#for the sun to shine upon them SOON AND QUICKLY.

[noicevibes]

if it’s gotten to the fucking point that the Ministry of Education has to announce that “the school year is cancelled” for part of Gaza because all its students have been murdered, humanity has failed, failed at everything— flat out, point blank, and unequivocally failed.

[velvetydream]

꒰ : 🍃 [ A fox's heat ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Due to an unfortunate event your boyfriend started to act weird, you should soon know why.

Pairing : Tighnari x fem! Reader

Word count : 1.9K Words

Genre : Smut with plot

Smut content ➵ Breeding / Mating Kink, Possesiveness, Praising, Raw (Wrap it up people), Knotting, Petnames

Authors note : I love Nari sm omg

It was a quiet morning; Tighnari was out with Collei, and you decided to sleep long before getting ready slowly, eating a nice breakfast, and cleaning Tighnari's workplace before helping the forest ranger outside. The sun was shining down today, but luckily, the trees of the rainforest cast some nice shadows to be safe from the heat. Wiping the sweat from your forehead you talk calmly to a new forest ranger, assuring he wasn't going to die from the fruit he ate. The poor boy came from Mondstadt and never saw the fruits or vegetables from Sumeru, probably.

"Master Y/N! We need your help!" Colleis's shrill voice screamed for you; immediately turned around to catch the young girl running to you, your warm hands on her shoulders. "Collei? What happened? Calm down, darling, and explain." It was strange that Tighnari wasn't with her, so something must've happened, you just hope that stupid man didn't decide to eat some unknown mushrooms again. "Master T-Tighnari he.. We found this flower patch we had never seen before. He picked some up and started to inspect them, and then he fell unconscious! Cyno is with him now, but..! I don't know what happened." She was rambling again; she always was when something happened to her friends or anyone, actually. "Okay, my love, calm down, lead the way, and we'll bring him back here; you two, come along!" Calling over two more forest rangers, Collei quickly started to lead the way; it was a short walk, but luckily, not too far away.

Upon arriving, you could see the fox-eared man sit up, arm on his knee as his hand holds his head. "Nari! What happened? How are you feeling?" Crouching down in front of the man now, you could see the blush on his face; oh no, was he getting a fever from those flowers? Maybe an allergic reaction. "He sat up shortly before you came, he hasn't spoken a single word since then." Cyno stood behind you now, explaining the situation to you and making you nod. "Okay, let's bring him back. Cyno, could you help carry him, please? I think he starts to have a fever, probably some reaction to the flowers; I'll have to make some medicine to hopefully wear the effects off." Cyno nods as he picks Tighnari up, the arms of your boyfriend around Cyno and the other forest ranger now. Still not talking, his eyes in a haze, this was definitely bad.

Looking down as they get a few steps away, you crouch down to touch the flowers despite Collei's protest, but they have no effect on you; they smell rather pleasantly. "Are you sure it's a good idea to touch and smell them?!" Collei was obviously worried about you, which made you chuckle, shaking your head. "It's fine, I'm pretty sure they won't affect normal humans but Tighnari.. it must be because of his fox genes.. Let's take some with us, but please you take them, I want to inspect them some more without exposing Nari further to them." Collie nods as you quickly plug a few flowers before Cyno's voice calls you to catch up with them. "Comming!" Running after them now, you worriedly look at Tighnari; his whole body was slumped over, his tail dragging after him as his breathing was rather hard.

"Good, please lay him down here Cyno, put that on his forehead. I'll start the medicine." Handing Cyno a bowl with ice cold water and a rag as you start to gather everything to hopefully ease the symptoms. If you knew what flower that was and what exactly the effect they had on him, you could make something much better, but this will have to do now. "Nari, open up; this will make you feel better.." His glazed eyes look at you and then the medicine as he shakes his head, trying to roll away from you onto his side just to groan in pain. "Stubborn fox, seriously, you're a forest ranger and practice medicine yourself, yet you refuse to take this.." Groaning now, your hand grabs his shoulder harshly as you push me onto his back, sitting down on his stomach to pin him down, his body thrashing. "N-No! Stop!" Finally, he spoke, yet that won't get him around the medicine. "It's your own fault to go inspect and try everything you don't know." You tell him, as your hand grabs his chin, pushing your thumb into the corner of his mouth; he opens it, his sharp teeth shining as you let the elixir trickle down into his mouth, making him swallow by holding his chin up and mouth closed.

"Is that how he always takes his medicine?" Cyno stands beside the bed now as he watches you stand up as Tighnari falls asleep. "Yeah, he hates to take them; either I put them into his food or drink, but then he sometimes notices and throws it away, so I mostly settle for this way." Wiping some sweat from your forehead after fighting the fox, you put the washcloth onto his forehead and the blanket back over him. "Well, I'll go check on Collie; make sure to take care of him." Cyno closes the door after himself after you bid your goodbye, looking over to the sleeping fox now, hoping the symptoms would soon wear off.

Getting back to your studies now, you open the book where you left off as you start to examine the gems you have found, trying to determine what they could be. Lumine even brought some last time she visited from Liyue and Inazuma which was such a great find.

Immersed in your studying, you didn't notice your boyfriend waking up, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you. Standing up on wobbly feet, he walks over to you, his arms laying around your shoulders immediately, as his face hides in your neck, jumping a little from surprise. "Nari! You're awake, how are you feeling? Is the fever going down?" Looking over your shoulder, he was still beet red, his eyes half-lidded and still hazed. "You smell so sweet.. My beautiful mate.." He groans into your neck, before meeting your eyes. Oh fuck. "Nari.. Don't tell me.." He groans softly from the way you say his name, confirming your suspicion even more. "Need to breed you full till you can't walk anymore." His sharp teeth graze your neck, over the mark he had left long ago, marking you as his mate. "Help me.. Please.. It's so hot I.. I can't take it anymore.." He whimpers.. he never whimpers. Those flowers must've triggered his heat to come early. Normally, it should've still been a few weeks at least, but something must've been with these flowers to trigger it.

"Alright, let's take care of you.." Standing up, Tighnari starts pawing at your clothes desperately, pulling your shirt off of you, before attaching his lips to your soft buds, moaning from the feel of them in his mouth. "So soft.." He moans before he pulls his own shirt over his head, revealing his porcelain skin to your eyes, pushing you onto your back on the bed now before he already pounces on you. "I'll make you feel so good, breed you full till you carry my cubs." Kissing down your neck, small little moans escape your mouth as your hand's card through his soft hair, softly scratching his ears. "I love you so much you're so gorgeous.." He mumbles against your skin as he kisses down to your chest and to your stomach. Softly pulling your pants and underwear off of you, his soon following the pile on the floor.

"Have to prep you first so you can take my knot, my love." He whispers against your stomach as his fingers softly glide through your folds, circling your clit a few times softly before moving down as he pushes two fingers into you carefully, your body arching from the feeling of his fingers. They hit just the right spots inside you, hitting the soft gummy spot perfectly. "You're so gorgeous, my darling; how beautiful you'd be all swelled up with my cubs." Moaning from his words now, your walls tighten on him as more slickness coats his fingers from the arousal. "You would like that, right? Have little cubs of our own, running around.." He kisses your neck softly, as his fingers work you open for his knot to come.

"I think you're prepped enough, mh..?" He pulls his fingers up to his face and sucks them clean with a moan before looking down at you as he pushes himself up a little bit. "Ready my love?" Nodding as an answer, he alines his length with your entrance as he starts to softly push in; his size made you arch and moan every time; he was so big, especially now that he was in heat. His head rested on your chest for a while, giving you time to adjust before you tapped his shoulder blade softly to signal him to start moving, which he didn't waste any more time and did. His thrusts at first were slow and deep but grew in pace quickly. Tighnari was never able to last long once he was inside you, but he would last for many rounds, making sure he bred you perfectly full.

"M-My love.. ah.." He kisses your chest softly as he starts to suck the left bud into his mouth again, his right hand coming up to play with the other one. "N-Nari.. oh archons.." Moaning softly, you could feel his length start to pulsate meaning he was rather close, you yourself close to the edge. "Come my beautiful mate~" He murmurs into your ear as his fingers softly circle your clit making your back arch as you drift into the pure bliss of your orgasm. Meanwhile, Tighnaris's thrusts were getting sloppy as he felt his knot swell before emptying his load in you, his knot preventing anything from escaping as it locks him into you for a while, his body softly laid down half on you to make sure he didn't crush you.

"Beautiful.." He mumbles, brushing a few strands from your face, still connected to you, his hand rubbing softly over your stomach and down, knowing exactly you were right now filled with his cum. Exhausted, you drift off into sleep as Tighnari pulls the blanket over you two, planting many kisses on your cheek and temple before the door opens, making him groan and growl possessively. "Okay, dude, I'll leave you be in a bit, I just forgot to give her these gems; seriously, don't go too hard on her." Before Tighnari could throw a book from his bedside table at him, Cyno disappeared again.

Later on, you wake up with many blankets and pillows around you now like a nest, your body cleaned, and a new pair of underwear on you; as you look behind you, you see Tighnari finally asleep without a blush, finally calm. It would definitely take a few rough days for his heat to be over, but you were used to it and loved to help him. Hand rubbing softly over your stomach now as you look down, hopeful that maybe finally, after years of being together, you'd get pregnant.

[requiemforthepoets]

hey, are you still there? ⟢ LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you know yourself that it’s sad that you settled on being a backburner, but you didn’t mind crisping up on lando’s backburner as long as he still think of you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, unrequited love(?), open ending, insecurities, reader being treated as a backburner, childhood best friends, christmas angst, luisa, typos, and few grammatical errors.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i had always wanted to write this for so long, but i’m not sure how to pen it, but finally, here it is! so far, i’m satisfied. i don’t know much about luisa, but i’m sorry that luisa is kind of villainized in this 🥲 i’m sorry. this is like another christmas one shot, sooo haha i intentionally made it as an open ending bc i want to leave the ending to you, and let me apologize now bc this one shot won’t have a part 2. it just felt right for me to leave it as an open ending and leave the ending up to you. so i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The glow of the snowy afternoon sun filtered through your apartment windows, casting long, golden shadows across the floor as you sat cross-legged amidst a pile of forgotten keepsakes.

Your plan was simple, really. To declutter, toss out what no longer sparked happiness, and finally reclaim some much-needed space in your small New York apartment. But simplicity soon faded the moment you stumbled upon a memory box that was buried beneath old blankets in the closet. You hadn’t thought about it in years, the worn out wooden edges now slightly faded, but just holding the box again made you feel something deep in your chest.

Sliding the lid of the box open, the faint scent of nostalgia greeted you. There was a mixture of paper and dust that carried you back to another time, another place. Polaroid photographs, ticket stubs, concert tickets, and tiny trinkets spilled out as you began to sift through the box’s contents, fingers brushing against fragments of a life you had once shared with someone who knew you better than anyone. Then you saw it—the camcorder.

It sat nestled at the bottom of the box, its black casing slightly scuffed but still intact, as though it had been waiting for you all these years. The sight of it made your breath catch, fingers hesitant as they wrapped around the familiar shape. A small laugh escaped you, soft and bittersweet, as a wave of memories washed over you.

The camcorder had been a gift from your parents, given to you when you were just a teen. At the time, you had rolled your eyes at the thought of having a camcorder. You were not exactly the type to obsess over gadgets or record everything, but your parents had insisted, saying something along the lines of making memories worth keeping.

You hadn’t even opened the box properly before you had told him about it. Lando had always had a thing for photography, an almost childlike fascination with capturing the world around him. Naturally, he had lit up at the mention of the camcorder. You remembered the way his face had brightened, how he had practically snatched it from your hands when he saw it, excitement radiating from him like it was Christmas morning.

“Trust me,” he said, voice brimming with certainty as he flipped the device open with ease. “This is going to be so much fun, you’ll see.”

And it was.

The camcorder had quickly become his, in everything but name. Lando had used it more than you ever had, his artistic streak shining through in the way he would capture the smallest, most mundane moments and make them feel extraordinary. But what stood out the most was his favorite subject. You.

Every time you hung out, or visited a new place, his focus would inevitably turn to you. At first, you had protested, laughing and batting the camcorder away, but over time, it became a rhythm of sorts. Lando, behind the lens, coaxing your laughter and teasing your smile, and you, rolling your eyes but secretly loving the way he saw you. Through the lens, even the quietest days seemed to feel alive.

You traced a finger along the camcorder’s edges, the faint outline of his fingerprints etched invisibly into its surface. Four years. It had been four years since you had left the UK—four years since you had left him. You told yourself that what you did was for the best, that you needed to grow, chase bigger dreams.

Part of it all was true, but the other part, the one which you didn’t say out loud, was the reason why your chest tightened even now. Was because Lando made you feel too much, and you were not sure you could bear it any longer.

You grabbed your laptop, briefly hesitated over the laptop’s keyboard before finally connecting the camcorder. The familiar chime of recognition echoed through the room as your laptop detected the device, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervous anticipation.

It had been years since you last thought about these videos, let alone watched them. As the files began to load, thumbnails filled the screen—tiny, burry windows into the past. You clicked on the first one, and the second is the screen lit up with a younger version of yourself, smiling awkwardly into the lens. Lando’s voice filled the room almost immediately.

“Come on, you can smile better than that!” he teased from behind the camera, chuckling.

Without even realizing it, a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched. The video playing one after another, each one showed a snapshot of your lives back then. There were clips of you on spontaneous trips—forests, city streets, karting, and endless car rides with Lando singing loudly and off-key while you laughed at him.

There were also quieter moments—rainy afternoon when you were sat by your bedroom window, lost in thought, while he filmed you from across the room, calling it aesthetic. Lando captured everything, from the highs to the lows.

The memories felt vivid, almost too vivid, as if you could reach through the screen and relieve those moments. It was the year he had started his Formula 1 career, and the first time you saw him truly chasing his dreams with everything he had, and were beyond proud of him. At the same time, it was also the year you were filling out endless applications to universities in America, unsure of where you wanted to go or what you wanted to do in life. It was like you were both standing on the edge of something new, something big, and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

It was also the year you finally admitted to yourself that what you felt for Lando was no longer just friendship. You had been so close for so long that the shift felt almost imperceptible at first—lingering glance here, flutter in your chest there. But you acknowledged it, there was no going back.

You found yourself looking at him differently, noticing the little things about him that had always been there but suddenly felt so significant. The way how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his curly hair, aquamarine eyes, the quiet focus he had when working on something he cared about, and most of all, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better.

But you kept it to yourself. You couldn’t tell Lando, not when he had told you so casually, like it was nothing that he liked someone.

“I don’t even know if she feels the same,” he had said, voice laced with uncertainty.

For a brief moment, a hope sparked in you. Maybe after all this time, Lando felt the same way about you. Maybe this was the moment that you had finally been waiting for.

But that hope shattered almost immediately when he pulled out his phone and showed you a photo. The girl’s name was Luisa, and she was stunning. She was everything that you were not—model, successful, gorgeous, has a radiant smile and a presence that seemed magnetic. Luisa was exactly Lando’s type, and you knew it.

The realization hit you harder than you had expected. You felt dumb and foolish, for even thinking one second that Lando could ever see you that way. You were not like Luisa, you were not the kind of girl who turned heads or made people stop in their tracks. You were just…you. Lando’s best friend. The person he could have a joke with, confide in, and lean on, but will never see you anything as more.

So you stayed quiet. Buried your feelings deep, gaslighting yourself that everything was better the way it is. The less you talk, the less you risked losing him. Maybe if you kept on pretending that everything was fine, you could learn to let him go.

A new clip began to play. You were seated on the edge of a bench, face scrunched in frustration as you ran a hand through your hair. The sound of Lando’s laughter crackled through the speakers, light and teasing, as he zoomed in on your expression from behind the camera.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he said, voice laced with amusement.

It was clear that from that clip that he was trying to cheer you up. It had been one of those moments when everything felt overwhelming. Your plans, future, and feelings. Yet, even in your frustration, Lando had managed to make you laugh. He always did. Watching it now, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how young and naïve you looked.

But the video carried more weight than just a frustration afternoon. That day, you had a front-row seat to another chapter in Lando’s pursuit of Luisa. It was the day he told you that he finally confessed his feeling to her, and you could still remember how his voice sounded. It was a mix of hope and vulnerability as he recounted every detail, but his excitement had quickly dimmed when Lando explained how his confession had met an uncertainty from Luisa, not really sure how she felt about Lando.

You remembered how that hurt him, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado. It was one of the few times you had seen Lando genuinely shaken, his confidence chipped away by a single sentence. Still, it did not stop him, if anything, it only made him more determined to win her over.

This is exactly what Lando is—relentless, persistent, unwilling to let go of something he wanted.

Then there was you, caught in the orbit of it all. A pattern had started to form, one you did not want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore. Whenever Luisa turned her back on him, when his texts went unanswered, or her attention drifted elsewhere, Lando would always find his way to you. His calls would come late at night, voice low and tinged with sadness as he stumbled through excuses to keep you on the line, and you, despite knowing better, would always answer.

Those were the moments you chastised yourself for loving. When Lando was hurt, when he felt small and alone, he always came to you. You were the person he confided in, one he leaned on. It almost felt like you mattered to him in the way you wanted to. Even if you knew, deep down, that it was not that. That it was temporary, a band-aid for his bruised ego—you couldn’t help but savor the attention.

But then, inevitably, Luisa would give him the smallest bit of her time, and you would become invisible to him again. The calls would stop, texts would taper off, and Lando would be lost in the glow of her half-hearted affection. You would feel the ache of being left behind, sting of knowing you were nothing more than a safety net, a placeholder, a convenient fallback plan.

It was a never ending cycle you despised, one that made you look at yourself with pity as you played into it. But whether it was out of hope or some cruel sense of inevitability, you stayed. You let it happen. Time and time again, picking up the pieces when Lando fell apart, only to watch him hand them back to her the moment she glanced his way.

It was always like this. It had always been like this, and somehow, despite everything, you definitely hadn’t learned your lesson.

The video continued to play, the faint static of old footage mixing with Lando’s voice can be heard, his laughter like a distant echo from another life. As you watched yourself on the screen—smiling, frowning, existing in a world where everything felt so much simpler—memories came rushing back, faster and heavier than you had expected. They were not just simple memories of moments, they were reminders of how deeply you felt, how much your life revolved around Lando without you even realizing it.

