#he's so sweet....... so wise........ so soft-spoken..........

[8jib]

i just watched the post-game where they asked him abt kyrie noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[rotagnus]

what this man thinks of you? 🐞

guys i feel like i've been doing so much romance/male-centered readings lately so i can't wait to finish this one then do some SELF related readings because you're the star of your own show.

PLEASE ask this about someone who you have a slight connection to; friends, crushes you've spoken to, etc. i don't read into strangers' feelings and i don't want any of y'all to delulu what is going on. if you'd like i can later on do a reading about eyecontactships, but this is NOT the one. all love.

take this if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. messages may lie elsewhere. remember to take care of yourself, lovebug--never invest yourself fully in another person. your roots belong to you, never another person.

none of these are rooted in romance unless i state so.

pile 1.

you're a strong woman, in his eyes--independent and grounded, like your very presence is grace and gift. he thinks that you're unique, because you manage to be so many things at once. tender, soft, but at the same time you have this quiet power in yourself. you know how people can carry strength in many different ways? that's all you, pile 1. some of you might be powerful with words, my gentle poets, some of you may exercise and BODY TEAAA. anyways. you guys know what i mean! just had to hype you up there. many of you have a wistful resting expression, all soft and doe-eyed. most of you have brown eyes, i'm getting, and i think that this is one of your best features. your eyes may be watery, and they're definitely important. you guys may have a lot of eye contact with this man.

okay, so another thing that he thinks of you is that you bring little moments of joy into his life. you're very clever. he also probably has some degree of intuition and he knows that you have a strong tie to the universe, god, etc. you're the kind of person that has whimsy pouring out of every single fiber of your being, you speak words into the air and they fly out of your mouth like doves. he also thinks that you're a loner; even if you have a friend group in front of him, you stand out. maybe you're on the quieter side, or you're on a different level than them; you're very obviously the different one in his eyes. it's clear that while the rest of your circle may be unsure of themselves, like baby fawns, you've honed yourself out. intelligent, wise, and calming, you have a motherly energy. he thinks that this is nice, because he himself may suffer with his own maternal issues.

how likely is he to have romantic feelings for you? -?- as of now, i think that this male has a lot of decisions he has to make. he hasn't acknowledged his feelings for you or lack thereof, because he's been busy and out of his mind lately. i can't read his energy well, so i can't say whether this connection is worth waiting for or anything, but he doesn't seem to have any bad or extremely good feelings for you; yeah, he thinks you're sweet and nice, but those feelings don't go deeply as of now.

pile 2.

he thinks that you've been a bit busy lately, and he's wishing that you two talked a bit more, for those of you that talk often. he's been kind of going through mush and wishes that the clarity regarding the both of you was clearer. you and him may be similar in one way or another; have similar interests, gone through similar things, etc. OH MY GOD anyone else but you by the moldy peaches started playing, so yeah, most of you are probably friends with this person. you have this very childlike innocence in this little connection, which is so adorable. he feels as if he's getting closer and closer to you recently, even though there have been ups and downs in this situation. i want you to know that i'm proud of you; a lot of you are avoidant attachment or have such difficulty being vulnerable, but i'm hearing that you're trying. he wishes you rested more. he feels a genuine pull to you and he thinks you have a very gentle calmness to you. that you have a good heart and good intentions...although you're a little oblivious or naive.

right now he's a bit nervous surrounding you, and the rest of the things in his life--the wheel of fortune shows that he doesn't know the way that things will end, but that he's betting his damn hardest that they'll work out. for most of you, this is a new beginning. you're not terribly sure on how to navigate this, and you feel like you're being split open...hahaha that's how he feels too. what you feel right now is what he's feeling, you guys are like mirrors of each other, so i would just try to invest some energy into yourself. i'm not getting any bad feelings from him at all, and i think that he genuinely wishes the best for you. he may be a bit insecure about what he is to you, due to social differences or the way that you're very selective with what comes into your life. he likes you the way you are. 'i don't wanna change you' is a lyric i just heard. flowers may be significant!

