voice quietened down now; was merely above a whisper. "I hate m'self for takin' so long ta realise how fuckin' whipped I am for 'er... I love 'er, Tess... I do."

Tess just stared at him for a long while, before speaking up again. "And you truly want me to believe that?" Daryl rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Nah. Ya dun have to believe me... Y/N does. Where's she?" Your big sister crossed her arms over her chest once more. "Not here. She started a new chapter in her life, Daryl. She followed her dream you threatened to ruin and went to university. She left Montana."

Daryl's heart dropped, but at the same time, he could understand. Why wouldn't you? He'd have probably done the same. "Where?" The woman opposite him shook her head; her lips twitching in a small victorious and gloating smile. "Out of your reach." "Fuckin' hell, Tess, please. Jus' tell me." "No. You'll keep your dirty hands off her." With those words and a last warning glare, she turned on her heels and walked back inside the bar; leaving a desperate man behind.

Daryl spent the night in that one motel he only knew too well; laying alone in the bed and staring at the ceiling. He had really hoped to find you. To take that important step towards you - and now he felt like being light-years away from you. Well... He kinda was.

After racking his brain the whole night about how to find out your current location, he left the motel late in the morning, after trying to get at least a few hours of sleep; having decided to find the farm where you used to live and have another word with Tess. He hoped to somehow convince her.

So, Daryl packed his stuff and mounted his bike; starting the engine. He went back in his memories - to the very day he met you and tried to remember the quiet road he had led his friends onto, which resulted in getting lost and asking you for the way. It was all he got. His only lead.

It took the biker a little while to find said road, but his muscle memory worked just fine and signalled him immediately that he had found what he was looking for. Slowly driving down said road, he hoped to see a farm or something indicating that there was a farm - a road sign, paddocks, a barn - anything. But all he found was a cute little house in some distance. Too small for a farmhouse, but it was at least something. To his sheer luck was an elderly woman - probably in her late sixties just outside the house in a little garden; tending to the various vegetables. Her grey hair was braided into a plait, which had slipped over her left shoulder.

Daryl stopped his bike and pulled off his helmet; instantly noticing that the warm chocolate brown eyes of the woman were already on him. "Hello?" Daryl called out almost hesitatingly, but politely. He had learned to respect the elderly. The woman gave him a once over, before she placed the little shovel she had held in her hands aside. "Hello. Can I help you, young man?" She asked with a kind voice and a small smile.

The biker had a hard time suppressing a smile and the urge to shake his head. Young man... He wasn't that young anymore; being almost in his mid-thirties now.

But just as he donned his helmet again and was about to bring the engine of his beloved vehicle back to life, the woman spoke up again. "Young man..." She stopped him; taking a few slow steps closer towards the wooden fence. "You will find the ranch, but not the lady you are searching for. I'm saddened to tell you that Y/N left quite a few weeks ago." Daryl swallowed and nodded; suddenly saw a chance to avoid another most likely unpleasant encounter with your older sister. "You dun happen ta know where she went to?"

"Prolly, yeah. 'M lookin' for a farm, on which a young lady lives. Her name's Y/N Y/L/N. Do you know 'er by chance?" The old woman starts to smile, as she readjusted the thick, round glasses on her nose. "Yes, yes, I do. What you are searching for is the Willow Creek ranch. It's quite a few miles down the road. Just follow the Yellowstone river. It'll lead you straight to it."

The biker gave the friendly woman a nod and a small smile. "Thanks."

The woman frowned deeply and narrowed her eyes, as if in a thinking manner, before she spoke up again. "Florida. I believe it was Gainesville."

Daryl's heart sped up in excitement. "Thank you, miss. Thank you so much." The woman gave him another smile. "You're welcome, son."

Starting his engine again, he circled around and headed straight for route 90; his heart leading the way. He had to get to Florida as fast as possible - but it was a long way down. He was painfully aware of that.

Love makes you do crazy stuff.

It was almost two days later when he drove past the border of Georgia to Florida, even though the biker had picked the shortest route - according to his navigation system. Now he headed straight for Gainesville and the university located there.

Some people might call him crazy for what he did - with his brother leading the way, but he knew he had to. No, he wanted to. Otherwise he truly feared that his heart would tap out. Daryl guessed that this was part of the deal.

Totally unaware of Daryl's 'journey' and his presence in Gainesville, you sat in your last lecture of t he day; chewing on the back of your pencil in concentration and listening attentively to your lecturer. Tess hadn't told you about the biker's sudden appearance at home; thinking that she got rid of him and send him back home. Besides, she just wanted to protect you and not reopen 'old' wounds. Your big sister did what she considered was for the best.

Something hitting your upper arm ripped you out of your deep concentration and caused you to look to your left. A crumpled paper ball had hit you and was now laying on the table in front of you. Lifting your eyes again and letting your gaze travel a little further, you saw Annie - your study buddy beaming at you. You tried to hold back a snort and smiled; unfolding the 'message' she had sent you. Annie was the first person you crossed paths with - and stuck with. She was kind, funny, extroverted, a little bit dopey and a literal ball of energy. You liked her - she liked you; the two of you immediately clicking.

'Dinner at Subway together?' read the note and you smiled; giving your friend a nod. Amy squealed silently and gave you two thumbs up. You couldn't stop the small giggle leaving your lips, before you tried to focus again and concentrate on the lecturer's words.

Once the clock stroke five p.m., you and Amy met up outside the auditorium and went to exit the building together; swarmed by quite a few other students. Therefore was your field of view quite a little bit limited. Casually talking to your friend, your gaze coincidentally landed across the street on the few parking lots - and that was the moment you saw him. He was leaning against his vehicle; legs crossed and nervously gnawing at the inside of his bottom lip. The signature bike, the long brown, wavy hair, with the black baseball cap on his head... The sunglasses, the goatee, the habits - and not to mention the washed-up jeans, shirt and leather vest.

There was absolutely no mistaking. It was Daryl.

The sight caused you to stop dead in your tracks; the other students rounding you and passing you by like you were some sort of obstacle in their way - which you actually were at the moment. Annie had walked on as well, and just continued her telling, until she noticed the absence of your presence beside her. Stopping and turning in a full circle, she was looking around for you; confused. Once the woman found you literally frozen to the concrete ground a few yards away from her, she immediately sprinted back to your side.

Your eyes were still glued on the man in short distance. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me..."

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[halfway-happyyy]

My Sun, My Moon, and All of My Stars {Mikey Berzatto}

summary: recalling the first time you and mikey met results in lots of soft feelings.

warnings: none. cotton candy clouds of fluff.

pairings: mikey berzatto x female reader

an: listen people. i've visited chicago in january. i said what i said, and i will die on that hill. happy reading!

You’d be hard-pressed to find a more miserable place than Chicago in the winter. 

The wind and the cold found creative ways of settling into your bones, often staying there until the May thaw occurred, and even then… Well, even then it wasn’t always enough to drive the chill away for good. While you loved the city's aged and gothic architecture, the inherent gloom that pervaded it tended to follow you around like a specter or an old friend. January wasn't entirely blameless in all of this, either. A month that held only thirty-one days often felt like it dragged on for thirty-one years. And yet, you could never fully bring yourself to loathe the first month of the calendar year, because on the 17th day of it, you met Mikey Berzatto for the first time- and suddenly, winter didn’t seem so awful after all.

“On a scale from one to that time you had to hide in the bar bathroom until I could rescue you, how bad was it?” 