Your feelings for him had always been the silent undercurrent of your friendship, unspoken but ever-present. You had spent so much time trying to convince yourself that it was just a phase, that you would grow out of it, but you never did.

Instead, those feelings rooted themselves deeper, becoming a part of you. You wondered if the reason you hadn’t moved on was not because you could not, but because you hadn’t really tried at all. Maybe you were afraid, maybe life felt easier when you let it stay messy, undefined—when you clung to the hope that Lando might see you differently someday.

But the reality of it all was far less romantic. You had become his backburner, a place he turned to only when he had nowhere else to go, and the most pathetic part? You didn’t even mind. You let yourself burn quietly on his backburner, knowing full well you would never be the main thing in his life.

No matter how many times you say to yourself that it was okay, that you could handle it, deep down it ate you. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted, there hadn’t been for years. It was always him, it will always be Lando—his laugh, his voice, his stupid smile that made you forget the pain he caused by just being himself. You hated it, and yet you couldn’t even let it go.

Your memory reeled in to that one particular night, a night etched into your memory like a scar. Lando had called you on facetime, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone. His eyes were red, voice trembling with raw emotions as he told you what happened with Luisa.

She had hurt him again, made him feel small in a way that he couldn’t quite put into words. Lando looked so broken, so unlike himself, that it made your heart twist in ways that you did not want to admit.

And yet, you couldn’t help but tease him. You told him how he looked ugly when he cried, masking your own hurt with humor. But inside, there was a flicker of something else—something cruel and selfish. You felt happy that he thought of you in that moment, that you were the person he called when everything else in his life fell apart. It was sick and twisted, and you couldn’t have hated yourself more for it, but it was the truth.

At the same time, you felt conflicted, torn between two versions of yourself. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you by treating you like an afterthought. But the other part of you, the part that still believed in him, in the friendship you had shared since you were kids—wanted to comfort him, to be there for him even if it meant breaking yourself in the process.

You always knew how it would go. In a week or so, Lando would be back on his feet, back in Luisa’s orbit, and you would fade into the background again. He would stop calling, texting, and you would be left alone again, waiting for the next time he needed you. You wished you could stop caring, that you could let him go and just move on, but you couldn’t. You cared too much, loved him too deeply, and it was destroying you.

You stayed. You stayed because even though it hurt, even though it made you feel small and invisible, there was still a part of you that believed in him. In the boy who had once held your camcorder, laughing as he filmed you spinning in circles in the park. In the friend who had always been there, even when it felt like the rest of the world wasn’t. You believed in him, even if it meant you couldn’t believe in yourself.

You checked the timestamp on the video and realized it was nearing the end. The final clips began to play, taking you back to a day you remembered so clearly—the beach trip. The screen filled with bright sunlight and sand, camera jerking slightly as Lando filmed you running along the shoreline, wearing one of his bucket hats and sunglasses, your laughter ringing out over the crashing waves.

You watched yourself as if through someone else’s eyes—carefree, alive, darting back and forth like a puppy with boundless energy. Lando’s voice came from behind the camera, teasing you for your antics, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the memory.

It was one of those days you had hoped would change everything. Lando wasn’t thinking about Luisa then. He was with you, laughing, joking, making you feel like maybe you mattered more to him than you let yourself believe. You had clung to that slight flicker of hope every time he drifted back into your orbit, telling yourself that the moments he spent with you would eventually outweigh the hold Luisa had over him. But you know then, deep down, you knew better. You had always known better.

The last clip began to play. The two of you were in one of his cars, the camera shakily capturing the scene as he handed it to you. Lando had insisted you try driving it, grinning with the kind of reckless confidence that was so quintessentially him. You know that he hated someone driving him, especially that it was his car, but he didn’t even hesitated when it came to you.

The video was cut to him standing outside, filming you through the windshield as you tried to maneuver his car into a parking spot, and it was a disaster. He zoomed in on your face, flushed and irritated, as you waved frantically at him to get back inside of his car and help you. Your lips moved as you shouted something at him, your expression twisted in mock anger, but it only made him laugh.

That sound, the sound of his laughter—echoed through the room as you watched yourself scowling at him, completely oblivious to how the moment would look years later.

When the video finally faded to black, you sat there in silence, staring at the black screen of your laptop. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as a sad smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. The memories left a bittersweet feeling in their wake, filling your chest with an ache that never really went away.

You always knew the truth. You would always be in Lando’s corner, even when it felt like he had forgotten you existed. You would stay, waiting in the shadows, knowing full well you were his second choice, or maybe not even a choice at all. Yet, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care, you had settled on being Lando’s backburner long ago, content to exist where he had placed you, because even the smallest scraps of his attention felt like more than you deserved. You knew it would never be enough, but it was all you had.

When you left the UK, you had never properly said goodbye to Lando. You couldn’t face him—not after everything. It had been the hardest thing you had ever done, leaving the place where you grew up and leaving the person that mattered to you the most.

The day you were about to board the plane to America was supposed to be the start of something new for you. But it also turned out to be the same day Lando and Luisa had finally gotten together. It didn’t make sense at first, you had been too wrapped up in your own plans to notice anything strange.

You were so focused on your own future, dreams, and adventure that lay ahead. But the moment you realized what had really happened, the gut-wrenching truth hit you all at once. Despite everything, despite all the years of friendship, despite the deep feelings you had kept buried, Lando had never said a word to you.

The first sign came two weeks before your departure, when you noticed he had not contacted you. Not once. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had spoken, and then, one evening, it hit you. While youwere scrolling through instagram, lost in the sea of photos and videos, you saw it.

Lando and Luisa standing together in a sunlit paradise. They were everywhere—clinging to each other, smiling like they had always been this happy. Their arms wrapped around each other, looking like the couple everyone thought they were meant to be, living out the kind of romance you had always imagined for yourself—only, it was not with you.

It stung more that you could have imagined. It felt like a cruel grip and punch to the stomach—seeing them together, seeing him in a way you never thought you would. There they were, living life, having fun in Dubai, while you had been silently fading into the background, unable to say anything, unable to be anything more than just a shadow.

It suddenly made the decision easier for you. Maybe it was petty, or childish. But at that moment, it felt like it was the only way to protect yourself. You didn’t need to say goodbye, or talk to him again. You didn’t think that talking or saying goodbye to him would even change anything. You didn’t want to face the truth anymore—didn’t want to admit how much it hurts to be forgotten, be pushed aside while he moved on.

So, you did what you had to do. You packed up everything, every piece of your life that had been tangled with Lando’s, and left. You left without a word, without any explanation. The silence between you felt so final, so complete, as if you were never even meant to matter.

When you landed in America, you didn’t waste any second. You changed your number, blocked him on social media, deleted every trace of him from your phone, from your mind, from your life. It was easier that way, right? No more reminders of what you could never have. No more wondering if he still thought about you. It was better to start fresh, even if starting over meant leaving everything you knew behind. You never looked back, at least that’s what you told yourself.

You gently closed your laptop, the soft click of the screen snapping shut, and disconnected the camcorder. You wanted to throw it away, erase it from your life entirely, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the hope that one day, you could look at it without all the pain attached to it, or maybe it was the attachment to something that had once meant so much.

With a deep sigh, you placed it back in the memory box, careful not to let it settle to heavily among the other momentos you had packed away. You knew you wouldn’t be able to part with it—not yet at least. Instead, you pushed the box deeper into your storage room, where it would sit quietly for now, out of sight but never far from your mind.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the box as if it might somehow speak to you, but all it did was remain silent, like everything else in your life that you had tried to put behind you. The soft sound of snow falling outside caught your attention, and you moved toward the window, your gaze drawn to the soft flurry of while blanketing the streets below.

Christmas was approaching in just a week, and for a brief moment, you wished you could go home, back to your family, to the familiar comfort of the holiday season. But the thought quickly passed. Home felt too far now, and you had your own life to navigate, a life in New York that, for all its challenges, had become a place you had grown to love.

You turned away from the window and began to change, pulling on warm clothes fit for the snow outside. It wasn’t much, just a quick errand to stock up on groceries before it got too dark. You didn’t mind the task, it gave you a reason to get out, to take in the city and its wintry charm. The air was fresh and crisp as you made your way out of your apartment, locking the door behind you with a soft click.

The world around you was calm as you stepped out into the quiet of the snowy streets, snowflakes falling gently around you, almost like a veil between you and the hustle of city life. New York felt different in the winter, quieter somehow, even as the holiday decorations began to shine brighter. Streetlights casting long shadows across the snow, and you admired the festive cheer that the city wore like a second skin. You had seen the Christmas tree lighting at the New Haven Green just last week, a tradition that always brought a sense of warmth despite the chill in the air.

Walking through the snow, you felt a small sense of contentment, something you had been searching for but hadn’t fully realized was within reach. The lights, crisp air—all of it made you feel like you had carved out a space of your own here. You hoped that it would stay that way, that the peace you had found wouldn’t be disturbed, even as the holiday season and all its chaos loomed on the horizon.

The grocery store was just a few blocks away, but your thoughts drifted to other things—nothing too heavy, just the soft hum of city life. It had been a peaceful walk, but then, you froze.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of something, or rather someone, someone so familiar in the distance. Curly hair that you could picture in your sleep. At first, you thought it was a trick of the light, a resemblance that your mind conjured up after hours of rewatching old videos. You quickly dismissed the thought, trying to shake it off. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be here.

But then, as if the universe had conspired to pull the past back into your life. The person looked up, and everything in your world stopped. It was him.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. The air around you seemed to thicken, sounds of the city dimming in the background as you took in the sight of him. Lando. In New York. Of all places he can be in right now, why was he here?

It had taken a long time to convince yourself, year after year, that you were fine, that you had moved on, that everything was better this way. Yet here he was, standing only a few meters away from you, the same familiar figure that had been a part of your life for so long.

You both stood there, frozen in place, just staring at each other as people around passed you by. Neither of you moved, as if the moment held too much weight to let anything else happen. It was like time had bent around you, your mind racing, questions swirling, but none of them found their way to your lips. You couldn’t speak, you weren’t even sure you could breathe.

Lando stood there too, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that everything else feel irrelevant. You knew he hadn’t expected to see you. Not here, not like this. Yet, there he was—right in front of you, a ghost from your past made flesh, making the familiar ache in your chest resurface.

You had thought you were done with him, that you had moved on, but standing here, with him so close and yet so far, you realized that maybe you had not moved on as much as you thought.

The world around you seemed to hold its breath.

[that-one-p00k1e]

───〃★ didn't see that coming? ೃ⁀➷˚ ♡ ⋆｡

✧ summary: kissing them unexpectedly ft. Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Ren Kaji, Mitsuki Kiryu, Akihiko Nirei, Chika Takiishi, & Jo Togame

✧ content: fluff, gn!reader, OOC (especially w/Chika's since I haven't read the whole manga yet), lots of pure kisses, established!relationship

✦ a/n: no more screen time of my beloveds till next year 😢

— HARUKA SAKURA | You were at his house, feeding him food and medicine to tend to his fever. He kept insisting that he was fine and was able to take care of himself, but you wouldn't budge no matter how much he argued back. Due to his sickened condition, his energy to complain was quickly drained out. In the end, he let you do your thing and even tuck him to bed. You watched him close his eyes, cool cloth placed on his forehead as his brows let loose and his breathing calming down. The sight made you feel slightly more at ease. Before deciding to leave, you placed a quick peck on his forehead and whispered, “Get well soon, sweetheart.” His fever rose higher the next day.

— HAYATO SUO | He was always the one to initiate something unexpected, which made you determined to get back at him for once. You walked home with him holding an umbrella under the rain, and you saw how he was focused on the road. Seeing the clear opportunity, you went on your tippy toes and squeezed your eyes shut, kissing his cheek before looking away flustered. His eyes went wide for a moment, before smiling and retorting, “My, my. I see you've gotten quite bold, my dear.” Although he was smooth with it, he internally admitted your attempt in catching him off guard was successful.

— REN KAJI | A pout has been tugging his lips all morning. Ever since you came along with him on patrol, you felt the grumpy aura he emitted despite him acting all nonchalant with it. Little did you know that he was sulking. When he came to pick you up this morning, he reached out a hand to hold yours when you turned back to retrieve something; when he considered to lend you his headphones, you bumped into Sakura and the gang; when he reattempted to hold your hand, Lisa came jumping into your arms. He was fuming. Thankfully, at the end of the day, you realized. “Ren?” He looked at you silently, waiting for you to continue as he rolled the sucker in his mouth. “Can you take the candy out real quick, please?” He was confused, but complied either way. With that, you leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, before pulling back with a fond smile. He was confused yet again, but this time, he wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled into the crook of your neck, relishing in the feeling of finally being able to hold you.

— HAJIME UMEMIYA | Today was a gardening date, where you'd help him out with his garden at the rooftop. Like usual, he proudly exclaims how the plants have grown fast and healthy. It was like seeing a proud father boasting about his children. His smile when he held up two pots of tomatoes was brighter than the sun that was shining upon the both of you, and it was endearing to the point where you couldn't help it anymore. You quickly cupped his face and pressed your lips against his before pulling back and saying, “My sweet, gardener boyfriend.” He immediately placed down the pots, almost dropping them before swooping you up in his arms and twirling you in the air.

— JO TOGAME | You looked up at the sky, hearing cracks of fire as it bloomed into colorful sparks. After strolling through stalls and winning prizes, the festival's main occasion finally made its arrival. Turning to your boyfriend next to you, you tugged at his sleeve and called out to him quietly, “Jo…” gesturing that you had something to say. Just as he leaned down to listen, you gently pulled his face and connected your lips to his. He didn't see that coming, but he wasn't going to complain as he wasted no time and melted into the kiss– pulling you closer by the waist and savoring this sweet moment under the flashing fireworks that lit up the sky above.

— MITSUKI KIRYU | Nothing wrong with taking a break from your small screen gadgets and entertain yourself with something slightly more traditional. Other than the games on his phone, Kiryu was surprisingly good at the ones at the arcade as well. From basketball toss to Pac-Man, you both competed on who could earn the most tickets. Of course, he was taking the lead. He was currently focused on the spinning light, calculating the right moment to press the button and hit the jackpot. When suddenly you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to lose focus and accidentally push down the button, missing the awaited jackpot. “Hey, that was cheating.” He still won in the end, but gave his tickets to you anyway.

— CHIKA TAKIISHI | He always looked so aloof– like there were no literal fucks he'd seriously give, and everything others say were just a broken TV's buzzing. Oddly enough, you found that trait to be adorable. Sometimes, you find yourself gazing and staring at his majestic self as he looks off into somewhere or nowhere, holding the familiar empty gaze you've grown used to. He was like an innocent, introverted child during a family gathering– the ones who choose to space off and act cold to those who tried to approach or tease him. The sight was so irresistibly cute, you couldn't help yourself but to squeeze his cheeks between your palms and press a quick kiss on his cheek. “You're so CUTE!” He remained unfazed and gave no reaction, but slithered an arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

— AKIHIKO NIREI | Seeing and hearing him yap about the things he took interest in has always been a trait of his that you found endearing. And right now, you couldn't help but marvel at the way he was so passionate about something to the point of writing it down in his notebook. You listened to it all– nodding and throwing in responses here and there to keep the conversation going. In the middle of his babbling, you leaned forward and gave a quick peck on his forehead. “And then what happened?” you asked innocently afterwards like it was nothing. Meanwhile he was left a stuttering, blushing, and questioning mess of a nerd.

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Rest (Zoro x Reader)

Imagine falling asleep at Zoro’s side.

Word Count: 783

~

(Gif is not mine!)

The Going Merry rocks gently back and forth as the sun shines upon Luffy and his crew.

As usual, the captain stares out at the path before them, seated at the bow. Usopp is experimenting with new pellets to use in battle, while Nami is sunbathing as Sanji makes her a fancy drink.

Zoro is resting against a coil of rope, eyes closed. His chest rises and falls evenly, his arms behind his back.

And you are searching for a spot to sit and read your book.

Sure, there are plenty of places to sit and relax, but there is only place that you really want to rest. And that is by Zoro's side.

It's not exactly uncommon knowledge that you like Zoro. Everyone on the Going Merry knows it. And yet, you try to ignore it for the most part.

It's near impossible to ignore though. Especially when he smiles that certain way or when his eyes meet yours.

Even thinking about it makes you blush.

Gathering up courage, you walk over to where he lays, "Mind if I sit here?"

His eyes open slightly, "Sit wherever."

Taking that as a yes, you slump to the floor beside him and open your book, beginning to read at once.

Zoro peeks at you from the corner of his eye, smirking slightly as you completely focus on the pages in front of you.

He's known about your crush for a while, since you're not exactly good at hiding it.

Sure, everyone but Luffy figured it out before him, but he realized it soon enough.

The way your eyes lingered on his form when he passed by, the blush that would form as he got too close to you: these all helped him recognize your emotions.

He closes his eyes again, content to feel the swaying of the boat beneath him as it takes them on a grand adventure.

As the hours pass by, the warmth from the sun begins to lull you into slumber, your book dropping in your hands.

Your head falls towards Zoro's shoulder, establishing a place on his chest.

Out of instinct, his arm encompasses you, securing you against him. His eyes widen as you snuggle into his embrace, arm moving to wrap around him.

Your hand lets the book drop to the floor as it instead clutches Zoro's shirt.

His heart hammers in his chest so hard that he fears it'll wake you.

It doesn't, and he simply leans back as he realizes you won't be moving anytime soon. Truth be told, he loves the feeling of you cocooned against his bosom, safe under his protective gaze.

He can't think of anything more sweet than you sprawled over him.

You fidget a bit, slinging a leg over his, bringing out an intense blush from Zoro.

Is he dreaming? This feels like a dream.

Sanji walks past, stopping in his tracks to gape at the scene before him. Tears spring to his eyes as what he's seeing registers.

"Y/n-chan, why him?!?!"

Zoro's eyes open in a flash and he shoots the cook a fierce glare.

"Shut up, stupid love cook! Don't wake her!" He whisper-yells.

The blond glowers at Zoro before muttering and walking away.

The green haired male returns his gaze to your peaceful expression, smirking as you nuzzle your cheek against him.