how likely is he to have romantic feelings for you? -?- as of now, most of you just have to keep going forward with this situation. listen, take in what i've told you--you guys always want answers, but i think you have to trust your gut with this. a surprise or reveal is coming soon, but you have to stop rushing and slow down and enjoy this time period. this situation will unfold by itself, and your worrying and anxiety won't change it. you have to know that good things are coming. you deserve this. so work on your fear and your own problems, and rest assured; this will end brightly. you have room to grow so focus on that. :)

pile 3.

why do you guys have an aura of tragedy around you?!! he may have met you when either you or him or even both of you were at a rough patch in life. i don't think you're a very trusting person; you've built up walls and it's very visible. you ever meet someone and you can tell that they're careful with who they let into their circle? not rude, not cold, but simply guarded? yeah, that's you. so he can see this very clearly. you're a very introspective person, all shy smiles and soft cadence. you may be emotional, too, and he thinks that this is sweet. it's almost as if you come off a bit brash and guarded, but deep inside, you're soft and vulnerable. for some of you, he wants to protect you and take care of you, especially if you're friends right now. he feels a lot of responsibility for you. you're weak at some points, and he wants to make sure that you're doing alright, y'know? this chaste type of care.

he may be an impulsive person, but he's the type of guy who would do anything for his girl. i do think that for most of you, you guys are friends. he's probably the opposite of you, i'm getting puppy energy. imagine a baby golden retriever and a baby black cat. that's literally you guys. i think that for this situation, he mainly has concerned feelings for you. wants to make sure you're doing alright, because you're the kind of person who wouldn't ever say something if you were doing bad. he's worried. but other than this current, temporary energy, i would say that he has a very tender attachment to you. you're important to him and he thinks that although he doesn't know you fully, he knows you well enough to hope that you're able to heal from the things you don't speak about. you have a very sunny kind of beauty to your physical looks, and he thinks that's neat. polaroids may be significant.

how likely is he to have romantic feelings for you? -?- as of now, i would recommend waiting. he sees you as this very smart person, and if he's been acting a bit odd recently--not withdrawn, just a bit nervous, then there is a chance he likes you. you have him in a chokehold and he doesn't necessarily know what to do with what he's feeling, he's not attuned to his emotions as you are; but there is luck coming. i don't know if it's about him, or anything else in your love life, but later on, specifically summer, your love life will be good! i would recommend trying to grow closer to him as of now :) but this is good news!

[swetblom]

⟡ ◌ .ﾟㅤ‪ ∿ FOREVER DAYDREAMING OF . . 𑁯੭ BRIAN MOSER & ANGEL! READER ˚ . 𔒌 ⊹ ۫

❜ ׄ 𓏲 au work content, female! readers race not specified, dark content ( none done to reader — ice truck killer actives ), some nsfw content.

BRIAN MOSER & ANGEL! READER who are wall-to-wall neighbors in their building. they’ve never spoken to one another longer than 5 minutes and only exchanged a couple sweet smiles when crossing paths going to their apartments. BRIAN MOSER who doesn’t let the sweet woman go unnoticed when she’s near. noting that she always gives him the most genuine farewells he’s heard from a stranger and how soft her features are before seemly forgetting about her after entering his apartment. while . . ANGEL! READER thinks “oh my god, he’s a cutie” every time he sees him. adores how his hair and eyes are nearly the same deep brown and never misses an opportunity to send a short wave his way.

BRIAN MOSER & ANGEL! READER who only began to really speak to one another because brian continuously makes a lot of noise in his apartment interpreting her sleep most nights. and every time because she’s too sweet to be upset, she leads with a gentle “sorry to interrupt” and “know m’ bothering you again but . .” when asking him about turning it down a bit.

he fakes his sincerity and doesn’t bother to change his actions the first couple times she asked, keeping in mind she never really asks exactly what he’s doing unlike all the other neighbors who demand answers. until one night she comes to his door with sleepy features and a soft pout. “m’ sorry to bother you again but could you just stop for a little bit? so i can at least get into the first stage then you can continue, i swear.” he enjoys her. how she negotiates instead of out right demanding him. how she assumes the best of him, believes he’ll listen if she asks nicely enough. and for the first time, he actually quiets down.

when she comes to thank him the next morning with full eyes and asking his name he found himself giving her his real one, “brian but call me rudy” while holding out his hand. she squints at him unsure as she take his hand, “where did rudy come from?” unknown to her, he lies with a soft smile on his face, “nickname from when i was a kid.” but she believes it.