You fiddled with the zipper on the front of your jacket, replaying the night’s mostly disastrous second date, and sighed. “Definitely not that bad.” 

“I mean, you did technically get a Michelin-star meal out of it, so it wasn’t all a complete write-off.” Your best friend Olivia pointed out, and then asked whether you wanted to go home and pound back a pint of frozen custard, or if you were still hungry. 

You eyed the green glowing digits of the clock on her car, which read ‘8:07 P’ and shifted in your seat. “Still hungry.” 

“Perfect,” She cast a smile your way and slid the car into drive. “I know just the place.”

You had been expecting Portillo's or something similar, but when she parked in behind the Original Beef of Chicagoland, you were dubious. 

“I know, I know. But Benny took me here two weeks ago, and when I tell you I’ve been thinking about this sandwich every day since, I’m not lying.” She led you by the hand to the front door, holding it open for you so that you could wander in first. “I mean, they say you know you’re in love when you go to bed and wake up thinking about the same thing, and for me that’s the italian beef here so, pretty self-explanatory I guess…” Her voice became drowned out in the din of the still-bustling restaurant. 

It was chaotic to say the least; a complete assault on the senses. Noise seemed to clamour out of every corner of the small establishment, and somehow the thing that hooked you in the most was the pervasive scent of onions frying in fat on the flattop. Though the restaurant was only open for another hour, it was packed inside, and there was a line-up at the takeout window that snaked around the back of the place.

“Jesus Christ, someone ask for mayonnaise one more fuckin’ time, I’m beggin’ for it. Watch what’ll happen!” A tall, short-haired man yelled loudly, causing peels of laughter to erupt from the line cooks behind the busy counter. The sheer size of his grin, paired with the way his blue eyes glittered merrily, told you that the man was exactly where he was supposed to be in life.

“Order up for Peter! Peter, Peter pumpkin eater! Your orders’ up!” 

“Nikki, come get your order, mama!”

“Got one hot and sweet and one dog comin’ up!” 

Olivia tugged at your sleeve and gestured to the menu. “You wanna get the same thing as me?” 

You nodded, at an entire loss of what else to say, and knowing wholeheartedly that she would never lead you astray anyway.

“Good evening ladies, how are you both on this fine, Friday night?” 

Olivia grinned at the man and rubbed her hands together in excitement. “We’re much better now that we’re here, thank you.” 

The man laughed at that. “Excellent, that is good to hear. What can I get for ya?” 

She ordered two original beef’s and two cokes to stay and told you to grab a table in the quieter section of the restaurant while she waited for the food. While the back room wasn’t necessarily quieter, there were only two other tables occupied, and you settled into a seat by the wall of vintage arcade games.

“Wow, you are uh… you’re awfully dressed up for a trip to the Original Beef.” 

His voice had caught your attention first; the timbre of it immediately soothing in comparison to the chaotic din around you. And then you glanced up at him and it was all over before it had even really begun. His smile was so warm and inviting, the complete opposite of the one you had just spent all evening with, and it caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Delicate creases next to his dark brown eyes spoke novels of how much time he spent laughing, and it was all you could do to keep from blushing.

“I'm sorry, I mean no disrespect, you look amazing. I think it’s been so long for most of us that we forget what it’s like when a beautiful woman graces us with her presence around here.” 

Where it might have been off-putting in any other instance, or from any other man, you found yourself blossoming under the sunlight he shone above you. 

“I uh… just came out of a date, actually,” Your tone was sheepish, but you managed to maintain eye contact with him. “We were at Alinea.” 

His dark brows furrowed together in a mild frown. “Alinea, Alinea… why do I know that name? So damn familiar.”

You tilted your head to the side. “It’s a Michelin star restaurant downtown, super fine dining.”

His eyes lit up and his mouth dropped open in a silent, a-ha! 

“My baby brother, he’s a chef. Super talented, annoyingly so, ya know? I can't get him to shut up about Alinea.” Silence settled between the pair of you before he asked how it was. 

Your eyes widened, and you blew out a puff of pent-up air. “It was uh… an interesting experience, to say the least.” 

He nodded and sat down at the table opposite you. “And the date?” 

You laughed. “The date sucked.” 

He clicked his tongue, and shook his head. “Onto bigger and better things, then hm?”

“How’s your night going?” You asked, by way of wanting to change the subject.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. “Eh, it’s been a night, I’ll tell ya that much.. But it’s been good. Certainly better now,” He leaned towards you with his hand outstretched. “I’m Mikey Berzatto, by the way.” 

You took his warm hand in yours and introduced yourself back. It had been on the tip of your tongue to say something else, but just as you were about to, Olivia wandered into the room balancing a tray full of mouth-watering food.

“Richie gave you yours on the house, on account of this being your first time here!” She exclaimed excitedly. 

Mikey’s eyes widened, and a warm smile lifted his lips skyward. “First time here, huh?” 

“First time for everything, right?” 

“Mikey, we need your ass out here now! This fuckin’ pop machine ain’t gonna fix itself!” 

He rolled his eyes and rose from the table with a quiet apology. “You ladies need anything- anything at all, come find me.” 

He gave you a small wave and stepped into the main room. 

“How many times do I gotta tell you fuckers not to yell all the damn time, huh?” 

Olivia turned to you, a familiar mischievous glitter blazed in the depths of her eyes. “Okay, he was cute.”

You shrugged, unwrapped half of the sandwich and took a bite, savouring the flavours on your tongue. While you had been used to your best friend’s antics and dramatic flare for a while now, it became apparent immediately that she was absolutely right about this place. You swallowed your first bite and gawked at her, eyes wide. 

“Oh, I know. This place is legendary.” 

You ate your meal in silence, and pondered over how lucky you were to have Olivia in your life; someone you could call night or day, that would get you out of a bind, no problem. You hoped with every fibre of your being that she felt the same about you. 

“I owe you one for tonight, Liv.” You murmured. 

That caused a frown to pull the edges of her mouth downward. “You definitely don’t. But you do owe it to yourself to get back on the horse, so I think you should ask Mikey out.” 

“Ha! You’re joking.” 

She passed a napkin over her mouth and shook her head. “Not at all. Tell him we’re going to Kingston Mines tomorrow night and see if he wants to meet us there.” 

It had taken you until the end of the meal to pluck up enough courage to do as you were told. Mikey was at the other end of the room stocking napkins when you approached him. 

“So, your first time. How was it?” 

You cleared your throat. “Uh, it was incredible. You won't be able to keep me away, from now on."

Mikey’s laughter, and the small smile that followed it, warmed the ice around your heart, and gave you the confidence you needed to continue on. “Hey listen- Olivia and I are headed to Kingston Mines tomorrow night for drinks, and I was wondering if you’d like to join us?” 

Mikey’s smile faltered slightly. “Uh- shit, tomorrow night?” 

You nodded. 

“I’m stuck here tomorrow night, until 11 at least but-

You shook your head. Of course he was. He owned the place.

“No problem, I totally get it.” 

He shook his head. “No, what I’m saying is that I’d like to come. I want to. I can be there around 11:15 if that works?” 

Holy shit. 

“Yeah, that absolutely works.” 

Mikey grinned to himself and reached out to take your hand again. “It’s a date, then.” 

~

Mikey’s eyes opened, and a small smile lifted the corners of his lips. 

“What's goin' on in that beautiful head of yours, baby? You’re lookin’ at me like I hung the moon.” 