~

Something's on your head.

That's the first thing you comprehend when you awaken.

A large warm hand is resting on your soft hair, your head pressed against a moving object. A ripped chest to be more specific. Another arm is reaching across your torso, securing you in place.

Peeling your eyes open, you find yourself staring up at Zoro's very close face.

Aware of his nearness, your face flushed and your breath hitches.

He's right there.

You're literally on top of him.

Impulsively, you try to move away from him, but his grip on you tightens.

"Where are you going?"

His voice sounds like it usually does: indifferent. But, his eyes twinkle with a sort of mischief.

"I, uh, didn't mean to fall asleep on you!" You quickly defend yourself, "It was an accident!"

"Don't worry about it, I'm not complaining."

"Wha?" Your blush returns full-force. "You... didn't mind?"

"I don't mind, so stop squirming."

It takes you a full minute to understand what he said.

He wants you to stay near him.

You can't stop the smile from spreading across your face as you rebury your face.

"Zoro, I really like you."

"I know."

You hold your breath as you wait for him to continue.

"I-"

If you had been looking, you'd notice the giant blush overcoming him.

"I like you too."

[onlyseokmins]

ash and cinders • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, royalty!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting 💃🏻 which just means a minor power play between them at first okay 😬 i promise it's not that bad lmao i'm just paranoid, lots of making out, oral (fem. receiving), lil bit of temp play tbh, little bit of choking, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? it's just basically me attempting to write prettily uwu WC: 4.24k A/N: soooo, this has been rotting in my drafts FOREVER!!! but yeah seokmin is my most darling, favorite boy i've ever stanned anyways ofc i couldn't help but use his elle magazine photos (yes that's how long this has been ROTTING) ahhhhh - ahem anyways this goes hand-in-hand with Mischief Maker so definitely recommend checking that one out too! heheh <3

He only stayed during the night.    

When the blanket of darkness covered even the moon with a hazy layer of clouds, leaving tiny twinkling stars for a traveler’s guide. The fire once dancing in the hearth dwindled down to scarlet embers barely emitting enough heat to fill the large quarters.

Not that it mattered.

Even as you lay naked amidst the silken sheets strewn upon the grand bed, the thought of your lover’s return alone was enough to engulf your body in a flame of burning anticipation that settles and simmers between your legs.

He had been gone far too long. A lengthy patrol around the surrounding territories had taken him away from your embrace. Although every morning the sun’s rays tickled your face as a sweet greeting and bathed you in a radiant light through the day, nights without him were by far the worst.    

Cold.    

Lonely.    

Dark.

On usual accounts, it was a grievous crime to keep the queen waiting. But you would forgive him for anything, wouldn’t you? It’s exemplified in the way he bursts through the doors without so much as a courteous knock that even your most trusted servants must abide by, water droplets dripping from his auburn bangs.

Despite the eagerness to see you as soon as possible, he refused to step foot into your chambers when reeking of blood after fierce combat and soiled with dirt from travel. You always protested. The gilded throne you reigned from, the heavy crown upon your head, and even the bed you shared — all were built upon those very foundations. But your lover insisted on only showcasing the glorious side of things to you.

The gold.    

The diamonds.

The luxuries.

All which adorned you by day. Glowing, glistening, and shining. Gems and jewels, fabrics woven from the highest quality quickly reduced to layers that only became a hindrance once it came time for his descent upon you. For you were absolutely beautiful clothed — this he very well knew — but when your whole body was bared naked for him and him alone? You were truly the definition of divine.

Those who dared to speak ill of you tried to foster ridiculous claims. Critical of the wealth in your possession. Mocked what they presumed was a lack of ambition. Wailed that you were a witch. A young monarch on an undeniable downfall to tyranny, one that would lead them all to hellfire and ruin.

Anything to validate that you were not worthy of the royal seal emblazoned across the lands in honor of a valiant leader with a royal bloodline still running through your veins.

Hypocrisy at its finest when you were the reason that they were bestowed or able to retain property linked to their names, money in their pockets, and a legacy to live by under your prosperous reign. Arrogant to cast down the very thing that elevated them to their current standing. But their greed would eventually come back to bite them. One day.

Even the religious sect whispered lowly, hidden in the shadows of the grand temples. Doubts that the king actually held a shred of affection for his partner — if the seldom visits seen visiting your chambers only when night falls were of any substantial evidence to go by. That he only lay with you out of duty, shackled and bound to an imposter who was never a faithful servant to the gods like they were.

Because not one of them truly believed that a god could ever favor, let alone love, a human.

You knew you were a savior to as many as you were also an enemy. A hindrance and a threat. A bold refusal to control or be controlled. There was nothing more to do other than lead your people as fairly as you judged. 

All the preposterous assumptions infuriated him — your devoted knight, unorthodox husband, and scandalous lover. But he manages to temper his fiery rage out of respect for you. Behind your ruthless, steely intent is a righteous and kind heart that always calls out for him, now fully vocalized and embellished by the sweet voice he's missed hearing dearly.

“Seokmin,” you murmur, grasping his warm hand once he's within reach.

An entity of many epithets with an existence worth a millennium beyond comprehension and full of worship. Yet his favorite phonetic combination he'd ever heard was the one that fell breathlessly from your lips. The closest the human tongue could get to a god’s true name. And his second favorite would be yours, the syllables rumbling in his chest like a song and you smiled in contentment.

He was back, he was home, and he was yours.

Even in the darkness, Seokmin glowed. The ethereal radiance surrounding the broad expanse of sinewy muscles easily proved his lofty status as the great god of the sun. But it was also his eyes, flickering with the unmistakable presence as one of many deities. The kind of power that has managed to refrain from turning you into ash and cinders.

Whether it's attributed to your resilience, a ruler born to stand out and lead, or an entirely different reason — or a mixture of all — Seokmin isn't really sure. He's not the first to appear in a human vessel nor the last, with at least twelve of his known brothers wandering the mortal world for various reasons.

He wonders if he's the first to bow his head willingly, though, holding back his more devious and destructive tendencies. To pay back tenfold the worship he's received since the beginning of time all to you — a mere human — yet nonetheless, his queen.

The event of swearing his undying fealty feels like it was yesterday. For a being that persists forever, it may as well have been that short ago. Every memory he etches and sears into his mind for eternity consists of you, and only you.

How could he forget? How was he supposed to bury away the confident smirk that graced your lovely lips? Would he ever not recall the first time he bent the knee in such desperation? Not for a trick or as a dark seduction that tumbles into a dreadful demise, a conquest for carnage, and an abuse of his powers. But instead for the good of humanity — however short of an era it may be.

And maybe… for more. One that his heart fears to admit, for it does not beat within his chest, but in a plane beyond the reach of mortals.

"Would you kill for me?"

"For you, anything," the god affirms. "I have laid waste to kingdoms, countries, empires, and even continents themselves. There is nothing I'm incapable of."

"And if I asked you to behead the entire entourage that has traveled with you?"

"… If it is what you will, then it is simply my command to follow. For you, I am a lone knight at your disposal."

Silken skirts flare out as does your anger when you turn away from the large windows in the tower's tiny excuse of a throne room — hardly fit for the heir — showcasing a brief flash of the lethal dagger strapped to your thigh. "Do you wish for my downfall before I've even risen to the throne? You expect me to be a tyrant, despised by the people I am meant to save? To lead?"

"Do you think I, a god, care what thoughts others conjure up in their silly little minds? I am to act on your behalf, get my hands dirty in lieu of you. No matter how morbid your desires may be."

Stepping closer, you lift his chin with the tip of a dull sword intended to be ornamental. But it may be even deadlier than the one hung at his side, metaphorically sharpened and honed by a rebel princess's innate rage. 

His little show of bowing means little with the way he stares straight at you without a shred of respect in those galaxy-filled irises. However, it is the mighty sun god who is taken aback by the hellfire burning in your gaze, hungry and powerful enough to rival his own as you scoff.

"I will show you what kind of queen this land needs, the methods we will follow, and the morals I wish to uphold. You will learn in order to understand them and enforce my will. Not only to help guide the vision I desire but to keep me accountable lest I stray. A critical misstep such as that is when I'll ask you to cut me down. Will you swear to do that for me?"

"… You dare question a god of what he can do? Your tiny, impudent human mind couldn't fathom a sliver of my capability."

"I dare to question what you can't or won't do."

"I told you, there is not a thing beyond my realm of —"

"Leave."

"… Your Highness?"

Painted lips curl in a snarl at the first address of your proper title since his arrival. "Begone, I said! Return when you feel like acting like the god you are, not simply a tool to be harnessed and used at will. Until then, I have no need for you."

Seokmin's jaw drops as you seat yourself back on the throne with a sneer and flick of your wrist for the guard to usher him out.

A challenge. 

He's been abandoned many times. Discarded and tossed to the side once his usefulness has been expended. He's left before betrayal can even be thought of — for no one points a blade at a god's back — but never has he been rejected.

It was only the beginning of how you would become many of his 'firsts' and all of his 'lasts'.

Seokmin is lost deep in the memory even with the feeling of your lips curling in a gentle smile against his — a stark contrast to your initial meeting. A nail grazes his chin, digging lightly into the skin to fully bring the god back to the present. 

You'd be offended by the habitual spacing out if he hadn't admitted to only getting lost in thoughts of you. Something he'd picked up during the routine patrols away. Though you strive to bring the god out of dwelling in the past when you're sitting right in front of him — the present — and deepen the kiss.

Yet he pulls away to tilt his head. "Do you remember what you offered to me?"

"Have I not offered you my all, my king?"

Charcoal lying dormant in the hearth flares back to life, emitting playful sparks when he chuckles. "After I returned to pledge my loyalty to you."

"Ah, even though I had you wait outside the gates for five days."

"Unfathomable for a god to hang around at the whim of a meager human, isn't it?"

"Meager?"

"To me? Yes." 

His warm exhale of amusement feels just like the breeze that fondly brushes your cheeks every morning despite the eternal humidity. It may very well be him because no matter how far away physically from you he is, Seokmin's essence radiates in every sunray that stretches across the grand skies and below.

He is everywhere and everything all the time. But he is here with you tonight once again, kissing the palm you'd placed on his cheek. With mischief flickering like a teasing flame in his eyes, the god brings your hand to his throat, encouraging you to splay your fingers across his Adam's apple.

You free yourself from his light grasp to run them ticklishly up and down the bumps of his vocal cords. The movements of swallowing ripples beneath the light scratch of your nails until he halts you by replacing a veined hand over yours and murmurs, "Squeeze."

"Ah — but I…"

He repeats it again louder when you fail to do as asked, not even daring to move a muscle. Simply staring in almost awe-filled hesitation until he guides you to tentatively do exactly as he states, "You would have done anything to strangle me back then, what has changed?"

"… You know what."

"Tell me," he says it like it's a command, eyes brightening and swirling with an authoritative amber hue though it's all in jest. "Tell me what it is, my queen."

Never one to be deterred, only Seokmin could render you motionless for so long. You do as you're instructed, the gentle pressure applied by your hand around his throat causes auburn eyelashes to flutter. The slight restriction to an airflow that isn't all that necessary for a god's survival has his eyes rolling back before they re-focus on you, half-hidden by hooded eyelids.

"Love," you murmur. For it is the answer to everything, is it not?

"Love," is echoed with a resounding voice that doesn't fully come from the tongue of the man beneath you, but bellows out from an otherworldly essence that surrounds the entire world and beyond. And at the same time, he speaks it so fondly because ultimately, he's addressing it as a title for you.

The god of the sun, as immortal as he might be, has died before. Mortal vessels manage to persevere for a fixed number of years and a feeble human body can only endure so much wear and tear. Yet Seokmin's soul still shines steadily onwards despite the memory of death over and over again lingering… and he unsurprisingly realizes that he wouldn't mind dying like this — by your hand. 

Was that love? 

But the amount of power, energy, and time, along with the unpredictable wiles of the creator would never guarantee him returning to you. Preservation of this human shell was of the utmost importance, the first time he's ever handled a vessel with care before.

Perhaps that was love.

Rather than be swept up in unpleasantries, he entertains the amusing thought of how much fragility you exercise with him. Having already released your grip far too quickly and instead, fiddle with the untied laces on his loose shirt.

"Love," he repeats, this time as a call in a raspy drawl of his own voice. 

"Hm. Or maybe it was… pity."

An eyebrow raises and the corners of Seokmin's mouth twitch upward. "Only my queen would dare to pity a god."

"It was for what you were. And who you weren't. I despise those uppity, repetitive displays of unwavering loyalty that either party can easily discard."

"Like the former king's imperial court."

"Yes." 

Your angered hiss is exactly the same as the first time you informed him of your plans to take down your father and his cult. The disgust and rage have barely ebbed even after all the progress made for a better future and as many years that have passed. 

Seokmin scans your expressions. He's always admired your spitfire that could rival his own flames. But in times when it burns long enough to possibly exhaust or hurt you, he worries. You're strong — he knows that — so many times he simply becomes the safe space where you can seethe aloud without interruption. 

"Would you rather grow dull and be poisoned because someone is not even worth keeping an eye on or the thrill of unpredictability? A constant sword dance that keeps each other on their toes, never deviating gazes from one another."

He smirks. "That sounds familiar."

You think back to earlier days with him. A stubborn royal and an even more stubborn deity. When did the challenging, pointed glares at one another change to simmering looks of desire?

Instead of your swords tangling together in an angry clash over a small matter, it was your tongues after a heated sparring session. How condescension switched to respect to something more passionate… more primal… more intimate.

"Perhaps so. But look at you now — look at how you shine."

His skin indeed glows a bit brighter as he melts further into the soft touch of your palm returning to his cheek. Thumb tracing constellations between the pair of moles on his cheek while your other finger follows the nearly invisible scar below his eye.

"Little blemishes," he had once told you, "even the body of a god bears its flaws after fighting on a battlefield."

You thought they only made him all the more perfect.

"And look at how I've fallen."

As if to demonstrate his murmured words, Seokmin moves at the speed of light — his normal pace — to lie on his back, umber strands of hair spread out like flames of fire against the grandiose bed's silken sheets.

Somehow, he'd positioned you on top of him. Much accustomed to the tiny displays of omnipotence here and there, you remain unbothered. Affectionately, you brush back his bangs. Fiery wisps of hair that seemingly move on their own accord with the amount of power that ripples through their thin fibers.

He might just be the most powerful among his fellow deities and you could wield all of that as your own because he sits obediently in the palm of your hand. Lays dociley among your silken sheets. What he's trying to prove to you — the hold you have over him — immediately enthralled under your spell as you play with his locks and softly whisper, "You're Seokmin. My Seokmin."

Despite your bare chest quite literally in his face, the god waits. Fully clothed in soft linens where he can feel every tempting pulse thundering in your precious mortal body on top of his. 

And still, he waits. 

His hands don't even reach out as you unlace his shirt. Though he has wrecked and ruined your body in a thrillingly sensual, blistering, and passionate heat of love-making before, tonight he gives himself over to you. Vulnerable and all yours for the taking, watching with faint amusement as you impatiently urge him to shed the rest of his garments.

"My queen."

"My king."

"There is no rush. We have all of eternity."

"Do we?" you breathe out and look him in the eyes as your fingers dance along his inner thigh. "Or is it only you, divine ruler of the everlasting dawn and never-ending night?"

"My graceful moon," Seokmin sighs and distracts you from grasping his weeping shaft, urging you to straddle his legs. You follow his will despite the object of your desires lying neglected between your bodies, coating your stomach in the molten saltiness that drips from it.

"My stars, my sky, my galaxy, my universe." Each title of affection is seared into your skin with a burning kiss to brand your body. Your cheek, your ear, your neck, your shoulder, and your hand. "Without you in it, the world ceases to exist."

"My sun, my warrior, my knight, my shield, and my sword." You repeat a version of your own display of worship and what he means to you — mimicking the same actions across his lithe body. "My love, it would do you good to live in the present with me. Must you think of a dire future so soon?"

"Each inhale of life thus returns an exhale of death. I dread every moment that brings me closer to your end."

"Such morbid thoughts you carry, my darling. Where is the fearless god that took a poisoned arrow to the heart and pulled it out without so much as a flinch?" 

"You think me weak when I'd take the blow of any weapon as long as it does not harm you."

The irony when you'd both been struck by invisible, non-lethal darts fired from the god of love's feathered bow. But the terrifying memory of Seokmin taking the assassination attempt in your place causes a rare, but true, fear twisting in your gut. The flash of life before your eyes changed the trajectory of your tactics and your relationship with the god. And as always he reassures you with what he knows to be the truth — for the most part.

"Nothing can hurt me as long as you're alright." 

"Then make me your goddess in return so that I will be invincible enough to protect you from harm's wrath too." 

"But that… you know I can't," he whimpers, "no matter how much I long to." 

A tear trickles down his cheek, crystallizing when it falls. Like many before and well after, all bodily fluids of the god will be found transformed as various tiny diamonds and gems. Tangled within the bedsheets the following morning as they always are and stored away in the queen's treasury.

Seokmin cries, not just at his frustrations, but at how you gingerly hold his hot and hardened length. Heavy in your palm that rubs and strokes it lovingly before sinking down with practiced ease, having already stretched yourself out earlier while waiting. Undulating your hips in slow, controlled circles that make him dizzy with desire. Your words pierce his chest, paining him like no sword that sliced him open could ever compare.

"If fate will not let it happen, then bury me in the ground so I can thrive beneath your warm rays that whisper sweet nothings. Let me smile up at you after winter passes while I bloom brilliantly through spring and long into the heated days of summer. Weave my soul among the stars so I may greet you in the morning and kiss you goodnight every evening. Scatter my ashes into the windy gusts of the north and down the silver rivers flowing south so I may laugh and dance in the skies alongside your sunbeams."

He sobs at the poignant emotional tug of your words, every poetry waxed by your breathy voice punctuated by a tantalizing undulation of your hips. You reassuringly clench around him, foreheads and bodies pressed together, hands clasped tightly in each other's grasp.

The god's chest heaves and the mountains on the eastern border shift to the left. Sometimes the air cools when this occurs but tonight, it shimmers and glistens as if straining against his commands. A hot wave that threatens to distort the very seam of reality itself. 

"I will always be yours," you kiss the corner of his trembling lips, "and you mine, my darling god."