BRIAN MOSER & ANGEL! READER who’s relationship dynamic is the perfect twist of epic dreams and nightmares. the epic dreams being full of soft, deep kisses like her making him feel as though he doesn’t have to fake who he is, him giving her sweet presents with small, red, bows tied on each one or her actual gaining the nickname angel by him when he’s teasing her about something. his voice soft and low as he looks at her with dark, dreamy eyes, “come on, angel.”

while the nightmares run deep, they hold their relationship together the most because his urges prompt him to lie, he doesn’t tell her to hide them but to keep her exactly where he wants her: in his arms. when the moon is full, he brings women to his apartment and looks at them as though they’re his world until the door is shut and they have their guard down. if they get too loud when he’s strangling them he covers their mouths and whispers, “sh sh. don’t want to wake her”. keeping her in mind even in the midst of his ugres. if she comes over and hears or sees something he’s quick to make up an excuse that she’s quick to believe because he hasn’t made her believe other wise. “you promise?” he gives both her eyes the perfect amount of affection, shifting from one to the other as he swears, “promise, angel.”

angel! reader introduction

jealous! brian sweet surprise one, killing while talking about her two, killing while talking about her game of go fish brian’s possessiveness seeps into small details their first time together thigh riding

© 2025 swetblom — don’t try to imitate or use my work to your benefit.

asks are open for these two! read guidelines before submitting or i’ll just delete you’re ask lol.

— to see visuals, asks or answered questions about them, click the first tags!

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Beyond The Bat

(Neglected reader x Yandere batfam)

Chapter 1: In The Shadows

TW!!! Cursing !!Dark AU!!

Living in the Wayne manor isn't the sweet luxurious dream you'd think it'd be, reality is in fact much crueler. For as long as I could remember I had lived in this dreary mansion, but lived isn't the word I'd use. I was more trapped here if anything. My "family", if I could even call them that, are well respected people. They're highly skilled and talented people, someone like me could only dream to be like them. I tried so hard to get close to them, I really did try, but no matter what I did nothing worked. I did everything, gymnastics, martial arts, theater, art, music, coding, dance, volleyball, cheerleading, heck I was even in the honors society. Despite being an A+ student and a role model in high society they never once went to any of my recitals, games, or showcases. I went to galas all alone, I had to deal with the sneering faces and snide remarks of high class men and woman alone since I was 8. Not very safe for a child huh? I didn't think so either but my "father" doesn't seem to care.

Nevertheless, I have no choice in this matter and it's not like life here is unbearable. Sure I get beatings and tongue lashings every now and then, but for the most part everyone in the manor tends to forget me eventually and leave me alone. It's pretty isolating but I got used to it, after all I have duties to perform. I have my job as Student council president and I don't intend to slack off. I got that job with my own blood sweat and tears and I will not let all those sleepless nights go to waste. I don't have time to wallow in self pity I have countless of students looking up to me and counting on me to do my job.

"Young master, are you okay? You seem to be staring off into space."

I looked up to our old butler, his face jaded and littered with wrinkles that seemed to contort pathetically in worry. I knew better than to accept his pity. He seems to be a wise gentle man on the outside with his elegant wardrobe, worn old body, and soft spoken demeanor, but do not be fooled. In truth, Alfred Pennyworth was a foolish coward. This was the same man who abandoned his own daughter just like my idiot of a father. I gave him a chance, but nothing's been the same since the day he accidentally called me Julia. I was nothing but a stand in for him, someone to relieve his guilt with.

"I'm fine. Don't you have something better to do? I'm sure Bruce has some kind of task for you, no need to bother yourself with my problems"

"...Very well then...Take care of yourself young master."