You brought the back of his tanned hand to your lips and kissed it. “Because you did. You hung my moon.” He leaned in to your touch, craving more of it always. “I’m thinking about the night we first met.” 

“A good night indeed. I’ll never forget the way you looked in that dress and your leather jacket,” He chuckled softly, the sound of it reverberating deep in your chest. “Never forget the stones you had, asking me out the way you did.”

A blush flooded the apples of your cheeks. You traced a fingertip down the length of his uneven nose, and marveled at how he smiled into your touch. 

“You know I love you, right, Mikey?”

He pressed his lips to your hand and murmured an almost inaudible, I know, baby. 

He tapped your hip twice, a silent command for you to turn around and snuggle back against him, which you did. Your favourite part about being with him like this, was that you were so close you could feel the subtle beat of his heart against your shoulder blade. 

“Mikey?” 

His lips ghosted the shell of your ear. “Yeah, baby?”

You swallowed hard and wrapped a hand around his forearm. “Never leave, okay?” 

He hummed softly against the nape of your neck.

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together, okay? Just please stay.” 

Pressing his lips to the crown of your head, he agreed. 

“I love you, Mikey.” 

I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“Love you too, baby.” 

[batboysanonymous]

Not in Love (Except I Am)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: It wasn’t love. It was convenience. It was comfort. It was stolen shirts and shared beds and the way his gaze lingered when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Y/n had convinced herself of that, until the night Azriel stopped believing her.

Based on the song: No I'm not in love by Tate McRae

Swear I'm only sleeping at your house six times in one week, 'cause it's convenient.

Y/n wasn’t in love with Azriel. At least, that’s what she told herself. Every single night she spent tangled in his sheets. Every morning she woke up wrapped in his shadows, with his scent clinging to her skin long after she left his townhouse.

She wasn’t in love with him. She couldn’t be.

Only kinda dressing like you now, 'cause your clothes, they fit me — and that's good reason, oh yeah.

She wore his shirts because they were soft, oversized, smelled like cedar and clean air and a little bit like his laugh, rare, warm, and private.

She crashed at his house because it was closer, and she didn’t feel like flying home, and maybe because his bed felt safer than her own. She learned all the lyrics to the songs he hummed under his breath because they were catchy.

Not because they reminded her of him.

Not because every little piece of him had embedded itself so deep in her bones that she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began.

I told you one, two, three times, don't you read into us. Every friend of mine, I told them the same: No, I am not in love. I am not thinkin' 'bout you.

She told Gwyn. She told Emerie. She told herself.

I’m not in love with him.

And every time Azriel’s hazel eyes met hers with that soft, patient, knowing look, the one he only ever gave her, she repeated it in her head like a prayer.

The sun's not gonna come up, and I don't hate every girl your eyes go to.

She didn’t flinch when he flirted with someone at Rita’s. She didn’t notice when other females looked at him with longing. She didn’t care. Except… she did.

I am not in love. Sky has never been blue.

She never let herself wonder what it would be like if he kissed her. What it would feel like to press her mouth to the words she could never say out loud.

What it would be like to wake up next to him and not have to leave before dawn, pretending nothing happened.

Until the night everything unraveled.

It was late. A bottle of wine half-empty between them, his shadows curling lazily around their intertwined legs. Her head rested on his shoulder, his breath stirring the hair near her temple.

"Cassian tried to convince Nesta to spar without warming up," she murmured. Azriel chuckled, low and rough. "He’s either brave or stupid." "Definitely stupid." She tilted her face up, close enough to count the freckles across his nose. Her heart ached.

Only singing to your songs like, 'Uh' — we got the same taste, that ain't my fault.

"You’re tired," he murmured. "So are you." He didn’t argue.

They went upstairs without speaking. She slipped into his shirt — the gray one that was soft from too many washes, that smelled the most like him — and crawled into his bed. He joined her, the mattress dipping under his weight, his arm finding her waist as naturally as breathing.

If I slip and I somehow say it, you should know in advance I'm wasted.

She lay awake long after his breathing deepened, staring at the ceiling. Not in love. Not in love.

But the words didn’t stick anymore.

Morning came too soon. His body was pressed against hers, his face buried in her hair. She slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen, needing space, air, anything but the crushing weight of the truth she couldn’t admit.

She didn’t hear him come in until his hand brushed her shoulder. "Y/n?" His voice was sleep-rough. She didn’t turn. "Go back to bed, Az."

He stepped closer. "What’s going on?" Her hands clenched the countertop. "I couldn’t sleep." A lie. He knew it. "You’ve been quiet lately. Distant." "I’ve been busy." Another lie.

He exhaled slowly. "You don’t have to do that with me. You know that, right?" She swallowed. "There’s nothing to talk about." "There’s everything to talk about."

She turned then, her chest tight. His eyes searched hers. Gentle. Devastating. "Y/n…what are we doing?" he whispered.

She broke. "We’re friends, Azriel. We’re friends who…who sometimes blur the lines. But that’s all." His jaw clenched. "Is that what you want?" "It’s what it has to be." "Why?" Because if I fall for you and you don’t catch me, I will never survive it.

He stepped forward, cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear she hadn’t noticed falling. "I think you’re lying."

Her breath hitched. "I’m not." "Y/n." His voice cracked. "Stop pretending. Stop hiding. Just…tell me the truth."

She shook her head violently. "I can’t." He rested his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered. She sobbed. "Az…" "I love you. I’ve been in love with you for so long, I don’t remember what it feels like not to be."

Her heart shattered. "Why didn’t you say anything?" He laughed bitterly. "Because every time I looked at you, you were wearing my shirt, sleeping in my bed, but telling me we were just friends. I didn’t want to lose you. Not even to honesty."

I am not in love, I am not thinkin' 'bout you. The sun's not gonna come up, and I don't hate every girl your eyes go to.

She trembled in his arms. "I thought if I said it out loud, I’d ruin everything." He tilted her chin up. "You could never ruin anything. Not with me."

I am not in love. Sky has never been blue.

She choked out a laugh. "The sky has never been bluer than it is right now." And then he kissed her. Soft at first. Reverent. Like she was something precious. Then deeper. Fierce. Desperate. Years of longing, of buried feelings, all spilling out at once.

They broke apart only when air became necessary. "Az," she whispered. He rested his forehead against hers, breath ragged. "Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll let you go. I swear it. But if you do…don’t lie to me. Please."

She closed her eyes, the words tearing free from where they’d been trapped for far too long. "I love you. I think I’ve always loved you."

His breath shuddered out of him, and then he was kissing her again, spinning her in his arms, both of them laughing through their tears.

No, I'm not in love, not, not. Why would you think that? Why would you think that?

She pressed her forehead to his. "We’re idiots, you know." He grinned. "The biggest ones in Prythian."

She kissed him again, slow and soft, like a promise. "I’m not going anywhere, Az." "Good. Because I plan on loving you for a very, very long time."

I am not in love, not, not. I am not in love, love, love. Why would you think that? Why would you think that?

And for the first time, they both admitted what they’d known all along.

They’d never stood a chance.

Taglist: @willowpains, @masbt1218, @antonia002, @bookishcait, @fuckingsimp4azriel, @fanficscuziranout, @buttermilktea11, @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff,  @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch,  @okaytrashpanda, @mariaxliliana, @kksbookstuff, @marina468

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[starks-hero]

Iron Chains and Other Precious Metals

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Summary: Erebor has been reclaimed. But a dark, sinister curse lays over the riches of the mountain, a curse that Thorin succumbs to all too quickly. As the dragon sickness takes its toll, you try desperately to keep the peace.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: dragon sickness!thorin and absolutely everything that comes with it

“It is in these halls. I know it.”