"My sweet goddess, my everything… my love."

Seokmin's hips buck up anxiously and you let him lead the pace. Wild thrusts take over as he chases that high, wanting and needing to take you over that peak with him. Your body lays prone against him, along for the jostling ride as the god seeks his own pleasure through and with you. Praises and worship fall from his lips, never failing to be in awe of how your cunt molds and works his cock like a blacksmith shapes an iron rod yet he can bully it as he wants to fit him. Only him. 

You were made for the god of the sun.

Golden ichor thrums through his veins, lighting his skin in flashes like the sparks of embers. He's beautiful. Otherworldly. Your lips capture each glowing pulse of godliness that erupts beneath his flesh with a tender peck. He's all yours.

And he was made for you.

When Seokmin plunges into your welcoming warmth that is his alone to claim before he finally succumbs, it's blinding. On the other side of the earth, the sun shines a little brighter. A harsh glint that already emits a sweltering heat from its fiery nature flares even hotter in the blue sky. A blessed priestess looks up in contemplation, waving away the worried maidens who tend to her every need.

You feel his large hands — one presses in a bruising hold between your shoulders, the other on your lower back. Keeping you flush against him, holding your body to his while you welcome inside the scorching spurts of his seed within your womb that feel like lava. Your walls flutter around him and he basks in the feeling of them pulsating as you jerk your hips 

"Come," he begs out. It's loud and resounding. More of an instinctual command if anything and your body almost obeys unwittingly, unaware of his intent before he lifts you up with inhuman strength and clarifies, "Up here," and sits you on your rightful throne — his face, "where you deserve, the queen of queens. My queen. My love. My goddess."

He laps at you like a dehydrated dog. Both cleaning you up and creating an even bigger mess. Your thighs squeeze tightly around the sides of Seokmin's head, one hand tugging harshly at his hair and the other mercilessly wrinkling the silk bed sheets. His moans are sweet songs of praise but muffled as he sucks his release out of your cunt only to push it back inside with his tongue. The addition of globs of spit accompanying the still-hot, smeared mess causes your own sounds to grow much louder, writhing on top of him from the sloppy sensations.

Back and forth he repeats this a couple of times, the firm point of his nose stimulating your sore clit in his efforts. And finally, you come undone — spasming on top of Seokmin's chin and suffocating him just like he likes. Breathing and drowning in your essence, the very elixir of life.

"I shall make you mine," he whispers later, dutifully laying your deliciously aching but clean body onto freshened sheets. Your lover is ever so attentive, rarely nearly needing the same amount of aftercare he showers upon you.

For he is a god from the heavens to bestow blessings upon his desired mortal.

"I am already yours."

"But for all of eternity, it shall be so."

Satiated and content, you reach for him. He lovingly takes your hand and presses a kiss to the tip of each of your fingers. "How?"

"The Mother. She's the closest thing we have to the Creator and might be older than the universe itself. There's nothing she doesn't know so I'm sure she'll have the answers I seek."

"Must you leave so soon?"

Seokmin smiles as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. "The sun never fails to rise, my dear. I will be back before you know it bringing with me tidings of great news."

"I'll be waiting."

Your shared kiss is soft and gentle. Sweet and full of sentiment. Indeed, you always wait for him and the sun god leaves with a full heart of hope. Little does he know, and little do you suspect, the true one lying in wait was the shadowed figure holding a poisoned dagger beneath their cloak.

And so, with the death of a queen so loved by the god of the sun… the prophecy begins.

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Ten - In the cold light of day, many things are bound to change.

Ch 11

The drinks had addled his mind, but not as much as the scent of you, the feel of you, the taste of you has. He wishes to taste you again, and again, to hear you scream his name, to feel your teeth bite down on him, marking him as your own.

You drew blood, his ferocious lioness, broke the skin of his arm, marked him well. He hopes it stays, if not he will have to bring you to climax again and again until it does.

Jon curls his arm around you, basking in the warmth of your skin, in the way you draw nonsensical shapes on his chest. Your hands are so soft, your nails perfect, there has never been dirt or blood under them, and no callouses cover your palms. Those very palms which he brings to his lips, kissing them reverently. The sun shines down on you, the call of the morning birds floating in through your open window.

“Now, will you tell me who got you drunk?” You ask, smiling at him with the radiance of the sun.

“Both had a hand in it, though I must admit the presence of Joffrey did not help matters.”

You sit up, the smile slipping from your face, a storm cloud pulled over the sun. “You must leave, now, now Jon, back to your post.” You slide from the bed and gather his tunic and your stockings, throwing the flimsy fabric under the bed and his tunic to him, then you rummage around for a night shift, quickly slipping behind a folding screen and changing.

He pulls his tunic on, just in time for the knock at the door, your aunt’s voice calling through the door.

“Dear y/n, are you awake?” Her voice is sickly sweet, and it makes his head ache.

You grab a robe and wrap it around your night shift, throwing yourself into a chair by the long dead fire, pretending you had been reading.

Jon opens the door, giving the Dowager Queen a bow, ignoring the way the world spins as he lifts his head once more.

“Aunt Cersei, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, looking up at her with an undeniable air of innocence.

She scans the room, her eyes narrowing at Jon. “Leave us.”

Jon bristles, but at your nod leaves, taking his post up at the door, looking around before pressing his ear to the crack in the wood.

“Is it not odd that he spends so much time in your chambers?” He hears your aunt ask.

“I do not think so, Uncle Jamie spends much time with you in your chambers, and that is not odd.” You say, your voice light, your tone cheery.

“We are siblings y/n, of course it is not.” Cersei’s words have ice threaded within, and Jon bites back a laugh. You always know just what card to play.

“People will talk y/n, you must stamp out this childish affection you have for him, it will scare away potential suitors.” She scolds, her heels clicking as she moves about the room.

“If it scares them away then they are clearly easily frightened, I do not wish to marry a coward.”

“Do not confuse jealousy with cowardice, sweet girl.”

“I am not.”

“Do not think me a fool, I know it is enjoyable to take a guard to bed, but you are unmarried still, you cannot take such risks.”

He lurches away from your door, leaning against the wall, his head spinning. When was the last time he had drank so much? Surely it has been years, and the occasional glass of wine he has with you was clearly not enough to keep up his tolerance.

It is hot in the hall, his skin feels feverish, and he pushes up the sleeves of his tunic, before realizing how it exposes the bite mark on his arm. He strokes his fingertips over the skin, smiling to himself. Then the guilt comes, barreling towards him like a battering ram. What has he done? Stripped you nearly bare, feasted upon you, and marked you like a savage. What was he thinking? Shame comes next, overtaking the heat lingering from the alcohol, coloring his skin, and worsening the pounding in his head.

He needs to apologize. As soon as Cersei has left your chambers, he will do so. Will ask that you forgive him, that you pretend it had never happened, he was so close, too close, dangerously close to taking more than a simple taste. If you had asked him to bed you? He does not think his strength of will would have held. Perhaps if he was sober. But then he never would have done as he had without the courage gifted to him by an overindulgence of spirits.

He stands behind you as all gathered watch Margaery and Joffrey join hands, smiling and laughing at the players. You pick at your food, your hair curled gracefully, your wrists, fingers, neck, and ears adorned with jewels, a show of wealth, of power by your father.

“Do try to eat, My Lady, or you will not have the stamina for dancing.” He urges softly. It is not dancing he fears you will not have the stamina for, but placating Joffrey. It is his wedding; all must bow and grovel before him.

You do as he asks, averting your eyes when the dancers make a mockery of your father, of his injury during the Battle of Blackwater.

Margaery’s laughter rings high and clear at something Joffrey says, and a dislike for the woman grows in his chest. He knows she is playing a part, but could she play it in a way that does not worsen your pain?

Gifts are brought out, swords, books, gold, jewelry, spices, all tossed aside by Joffrey who demands more and more. It is not until the gifts have run out, and the music begins again, does Joffrey call for you.

You approach the head table, curtsying and congratulating him on his wedding.

“Cousin, I noticed I did not receive a gift from you.” Joffrey says, toying with a wine glass in his hand.

You put on a secretive smile, your mask slipping into place. “Ah, yes well, I gave it to your Lady Wife directly, it is for after the wedding.”

He laughs, beckoning you further forward, his arms outstretched. “A loyal subject you are cousin, your generosity is noted.”

You return his embrace easily, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Your happiness is my own, My King.”

“I shall have to return your generosity. I know my mother spoke to you about lining up some new suitors for you, after the wedding celebrations have finished, I will send out a notice to all our bannermen.”

You blink in surprise but keep a radiant smile on your face. “I thank you, but please do not rush your festivities for me.”

Jon can see the ease in your form when Margaery embraces you as well, holding you a moment longer than needed before pulling back with a bright smile. “You honor us, dear cousin.”

“I hope she strangles him with my gift.” You grumble, once you are far enough away from the head table, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in your gown.

“Her arms are far too small, perhaps her brother will do it for her.” Jon jests, pride swelling in his chest at your small smile.

He watches as you dance, catching your eye mid-twirl, your fingertips barely brushing against your partner’s. You look so beautiful, and he is impatient, bouncing slightly on his heels, knowing that he has claimed your next dance. The song ends and Jon wastes no time, nodding at your previous partner and taking your hand in his, falling in step with you as the music swells, a new song beginning.

“You did not tell me your aunt spoke of new suitors.” He says, his fingers splayed on your midback, hidden among the throng of dancers no one will see.

“I did not because it will not come about, she will forget, or my father will dissuade her.” You say, leaving his arms for a moment to spin out, your skirts flaring around your ankles like waves, the fabric a muted red, the embroidery golden, but duller. It is more bronze, catching the sunlight in a way that reminds him of Grey Wind’s eyes.

You spin back into him, and his hands ghost over your hips before returning to their proper place. “Let us pray he succeeds.”

You smile, a true smile, he knows you love dancing, that it lightens your heart. “If he does not, then will many houses lose their sons? Your blade will taste blood once more?”

He cannot help but smile back, leaning into your game as he lifts you in time with the others. Your weight is nothing, a mere feather to him, and for a moment you look like a goddess suspended in the air. “Yes, I suspect you will find me far more bloodthirsty than before if I must stand by and watch little lordlings fall all over themselves to impress you.”

You giggle, and brush your fingers over his forearm, where the imprint of your teeth still remains, much to his delight. “I think I am perfectly capable of enduring a bout of blood thirst from you.”

He goes to retort, to teasingly call you a little minx, his personal temptress, his beloved and beautiful tormentor, when a giant pie is wheeled out before Joffrey and Margaery.

You stop, along with most of the other dancers, to watch as Joffrey cuts into the pie, doves scatter into the air and servants whisk plates of pie around. A plate is set before your place at the table, from the spot Joffrey had cut into, and you pick it up, but decline another other on Jon’s behalf.

“Perhaps I wished for a slice of pie, My Lady?” He teases, his voice low, mindful of those around you.

“You will not like it; the latticing is flavored with almond oil.” You take a bite, then wrinkle your nose.  “Gods, that is awful, and I like almonds.”

His heart lurches in his chest. You remember he does not like almonds. He had said it only once, during his first year in your service, and yet you remembered.

“Now you see why I avoid them.”

You put your plate down and took a sip of your wine to wash out the taste.

Then Margaery screams, the sound shattering the merry ambiance, startling the wine glass from your hand. Joffrey is choking, his face turning red then purple, his hands at his throat as Margaery screams again. Jon faintly hears Lady Olenna Tyrell’s call for aid, then Joffrey falls, crashes into the table, his face and fine doublet covered in pie. The kingsguard rush forward, the maester as well, lifting the boy-king as Cersei’s eyes sweep around the room. Accusations are flying around the room until finally someone is able to escort the Dowager Queen away.

You sit frozen, your eyes locked on Joffrey, your gown splattered with wine. A flash of gold, Tommen, Jon notes, darts past, unnoticed by you.

“Ser Jon, escort my daughter back to her chambers.” Tyrion orders, his hand on Ser Jamie’s forearm, the far taller man leaning on his brother and the table for support.

Ser Loras has gathered Margaery up in his arms, guiding his sister away from her deceased husband. The guests, still frightened and confused, arguing amongst themselves as the kingsguard try and fail to calm them.

“Tommen, where is Tommen?” Ser Jamie asks, his eyes wide, wild with fright as he vaults over the table.

That startles you into action, and you follow him, screaming your cousin’s name.

Jon moves to follow as well, but Tyrion’s hand on his calf stops him. “Jamie will protect her, if need be, the wheel has already begun to turn.”

His heart is in his throat, hands clenching and unclenching, his eyes constantly moving, scanning the Great Hall.

Finally, you reappear, Ser Jamie at your side, Tommen in his arms, the boy’s face red and wet with tears. You coo over him, his smaller hand in yours as you walk back to the side table, keeping Joffrey’s body out of Tommen’s sight.

Tommen is eight namedays old, but he looks younger held in his father’s arms.

“We should retire to the Queen’s solar; our family must stand together if we are to survive this tragedy.” Ser Jamie says grimly, his jaw set, his eyes a dark shade of emerald like yours are filled to the brim with unspoken emotion.

“Well said, Brother, the pride must stand together.” Tyrion says, giving Tommen a small smile.

Jon falls behind you and your family, hand on the pommel of his sword. Was this part of the plan? He cannot imagine Lord Tyrion would poison his own nephew, no matter how horrid the boy-king was.

The Dowager Queen’s wailing could be heard through the door, and Ser Jamie passes Tommen off to you, the boy now on his feet sniffling, and holding onto your skirts.

“Allow me a moment.” Ser Jamie says softly, easing the door open and slipping inside.

You smooth down Tommen’s hair. “It is alright.”

Tommen nods solemnly, far too solemnly for a child so young. “Now it is.”

You bite your lip and look up towards the ceiling, tears collecting on your lashes.

Jon longs to reach out, to comfort you, but he cannot, not here, not now.

The door to the Dowager Queen’s solar cracks open, and one by one the Lannisters head inside. Jon moves to join you, but Ser Jamie stops him, taking a step further into the hall and closing the door behind him.

“Jon, if I might speak frankly with you?” Ser Jamie looks down at his boots, his eyes red.

“Aye.” A pit forms in his stomach.

“I am sorry.”

“For what, Ser Jamie?”

The eldest Lannister purses his lips, a habit of yours as well, one Jon has never known where it came from, but now he does. “I have not done right by you; I have encouraged you to make the wrong choices.”

If a woman is your heart’s desire, then it matters not if she is married, if you are, if you have vows or codes preventing you. A man must always seize his heart’s desire lest he dies never having known, never having even tried.

Ser Jamie’s words to him those many nights ago as they shared drinks and stories had emboldened him, given him the strength to go to your chambers and act.

“Honor, duty, it will keep your head attached to your neck, and it will keep your heart in your chest where it belongs.” He places his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I like you Jon, you are a good man, an even better swordsman, but she is my niece…”

“I would never dishonor her.” Jon says, and it is true, he would not, he had slipped, overly indulged himself, but soon Tyrion would announce your betrothal, and his actions would not seem dishonorable, not even in his memories.

Ser Jamie’s grip on his shoulder tightens, and he looks Jon in the eyes, a desperation in them. “I know you will try not to, but y/n is a Lannister, she is more my sister her aunt, than her mother. They are persuasive, stubborn, and beautiful, many men have fallen at their feet, many more will. Ensure you are not one of them, not again.”

“You know?” Jon asks, before he can stop the foolish words from escaping.

“I all but sent you to her that night, I wanted…” He looks away, and Jon is struck by the shame, the agony he sees in the older man’s expression. “I wanted her to know what it is like to be loved. My sister will marry her off to a wealthy house, it is what she thinks best for y/n and there can be no promise of love in her marital bed, but with you? I can see you love her Jon, and I fear she returns your affections, so I hoped that perhaps one night would be enough to sustain her in her years to come. I did not think of the consequences.”

“I did not take her maidenhood.”

Shock ripples across Ser Jamie’s face.

“I will not chance leaving her with a bastard, I will not tarnish her name.”

Ser Jamie’s head drops, a sigh of relief audibly flowing through him. “You are a good man, Jon Snow. Better than I.”

“My Lady speaks of you fondly; she does not think you a bad man.” Jon says, and it is true, you adore your uncle, even if what he has done with your aunt disgusts you.

Ser Jamie smiles sadly and squeezes Jon’s shoulder before he lets go. “My sweet niece, beautiful and perfect, everything like her mother in looks, but in her ability to forgive me? That is all, Tyrion, I do not deserve the grace they give me.”

“Then it rests upon your shoulder to act in a way that makes you deserving of it, does it not?”

Ser Jamie laughs, the sound hollow, stained with grief, worn down by time. “I suppose it does.”

Jon inclines his head towards the door. “Shall we?”

“I must ask you to wait out here, this is a family matter.” Ser Jamie says, his voice soft, almost apologetic.

“I understand.”