He clearly had something more to say but he decided to do nothing and walk away. Like I said he's a coward. Still I'm not new to disappointment, whether it's the disappointment of missed birthdays or the way they all see me as the disappointment, it's nothing I haven't experienced before. I quickly packed up my things and headed to school. Sure riding to school on an old worn out bike isn't exactly ideal, but I have to deal with what I have. Although, I do have to take some back alleys to school since I don't want anyone seeing and starting a scandal. I can already see the blaring headlines, "Daughter of Gotham's richest man caught riding to school on a beat up bicycle!". What a bunch of nosy bastards.

"Good mornin' (Y/N)!"

I turned to face the sunny senior calling my name, his unadulterated joy making him stand out in the crowd of groggy gothamites.

"Good morning Cyrus."

My crisp responses never seems to deter the boy as he continues to walk beside me chattering endlessly.

"(Y/N) I got things you asked! It's super cool what you're doing for the school, I'm so happy I get to be apart of it! If you ever need help with anything please do ask me!"

I sighed, his joyful energy was contagious. I couldn't help but crack a smile. Though it quickly disappeared as I regained my composure, but obviously not fast enough since Cyrus' joy seems to only be growing.

"Ahhhhh (Y/N) just smiled! I made the student president smile! I'm so sigma"

Here he goes again with those weird words and that cocky grin. I sighed once again, I'm too tired for this.

"Yes thank you Cyrus get to class now, I'll pick up the things I asked for after school."

"Yes ma'am!"

I watched as he playfully saluted and ran to class almost bumping into several people along the way. I facepalmed, he was such a handful but strangely I don't really mind. It's probably the lack of sleep I'll make sure to go to bed early today, for now I have to get to class myself.

Author's note: Omg chapter one is finally out! This took me a lot longer than expected but I hope it's good I went through a tiny writer's block😅. I hope you guys like Cyrus I tried to make him a silly and sunny character but trust me he'll have lore and be a much deeper character. I also tried making (Y/N)'s backstory pretty vague since they're the narrator and I figured they wouldn't like talking about it, but their lore will be revealed more throughout future chapters. Anyways as always thank you all for reading and have a good day/night!

Credits to khaer for the dividers

@simpingpandas @rosalietodd013 @sirenetheblogger @cim0nnin @00hellohello00 @crazycaoticsimp @lovebug-apple @youdontknowshtaboutfk

[greensagephase]

A Romantic Concert Night

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: A romantic concert night with Miguel, your boyfriend. Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: a lot of Spanish spoken (translations provided); reader understands and speaks Spanish; pre-established relationship; artist/group is Latino; romantic and soft Miguel; intimacy between Miguel and reader; mention of love making but no actual smut; a little of protective Miguel health wise, more like caring; Miguel doesn't care about dropping money for you, mans just want to spoil you; mention of future marriage; hand kissing, hand holding; Miguel just being a romantic boyfriend A/N: Inspired by the song “Quédate Bebé” by Grupo Frontera and me going to one of their concerts last year. If anyone reading this recognizes Grupo Frontera, then you know all their songs are about love and heartbreak, so that's the vibe for the concert (I’m a hopeless romantic and so is Miguel). So just enjoy a cute, sweet, and romantic Miguel! Masterlist

Miguel and you have been fans of this music group for months now. You know all their songs and lyrics. Their music is always part of your car rides, in which you’re usually Miguel’s passenger princess, and more often than not, the two of you end up singing while he drives.

Knowing this, Miguel immediately buys tickets as soon as the group/artist announces a tour. He surprises you with them, looking forward to spending a lovely evening at your side because that’s something Miguel loves, spending time with you, his beautiful girlfriend.

The day finally arrives after weeks of waiting for your tour date. Miguel and you dress up for the occasion. You honestly can’t stop looking at Miguel because he looks fine as hell, and his cologne - it does something to you. You can’t help but smell him a few times before you even leave your shared apartment because he smells so good. Eventually you head out of your apartment and head to the elevators. The plan is to drive to the venue, so you need to go down to the building’s car garage. However, just as the elevator’s doors open, Miguel tells you that he forgot something.

“Wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back,” Miguel says giving your hand a squeeze before he hurries to retrieve whatever he forgot. You can’t help but wonder what it is since it appeared that both of you had everything already. You shrug it off and wait for him for a few minutes before he returns with a small smile.