“Thorin, we have searched and searched.” Dwalin was the first to speak.

“Not well enough. Have them scout the west halls, send them to the mines if you have to.”

“Thorin, they have been searching for days–”

“And yet it is still not found!” The ferocity in his words left you feeling hollow, bouncing off the stone walls and rattling in your chest. “The Arkenstone lies within this mountain and I will see it returned. It is the king's jewel. Am I not the king?!”

Balin, the hardened warrior that he was, seemed to be the only one amongst the few of you brave enough to respond to his words. “Do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here?” He asked.

Thorin fell back on his heel like a scorned child. His gaze, deathly and accusing, lost a fraction of its malice as it turned on you and Bilbo. You both stood behind the dwarf, Bilbo to his right and you to his left with the shadow of the broken throne at your backs. His eyes swept over you quickly before turning once again to his fellow dwarves before him. “Know this, if someone should find it and keep it from me they will know vengeance beyond that of dragon fire.”

Each of you bowed your heads as he left, less as a mark of respect and more so to avoid catching his eye. The moment he was gone, air seemed to return to the room. Dwalin made an irritated, rough sound deep in his throat and Bilbo shuffled his feet, feeling awfully small where he stood. Balin caught your eye and the heaviness in his stare caused a weight of unease to settle within your lungs.

“I’ll go speak to him,” you decided, voice thin as your breaths came late.

“I’m not sure it will do any good,” Balin said. “Thorin is his father’s son, once fire is stoked in him it's near impossible to put out.”

Silence took the room again and remained until you left.

The gentle crush of frost beneath your boots announced you as you ascended the rampart steps. Winter was coming, its icy beginnings painting themselves across the ancient stone of the mountain. Your eyes fell on the burning embers of Laketown in the distance, a kindling ruin against the darkened sky. You wondered for the very briefest of moments if an end by dragon fire would have been kinder than the harsh months that lay ahead of the townspeople.

Thorin stood off to your right, in the very centre of the battlements.

“We've come all this way, and for what?” He didn't look to you as he spoke and so you didn't answer. “The line of Durin, my kin has had claim of the stone since the first days of Erebor, without it I am no more than the dwarf that laboured in the villages of men. A vagabond–”

“You are king, Thorin.” The words came to you easy. “With or without the Arkenstone. Just as you were king before we had the mountain. To me and each dwarf that has followed you all this way.”

Something shifted behind Thorin’s eyes and for a moment you hoped he’d seen sense. Then his jaw set. “The stone–”

“–will be found. Have patience.” The realisation that you’d given an order, and rather offhandedly so, to a monarch caught up to you slowly but the anger that plagued Thorin back in the throne room seemed to have dissolved into something far more timid. And he smiled at your words.

“I fear it is a virtue I do not possess.”

“I'm inclined to agree.” You rested your arms over the stone, shoulder brushing against the king and as you looked out upon the night it felt as though you were back on the road, sleeping under great oaks and finding rest in the sheltered caverns the blue mountains would offer. It was odd, you thought, that you felt far richer then than you did now. “Have faith in us, Thorin. Faith in your company.”

You understood Thorin’s wrath and his fear. It came from wounds that had decades to heal and had not yet begun to scab. Wounds left by broken spears, shattered shields and dragon fire. A prince without a kingdom and a son without a father, Thorin’s pain was palpable and if it manifested in stormy bouts of anger and accusation then you’d learn to weather them.

The fires in the distance clawed against the night, reaching up into the dark and showing no sign of resignation. Somewhere on the outskirts of the settlement, a burning townhouse crumbled into the water.

“Balin and Fili have begun preparations, we should be ready to send them aid by tomorrow morn,” you said. “Everything we can spare.”

“You will do no such thing.” the unforgiving edge had returned to Thorin’s voice. “What lies within these halls are the birthrights of my people.”

“Thorin.” With uneasy appallment, you turned to him. “They've lost everything.”

“Do not speak to me of loss. They do not know the meaning of the word.” His words were harsh and left no room for you to argue. “Nothing leaves this mountain. I will not see our wealth squandered on the likes of them.”

A deep cavern opened up beneath your ribs and you felt hallowed by the orders you’d been given. Erebor held a sea of riches, just a portion of its gold would be enough to rebuild the settlement of Lake Town ten times over, to refill its streets with merriment and ensure its people lived with bountiful meals and warm beds. Even the old fabrics and clothes that sat untouched in the belly of the mountain would be worth their weight in gold to the townsfolk now.

But Throin’s orders and the unwavering harshness with which he gave them rang ceaselessly in your mind like clanging bells.

You met with Balin in secrecy. Even in the cavernous halls and unending tunnels of the mountain, it was a difficult task. There was always the fear Thorin would stumble upon you both, he stalked the halls so ceaseless in his determination to find the arkenstone it was a fair concern. You worried he no longer slept.

“Dragon sickness.” The words hang heavily as Balin speaks them, as stale and difficult to breathe as the air of the crypt you stand in. “A terrible illness, a desperate need for gold. It is a fierce and jealous love that burns above all else. It took his grandfather, I fear it will take him too.”

The genuine anguish upon the dwarf's features, the most steadfast of the company, causes you to falter. Balin is wise beyond his many years, he'd seen the same ailment take hold of Thror and if he believes that Thorin will succumb to the same faith, you find yourself fearing the worst.

“The Arkenstone–” you try to reason but Balin shakes his head, his beard almost brushing the floor.

“Will only solidify such greed. That stone is the summit of the mountain's great wealth. A dragon protects its hoard. And the more precious it's plunder,” Balin shakes his head. “The more aggressive the beast.”

You heed Balin's words. How can you not in such a time of uncertainty? And as predicted, Thorin only grows more volatile. His virtue diminishes with each new day, his noble ways crumbling like worn stone in his hunt for more gold. Few of you are spared from the ferocity of his outbursts. One of which stands to show just how far the king had fallen.

During another meeting that had become all too common in Thorin's haste to find the Arkenstone, Kili's criticism, intended for his uncle, stirs the king instead. Fili, who'd always tried to make the best peace, stepped in and the scuffle that followed nearly sent the young Dwarven prince over the edge of the throne room floor.

The harrowing moment invites a deathly silence. But when you catch sight of Bilbo, who never had any kind of stomach for confrontation, flee the room, you follow after him.

A hobbit's ability to disappear and go unseen proves to be true as you twist and turn through the stone warren that is Erebor as you follow after the halfling with no sign of him. Each call of his name bounces off the stone, and after a dizzying few minutes of navigating the many interlinking halls, you find Bilbo sat alone, his small form hunched against the stone.

“Bilbo, I–” Your reassuring words fall flat as your eyes fall upon the slight glow that emits from his hands, something the halfling rushes to hide as he looks up at you. His eyes are wide, frantic and frightened and your face pales with realisation. It's not an assumption, it couldn't possibly be anything else. You've been searching for it for weeks, since first reclaiming the mountain. You knew exactly what sat in the hobbit's hands.

“How...”

“I mean to give it to him, I do!” Bilbo rushes to explain. “I was not keeping it for myself, you must believe me!”

You sink to your knees, evening out the height between you both in an attempt to reassure him. Your hands settle against his thin, trembling arms. “I don't doubt you, Bilbo, not for a moment.” Your voice is as steady as you can keep it, eyes shifting to where his hand remains in his pocket. “May I...”