 “Worry not, I am sure y/n will bite my head off for separating the two of you.” Ser Jamie then gives him a smile and pulls open the door, disappearing inside.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo

[cypressmoons]

neuvillette thinks he is losing his mind.

he was perpetually alone, his figure an aquamarine blur that fades into the hustle and bustle of the city, his face only visible when he is perched upon the throne during a trial.

the chief justice didn’t think there is a need for the people of fontaine to know anything else to him besides his title and the law he has sworn to uphold. he isn’t even sure himself if there is anything else to know about him, really. the only time people have seen him outside the courtroom and not making a beeline to his residence was when he hosted a water-tasting party, to which people lauded his sharp perception of water’s different tastes but few words were uttered beyond that.

he didn’t think there is a need for personal connections, either. making any sort of acquaintance will only sway his judgement, taint his pristine reputation, and risk the absolute supremacy of law and justice. not a single soul in fontaine - no, in all of teyvat, has even heard of his first name. what is a name, if not something to make a personal connection with? just chief justice neuvillette will do, please.

he didn’t have much understanding of the concept of “the self”. he may as well be synonymous to the law itself, not merely a person chosen to uphold it, a “phase in his career”, as he says. what is the point of self awareness, when all is eventually doomed to be buried by their own sins?

the undisturbed water is most peaceful as a mirror, a tapestry of liquid silk that one finds their own reflections in. but one ripple will soon turn into more, and before he knows it, his figure blurs and fades into oblivion, justice and equity long buried beneath the surface. humans, to him, are like droplets of water that disturb that serene, almost surreal peace.

but with you, he feels the claws of want, desperation, desire, jealousy, and possessiveness scratching at his very core. he has never felt such strong emotions, let alone so many of them all at once, that he briefly considered the possibility that he has been disintegrated by the primordial sea water and reduced to a puddle.

because how could someone so selfless, so equitable, so unfalteringly composed be in love?

he does not try to understand humans. he didn’t find the necessity in it, but now he is dying to know more. he wants to memorize the way you talk, the way you move, the way you so effortlessly light up the entire room and the way you so perfectly fit against him. he’s mesmerized. he wants to know every last thing about your entire existence, the highs and lows and everything in between, he wants to engrave them into his mind lest the infinity of time washes it away.

the itchiness in his heart does not fade with every passing moment. if anything, they grow stronger, like an invisible string pulling him towards you and he finds his feet leading him to your door once more. gloved knuckles tapping at the wood, the hollow sound quickly replaced by the excited shuffle of your footsteps and before he knows it, you’ve appeared before him, basked in glorious sunlight and neuvillette feels as if all his sins have been washed away.

no, he doesn’t just want you in his life. he needs you like a fish needs water, like a bird needs the sky, like the people of fontaine need their impartial iudex.

from then on, his shadow blurs a little slower on the crowded streets, aquamarine accompanied by bright shades of pinks, purples, and yellows, the sparkling stone hanging on your necklace matching the tie pin on his cravat. but if it were up to him, he’d dress you in the finest shades of blue, just so the entire world knows you’re his, and he’s yours.

to you, he’s not monsieur neuvillette, chief justice and iudex of fontaine. though the trials continue as normal and verdicts continue to be delivered impartially, any sharp-eyed person would soon notice the sun shining brighter and rainy days shorter.

he has lived thousands of years sealed inside a bubble that no one dared breaking, in its crystalline confinement even as winter turned into spring, as pages of the calendar are flipped and flipped again. human emotions are nothing but a distraction, he told himself, the law did not need such distractions and biases.

perhaps he found human emotion superfluous because he hadn’t known you yet.

under the sheets after the night falls, when his fingers are intertwined with yours, when your skin is bathing in the ivory moonlight, his name tumbles past your lips in a soft whisper, and he catches it with his own. the name that not a single soul has uttered in millennia, now a living proof of his devotion to you.

if humans are ripples to the water's surface, then let you be an entire storm that turns his world upside down.

© cypressmoons 2023, do not copy, steal, repost, or translate.

masterlist

[gunnerfc]

Needy | Cloé Lacasse x CanWNT!Reader

Summary: the time you spend away from your girlfriend during the season has you feeling needy during the international break {reader plays in Australia}

Warning: suggestive throughout and implied smut at the end! 

WC: 2.3K

AN: in honor of Arsenal’s cunty cup win even tho she wasn’t there lmao 😭 & to the anon that requested, I hope you enjoy!

You sighed as your back hit the soft hotel mattress, exhausted from the long flight from Australia. You were grateful the staff had given you your own room for this camp since you were going to be arriving much later than the rest of your teammates. The one downside to arriving at camp much later was that by the time you arrived at the hotel, all of your teammates were in bed asleep. Which meant you would have to wait till breakfast in the morning to see Cloé. 

Playing for different clubs did have its downsides, especially when it came to being intimate with your girlfriend. While you were excited to be back with the team and to play for your country, the main thing you were looking forward to this camp was finally being able to see Cloé. The entire week leading up to camp the blonde took it upon herself to tease you about how needy you were, knowing it was going to make you need her more. 

You quickly got up from the bed to do everything you needed before bed, you were determined to get as much sleep as possible so you could wake up a bit early so you had time to see your girlfriend before breakfast. You set your alarm as you got comfortable in bed, your excitement about seeing the blonde in a few short hours was rising with each second. 

You groaned at the annoyingly loud sound blaring from your phone, the sun’s bright light shining through the curtains. You opened your eyes slightly to turn your alarm off, stretching your arms as you sat up in the hotel bed. Taking a deep, relaxed breath you moved to get out of bed to get ready, you needed to see Cloé as soon as possible. After getting dressed and doing everything you needed, you were out the door and down the hall toward your girlfriend’s room. 

You knew which room she was in since Quinn had texted you while you were on the flight that they were rooming with the blonde. You stopped outside the door, lightly knocking just in case both players were still asleep. A minute passed before Quinn opened the door. 

“Morning, y/n/n. You just missed her,” the midfielder spoke as they leaned against the doorframe. 

You furrowed your eyes in confusion, your girlfriend hated getting up earlier than she needed and you both had agreed to meet before breakfast. You huffed as you told Quinn you were sorry if you had woken them up before you headed towards the large conference room at the end of the hall.

You should have known this was a part of Cloé’s teasing, she was trying to make you desperate for her. Which was working. It had been so long since you simply felt her touch or even kissed her and it was starting to get to you. As you entered the large room, a few of your teammates were already eating and talking about the upcoming games against The United States. 

Your eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for the blonde but you rolled your eyes when you didn’t see her. Knowing Cloé you knew she would wait till the last minute to show up and eat, which wouldn’t give you any time to actually talk to her. The rest of your teammates slowly started filling the room, the table you were sitting at now full, and still no sign of the winger. 

You ate in silence, tuning out your teammates as they spoke around you. As you finished your food, Cloé strolled into the room, a smirk gracing her features as her eyes immediately found you and she saw your expression. You were right in thinking she was doing this on purpose, the blonde loved to tease you and she knew this would drive you crazy. Cloé took her seat at a different table, her eyes drifting your way as she waited for you to notice she was there.

As you listened to Jessie and Jordyn talk about how they are now rivals in the NWSL, you looked around the room hoping to see your girlfriend. Your eyes locked with hers quickly given that she was already looking at you and you felt your breathing pick up a bit. You tried to show you were upset with her but when a smirk appeared and she sent you a wink, you had to look away from her. 

She didn’t speak to you at all on the walk towards the bus after breakfast and made an effort to avoid you the entire time. To anyone else, it would look like the two of you were fighting and avoiding each other, but you knew this was a game to her. She wanted you to be desperate and begging for her later and if things stayed the way they were, thats what was going to happen. 

You took your seat near the back of the bus, waiting for the blonde to sit down next to you. No matter what, Cloé always sat next to you on the bus and you didn’t think this was going to change. Yet, as you watched her take a seat next to Sabs, you were proven wrong. You huffed as you sat back against the seat and turned to look out the window. You needed training to go by quickly so you could get back to the hotel and so Cloé could finally do all the things she said she would over text. 

You watched the scenery pass by as the bus headed towards the stadium and your attention was pulled away from the city when you felt your phone vibrate against your lap. 

cloé <3: you look cute when your pissed, baby

You rolled your eyes at her text, you couldn’t see her face right now but you didn’t need to know she had a teasing grin on her face. 

you: I wouldn’t be so pissed if you would stop ignoring me

Cloé was only a few seats in front of you and with the bus quieter than normal, you could hear the blonde laugh lightly. Another piece of evidence that she was enjoying how she messing with you.

cloé <3: where’s the fun in that baby

You rolled your eyes at her response, opting to not respond to her because you knew she would just continue to tease you and you weren’t sure you could handle that. A few minutes later the bus pulled into the stadium and the team was heading toward the locker room to get ready. This would be the first time you would be close to the blonde given your numbers were next to each other and you smiled to yourself that she couldn’t avoid you fully.

Cloé was already in her cubby when you entered the room and you quickly joined her. She was in a deep conversation with Dri when you sat down, her back turned toward you as she ignored that you had sat down. You shook your head slightly as you changed your shirt, completely missed when Cloé turned to watch you as you changed. Her eyes scanned your partially bare torso as you changed before quickly turning her head when you were done.

She might be the one teasing you because she enjoyed how easy it was to make you beg, but not touching you or talking to you, was driving her crazy. Cloé debated with herself as everyone finished up, her need to kiss you won out. Your teammates started filtering out of the locker room and before you could stand, Cloé’s hand moved your thigh as she forced you back to your seat. 

The simple touch from the blonde had your skin heating up and your breathing once again picked up at the feeling of her hands on you for the first time in months. As the last few teammates left the room, Cloé stood from the cubby, pulling you with her. When you were face to face for the first time today, the blonde pulled you into a deep kiss. Your hands moved to rest against the sides of her neck as hers held tightly to your waist. You moaned at the feeling of her lips against yours and the winger pulled you tighter against her.

You both pulled away when air became a problem, both of you breathing heavily. “Sorry for avoiding you, baby,” the blonde smirked as she gave you a quick peck.

“No, you aren’t,” you huffed, still trying to control your breathing. The blonde laughed at your words before she pulled away from you. She grabbed your hand as she pulled you out the door and towards the pitch. 

You ignored the whistles from a few of your teammates, you didn’t care about their teasing after you finally got to kiss your girlfriend. Having Cloé’s hands on you for a short moment wasn’t enough, you needed more but you knew nothing would happen until you got back to the hotel. 

During each piece of training, Cloé made sure to stand furthest away from you and avoided you whenever you were given a break. Each time you caught her eye, she would either smirk or wink at you to mess with you. Each time you felt your skin heat up and you knew had to quickly look away from her. 

It wasn’t until you were running through corner attempts that she touched you again. As you stood near the penalty spot, waiting for the ball to be delivered into the box, you felt a pair of hands rest on your hips. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was Cloé and you could feel just how close she was to you. 

“Hi, baby,” the blonde whispered into your ear as you watched Jessie raise her hand to signal the ball was coming. Cloé held on to your practice top, keeping you almost flushed against her as you tried to move into a free area to attempt a header. You watched as the ball sailed over your head toward the back post before it was headed over the crossbar. 

You turned to glare at the blonde but were met with a teasing grin and your glare was long gone. Cloé winked at you before turning to walk away from you. You shook your head to clear your thoughts, your head filled with inappropriate images of you and the blonde that certainly weren’t helping. Training dragged on for much longer than you would have liked and you groaned as you sat back down in the locker room.

You quickly changed your shirt and shoes, opting to take a shower back at the hotel once you got back. You ignored your girlfriend next to you, knowing that if she simply spoke to you, you would most likely start begging for her to touch you differently than how she did earlier. 

You were one of the first ones back on the bus, taking the same seat as the first time. You weren’t expecting Cloé to sit next to you this time, but you knew it was a part of her plan. You stared at the back of the seat that was in front of you, but you could tell Cloé was staring at you. 

Once the bus took off, Cloé’s hand was back on your thigh as she squeezed your thigh lightly to get your attention. You swallowed lightly before turning to look at your girlfriend, an annoying attractive smirk once again gracing her features. There was no one across the aisle so the blonde took it upon herself to pull you into a kiss. You had to control your moans, not wanting anyone to hear you.

Your lips fought for dominance, roughly moving against each other before Cloé pulled back. Your hand shot up to your mouth before a whine escaped your lips and you kept it there as Cloé’s lips found the side of your neck. Your eyes rolled back as the blonde sucked dark marks along your skin as a way to claim what was hers.

You had to force down the moans that were threatening to leave your mouth and you were thankful that the bus had reached the hotel. When Cloé pulled back from your neck, she moved your hand from your move before giving you a quick kiss. She made sure the two of you were the last two off the bus, hoping to give all your teammates and staff enough time to empty the lobby.

The two of you waited by yourselves for an elevator, your breathing hadn’t slowed since Cloé kissed you on the bus and the excitement that filled your body was driving you crazy. If you didn’t have your girlfriend’s hands on (in) you soon, you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. You were grateful when the elevator came back down and you two were still the only ones waiting. 

Being alone in an elevator with Cloé was not helping you, but you were so close to getting what you wanted. You could feel how wet you were already and you were sure that Cloé had an idea as well. When the elevator doors opened, you all but dragged the blonde toward your room and quickly unlocked the door before pulling both of you inside. 

Before you could process it, your back was flush with the door and Cloé’s lips were back on yours. The winger’s hands moved to lift your shirt and bra from your body as her hands roamed your naked torso. 

“Please,” you whined as you pulled back from her, your girlfriend’s hands on you were driving you crazy but you needed more from her. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Cloé smirked as her lips met yours in another deep kiss. The blonde guided you deeper into your hotel room before your back met the soft hotel mattress, Cloé’s lips never leaving yours.

While you hated being away from the blonde for long periods, the time you had together after being apart was very exciting and you would never complain about her teasing if it meant having her make up for it giving you multiple orgasms, which she did that night.

[sashi-ya]

𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑳 𝑨 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻. Trafalgar Law x F! Reader

🌨 a/n: so I recently been to Austria, a country I often visit since it's literally like a dream. (plus, my mom knew she was pregnant with me there, so I was used to come back to Innsbruck as much as I could with her). But in any case I got inspired there to write this little fic, that might -or not- be a multi chapter one if you all like it. The place exists and the scam part, happened to me -kinda, the airbnb existed, but not as it was listed :P- but in any case, please enjoy and don't forget to leave some feedback if you want more~ ❄ tw: a very sfw story, that might evolve into something else if you want me to keep writing about their trip 😏 ☃ wc: 2.6k

Hijacking for the first time, what could go wrong? Maybe everything, maybe nothing.

A two-month long trip all around Europe has found you on a little village of Austria. Your boots are cold, but luckily they are snow proof ones. Your skin all bumpy, your cheeks irritated. It’s been snowing all night, and despite the sun rising for now, some clouds in the sky menace with more white blessing to fall upon your shoulders very soon.

Those little mountain streets around the Alps are wonderful, they surround mountains going up and down and in a spiral way. But those are wonderful, as long as you can drive a car with heating. And you don’t have one right now.

The crunchy sound of the snow beneath your boots mix with the melody of a glacial river running in between the mountain and the road. It is certainly beautiful, the little rocks and stones being bathed by such pure and cold water, the rests of dry leaves and some moss growing on an everlasting shadow casted by tall, enormous peaks.  Everything is worth taking a picture, but you should prioritize your battery life this time around. The GPS is sometimes wonky, being that high can affect the service.

Many cars have passed by, but none of them have stopped. Little lorries carrying logs pass, cars completely drenched in dirty snow and that mix of salt that roads have during winters.

However, just when your hopes for finding someone to at least give you a ride to the next village were about to run out, the yellow shine of an old VW ban flashes before your eyes.

There, behind a curve -a very dangerous one if you ever went to the mountains- something smells like smoke and a tall man of white furry hat swears up to the skies.

You walk towards him, carefully. Who knows what is happening? Who knows who that man is capable of? There is one thing you are sure, however, and it is that this man is absolutely mad at his old van.

When peaking behind a dark wooden tree that’s now covered in spots of white snow, you discover the annoyed man is a young -handsome- one.

His van, a little rusty but still cute, seems to be having problems to keep going and the smoke coming from it shows it very well.

“Sir? Sir! Your van is catching fire!” you announce, realizing the smoke is indeed a very serious issue.

The guy of chocolate skin and tattooed hands turns around to look immediately at you and then to the back of the van. Those 70’s vehicles had actually their engines right in the back instead of the front.

And Indeed, you were right. Apparently the climb had been too tough for the poor old VW and its engine couldn’t take it any longer.

He quickly opens the back door, maybe searching for a fire extinguisher while you grab fistfuls of snow in an attempt to put down the incipient flames. Quickly enough, and with not many damages to count, the fire stops, and the only thing left is a big black spot on the back of the caravan.

“Thank you” he says, as dry as hopefully your socks. “No problem. What happened? Did the engine over heat?” you ask, curious despite his “I don’t want friends” face. “Yes; these hills are no joke. This never happened to my Polar, but there is always a first time…” he sighs, assessing the damage with a sad expression.

Apparently his van has a name; “Polar”. That’s very cute, and his eyes too. A golden shine in them looks even beautiful with the pristine white around. His tattoos do as well. You wonder about his name, and what is he doing on the road, but you are not sure if it’s proper to ask. However, he asks first.

“What are you doing here? do you have a car?” he mumbles, his voice is as attractive as he is. His eyes scan the place, but nothing catches his attention.

“No, I am actually hijacking. No one stopped so I started walking before the sun starts going down. I definitely got scammed; the Airbnb I was supposed to stay in didn’t, in fact, exist.

He grunts, almost silently. Apparently he is not happy with what happened to you but that’s it.

“Well, that’s so unsafe. I am sorry I can’t give you a ride right now. Apparently none of us have been blessed with good luck today” he says, walking around his vehicle with long legs covered in spotted jeans.

You nod. Your tongue is aching to ask about him, but you clearly catch the hint… he doesn’t want you there.

“Yep. Well, I wish you luck! I must keep going” “Same to you, be careful”

He doesn’t even look at you, something that makes you -somehow- very sad. In any case, you start walking away. There is no point in staying there… even if you have great mechanical skills that could help.

And as you do, you also have a very, very loud consciousness voice screaming at you on how could you leave him with no solution if you know it…

“Sir, you should check your water level…”  you shout, a few meters away from him. The sound of your voice echoes in the huge natural immensity of the Alps and his golden eyes finally fall upon you.

He stops moving for some seconds, lost in you. You, as well, wait for him to say something else. Something like “stay with me” or “don’t go”. A total stranger you want to hang up with. A total unknown woman he wants to protect.

“You know how to fix this?” “I do…”

Or so that was what you thought.  

No more than a couple of minutes took you to help him out. VW vans are noble machines; they are durable and easy to fix despite their particular design. And soon, as a part of your payment, the man that you learned is called Law and you drove away through intricate roads and huge snowflakes.

“Where are you going, (Name)-ya?” he asks, handing you an old cover from an old comic, Germa 66.

“I was supposed to stay for a couple of days in Bad Goisern, and then I thought of visiting Salzburg. I am on a long trip through Europe. What about you?”  you ask, cuddling with the blanket. A certain blessing for your freezing hands.

He nods, checking the breaks before going down the hill.

“I am too. I just graduated medical school and I thought of taking a little vacation before my residency starts. I’m going to be a surgeon. A cardiac surgeon” he tells, full of dreams he fails to cover up behind a tough guy expression.

You celebrate his success, and the next couple of hours become a ping pong of questions and answers. A smile on your face that leaves your cheeks hurting accompanies you until the sun hides and the little lights on the mountains start to scatter.