“Let’s go, mi vida [my life].”

Miguel drives to the concert, his fingers interlaced with yours at some points during the drive. Other times, he lays his hand on your thigh, his warmth comfortably sinking into your skin. And of course, you play some of the artist’s/group’s music just to prepare yourselves during the drive.

Upon arriving to the venue, Miguel takes care of everything. He handles the ticket situation and holding hands, he asks if he can buy you anything as he glances at the food concessions.

“Do you want something to drink, mi vida [my life]? Maybe we can buy some water bottles, just in case we get thirsty? Or maybe a snack?” he offers, leading you towards the concessions to take a look.

He ends up buying some drinks and snacks for the two of you before he leads you to your seats since the venue is accommodated for seating and the concert is a smaller one with only about two thousand seats.

A few minutes after settling down and getting your things together while you wait for the concert to start, you pull out your phone and lean into him.

“Picture?” you ask softly.

“For the memory,” Miguel replies with a smile, nodding.

He throws an arm around you and pulls you closer for the picture, but he doesn’t even look at the camera the first time. Instead of facing it, Miguel is looking straight at you with that beautiful and endearing smile of his that only you can inspire in him.

You end up taking a few more in which he actually faces the camera after you playfully remind him to look forward but even then, Miguel still finds himself looking at you even after you’re done taking pictures. He just loves you so much he can’t stop himself and of course, you look so beautiful in the outfit you planned out for weeks after he initially surprised you with the concert tickets. You’re simply a sight Miguel can never tire of.

When he does look away, however, something catches his attention. There are a few staff members walking around selling lit up objects that are typically sold during concerts like bracelets and the sort, and one of those things are roses.

Without a second thought, Miguel stands up, suddenly towering over you. He beckons one of the sellers even when you tell him not to spend his money on that. He carries on with his plan and buys you one anyway.

Other people sitting nearby simply watch with little smiles as they see the interaction because love.

Miguel sits back down and with the sweetest smile, hands you the rose. “Una rosa que no se marchitará- como mi amor por ti [a rose that won’t wither - like my love for you].”

You don’t even have it in yourself to say anything negative or even scold him about spending his money on this because the look on Miguel’s face is just too endearing and cute. You happily take the rose and discreetly give him a kiss on the cheek, thanking him for the sweet gift.

“Mi dulce novio [my sweet boyfriend],” you whisper.

“Todo para mi reyna [everything for my queen],” he replies, pecking your cheek right back, his hand finding yours because he loves hand holding.

As the concert almost starts, Miguel, being a planner and always looking for your well being, pulls out some ear plugs because he doesn’t want ear damage for either of you.

“Oh, is this what you were forgetting?” you ask Miguel as he gently slides one of the ear plugs into your ear.

He grins, a gentle hue of pink growing on his cheeks. “Yep, this was it… We have to look out for our hearing, especially since we’re so close to the stage,” Miguel says, since he didn’t mind dropping more money for seats close to the stage. He slides the other ear plug in. “There. We should still be able to enjoy the concert perfectly, and maybe earn ourselves a little headache and hearing damage.”

“Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?” you ask as you take the other set of ear plugs and help him put his on.

“What can I say?” he replies, smiling. “Just looking out for us, mi vida [my life].”

Once the concert starts, Miguel and you stand the whole time. There’s not a second either of you sit down because you’re enjoying the concert so much. Like much of the crowd, Miguel and you sing the songs and even dance a bit, at least as much as it’s allowed in the space since the concert sold out.

At points, Miguel wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close and looking at you with that smile that makes you melt.

Looking at him, you can tell Miguel is loving the concert, and he is. He’s enjoying every second of the concert partly because of the music and having the opportunity to see one of his favorite artists/groups perform live but primarily, it’s because of you. Being here with you, his sweet and beautiful girlfriend, is what’s making the night memorable for Miguel.

As the concert continues, Miguel keeps stealing glances at you, his heart racing at the sight of your happy singing and sweet smile.

“¿Donde están las solteras [where are the single ladies]?” one of the group members asks halfway during the concert to get the crowd riled up.