He follows through before you can finish the request, pulling the stone from his tattered coat and holding it before you. Suddenly, for the briefest of moments, Thorin's lust for the gem seems justified. It shines like a star fallen to earth, sitting in Bilbo's palm like a shard of divinity, a rightful giver of a divine right to rule. You can almost feel the promise of power, the stone's alluring pull. How easy it would be to take it from a creature as small as the halfling–

It's Bilbo's words that draw you back to reality. “We can give it to him right now. This very moment. End this madness–”

“No!” You rush, the halfling starting slightly at your words. You cannot afford for the gem to fall into Thorin's hands. Not now when doing so would forsake him entirely. “No.”

You rake your brain. You could take it, destroy it, toss it into the cavernous mouth of the mines... But could you truly trust yourself to let it go when its call is so great? You could give it to Balin. But dwarves, with their natural love for all things shining and bright, could a dwarf, even one as steadfast as Balin, remain immune to dragon sickness?

You swallow then, hand shifting to close Bilbo's fingers around the stone. “You need to keep it.”

The hobbit visibly panics, eyes widening as his body goes stiff. “No, no, no, no, I can't! I won't! If Thorin finds out–”

“If he finds out the stone has been found it will corrupt him beyond recognition.” Your hands squeeze gently around Bilbo's hands, tightening his hold on the gem. Your breathing grows slightly frantic as you think. The stone must stay hidden and you've come to realise that it's already in the safest hands it can be. “Bilbo, you need to keep it hidden, keep itout of sight. Don't breathe a word to anyone, not even the company.”

The request evidently weighs heavily on his shoulders, his small stature shrinking further at your words. Your hand shifts to cradle his head, curls against your palm. The desperation in your eyes stresses the severity of it all.

“Do you understand?” You stress, voice straining.

Bilbo's features twist with notable anxiety, nose twitching and eyes widening. He nods feebly then, lips pulled in a tight line. You hate that you've forced him into such a position, but you truly don't know what else to do.

If Thorin were to gain the stone now, you can't help but fear you'll lose far more than just him, that his corruption will seep into far greater schemes, like rotting roots into the earth.

You walk timidly around Thorin after that, far more timidly than before, as though one wrong footing would snap a twig and set the vicious manifestations of his paranoia upon you like dogs on a deer.

He grows far more hostile, speaking less but with greater anger when he does, a burning rage that gains more kindling with each passing day.

He hadn't left the Great Hall in near a week. He didn't eat nor sleep, simply stood there, nearly blinded by the gold's mighty glow.

“Look at it,” he breathes as you approach him one night, steps quiet against the marble stone. His hand reaches out, hovering before him as if to touch the gold that fills the hall before him. “Beautiful.”

Your gaze shifts from the amassed wealth to Thorin, even such a small action carried out with caution in his presence.

“Thorin.” His eyes don't leave the hoard of precious metal, it's dim glow painting his features golden. You say his name again.

When his gaze meets yours it's almost crazed, wild with a hunger, a lust.

“Is it not?” A ghost of a smile reaches his lips and it's unnatural, almost uncomfortable. It's the first time you've seen him smile in weeks. “Beautiful.”

“It is a sight,” you answer, entirely unsure of what else to say. To argue would be to invite his rage and you couldn't bear it. Not when he's smiling.

He laughs at that, a quiet breathless sound and you shiver.

“And it is ours. Ours alone.”

The word hangs in the air, the weight of it slowing time. He seems to mistake your disbelief for something else. His hand shifts and curls around something in the pocket of his regal furs. It's a deep blue, the necklace he produces, gems darker than the great sea strung together by little white jewels that shimmer like stardust in the light.

“A gift.” He raises the jewellery and in your speechless shock, you bow your head so that he can slip it on. His fingers ghost over where the jewels rest upon your chest, precious stones looking all the more fragile beneath the density of his hand. “A mark of honesty.”

You feel a little ill, guilt and a sense of helplessness knawing away at you. Thorin, in his haze, mistakes it for humbleness.

“Don't you see? You are the only one I can trust,” he says, voice breathy and faint. His gaze falters. “The only one...”

It feels like an opening, a sliver of sunlight pouring through a crack in a grimy window. It's almost a faint glimpse of the old him shining through the dirt. “Thorin, we have the mountain. Erebor is reclaimed. Isn't... isn't that enough?”

Your hand shifts to brush Thorin's as you speak, but he pulls away from the touch. He seems almost wounded by your words and when he speaks again, his tone seems to beg for your understanding.

“Have you not heard their mutterings?” He asks frantically. “They conspire, they mean to take it all for themselves. The stone has been found, I know it. But they keep it from me–”

“Thorin,” you try, and in your desperation, your hand brushes his shoulder. “Do you truly doubt us? After everything? All we've persevered together, what would possess us to leave you now?” You hope it's not evident how close you'd come to saying 'me' instead of 'us.'

But the words, desperate as they were, seem to work magic as Thorin's expression begins to crumble, softening slowly at first until his very eyes lighten.

You sigh a trembling breath. “Thorin, I–”

“Thorin!” Dwalin's commanding voice cuts you short. “Survivors from Lake Town, they're streaming towards the mountain in the hundreds. The elf is with them.”

You watch as the brief softness in the dwarf's expression dissolves, a bitter and vindictive shadow taking its place.

“Call everyone to the gate. Now!” He brushes past you so harshly it almost throws you off balance. “They are fools to think Erebor will be desecrated so easily.”

The bitter wind bites at you, winter sunlight catching upon your armour as you join the company. They stand as some inverted visage of the last number of months, jovial group turned stoic. Before you is an army of elves, so great in number they blend into one great golden adversary. You find your place beside Thorin and catch sight of Gandalf other side of the wall, your armour begins to feel heavy, fusing you to the stone beneath you, a soldier upon a chess board, the pieces neither black nor white but a horribly muddled grey.

“We have come with good tidings,” Thranduil speaks. “For your debt to our people has been paid, and handsomely so.”

Thorin bristles at the words from the decorated forest king, bares his teeth in antagonised warning.

“I have given you nothing. You will not see a single shred of what belongs to my kin.”

Thranduil shares a glance with the bowman and your fingers twitch, overcome with the same itching desire you feel at the beginning of a battle that longs for you to grab your sword. Bard’s hand slips beneath his furs and what he produces is far more deadly than any weapon. The Arkenstone.

You see the change in Thorin, feel it from where you stand by his side. In your mind's eye, his skin turns to scales, fingers sharpening into talons and his head splits with the growth of a twisted horned crown. “Liars,” he hisses, as though molten fire burns in his throat. “Thieves!”

You stand on the precipice of war, neither the dwarves nor elves before you see the carnage they threaten with these foolish shows of power. A battle for the stone and its sickly blue glow. You seek out Gandalf, hoping to catch his eye, to implore him to bring about some semblance of sanity.

“They’re not thieves, it wasn’t stolen.”

You freeze, a cavern opening beneath your lungs. Bilbo moves between the company until he stands before Thorin andyou feel you’ve just watched a lamb willingly lay before the butcher. He doesn’t realise the goodness of his actions will not purify him and you shake your head, eyes already glossy, imploring and pleading with him for it to not be true. To not say it if it is.

“I gave it to them, as my share of the quest,” he says. You feel sick. Thorin’s rage is silent, silent in the same way a predator is silent.