You didn’t want to go down in the first village, nor the second, nor the third. Law, didn’t want you to go down his van either. You named Salzburg, and he promised you to take you there.

But the night found both of you, and apparently your mechanical skills weren’t as good as you thought the would… Polar decided to stop, in the middle of nowhere during a dark, very dark winter night.

You close your eyes as the sound of rusty gears fail and Law’s annoyance grows stronger than ever. When Polar finally loses all of the power, Law manages to agonizingly park on the side of the road and a huge sighs escapes his lips.

You peak through your left eye; his DEATH tattooed fingers squeeze the wheel, and you know he will snap at any moment. But he doesn’t…

“I’m sorry. I thought- I-“ you try to give a plausible apologize, even though you had nothing to do with it.

“No. It is not your fault… it is mine- As we didn’t stop, I have completely forgotten to fuel Polar up” Law says, absolutely mortified for such stupid mistake. Apparently you were enough distraction to keep him from the basics of road tripping.

You breath alleviated and try to stop your upcoming laughter. Your grimacing did nothing to hide it, and a big burst of laughter took over the van and everything around.

Law looks at you pissed, but a soft smirk garnishes his lips. You can’t stop, perhaps it isn’t that funny… but you feel so happy right now. And you have no idea why, since you are literally stranded in a very dark wood with temperatures below 0C and snow pooling on top of that van.

“Welp, it’s ok. We should wait until tomorrow, then” you say, knowing the risks. “You- you prefer spending the night in here? aren’t you afraid of dying?” he asks, surprised.

“I am, in fact, scared of dying. That’s why I know very well I can’t walk during a snowstorm in the middle of the night in the Alps. Plus, you are too sweet to be considered a threat” you joke, searching for some chocolate inside your backpack.

Law narrows his eyes, deepening his frown. Apparently being called “sweet” and “not a threat” is not something he enjoys.

“I could cut you open and took all of your organs out during the night” he says, serious as hell. “Go for it. Don’t forget to steal my heart, doctor” you laugh, taking your jacket off.

Law is flabbergasted; he has never confronted someone like you before… but he is beginning to like it now.

A bar of chocolate that you had kept in your backpack for too long lays too close to his nose. You shake it, offering its sweetness to him.

He takes it but doesn’t eat it. Instead, his hand gets pressed against the window behind you. Law has pinned you against the door of your side. He is not a very muscular man, but he is indeed very tall and lean… if he wanted, he could do anything to you.

Your eyes widen, big as the moon. You swallow, thinking maybe walking through the forest might be a safer option.

“L-Law… I- didn’t mean to-“ you tremble, asking yourself where did you put the Victorinox blade you bought in Switzerland… it should be enough to defend yourself, right?

You notice his chest is also tattooed as his clothes open just a little. His arms, are too. His scent, despite the danger, smells deliciously tempting…

“Don’t trust strangers that easily, (Name)-ya” he whispers, a few centimetres from your lips. Letting you go after and biting the chocolate bar as if nothing has just happened.

You remain there, frozen up with your eyes widen and your lips softly trembling. He is, in fact, very right. Law is indeed a stranger, after all.

When oxygen finally begins to reach your lungs and brain again, you move and blink the dry eyes away. Silently you sit back, properly. You aren’t able to say anything, somehow you have run out of words.

You squeeze the blanket he gave you, covering you as much as you could, making yourself as tiny as possible on that old leather seat.

“Are you ok?” he asks, so nonchalantly.

“Ye-yes, I’m… ok” you mumble back, almost sticking yourself to the passenger door. “Is it ok if I go to sleep? I’m tired”

Law nods, confused. Maybe he was just joking around, but it did scare you big time. He goes down the van and opens the back doors. You look at him disappearing in the darkness until a very little glimpse of silver light coming from the moon filters through the doors.

But, soon after, fairy lights illuminate the back allowing you to discover a very cozy space behind the front seats.

“I am glad I installed this independently from the fuel tank. I have a little power generator for the back. It’s not a hotel bed, but it does the job” he says, showing you a precarious mattress covering the entire floor of the vehicle.

You smile softly, it looks cozy and pretty. The walls are full of random posters and maps, and there is even an old picture of a younger Law with three more guys wearing fancy hats with something written in the snow. You take a closer look at it, to discover it says, “Pirates of Heart” and you giggle. What a peculiar gang name.

“Law, this is really cute. You even have a lot of blankets and cushions!” you chime, easing a little bit.

“My best friend Bepo decorated it for me, I only helped him with the lights” he says, a little embarrassed.

You jump right back, leaving your backpack in the front seat and forgetting everything for the moment. What a reckless lover girl.

“I am going to sleep in the front seat, don’t worry. Use as many blankets as you need” he informs you, closing the back doors and leaving you there. You most probably were to say “no, stay here” but you simply couldn’t.

After all, this tattooed doctor is a gentleman. Right?

You let yourself rest for a bit on that improvised bed, with your sight blurring while looking at the fairy lights. The scent of the blankets and pillows is the same as him, something you secretly enjoy without even knowing. You catch a glimpse of the reflection of him sitting in the front through the back windows, at how he takes his hat off revealing a dark shade of onyx spiky hair.

For the next half an hour, or maybe less, you both become silent. The only sounds are the huge slaps of snow falling from the sky against the van and the subtle whistle of the wind filtering through the doors.

It is cold, but it’s probably colder in the front as Law is only using his Germa 66 blanket to cover up…

“Law? Are you awake?” you ask, shyly.

“Mh? Yes... why?” he asks back, with not much emotion but a soft tremble on his voice. He is probably cold, very cold.

“I feel bad for you; you must be freezing. There is plenty of room back here, you could sleep here. It’s ok with me” you say, taking advantage of not being in front of him.

Law takes a few minutes to move, but he ultimately does. He hops to where you are and sits there crossing his long legs. He is not wearing his black leather boots, so you can see Sora’s socks.

“Cool socks” you say, sitting right in front of him watching his cheeks go blushed. “Here, cover up. You are freezing, doc”

Both of you cover up with heavy blankets and fall into the mattress at the same time, facing each other.

Maybe, it is too strong to deny it. The attraction is natural, and you both can’t stop it… Exactly like the wind and cold reaching your skins.

“I am still cold” you mumble.

“I read in one of my books that the best way to keep the warmth of our bodies is to share it… skin to skin” he whispers, unable to take his eyes away from your lips.

“Is that so?” you breathe, coming closer to his embrace, allowing his arms to surround your frame and your hips to join with the other’s.

His forehead slowly touches yours, the bridge of your noses do as well. Your fingers, playfully but slowly, crawl to the crook of his neck. While his, squeeze your waist with delicate dominance. A leg that snake into the other’s, crossing, tangling…

Lips coming closer, so close. Breaths warming up, going faster and bumpy. Hearts that indeed had been stolen, the first kiss of two strangers, meeting for the very first time like two snowflakes join while falling from an endless sky

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤWill they continue their journey together? 🦢

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Blossoms & Whiskers

prompt: painting

pairing: jake lockley x f!reader

contents: anxiety, a couple kisses, avoidant love confessions

wc: 1.1k

an: the first of hopefully many promotional fics for the @moonknight-events’ bingo @juneknight & i have going on right now. DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

As soon as you enter the flat you know who’s fronting. There’s the faint smell of paint wafting through the space and the covered canvas that Jake keeps easeled in the living room is gone. The window to the fire escape is open and there’s a mason jar full of murky water in your view. His hand appears, dipping and swirling the brush.

“Jake?” You yell as you kick off your shoes and hang up your light jacket.

“Out here. I’ll be in in 20,” He calls back distractedly through the window, hand disappearing.

You’d never seen Jake paint, it was something he’d picked up in the last few months and something preferred to do on his own, like many other things in his life. But, you always like to imagine the expression on his face. Brown eyes under a furrowed brow, intense and scrutinizing as always. His nose scrunched in concentration, the tip of tongue sticking out the corner of his full mouth like it does when the two of you play Jenga. The lines he paints are as sharp and precise as the lines of his body.

You peg him for a structured modernist, dependent on clear contrast and definite shapes. One day you hope to no longer guess, you hope that he’ll share even the smallest bit of his art with you.

You decide to take a quick shower and put on a kettle for some tea. By the time he’s slinking through the window carefully with the canvas, you’re curled up on the couch with a book. His eyes linger on you, enjoying how incredibly cozy you look.

“Took longer than expected,” He explains as he sets the painting back on the easel, turning it away from you.

You don't look up when you respond, “It's alright, honey. Cover it up and come snuggle.”

Jake is quiet for a handful of moments, unmoving. Finally he says, “It's finished.”

Your eyes freeze on the page, but you don’t move. Your interest in piqued. “Oh?”

“It’s for you. I’d like you to see it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask gently.

“I’m sure. Always sure about you,” He adds his voice is still quiet, but firm.

You grin, throwing your book on the floor as you stand, uncaring about what page you were on. Jake was sharing this with you. For a moment you wonder if he’s shared this with Marc or Steven at all– they’d mentioned giving his privacy. But if he was sharing this with you, certainly he’d shared it with them.

“Eyes closed,” He instructs, and you quickly follow suit. “Good girl.”

With your eyes covered, you can hear your own breath more clearly, hear the quiet drag of the easel against the wood floor. Hear his quiet, even steps.

His hands come to rest on your waist, and you feel his mouth brush the shell of your ear as he whispers. “Open for me.”

You open your eyes to rows upon rows of your favorite flower. The sun hangs low in the sky, just beginning to dip below the horizon, a few clouds dotting around. It’s much brighter than you ever imagined. Jake is a conglomerate of neutrals and darks, leather and basics. To see so much color, such an obvious lightness from his own hands stuns you. As you take more in, you see a black cat frolicking through the stems, batting at one of the flowers. Its eyes shine mischievously.

It’s your turn to fall quiet, your eyes whisking over the canvas time and time again, drinking in all you can.

“Don’t comment too quickly,” He says dryly, his hands squeezing your hips.

“Oh, Jake, its beautiful,” You breathe softly, taking a small step forward to examine it in further detail, wanting to see each and every stroke.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, that comfortable warmth that you bring to his chest multiplying tenfold. “You think so?” He asks, trying to sound noncommittal.

“I know so. Is this cat supposed to be ours?” You point to it, grinning up at him. He’d mentioned his want for cat a few times, but it wouldn’t be a possibility until the lease was up so that you all could move to a pet friendly place.

Jake hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering to you before they return to the canvas. Jake was the last of the boys to come around. Your relationship is the newest, and though it is no less sweet, no less passionate sometimes he struggles to be open with you. You’re patient, knowing that every piece of the man standing beside you is worth waiting for.

“It's supposed to be me,” He admits quietly.

“You?”

“The cat is me, and everything else…is you.”

“Me?”

He grows quiet again, trying to figure out what to say. He so desperately wants you to understand. You gaze up at him, watching as he mulls things over, gathering up the words to tell you what this all means to him. What you mean to him.

“Its me, basking in everything that is you. You love the sunset, you love pointing out shapes in the clouds. You love these flowers. There’s more there, more intention that I could explain. But I hope that one day, the cat, that you’ll—“ He stops, realizing that he’d got too carried away. He was about to show all his cards.

You raise a hand to cup his cheek tenderly, “I do. I do already, Jake. It’s easy.”

His gaze grows more intense as he studies you, searching for any dishonesty. There’s not a drop in your eyes. “Me too.”

Jake didn’t know it could be this easy. Sure neither of you have said the words outright, but he can feel it in the way you look at him right now. You lean in, closing the gap between you to press a soft kiss to his mouth before, one he gets lost in. And when you pull away, you simply turn back to the painting. Your hands reach out, fingers wiggling and his hand darts out, grasping yours.

“It’s still wet,” He reminds you, squeezing your hand gently before he lets it go.

“Right, sorry,” You murmur sheepishly.

All of this has you feeling a little shy— held but with hands that are afraid you’ll break. You could ask him to say it, you could say it yourself but you know that things are the slowest with him. Sometimes you have to treat him like the cat he’s painted. He’ll spook easily, retreating into solitude.

You tuck the idea of asking for more in your back pocket. Another time. Instead you ask, “So…where are we hanging it?”

Jake relaxes. He knows your thinking face, could see you weighing the pros and cons. It feels good to know how you feel about him and even better to know how well you know him.

He drops a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the fireplace. “I was thinkin’ here.”

“I’ll go get those sticky strip thingies,” You say, marching towards the closer that holds everything from spare linens, holiday decorations and yes— sticky strip thingies.

“Command strips,” Jake corrects you, snorting softly under his breath.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch, @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb, @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[yisony07]

Wolfed Love

This story is very different from what I usually do. I haven't given up on the mask or ghost stories yet, but I wanted to try something different. Hope you like it!! 🤎🤎🤎

The aroma of coffee alerted the redhead Marcus Anderson that the coffee maker had finished brewing the coffee, so he stood up from the couch and, as he headed to the kitchen, he took the opportunity to close the curtains and thus prevent the bloody light of the evening sun from coming in, giving the house a somewhat cold and quiet atmosphere. The only noise that could be heard was that of the washer-dryer, which had been running since Marcus had arrived a few hours ago.

Marcus arrived in the kitchen, turned off the stove and poured two cups of coffee. Then, he threw in a couple of sugar cubes and a little cream and took them to the table in front of the couch where he had been sitting. The redhead looked at the wall clock and a worried sigh came out of his lips before he began to shake his leg out of anxiety.

At that moment, the door opened and a black-haired man, of the same build as Marcus, dressed in a suit and tie and somewhat sweaty and tired, entered the room. Marcus noticed his lost gaze and slumped shoulders as well. As soon as he entered, Marcus stood up and approached him to give him a kiss on the lips, which the newcomer immediately returned.

“Hey, Mark-baby,” the black-haired man said and turned his tired gaze to Marcus.

“Hey, Oliver,” Marcus replied and took Oliver’s hand to lead him to the couch. “Tough day, huh?”

“It was horrible!” Oliver said and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Well… I made us some coffee, maybe that will relax you a little.”

“You know me well,” Oliver said, followed by a giggle. Then, the couple sat on the couch and began to drink their cups of coffee.

Oliver and Marcus had met a long time ago when they were working at a call center. Despite being a very well-paid job, it was stressful because of the variety of people they had to deal with. Oliver was very friendly, but had little patience, and found it difficult to contain himself when he got upset; Marcus was calmer, although he couldn't handle angry or shouting callers, and would quickly hang up. Their ways differed markedly, and yet they both found mutual relief in being able to make fun of their most atrocious experiences.

Over time, they both left work to pursue something else, but their friendship not only persisted, but grew stronger, transforming into something deeper. That connection was what led them to make the decision to live together. Marcus had been luckier than Oliver, as he was self-employed, while Oliver had an office job as stressful as the sitcoms they watched together made it seem.

The couple enjoyed coffee as Oliver unburdened himself by telling his story about his day.

“And just when I was supposed to leave, the HR guy told me I had to fix my documents… I thought I had made a mistake…” Oliver said and took another sip from his cup, “and it turned out he didn’t understand the Excel template, I wasted all that time explaining it to him! And so, that’s why I arrived at this time.”

“Hehe, such an idiot.”

“I thought I heard the boss say that they are going to change it… but in the meantime, we have to put up with it.”

“Is it your turn to go tomorrow?”

“No, the boss is going on vacation and my department depends on him, so I’ll be free this week.”

“Excellent! We could plan the trip to that hot…” Marcus stopped when he heard an alarm. “The laundry is already ready… I’ll take care of it and fold it before bed, okay?”

“In that case, I’ll wash the dishes.”

Marcus gave Oliver another kiss before getting up and going to the room where they kept the washing machine. As he crossed the hall, he noticed that it was already dark, with the full moon shining brightly over the dark sky. Upon reaching the washer-dryer, Marcus placed the clothes in a basket and left them in the room where they slept. He returned to Oliver in the kitchen, who had taken off his shirt, leaving him only in his white t-shirt. Marcus approached him, hugged him from behind, placing kisses on his neck.

“Particularly affectionate, huh?” Oliver commented.

“To see if it helps your mood…” Marcus replied, and once Oliver finished with the dishes, they both made dinner and ate, and soon they were already in their room, with the curtains open, where they both began to fold the clothes.

“You could sleep, I could dedicate myself to this alone,” Marcus said, taking a pair of pants and folding them.

“But I couldn't, you know I like the spoon position and I understand that it takes two, right?” Oliver answered, picking up and folding t-shirts at a remarkably fast speed.

“There’s your pillow.”

“You’re my pillow.”

As they took out the clothes, they folded them before stacking them according to their type: underwear and socks, then t-shirts, shirts, pants… Marcus thought they had finished when, as he put his hand in the basket for the last time, he came across a woolly surface that he couldn’t recognize and found extremely strange.

“Huh? W-what is this?” Marcus asked as he picked up the object that was inside. Great was his surprise when, upon taking it out, he found a wolf mask.

“Wow! That’s cool,” Oliver exclaimed without thinking, noticing the dark grey fabric the mask was made of, with holes for the eyes. Marcus tilted it a little further and it fell off, revealing another similar mask, only made of brown fabric. Oliver picked up the greyish mask.

Only one question invaded the couple’s minds: Where had those two masks come from?

“It’s amazing!” Oliver said, admiring the mask, looking at those holes where the eyes of whoever could see it would be as if he was also looking back at him. “And it feels really soft…” he added, wanting to try it immediately. He already felt the fabric brushing his forehead when Marcus stopped him.

“Wait! We don’t even know where they came from! Or did you buy them?”

“No, I would have told you,” Oliver replied immediately, somewhat discouraged by Marcus’ reaction.

“Well, I don’t know if it would be a good idea to put them on now,” Marcus replied, leaving the mask he was holding on the basket.

“Come on, Mark, what’s the worst that can happen?” and with that said, Oliver put the mask on.

With a sigh of resignation, Marcus put the mask on. It felt surprisingly comfortable: the fabric offered a soft, warm hug to his skin and the position of the wolfish eyes, nose, and mouth matched those of his face. It felt good… strangely good.

“Well, I guess we could take them off to go to sleep…” Marcus said and glanced at Oliver, who, with his mouth half open, stared intently out the window, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. “Olie…?”