Just to see Miguel’s reaction, you jokingly raise your hand, only for Miguel to grab your wrist and lower your hand gently. He looks down at you with a feigned grumpy look, knowing you’re just messing with him before he leans into you, his mouth close to your ear so you’ll hear him.

“No les des esperanza a los muchachos. No estas soltera. Eres mia y yo soy tuyo [Don’t give the guys hope. You’re not single. You’re mine and I’m yours],” he says, lightheartedly. His voice is sweet and tender because he knows you’re just playing around, but he still loves to say it.

You’re his and he’s yours.

You smile up at him. “Siempre [Always].”

The rest of the concert flies by and before either of you know it, it’s over. After so much singing and a bit of dancing, the two of you are starving, so you go and eat at a nearby place. During dinner, you poke fun at each other for your raspy voices from all the singing, especially when your voices go out in mid-sentence.

With satisfied appetites and new energy, Miguel and you begin the drive home, thinking the night has come to an end.

Except, you get home and upon entering your shared bedroom to unwind for the night, you find rose petals scattered on the floor in a neat path leading straight to the bed where more rose petals forming a big heart decorate your duvet. The path of rose petals is lit up by small, warm lights creating the perfect romantic ambiance. You suddenly remember earlier when Miguel claimed to have forgotten something and told you to wait by the elevator. Now you see what he had been up to.

Just as you’re about to turn around, you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

“Sorpresa [Surprise],” he whispers in your ear.

You chuckle and lean back into him, resting your hands over his arms and just melting into his embrace.

“You tricked me,” you tell him, smiling as your gaze lingers on the bed.

“Just a little. I’m glad you didn’t think much of it when I pretended to have forgotten something,” he says with a soft chuckle near your ear that immediately sends a heat to your core. “We don’t have to - you know - do anything if you’re tired,” he says, nipping at your earlobe. “I just wanted to do a little something because well,” he pauses and turns you around so you’re facing him. Miguel leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. The most beautiful set of brown eyes stare into yours. “Te amo [I love you],” Miguel whispers lovingly before he kisses you tenderly, his arms still wrapped around your body, pressing you against his warmth. You kiss for a few seconds, locked in each other’s embrace before you pull back gently, a little breathless.

“Te amo [I love you],” you whisper back to him, reciprocating those two words that make Miguel’s heart swell with happiness and love.

He pulls you closer, somehow, and kisses you again. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck to keep your head close and steady, not wanting to part from you any time soon, even if just to breath.

With each passing second, Miguel’s statement about not having to do anything is thrown out the window. The gentle kiss slowly turns into something else - something desperate and hungry that leads to Miguel laying over you and countless murmured “I love you’s” into each other’s lips as he makes sweet love with you, his body worshiping yours.

A while later after your passionate love making and tender after care from Miguel, you rest your head on his chest. Your bodies are tangled up, fitting into each other’s perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. With an arm wrapped around you, his free hand tenderly traces your arm, feeling the softness of your skin.

“May I ask something from you?” he asks softly.

“Anything.”

Miguel smiles and lifts your face so he can look you in the eyes. “A donde vayas, llévame. Te prometo que no molestaré [Wherever you go, take me. I promise I won’t bother you].”

“Miguel,” you say gently, smiling.

“Por favor [Please],” he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “No matter what, ups and downs, I wish to be with you because I don’t know what I’d do without you. Una vida sin ti no tiene sentido. Es como morir sin haber vivido… So I ask, quédate para siempre [A life without you has no sense. It’s like dying without having lived. So I ask, stay forever.]”

Smiling, you kiss his forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, and at last, his lips tenderly.

“I have every intention of staying with you. Forever,” you whisper against his lips.

Miguel’s hand slides from your arm to your back. His fingers trace your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your own lips. He caresses your face with his free hand. “I have every intention of making you happy and feel loved. I also intend on… One day, putting a ring on this hand,” he says taking your left hand and kissing the back of it.

“Oh, really?” you ask smiling.

“Claro que si [Of course],” Miguel says with a teasing smile, thinking. “Tengo mil planes, propuestas para amar, tú y yo en la soledad [I have a thousand plans, proposals to love, you and me in solitude].”