“You, you would steal from me?” He growls, and his own kin falter. Bilbo panics, seeming to fully grasp the danger he is now in for the first time. He frantically meets your eye before looking back to the king.

“I stole nothing. I- you are changed, Thorin. The mere idea of the stone has already driven you to madness!”

“Thorin-” you attempt to intervene, reaching for his shoulder, and he shrugs you off so aggressively you stumble. The company mutters, some shifting to steady you on your feet, others watching wearily as the king sizes up the hobbit.

“Petulant, little rat,” he spits. He grabs Bilbo’s arm in such a vice grip you fear it will snap. Bofur and Kili rush to free him but Thorin yanks the halfling away so harshly his feet leave the floor. “Retrieve the stone, do what you must,” he barks at Balin and Fili as he drags Bilbo along, back towards the steps, descending back into the mountain like a drake with its sacrificial lamb. “I have a more pressing matter to see to.”

You follow as though their shadow, racing down the stone. You catch them just as they enter the great hall. Thorin recoils his arm like a whip, sending Bilbo to the ground, his words as searing as dragon fire.

“Thorin, enough!” Your voice bellows and he turns on you.

“You,” he accuses. “you stay in our halls, our home,” he raises an accusatory finger. “Know your place. ” He spits out the final words.

“Leave him be,” you warn, and when the king remains silent and unmoving, you glance at Bilbo, where his small body lays crumpled against the stone and nod. He gasps as he gets onto his feet, and steadies himself before attempting to rush to your side. He’s cut short by the press of sharpened iron to his middle.

Thorin is crazed, his sword blocking the halfling's way, the weapon looking so much more formidable against such a powerless foe. Bilbo’s breaths come short and fast and you speak the king’s name with more contempt and warning than your mind had ever associated with him. “I said leave him.”

Thorin tilts his head in a way that leaves you incredibly uneasy. “Thorin, you have no quarrel with him, he is your friend-”

“Friend? He is a lying shire rat forced upon this company, a thief, liar!”

He roars, and then metal meets metal. Your sword crosses his and somewhere deep within the depths of his clouded iris, the old Thorin stirs, regarding you with shock. “He did not lie to you,” You gasp, fingers clenched around the hilt of your weapon. “I did. I knew of the stone, I counselled him to keep it hidden. To keep it from you.” Another roar tears from him as he raises his sword. You block the attempt, teeth bared as your weapons clash. Bilbo makes it to the steps behind you, Bofur and Balin there to retrieve him, they both have the good sense to leave. At the very least to get the halfling somewhere safe before they return.

You regard your current position with a nauseous familiarity; locked in battle, the mighty gold hoard your backdrop. Thorin’s enraged roars grow more animalistic each time his weapon meets yours. His eyes have sunken into darkened coals, his breaths ragged and growling. You feel locked in some ancient tapestry, a knight made up of silver threads facing off against a fire drake.

“You are changed, Thorin!” You yell, having just dodged an assault of his blade. “You’ve forsaken your loyalty, your honour, your own kin!”

“Silence!” His movements are groggy, lazy, hunched over and heavy. He is no longer a warrior, made slothful by greed. “I will not be counselled by you, an honourless child of man that crawls the lowlands, made a leper by your own people. You have spewed poison in my ear, corrupted my mind, tried to set in me a mercy for the likes of them!”

“The likes of them?” You ask, made breathless by the audacity of his words. “The likes without homes? The likes that run from dragonfire? You forget who you are.”

He roars again, his blade near kissing your cheek. But the corruption of his mind has made him slow, his movements languish and he topples, sword clattering onto the stone. You kick it away from his grasp. It’s a pitiful sight, seeing how far the king has fallen, how the dwarf you would have once followed anywhere has become so devoid of all honour.

“Look at what you have become,” your eyes cloud at the sight of the tragedy before you. “You’re no king, not anymore.” You drop your own sword, surrendering to the illness that has claimed him, the shadowed serpent that clings to him. “Have your gold, keep your treasure. I will not stay and watch you rot any longer.”

You turn with an aching chest. It kills you, the thought of walking away. But you can sit and watch him orchestra his own destruction no longer. With your back to the king, you ignore his desperate shouts for you to turn back, pick up your weapon and fight. When they dissolve into pleas for your help, for your forgiveness, you still do not turn.

You miss the shadow on the stone wall, the drag of sharpened iron against stone as a weapon is lifted from its place on the ground. It’s too late before you feel it, a sudden blow to your head, dull and heavy. The world spins and your vision blackens as you meet the harsh coolness of the stone beneath you.

You wake to cool iron around your wrists, the shine of jewels catching your eyes as you groggily blink them open. The carved stone wall of the cell is coloured a warm yellow by the reflection of the gold that pools around you, the small room having been filled with it. Your skin feels warm and heavy, weighed down by the silver that now decorates your limbs. The necklace is stained slightly red from where the wound upon your head had bled. You can almost make him out before you, frame made obscure by your blurred vision.

“What is this?” Your voice is hoarse. “Thorin, what is this madness?”

He lights his pipe, embers painting his features gold, the shadows cast by the burning leaves hardening his features. “I did not understand, why you of all of them would turn against me,” he begins, voice low. He sounds dangerously calm, as though sobered by the knowledge that your distrust in him had run so deep you drew your sword against him. “But I see now.”

He draws closer until you can smell the smoke upon his breath, taste it in the back of your throat. His fingers brush your chin and you twist away from the touch. But he does not relent, caressing up past your temple, brushing wishfully against your hair. “It was never meant to be like this, to come to such bleak detrimentality. But you are blinded by virtue-” His fingers ghost over your eyes. His voice is almost mournful, weighted by self-appointed duty. “-honour, foolish sentimentalities. But you will see in time, just as I have come to see.”

He pulls back, retreating like a shadow. “Once I have the stone it will show you. You will understand.”

Realisation greets you, chilling in its arrival. “Thorin-”

The sound of the metal bars meeting the stone doorway as it closes makes your bones ache, and your heart drop.

“You will understand,” He repeats. He no longer sounds like himself. He does not answer your desperate shouts, does not so much as react to them. He continues as he walks away, disappearing back into the mountains depths of darkness and gold. “One way or another, you will.”

thank you for reading <3

[starry-sophrosyne]

Referring to this post:

@crashingstar69 - just for you XD /j -- I had this rotting my inbox for WEEKS and now i've come back to it, just for my own purposes.. XD

1st post of this little rabbithole of mine, which is a spin off of my wotc timeskip au (spun off of pen's wotc fic) and is a three-parter, the intial post about it is here ( ´﹀` )

(also this became so fucking long bc i tried adding a little more analysis from Crashing's pov and it spiraled WAY out of control to become an entire/in-depth view of Cherie's experience and development after Mon Cheroi's marriage from Crashing's pov, I plan to reblog this post with it like I did for my TTOS King Of Soph drabble but I genuinely HATE the way I have the second "part" worded so idk when ill post it-)

Despite being one of the queen's personal maids, Crash found themself seeking regular work whenever they had nothing to do, rather than standing idle. They had simply been going through the unused rooms, to clean them up and lighten up the castle, when they noticed something special. This crystal blue glass, in particular, had always caught their eye, even from their previous rounds of cleaning in the past months. It was one of the only gifts the King Of Skill had kept from Cherie's family's extensive dowry after they had married. It sat in a display case of an unused study, collecting dust but still glimmering in the far-away light of the window.