“Why don’t we go outside? The moon looks interesting…” Oliver said in a tone that was strange to Marcus, as it was slower than usual.

“Oliver, what’s wrong?” Marcus asked, but Oliver grabbed him and pulled him along with unusual strength.

Marcus tried to get away as best he could, but to his surprise and confusion, it was difficult, not so much because he didn't have enough strength to break free, but because his arms didn't seem to respond to his commands. As they continued walking, Marcus wanted to break free, but his hands were involuntarily under Oliver's grip, so in a matter of minutes they were both outside the house, covered under an immense dark sky. The couple continued walking until Oliver released Marcus in a clearing in the forest surrounding their home.

When Oliver looked up at the sky, he noticed that the moon was covered by clouds, so he was unable to appreciate its splendor. Marcus, for his part, was still confused, with chills seeing his partner act so strangely after putting on the masks.

“Uh... Oliver? I think we should take this off and investigate later...” Marcus said, watching him.

Oliver looked away at Marcus's eyes. “But it’s so comfortable!” he protested.

“But still… I’m a little nervous about all this… please,” he pleaded.

Oliver sighed in defeat. “Okay, okay…”

He brought his hands up to his head to pull the mask off. After a few tries, however, he gave up.

“Uh… Marcus? I can’t get it off,” Oliver said, “It’s stuck.”

“How?” Marcus asked, squinting, and he tried to take off the mask too, but couldn’t. It was like it was stuck to his body like it refused to leave his head.

At that moment, the dark clouds covering the moon moved, allowing it to shine unhindered. Both Marcus and Oliver then felt their arms grow heavier than usual and involuntarily stopped pulling. Quickly, they both felt the mask sticking more and more to their skin. Their breathing became labored. Oliver fell to the ground while Marcus grabbed onto a nearby tree.

With a *crack*, both men's shirts were torn as their torsos and muscle mass grew rapidly. Little by little, a bunch of hair sprouted from every inch of their skin: brown for Marcus and black for Oliver. Marcus panted and staggered as his skin was covered, while Oliver was calmer on the ground, not resisting. Fangs replaced their teeth, claws replaced their nails, their ears were hidden under the mask's ears, which took on a realistic texture, their noses and lips were replaced by the mask, which had fused to them, and little by little human words and ideas stopped making sense to them.

Within minutes, they both lay still. When Oliver tried to say something, a growl came from his lips, although Marcus seemed to understand it, and went to help him up. The couple had become werewolves, but any concern was overtaken by a longing to run through the forest, feel the airflow through their fur, and be bathed in the moonlight. They may not be able to communicate through words, but the growls were enough to understand each other. Marcus and Oliver ran through the forest during the night, to explore their abilities, and to enjoy their new possibilities together.

[dawnoftime22]

"my love, darling, sweetheart."

| W.M ( -> N.R )

Undeserving of a love like yours, Chapter 1

Chapter Warnings: None (series warnings in series masterlist)

Summary: A peaceful day spent with Wanda.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff, for now.

A/N: well here it is finally :] this is an old story of mine I never published that I decided to remake, finish up, and post gradually, that miiight also eventually break your heart...but I hope you all enjoy <3

| Started on 29/12/2023, 11:19 PM |

| Finished on 05/01/2024, 9:28 AM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

Chapter 2 ->

“Let the sun kiss your skin softly.”

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

It was a sunny day. The sun kept shining in your eyes, and you had to shield yourself with your hands.

You held your hands out to the sky, as if touching it, but only the wind visits your hand. That is practically the sky, after all. Air. Wind. Moisture. You curl your fingers into a fist, firmly clenching it to perhaps capture the cool breeze, only to feel the warmth of your hand's skin against each other, making the cold fade away.

You end up letting your arm drop down to your side, and sigh. There was nothing better, truly, than soaking in a moment of calmness like this. Upon hearing footsteps though, you await what comes for you.

A familiar brunette appears in your view above, eradicating the sunshine and the bright blue sky. She looked down on you softly, your body laying restfully against the grass that moved along with the wind, but is flat underneath your back.

"I got us cakes," she says, sitting down beside you and putting the container down on the ground. You carefully prop yourself up with your elbows until you're sat up properly.

It was your favorite kind. Your lips turn up into a smile, and you grab the small fork while your legs settled into a criss-crossed position. Your hands reached to open the container, the corners clicking open.

The brunette watched you with amusement as you didn't hesitate to grab it. The bakery you loved was right near the park you're at, so it was the perfect time to go when it caught her eye. The man behind the counter had happily greeted her, knowing she's the partner to one of the patrons. The patron, is of course, you. But it was starting to become her new favorite bakery, too.

Wanda had also gotten a bag of warm freshly baked cookies, so she opted to unravel the top of the paper bag and take one, her cake sitting unopened next to yours.

You hum when the smell of the lovely cookies traveled to your nose, making you turn your head to her instead of your slice of cake. She was taking a bite of the cookie, the piece melting in her mouth.

Your hand leaves the fork in the cake container and goes to grab one for yourself, little crumpling noises making sound from the bag as it moved due to your hand.

While the both of you ate your delicacies, you soon space out far off in the distance of the park. Somewhere near there, someone sat at a bench with birds surrounding them and some seeds in their hand.

Beside the scene was another of a little golden retriever happily playing around with another dog, chasing each other around, and sometimes the two of them would stop, the husky looking dog teasing the other one by moving its paws forward, but not running again.

You soon stop focusing on those and turning your attention back to Wanda, but once you look at her, an irresistible smile grows on your face and you have to turn to your cake instead.

"What?" She asks, a breath of a laugh coming through the word. Wanda wondered why you would turn away so quickly. She knew she could make you blush easily, but she hasn't even said or done anything.

"Nothing, you just have some crumbs near your mouth." You shook your head, taking a spoonful of your cake to put in your mouth and look at her once more.

"Oh." Her hand goes up to wipe it off her face, but she went to the wrong side. Her eyes focused on you, visibly struggling to find it because she knows it's not gone due to simply your smile growing.

"No, the other side." You say, helping her. She gets it and looks at you expectantly. You nod, and put a thumbs up, making her reflect your smile.

"You got it." You finish off the last of your cake, and pop the lid back on. Soon your attention drifts off to the sky and the gold shining through the clouds. Wanda follows, and sees the sun behind you, making you glow like an angel.

"We should go to the lake. We can take some beautiful pictures there." She said, tiltng her head slightly, and you see her brunette hair starting to soak in the sunlight. Your eyes brightened at the sentence though, and a soft gasp comes from you.

"Yes! We should." Her lips rise up into a smile once more, and she grabs the bag of cookies before going to stand up. You follow along with your empty container and hers that still had a cake.

You turn to walk with her towards the nearby lake. Since the sunset was only just starting, you had more than enough time to arrive there. A cool breeze goes by, visiting your skins and your hairs. The water that started to come into your view properly, too, was moving with the wind.

The trees shaped the lake beautifully and openly. Not many people were around, especially because nighttime is soon coming around. But it made it all the more better.

Wanda took out her phone from her pocket and started taking some pictures. You stood by, but placed down the containers at a nearby bench and kneeled down to grab a couple small rocks to keep in the palm of your hand.

A thought to take some pictures, too, crossed your mind, but with the present reason of having forgotten to bring your camera, you decided against it.

You stood up and held only one rock in the other hand, throwing it on the water. It jumped lightly against it and splashed, until it dropped to below the water. Wanda turns her phone to you and you look at her.

"Nooo, don't take pictures of me! Look at the lake!" You point your finger towards it before throwing another rock. She moved her phone along the movement, and you assumed she was not just taking pictures, but videos. That rock went farther than the previous one.

"But you're more beautiful than the lake or the sunset!" She says, and you shake your head with a tinge of blush on your face. Once she was done, she walked closer to you with a smile and put her hand out.

You gave her the rest of the rocks in your hand except for one and she threw them. It only jumped twice and you try your hardest not to laugh or smile too wide.

"Okay, that was only my warmup." She says, looking at you with a warning before preparing for another throw. You only hum in response, knowing that it was an obvious excuse.

Wanda throws another, and it does skip farther, before it splashed entirely and disappeared into the water. The clouds had melted into the skies by now, and the last rock you had, you put into one of your pockets.

"I think that one jumped more than yours." You grabbed the cakes and turned away from the lake, now starting to walk to, perhaps, the car. The brunette was behind you anyways though, the place seemed to get darker, with the sun sinking down in the horizon.

"Nope, it did not." You say softly, glancing at her before focusing on the path towards the car once more. She raised her eyebrows at you. To be honest, the two of you got the same amount of jumps in the water with the rocks.

"Sure it did." She adds, wanting to be right. You were getting closer to the car, and she brought out her keys from her pocket, unlocking the car.

"Nope." You repeat, a playful smile on your face when she managed took a look at it at from her driver side just through the windows. She shakes her head with a smile of her own.

You pull the door handle and it opens. You sit in the passenger's side and close the door, your next move being to click the seatbelt on. Wanda had already done the same, and she's starting the engine.

The car powers up and the screens light on. She makes sure to adjust the ac temperature before moving from off the parking spot and into the main road slowly and carefully.

As the truck tires hit the road, the quiet humming of the car is added with the sound of concrete and small pebbles hitting the tires. You look out the window and watch the other cars pass by. There's people on the side of the street.

A florist, holding a boquet of flowers ready to go in a vase. Or perhaps a bought gift, as they're heading for their bicycle. The warm sunlight shone down on the florist, making out a pretty scene. Oh, dear, moments like these filled your heart with life.

Wanda looks at you softly for a second, seeing you spaced out the window. Her hand goes up to turn on the radio, finding a channel that holds good music. She focuses back on the road once she's gotten it.

The songs were calm. Perhaps even encapturing the entire feeling of today. Trees passed by. Streetlights passed by. The lights are on already, and the moon's showing up. Birds are retreating back to their houses, just as you are currently doing.

You look over to your other side, where Wanda sat, her fingers drumming, and her head nodding along the rhythm of the music. She was...so, so pretty. The car comes to a gentle stop, but you hadn't arrived just yet, only at a red light.

"I can see you staring," she says quietly with her eyes focused on the road. Her foot pushed on the pedal once more when the light turned green, and she went to make a turn.

"It's hard not to," you respond, saying only the truth. She glanced at you again, the corners of her lips raising. Buildings went by in her own window.

That is, until she goes into the driveway of your shared house. The car stops and Wanda slides her seatbelt off along with you. She turns the engine off, and the music turns into a quiet silence.

You grab the cookies and cake then open the door, getting out. She locked the car by the time the both of you had closed the doors, and she had grabbed all the items inside.

With the keys in her hands already retrieved from her pockets, she walks to the front door and inserts the key, unlocking it. You were waiting behind her on the porch, and she enters first with you at her back.

The lights in the house were flicked on by Wanda and she goes back to the front to close the door, considering your hands were full. You got your shoes off and went to place the small desserts in your hand onto the kitchen island.

When you looked behind you, the brunette was choosing a vinyl from her shelf to play, her face concentrated. She chooses one right as you went to sit on the couch, her hand carefully grabbing the disc out its sleeve to gently put on the turntable.

She plays the record and slowly drops the needle down on the vinyl, it eventually playing out a soft, mellow tune, one perfect for dancing.

When you see her walking towards you, you expected nothing more or less than an offer. You smile once she holds her hand out for you, a way to ask you to dance. You hesitate, but you gently take her hand, your body getting pulled up with your heart's answer.

She puts her hands around your waist and starts swaying gently to the music, while you settled with your head on her shoulder, your mind wandering with the thoughts of everything.

Outside, sounds of rainfall starts pattering down. The windows filled with drops of it all, but with the curtains closed you couldn't. Although the noise made it clear that it wasn't the record player, or anything else.

You looked up at Wanda, and you can see her gazing back down at you, her eyes meeting yours softly. A small smile goes on her face, the two of you ever so lost in the love you held.

She whispers softly, "I love you," and your heart did leaps in your chest. You've been together for a while, but she's never said such a sentence until this very moment. It came as a surprise.

"I love you, too." You lean back slightly to look at her more, and you can physically see the happiness that fills her face.

end of chapter 1. <3

Series Masterlist Chapter 2 ->

A/N: I am terribly sorry to say that there won't be this much happiness in the later chapters :')

--------------

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@may-z3 @ludasgf @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @justanotherteenpoet @fxckmiup @dmenby3100 @natashasilverfox @wandsmxmff @simp-erformarvelwomen

[achaoticeternal]

nothing between us

aemond targaryen x reader part two - can’t you see...? ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ word count: 3.6k summary: under the influence of his mother, Aemond has followed the Faith of the Seven closely. The second son of the King is proud to meet a young noble Lady who shares the Faith as closely as he does.  a/n: there will be a part two :)  warnings: AFAB reader, theme of obsession, religious themes and guilt

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“And may the Mother and Father watch over us as we walk in light…” The prayer rolled off your tongue with a finish. With a nod of your head, you finally rose from your spot at the altar.

The High Septon bid a dismissal as the halls of the sept began to clear. Your mother linked arms with you, serving as your guide through the crowd. She kept a warm smile on her face, nodding to both nobles and peasants alike. Though your father was just behind you, not showing the same warmth to the general public as your mother. 

You continued to follow out the doors, the sun shining brilliantly upon the capital. The light bounced off the blue waters, reflecting beautifully onto the shore. It had been either overcast or raining for the past week or so. But a day of sun was something you would truly thank the Mother for later. 

As you continued to be tugged along down the steps of the sept, your arms slipped out of your mother's, instead lifting up your skirt to be more diligent with your steps. In the courtyard below, merchants and spinsters began to announce their wears, bidding anyone who dared to take a look. Usually, they would be selling more exotic things than they would on any other day. 

With a giggle, your steps picked up as you tapped your mother on the shoulder, “We must stop by one of the book stands! I’ve read practically everything I can access in the prince’s and king’s library. A book from afar would be a welcome distraction!”

“You and your books…” Your father chuckled behind you, patting your back, “You’ll have to choose quickly, the Hand is summoning the Small Council to convene once that bell strikes two.”

With a nod, you picked up your steps, hoping to get to the book stand sooner. However, you were stuck behind a group of stragglers who cared to chat far more than they cared to walk. A sigh passed your lips as you continued trying to move around the group and reach your destination soon. You were able to press yourself against the wall in order to squeeze through the small gaps the group of elders made. When bumping past them, you whisper small apologies and pardons.

It isn’t until you are fully around the group of elders offering you small smiles that you are able to take large strides. You take the steps two at a time, hoping to beat the rush of the audience fleeing from the sept this morning. A smile spans across your face as you eye the end of the stairs, close enough that you feel the sparks of gratification stir inside. Accounting for the commoners surrounding you, your steps continue light and quick against the cobblestone. 

Yet what you did not account for was a mother and her two small children toddling next to her. The little girl drops her wood carving of a bear which tumbles down the stairs. As the toddler leans down to grab her belonging, you take a swift sidestep to avoid falling upon her or her mother. And just as quickly as relief passes through you, your foot dips into a small hole in the ground, causing your balance to unfavorably sway. Your hands can cling to nothing to keep you up and so you feel yourself free fall into the courtyard.

You brace yourself for an impact that never comes. Instead, two firm arms have caught you, saving you from any injury of landing so roughly.

“May the Seven bless you! Thank you,” The words spill from your lips as you regain your footing, standing to meet whoever has come to your aid. The breath exits your body as you meet, the violet eye of one Prince Aemond Targaryen. A dark cloak hangs over his shoulders, the hood pulled up most likely to hide his silver blond hair from straying eyes. If not for your somewhat familiarness with the royal family, you might have dismissed him as another stroller in the courtyard. Except you do recall seeing him and the Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower, observing the service in the sept just mere moments ago. The only other indicator to confirm that it is the Prince is the two King’s Guard that has joined his side, their shoulders relaxing when they recognize your noble appearance. 

“My-”

“My lady,” Aemond is quick to cut you off, clearly wishing not to be recognized, “May I ask where you were rushing off so quickly? It seems patience might not be among your virtues.”

Before you can properly answer him, you feel a hand on your shoulder -- your father who bows his head slightly in observance to the prince, “I apologize for my daughter’s clumsiness, ser.”

Aemond’s face remains stoic as he addresses your father, “All is well, my Lord. Perhaps we might thank the Seven that your daughter fell into my arms, rather than injuring herself or others on the abrasive ground.” 

A pause lingers for a moment as your father tries to find his next words. Should he thank the prince? Correct his daughter before the royal before him? Instead, you reply to the prince’s original question.

“There is a book stall that is only in the market once a moon with books from across the sea. I’ve almost read everything in the royal libraries, so I hoped to find a new text to read,” Your tone was polite, and kind when addressing the prince. You almost swore to the Mother that the corners of Aemond’s lips twitched into a smile before his disposition settled once more.

“Enjoy your noon then, I hear the Hand has summoned the small council and tends to busy them later” the Prince spoke with a nod, “my Lord, my Lady.” 

And just like that, the Prince and his guards have almost dissipated among the crowd. They are undoubtedly returning to the Red Keep, yet you wonder why the Prince did not join his mother in the royal carriage. But the thought leaves your mind just as quickly as your parents escort you to the book stand, not wishing for you to cause another scene.

--

The sun has fallen past midday and your father has long left you and your mother to attend the meeting in the Hand’s tower. While your Lord Father attended to work and the realm, you entertained your mother in one of the social dens of the Keep. Your mother was currently perched on a chair by the window, completing some needlework. In the chair opposite to her, there you sat with the religious text of the Faith in your lap. 

This was Sunday tradition, and even if your father could not be in attendance, you would not deny your obligation to thank the Seven for all they do for you, your family, and the realm. Though you knew nearly every passage by heart, your mother insisted you read so as not to be distracted from the outside temptations of the world.

But the book only kept your attention to a certain extent. Your mother was too enamored by her craft to notice when your eyes strayed from the pages and to the people that passed through the Keep. It was mainly guards going about their duties, and servants tending to wherever they must, but even Prince Aemond and Prince Aegon made a pass through. 

Both the Targaryen princes were walking in the direction of the Hand’s Tower. Most likely to participate in the Small Council meeting as a part of their royal duties. After living almost two moons in the castle, you noticed that the elder brother, Aegon, did not share the same satisfaction in performing his tasks as Aemond did. Once you swore that you watched Aemond nearly drag his brother to one of the council meetings, but you would never vocalize such. 