After opening the cabinet to clean the contents inside, they paused, before setting the feather duster aside, and taking the glass out the case. Rotating the glass by it's stem, they stared at their reflection in it's triangular basin. The faint layer of grey dust upon it coated their fingertips, peeling off of the crystal. It was.. just as mocking as ever.

Crash's hands shook as their grip on the glass tightened, squeezing its base; but the durable crystal held steady despite feeling so delicate, digging the circular bottom into their palms. It was something so beautiful, left forgotten, cast out of memory rather than admired, left to rot out of sight; It's true beauty was unable to be seen by anyone. It was a painful parallel, to the king and queen's relationship. How could the king, who had everything given to him on a silver platter, disregard his wife, the queen, the way he did? No, how could he disregard Cherie like that?

They became enraged thinking about it again; Gritting their teeth together, they settled for barely nipping the flesh of their inner lip with their own teeth. Calm and collected, composure was such of the title that needed to be upheld as one of the queen's personal maids, no matter the personal grievances.

"Interested in that piece, I see?"

"!!" Crashing jumped at the sudden voice with a startled yelp. The fright was enough to make the glass slip from Crashing's grasp, causing them to panic as they then made various cartoonish grabs at it, practically falling over in the process, before finally catching it with a desperate final swipe.

Crashing let out a sigh of relief, steadying themselves as the sudden adrenaline began to fade away, heart still pounding in their chest. They slowly turned around, only to see Cherie, standing what would've been right over their shoulder. Despite having been there the whole time, they had only just now noticed her presence, and the suddenness of said realization along with their unsettled nerves caused them to panic again. Crash let out another screech, but just as quickly, cut themself off, managing to compose themselves once they had realized who it was past the sudden shock. Erratic heartbeat hammering in their ears, as they stammered:

"Ah, m-my lady!- You scared me!-"

Cherie barely held back a giggle from Crashing's reaction, a soft exhale coming from her nose instead as she tried to suppress the involuntary smile that spread across her face, reaching forward to take the glass from their hands: "This glass was the work of an artisan from the TCNation. Supposedly she lives far into the snowy mountains, in a place almost entirely unaccessible. It's said those mountains are carved peaks of crystal themselves, although, I doubt that."

As she continued, she twirled the glass around by it's stem. She didn't look up at Crash while doing so, seemingly fixated on her a specific part of appearance in the glass, and yet, her gaze seemed vacant: "And they say the carver was a lady too! Could you imagine that? A woman all alone way up in the mountains, working away at timeless crystal?"

The idea seemed to amuse her, her grin curling upwards as she let out a soft laugh. It's litheness made Crash's heart flutter, but they forced out a hesitant laugh in return, trying to act natural despite knowing that Cherie had indeed seem them make a fool of themself.

"It's said she stays up there in order to view the stars, but still.. It's almost a shame, to be that alone and isolated, wouldn't you think?"

The pause made Crashing stiffen, as did the shift in Cherie's tone. It was extremely subtle, barely detectable, but the soft amusement had faded from her voice within the last remark. It's somber contents were telling, knew knowing what she was thinking of. Her troubles, her ailments; His returned apathy for her love, and the mistrust of her son whom she had neglected for her own disillusion. All of this had been a result of the king, and it made a sort of vengeance burn through their blood. They could only mask it outwardly as apology, bbut Cherie noticed this anyways, having known them for so long and understanding what they truly thought behind their outwards manifestations.

Cherie looked at them with an almost somber look, if only for a split second, before a small apologetic smile graced her lips. She rested her hands over Crashing's, cradling her hands and the glass, staring into it as if it were a crystal ball once again. Crashing was almost entranced by her, her gentle gaze, and flustered by how close she was; her rosey perfume was intoxicating despite her wearing it in smaller amounts through out the years as it wafted into her nose. Cherie looked back up, an intent swirling in her eyes as her smile softened at the edges.

"Keep it, Crashing."

".. Huh?!"

Cherie giggled once more, her lips splitting into another genuine grin as Crashing stumbled over their words, an evident panic in their voice.

"M-my lady, I couldn't possibly!-"

But Cherie stilled them, holding a finger up to their face, dangeorusly close to their lips. It was enough to quell them, as they went silent almost immediately out of shock. Cherie tried to limit the grin that stretched across her face, pressing her lips together. Crashing had always been the one who could easily make her laugh.

"Think of it as a gift, for taking care of me after all this time.."

She paused, her eyes dimming in brightness once again as they filled with remorse; it almost made Crashing want to say something, but they didn't, holding their voice in fear of disturbing their mistress, waiting in high held anticipation for the next words that would come out of her mouth. It was almost laughable, they thought, how every word that came out of Cherie's mouth managed to make their heart leap. Cherie cradled Crashing's hands again, rubbing her thumb over their hand in some sort of contemplative manner, trying to find the right words. Cherie had come to understand, to not let too much of her and Brent's rocky relationship meet the ears of the servants. But Crashing was an exception, and this hinderance was more like her struggle to put the ideas lightly versus deciding if it made sense to tell them.

"Besides, Brent won't realize it's missing anyways. It's just another one of my family's gifts, nothing too important to him."

Her voice trailed off in the end, turning into silence as she exhaled, her shoulders dropped, and Crashing's heart fell. They had long since mastered a poker face, despite their crestfallen. It made them almost angry, once again, but for Cherie, they would do anything. Raising Cherie's hands up with their own, holding the glass between the two, they gave her a soft smile.

"Thank you, my lady."

And, maybe it was a figment of their imagination, but they swore they saw Cherie's face flush ever so slightly at their honest and given softness. No, they were being delusional. Sincerity was nothing but a given, and Cherie had always been suffering since.. Since. Every reminder was another flare up of anger that they struggled to keep down. However, Cherie didn't respond, and for a moment, it brought Crashing panic, as their smile morphed into a sheepish grin, anxiety starting to pound in their chest. It wasn't until Cherie smiled back, her gaze was soft but pure, a passion in her eyes. She truly was always grateful for Crashing, who had been by her side since they were little children.

"Of course, Crashing."

honestly i think we all need weight of the crown self inserts

[nabaath-areng]

Been impossible to take photos of these nails due to horrible weather lighting, but since it was specifically inspired by Ieeha I needed to figure out a way... thank you closet for having surprisingly decent lighting and dresses for being a surprisingly decent backdrop!!!

[starrstruckcanuck]

Been thinking of making a tierlist of my thoughts on all the teams for a while so here it is!! As you can see, I am indifferent to or hate most of the league... 😶‍🌫️🫣 which is why I generally say I'm more of a Canucks fan than a hockey fan lol

[hancfubuki]

what was he thinking to begin with?!

just because they had some moment of intimacy the day before, it didn't really mean he could be all friendly and cozy all of the sudden. rule that he actually forgot. after all, caleb is not fully familiar with rafayel, he doesn't even know if he likes contact or not. but to be honest, he seems so fragile, caleb feels dumb for not thinking about it before acting. it was in the blink of the eye, caleb not even having time to react as soon as he hears the thump hitting against the wall. he grimaces at the sudden back pain, realizing that the god was actually not that fragile as he initially thought.

his breath knocked out of him for a moment, and for the most fleeting second, a wave of anger surged through the captain. his jaw tightens, as purple eyes start narrowing into a sharp slit. oh well. rafayel definitely possessed more strength than he showed, and it shouldn't be surprised considered how lemurians easily killed a horde of men months ago. can he even do this under water? he is unsure, but his instincts start to take over. his eyes glow faintly as a blue color flares to life around his gripped hands, the water arounf them rippling unnaturally as he tries to concentrate. considering the environment, he should be able to use his gift in here as well, but requiring even more concentration as the surroundings and pressure of water are unknown. it was when a subtle shift in pressure spread, like a silent command. with a simple flick of his wrist, the water surrounding them responds to his will, surging outward in an invisible sphere. the force is not harsh, though, be cause it's not mean to harm. but it's firm, like a protective barrier pushing everything in its path away, including rafayel's strong pressure against him.

caleb stood his ground, his body steady against the swirling water as he controls his evol again to stop any possible harming consequence, however, his own clothes appear to be rippled in the current, almost as if he was caught in some sort of storm as he decides to direct any harming movement to himself instead of rafayel. "seriously?!" caleb snaps, his voice cold. "you think tossing me around like a rag doll is the best way to handle this? do you even know what you’re do—?!" yet he notices the previous fear in his eyes, and his stiff body. despite the threats, this was a relieved memory to him. the distant look in his ethereal blue eyes said it all. so caleb stops in his tracks, his anger fully dissipating when he realizes that his own actions were wrong, yet something, very deep in his heart, starting to grow. a sense of protection.

"rafayel..." he murmurs softly, his voice softening with each syllable as the sharpness of his gaze dulls, instead being replaced by concern as he realized what he has done. "you're scared, aren't you? about... whatever is haunting you." he lets out a sigh, calming now completely and bearing with the weight of his impulsive acts. he decides to step closer, but cautiously this time. "hey, i get it." he adds, gently. "i know what it's like to feel trapped in a moment you can't escape. to lash out because it feels like the only way to protect yourself." because he just experimented as well. "i'm sorry. i should have been more mindful." he knows he is no fortune teller, but considering what rafayel told him yesterday about being betrayed, he assumes it's from that experience. even though he knows he should simply stop assuming and directly ask. but the subject appears... sensitive at the moment. "i'm not your enemy." his eyes lock onto rafayel's, filled with a mix of exasperation and empathy. caleb values loyalty after all, and safety among other things. the need to protect it's not an impulse, it's a calling to him. and watching rafayel's struggle immediately awakens a fierce sense of protectiveness in him. he feels responsible, suddenly getting the idea that he is the only one who can shield rafayel from the world and his own inner turmoil. a little bit of hero complex, but there's also guilt in his heart for pushing boundaries so fast and a growing attachment that quickly developed.

caleb hesitates, but finally reaches out. his hand hovering just above rafayel's shoulder, not touching him, waiting for his response. "do you think i'll let anyone, or anything— even myself, hurt you? no chance. you're mine to protect now." his words weaver with emotions as eyes soften, still maintaining a fierce determination burned within them. "i'll take care of you. whether you like it or not. you can push me, fight me, hell— even throw me against every wall in this place. but i'm not leaving you alone. i won't let anyone touch you." his lips twitch into a faint, bittersweet smile, the possessiveness in his tone full of genuine care. "so go ahead. throw your tantrum, hurt me, devour me. kill me as many times as you want. but when you're done, you'll still find me here like a pesky, naggy gege." he sighs again, crouching in front of rafayel and lowering his head, as proof of his newfound devotion. "always, my little seashell."

Death had never been what he feared.

To Caleb, who was cursed with immortality, the thought of fearing death seemed to bring a bitter taste and sigh. He wonders if it was due to his human origins, to regard death in such distaste while desiring it for an end. Growing up and watching rituals of farewells to those who pass, those who were lost at sea, Rafayel had never seen any Lemurians regard it as something tragic. Of course, their loved ones were in despair of losing their other half, pearlescent tears dripping from their eyes. But to them, there was the unsaid fact that one day they would reunite once more, truly becoming one as they merge with the endless depths of the sea. There was always hope for the future where they would never have to let go. Reincarnation and rebirth weren't a far-fetched tale amongst them either, some believing that the Sea God's power would lead their souls back to Whalefall City after their souls paid respect to the sea. Rafayel himself had no clue if that was true because he had done nothing of the sort.

When he is left to sleep alone, he doesn't bother to wonder why he always seems to leave and run about. Instead, he's sleeping in. Rafayel was never someone who lacked sleep- he quite loved taking naps for leisure and sleeping in till late hours of the day when he was free. So this wasn't all that abnormal for him; to enjoy his soft bed, the peace and quiet of his large bed chamber with the serene light cascading in through the tall windows through blinds and hanging shells. His soft breaths are the only sound aside from the few popping bubbles that formed as air crashed in the water, and the rustling of fabric when he shifts once to get comfortable after he sends his emissary out the door.

Rather than a lack of self-perseverance, he simply didn't think of Caleb as a threat.

"Seashell." The voice is gentle, a whisper near him that he believes is part of his dreams if not for how unfamiliar the nickname was. No one called him so familiarly, not with a nickname or endearment, not when he wasn't the child of a specific Lemurian, but merely taken in; the child of the ocean and flames itself. Even the elders spoke to him by name, called him 'child', and his friends and people called him by titles as the God of Tides or by his name: Rafayel. So he decides to leave it be, enjoying the warmth of staying in his bed instead of paying mind to the outside world. His dreams were a pleasant blanket of fun memories, of the pretty golden sun and pink clouds, the purple of the night sky, and stars that streamed across the expanse.

Then, there is a crash against his back and he thinks the wall caved in on him. His breath stutters, brows creasing as he realizes he's not in any mortal danger, he's more warm like the star fell and he's being crushed under its weight and light. He wants to grumble but he's still stuck in the realm between sleep and wakefulness. It was not a real threat, as his body would've reacted by pure instinct- he should have understood this but he couldn't in his sleep-addled state. Instead, he blearily realizes someone's breath is breathing against him, a hushed, deep voice that whispers alluringly against his skin and into his ear. Then fingers caress his face, brushing his hair away as if admiring his face and tracing his features. If he were more awake, if he were less dazed and more in control, he might have noticed that he was being teased. Instead, he feels the warm breath and feels his body tremble and gasp, a sudden clench of his chest in fear as his muscles stiffen in panic.

He's caught. He's being held down. A man- a human is holding him down.

BANG!

One blink and the body over him is aggressively flung off his bed by an unseen force, crushed against the wall facing the foot of the bed. A ragged, trembling breath escapes his lungs and both eyes an ephemeral blue once more as clear water keeps the man pinned to the wall, unable to control the force of it in his surprise. It took two even breaths before he kicked off a pillow that landed on his feet at the force of him rising, stepping off the bed. His power fluctuates, the pressure on the human growing softer but not enough to budge, just a constant wall unperceivable to a human's sight keeping him sealed like a seaweed-wrapped fish ready to grill.

"Here I thought you knew some decent manners."

His voice is even, but he can still feel his heart thundering in his chest, arms crossed over his chest as he peers up at the pinned man with an icy gaze. "Do humans not have a sense of personal space? Is your sense of self-preservation that low now that you've lost the ability to die? If you poke a shark, it will bite." Rafayel reaches out, hands wrapping around the wrists pinned firmly against the wall, squeezing it as he gets close. "You did mention how you would like to be eaten..." His voice lowers an octave, and with each word there is an alluring tone underlying the ice, his gaze like claws gently carressing its prey until the time was right to devour. "Is this your way of begging for it?" Sharp black nails dig into his wrists as his voice grows deep with anger, a warning. A threat. "Immortality may save you from death, but there are more painful things than a welcone end. You should know this best."