Here they were, the Targaryen princes, strolling through the corridor. Aegon was currently speaking but was too distant to make out what he quite said. You only assumed it to be a joke as he laughed while Aemond seemed less than entertained. But with a slight turn of his head, the younger prince caught sight of you, continuing your readings to your mother. He noted the book in your lap, familiar with it himself due to his time with his own mother, and offered you a nod. 

A moment later, the princes were gone. It was as if you had only imagined it, in fact, you could have convinced yourself the slight interaction had never happened. Except your mother spoke up when she noticed you had fallen silent, “Continue reading, dear.”

-- 

Days passed and with it, routine settled into place. Consistently socializing with the other nobles taking residence within the Keep, attending septa lessons, and continuing your residency in the library. However, a new commonality slithers into your routine. At least once a day, your path would cross with Prince Aemond, just briefly, but always the same gesture. Just a nod. 

You had anticipated today to be no different, spotting the prince earlier in the day. He had been sitting in the gardens with his beloved sister, Princess Helaena, as she cared for her collection of insects. Others would gossip of the princess’s peculiar curiosity, but you thought it endearing, almost divine, in how she cared for even the smallest of the Seven’s creatures. While you took station across the garden, Aemond gently passed back to his sister an arachnid one of the maesters had brought back from the citadel as a token to the princess. Once the creature was safely in Helaena’s palm, Aemond almost instantaneously caught your gaze. 

The impromptu action caused your breath to hitch in your throat. As always, you offered the Prince a nod of your head and a smile as a sign of respect. And as always, Aemond returned the nod. But then the corners of his mouth twitched upward as well, eyes locked on yours. It was the first time you had seen Aemond truly smile. 

Now that smile haunted your memory whilst sitting and attempting to read one of the new books your father recently purchased for you. It was some Braavosi epic that reached astounding popularity, yet now hardly held your attention. The poems bored you more than the Concise History of the Construction of Lemonwood. Taking the pendant of the Maiden between your fingers, you silently prayed to the Gods to rid these thoughts of the prince from your mind. Even as innocent as they were… you did not want temptation to come knocking at your door.

But the Gods speak in rhythm, or at least enjoy seeing mortals grovel, you thought as none other than Prince Aemond entered the library. He wore his usual dark tunic and trousers with a matching waistcoat and belt to cinch it all together. Even outside his training garbs, he reminded you firmly of the Warrior. 

Prince Aemond offered you a curt nod upon his entrance to the library before making his way over to a previously organized stack of books. Most of them were about the histories of Old Valyria with the occasional book on law and reform. It seemed Aemond was consistently studying as if that were his duty to the realm. Though you acknowledged that it was part of what was expected of him. 

Your focus finally returned back to your own novel when the Prince decided to claim your attention once more, “I have not seen that book in this library before.”

“Pardon me, my Prince?” You looked to him curiously, surprised at his observant eye.

“That book,” He gestured to your hand, “The binding is not only fresh but there is not a book in this library with a green cover and red stitching. That red stitching is not of Westeros either.”

You blinked a few times, absorbing this information, “You would be correct, my prince.”

“Then how did you come across such a book, my lady?” 

Swallowing your nerves, you continued the light conversation with the Prince, “My Lord Father bought it for me from a Braavosi merchant.”

“Mmm… if I recall, it was the same day you took that tumble,” He raised his brow.

“Yes, my Prince.” The day I tumbled into your arms.

“And, if my memory serves correctly, you made a sentiment on how you’ve already read through the titles in this library.”

“Yes, my prince.” You agreed once more, “All titles that I was permitted to read.”

“Permitted,” The word lingered on his tongue as if it were a curse, “I see.”

Silence fell over the library. You assumed it to be the end of your conversation with the prince. Minutes passed and you returned to your pages, mulling over the same lines for what felt like eons. That was until the prince called your attention once more.

“Who gives you permission as to what books you read?” There was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite place, but it stirred something within you.

“That would be my Lord Father,” You answered softly, “my prince.”

Then footsteps thudded across the floor. Aemond moved swiftly from his desk to stand before you instead. From your seat, you gazed up at the tall lean prince. In your current position, he towered over you and a warm hue of orange outlined his head from behind - as if he was carved from the perfected chisel and marble in the hand of the Seven. With ease, he took the epic from your hand and replaced it with a slightly heavier book. 

“At this time every day, I expect you to meet me in the library and read this to me,” Aemond instructed you.

Looking down, you took note of the title: Encounters of the Maiden and the Warrior.

“As you wish, my prince,” You nodded your head, “But I must ask my Lord Father for-”

“I am your prince,” Aemond interrupted, “Are direct orders from your prince not enough for you to do as you are told?”

You did not respond. Words were lost on you, and how could you correct him? He was right, in a sense… wasn’t he?

“Then the matter is settled,” He tilted his head, “Besides, your family mulls over religious texts quite often. This is simply a text to expand such education.”

Without another rise from yourself, you opened the book and began to read it to him. Aemond settled himself in a chair opposite of your own, fingers lightly tapping against the wood of the armrest. His expression gave away little of what he was thinking, so you simply continued.

The activity continued till the end of the moon. At first, you anticipated the meetings would only last till you finished reading the book aloud to him. But it shocked you one day when Aemond would instruct you to skip a few pages or even entire chapters. When you questioned him about this, he simply dismissed them as unnecessary to your divine education. He did not allow you to press the matter further. 

--

One evening, you joined your mother in your parents’ apartments after a visit to the Sept with your mother. Together, you had participated in your weekly prayers to the Mother and Maiden, lighting a candle for each. When you both returned, you recounted the trip to your father who had been too tied to his duties to participate. 

Dinner plans had been arranged for the families of Small Council members to have a private feast with the royal family. Typically, your family would pray in the godswood of the Keep before attending any supper, but tonight your parents thought it best to make an exception. 

Your mother had just finished pinning your hair when a knock fell upon the chamber door. Looking at your father, he answered the guest’s knock. 

There stood Prince Aemond, and his loyal King’s Guard, Ser Criston Cole. It was rare for a royal to come calling at a door. Quickly, you all rose to your feet, paying respects to the prince before you. While your father and mother offered him a nod, you honored the prince with a curtsy. 

“My Prince, why might we have the pleasure of your presence?” your Lord Father asked.

Aemond’s eye drifted over your form. He drank in the sight of you, prepared even if simply for a dinner with the King. His eye then adjusted back to looking your father in the eye.

“I have come to call upon the young Lady,” He stated simply, “I’d like to pray with her in the godswood before supper, under supervision, of course.” The prince gestured to Ser Cole who remained still. 

Warmth filled your cheeks and chest at the thought of being alone with the prince. It wasn’t your first time, of course, but each private moment with him brought over a wave of new emotions. 

Taking a moment to think, your father then nodded his head in agreement, “You have my permission.”

--

Ser Criston was notably trailing quite a few steps behind the prince and you as if he did not want to infringe upon the interaction. A part of your mind wondered if it was by order or out of the guard’s own consideration.

Aemond had led you from your parents’ apartments to just outside the garden wall. Your arm was carefully linked in his own, shoulders brushing against the other with each step. While you walked, you recounted your visit to the sept to the prince. He had not inquired, but you disdained any silence between you both and he did at least act amused. Amused as the prince would allow himself to be, at least. 

“And who gifted you your pendant of the Maiden?” The prince asked.

“My grandmother, before she passed,” you explained to him, “It was hers. A gift from my grandfather upon their betrothal.”

“I see,” He nodded, falling quiet once more. 

Before another word could be uttered, you arrived at the courtyard where the small godswood lay snug. Though you appreciated having a place to properly pray to the Seven nearby, your mind always trailed back to the godswood of your own ancestral home. It was considerably larger than this, or any of the Southern kingdoms. You never commented on the size though, not wanting to offend those who tended to it or sought comfort here. 

As Aemond led you forward, Ser Criston remained in the archway at attention. His eyes focused on the halls, surveying for harm as expected of him. 

Just as you approached the heart tree, Aemond stopped his moments, keeping you tucked into his side. Your eyes turned to his face, scanning his demeanor for a clue of what was in his mind.

Suddenly, he spoke once more, “My mother often comments on the fact that there is not a proper weirwood tree in the Red Keep’s godswood.”

After a pause, you offered him a response, “I believe I understand her sentiment.”

The prince turned toward you with a raised brow, dropping your arm in exchange for taking your hands in his own, “And what is that sentiment, my lady?’

Your eyes flicker over his face, the faintest hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. Tearing your gaze away from his face, you refocused down… down at his large hands which grasped your own. His cool, calloused hands nearly engulfed your own. Such thoughts sent a chill down your spine. The warm feeling returned, but you pushed away your acknowledgment of it. 

Taking a deep breath, you looked to where a weirwood tree might take occupancy in this godswood, “I do not wish to speak in ill opinion of the crown, my prince.”

“I want to hear your thoughts,” His hands squeezed your own, albeit gently, “Speak them.”

With a sigh, you continued as instructed, “Very few Targaryens, much less Targaryen Kings have truly devoted themselves to the Seven. The show of faith is merely a guise to appease the High Septon and common folk. As I’m sure you are well aware, it was always said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. Being compared to Gods does not ignite one to take up faith in what one might perceive themself as an equal to. So King’s Landing and many southern kingdoms are sullied with sin.”

Silence hung in the air, but the prince did not weaken his grip upon you. Worry sank in your stomach, wondering if you had spoken too freely for the prince’s liking. His common smirk played at his lips once more, “An observant lady… a very smart girl.”

The small praise made your heart drum against your chest, You could sweat to the Gods that he could feel it in your pulse too as he ducked his head closer to your own.

“My smart girl has been paying attention to our lessons,” His breath was warm against your face. His eye flickered from your own to the pendant resting atop your chest, “Good…”

Slowly, Aemond released one of your hands and raised his own up toward your face. His fingers took hold of the pendant, thumb grazing over the engraving. Then, he brought the pendant closer to his face, the tension of the chain against your neck, causing you to lean closer to him. His eye now held your gaze in a moment of surprising intimacy. Aemond raised the pendant to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it, eye never once leaving your own. 

When he released it, the pendant fell back upon your chest. You released the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

“Now that I’ve given you my blessing,” Aemond’s voice was warm, but still caused your skin to prickle, “Get on your knees and pray…”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[leggerefiore]

Consider this: Vampire N

He wasn’t born a vampire but was turned into one when he was old enough

I guess it's vampril lmao

cw: vampires

🌿Vampire N👑

🟢 He had not been given much of an option for his transformation. His childhood was spent in the forest, after all. Youthful days spent languidly with wild pokemon. He understood them, and they in turn him. Yet, that was all to change after Ghetsis had taken him in. It was obvious due to the pokemon's reactions around him that Ghetsis was clearly something otherworldly. Though, in his childhood naïveté, it was far too easy to accept the man who offered him a place to be and a role in this world. This, and much more, was offered to him in exchange for one day becoming like the imposing man. N was truly too young to really grasp what all that entailed, so he agreed.

🟢 The green-haired man was turned soon after he has been crowned the King of Team Plasma. The experience was anything but pleasant, but it was a part of his agreement with his adopted father. Vampirism was truly something he quickly came to hate. Being unable to enjoy the sun was a cruel fate and bound to prey upon other living creatures for sustenance was a painful experience. Granted, Ghetsis offered him more than willing people to feed on, but his morals simply felt that this was awful. Then, the push for the pokemon human liberation movement was truly something messy. He felt determined in the idea that humans and pokemon should not be together, yet his transformation left him lost and desperate for something else.

🟢 He felt odd as he considered his new traits. Eerie blue eyes that shined within darkness, sharpened canines that could easily pierce even his mouth, and the feeling of just being something unearthly. His body felt simply different that it had. Colder and emptier, yet more powerful and terrifying. N desperately missed the warmth of his own body. His newfound strength had also been distressing to manage. The pokemon he communicated with and cared for, he felt scared that he would accidentally injure. Ghetsis had claimed it was important for his role, but he truly did not understand.

🟢 It was a cloudy day which he spent listening to one of Ghetsis's speeches that led to a chance meeting. A meeting that called to him in a strange sense of fate. One person within the crowd had stood out to him immensely. N felt at a lost for words as he wandered to you after the crowd had dispersed. Then, he heard your pokemon speak to him. He felt confused but opted to challenge you instead. Everything left him more bewildered, yet his beliefs still remained firm. Though, this was far from the last time you encountered each other. Each passing chance drew him more into you yet terrified by your resolve.

🟢 The time at the Ferris Wheel had truly brought his feelings out. Being so close to in such a small space… He understood that your blood was what called to him, and resisting was simply difficult. Admitting the truth to you was haunting, but relieving. You seemed unsurprised to, by both his admission of being the King of Team Plasma and a vampire. Rather, something blossomed between you both. You finding him in a moment of weakness within Chargestone Cave and offering him your wrist made him feel mortified. By the end of everything, when N stood across from you in his castle, he grasped the feelings that gripped him. He wanted you at his side, no matter what. His terror when Ghetsis had rushed in to take you down almost brought out something inside him to protect you, despite his sadness over his loss.

🟢 Within Ghetsis's enraged yells, an explanation to all his feelings had come out. An annoyance that N had found something that he should not have and that you had ruined everything. He felt shocked at the words, but you still had defeated the man he had called his father. With him defeated, people rushed in. An urge to rethink things and find himself had overcome him as he stared at the legendary dragon. When you offered to join him, he simply could not tell you no.

He never offers to turn you, finding this existence a curse. While you may not mind him feeding on you, the idea of causing others pain bothers him endlessly. Though, if you ask yourself, he may find himself willing to discuss.

[nidianddeepspace]

The Angel of the Cosmos: An LaDS Fan Myth

Art by Kirakanjo

Author's Note: This is a fan-made myth for the game Love and Deepspace, which is based off the art I commissioned from talented artist Kirakanjo. All characters (save for my OCs) belong to Infold/Paper Games. PLEASE DON'T COME FOR ME! Inspiration: The idea that Xavier is an Angel of the Cosmos who creates the stars in the sky.

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---------------------------------------------------------------------- 01 -------------

In Philos, there is a fairy tale that all children here as their parents put them to bed for the night. It is the story of the Angel of Cosmos, the creator of the stars in the sky, who paints the sky with stars day and night, and carries the light of all creation within his wings. If you are lucky, you might see the angel extend his wings before flying through the clouds, the star shining brighter as he passes by in order to gain his attention. There is a saying that if you see the stars when the sun is out, it means in the Angel of Cosmos is full of joy. He is in his home, his domain, bathing the world below in his glorious, celestial light. But is also a tale, spun long ago, the tale of the Angel of Cosmos who fell to the earth and was captured by the cruel king who wished to keep him as a pet. Away from his celestial home, the Angel of Cosmos fell into despair, courting danger to everyone as there was a massive black hole growing in his heart... But this is also the story of a brave princess, who push aside her own insecurities and fears to do the right thing, to save her people from her father's arrogance...and release the man she grew to love, in spite of her of heart's deepest desire...

| The Palace of the Philos Royal Family | In the throne room of the King of Philos, discussions are taking place in earnest. The Eldest Princess of the Royal family has long come of age - and now, in order to cement his might, she must be married off before she is considered to be too old to be useful. The Crown Prince of a Neighboring Country has come to express his interest in Her Royal Highness. His reputation proceeds him - he is known mostly for devilishly handsome looks, but under hushed tones, people whisper about his outward cruelty.

The Eldest Princess doesn't want to marry him.

She doesn't want to marry anyone. She would rather return to the convent she was raised in and continue to learn more about the world around her. The King isn't even her biological father - she is his niece, placed in his care after her parents died at sea. And while she cannot say that she was mistreated during her time here, she is fully aware of her status as a minor burden and a massive liability.

Hence, she must be married off and quickly. She is not at all slender and graceful like the Second Princess - the King's Actual Daughter - is. She is curvy, plump, and well-rounded - the very anti-thesis of feminine virtue. At least that's what the other courtiers say.

But she would rather be alone and untouched, than to be battered by a man who didn't love her.

The Eldest Princess stands with her maid behind a screen, on a balcony that allows them to be privy of the discussions. "It looks like everything will soon be settled, your Highness," the head lady-in-waiting says dreamily. "Finally, you will be properly married!" "Hmph...unfortunately." The Eldest Princess hitches up her skirt, walking away from the spectacle. "Now matter how much I insist that it's unnecessary, they insist upon marrying me off. They say it's good for me, but really, it's so His Majesty doesn't have to marry his daughter off to that rogue." The Eldest Princess storms through the castle corridors, only stopped by the commotion made by a group of guards pushing a mysterious box into one of the lower dungeons. She arches an eye, curious. "What is going on over there?"

"Didn't you hear? The King has brought another treasure home - and he says it's his most prized treasure of all!" "Prized treasure?" The Eldest Princess rolls her eyes. "What is it? Another exotic animal? Or another kingdom's prized treasure?"

"Nothing like that, your Highness." The Lady-in-Waiting leans close, whispering into her ear. "The guards say that the King has captured the Angel of the Cosmos himself!"

"What?! From the fairytales?" A playful grin spreads across the Eldest Princess' face. "I simply *must* see this!" "But your Highness, we'll be punished if we are found in the dungeon - " "Then we simply must be careful. That's all."

The Eldest Princess waits for the cover of night before she and her lady-in-waiting sneak through the halls, wearing black hooded capes in order to blend in with the darkness. The moment they slip into the dungeons, their breaths hitch. The dark, dank prisons, normally covered in shadow, mildew, and despair, shine with an unearthly, celestial light. He sits inside his cell, dressed in paper thin black fabrics, his unbuttoned shirt exposing the various bandages and scars all over his chest. His hair, ruffled and unkempt, is spun of platinum silk. He looks down at his hands, the quiet he exudes almost as deafening as that melancholy he carries in his soul. Yes the light of the heavens and skies still surrounds him, capturing everyone who sees it with the state of its holy aura.

"Gods..." The Eldest Princess says, walking toward the man. The moment his blue eyes look up to meet hers, she feels as if she is swimming in a sea of stars. "He really *is* the Angel of the Cosmos..."

-------------------------- To • Be • Continued --------------------------------------