You chuckle softly, recognizing the words from one of Miguel’s favorite songs.

“Te escribí un poema para enamorarte [I wrote you a poem to make you fall in love],” you say the next lines.

“Solo quiero amarte [I just want to love you],” the two of you say, smiling.

Miguel nuzzles your face before pressing another kiss to your lips, knowing that he could spend the rest of his life like this and never ask for anything else. As you rest your head on his chest again, Miguel is filled with happiness and gratitude for the beautiful romantic evening you’ve shared together.

“We should go to more concerts,” he murmurs, his hands tracing your back again. “So I can plan more evenings like these.”

“You already do,” you say, looking up at him with an afterglow from the intimacy you’ve both engaged in, a sight that always makes Miguel feel privileged as he’s the only one that gets to see you like this. “You always plan the loveliest dates.”

“But I’d have more opportunities, mi reyna [my queen]. More excuses to spoil you, and you know I love spoiling you,” he whispers, cupping your face. “I want to give you everything.”

“I just want you.”

“You’ll always have me,” he replies, his thumb tracing your chin with a smile. “And I’ll try to give you what you need and deserve. Plus, if we can end the night like this more often - no complaints.”

Chuckling, you playfully roll your eyes. “We can have these nights without everything else.”

“¿Si [yes]?” Miguel says with a soft smirk, knowing the answer.

You nod. “Yes, no question about that. You know that.”

“Hm, I know but still… I like to build the mood.”

You laugh softly and kiss his hand. “Fine. We’ll go to more concerts. You’re already so romantic, but I did notice you were extra romantic tonight. I love that,” you tell him.

“It’s a plan then,” Miguel replies pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight, whispering sweet words for your ears only before he pauses. “Ay, caray [oh, damn],” he says.

“What?”

“I forgot I have a bottle of champagne and chocolate covered strawberries for us in the fridge.”

You laugh softly and look up at him again, amused at the sight of Miguel’s sheepish smile as he gazes down at you.

“It’s your fault,” he says, poking your cheek gently. “You distracted me with all the kisses. I forgot all about the champagne and strawberries.”

“So, now it’s my fault?” you ask.

“Yes, why do you have to be so beautiful and give the best kisses in the world, hm?” he asks, cupping your face again. He kisses you on the lips for a few seconds. “Stay here, I’ll go get everything.”

And with that, you stay in bed tangled up in bed sheets as your sweet boyfriend steps out of the bedroom to retrieve the last little surprise of the night, only wearing black boxers and fresh scratch marks on his back.

I just want to go to a concert with Miguel, hold his hand and kiss him fr! Thank you for reading!!! Also, for anyone interesting in listening to the song, here's a preview!

-Alondra

[beenbaanbuun]

Hai there! :3

Hope youre having a lovely day/night! I wanted to say I love your works!

I’ve been following your opposites attract universe and I have to say I love it so so sooooo much!! Its just so sweet and beautifully written! Addams! matz is now my roman empire.

I have a question though after reading the fight and the apology parts of the story, since hongjoong basically NEVER yells but did in fact yell at darling, do you think darling for a good period of time would be a bit distant from joong? Like she’s knows she’s forgiven but would she be too scared to make a similar mistake? Cause if it were me where I was able to make someone who never gets mad, mad. I would know I FUCKED up big time and I’d be so nervous to be around them 😭

If Darling does somewhat become a bit distant how would Hongjoong react to that too? Like would guilt practically eat him alive? 😭

Thats all! Thank you again for your works I love reading them!! 💕

i was going to reply to this like it was just a simple question but i must write………..

not proofread yet

as you stand outside hongjoong’s office, you can’t help but feel your heart beating a mile a minute. it’s silly, you know that, and yet you can’t help but hesitate. he’s on the other side of that door, after all, and try as you might, you simply cannot let things go back to normal. it’s only been a few days, yet you haven’t crossed the threshold into that room even once. you’ve barely even spoken to hongjoong, in fact. apart from mealtimes and night when he cannot go without you in his arms, you opt to stay far out of his way. it’s not that you want to, but instead you feel like you have to.

it’s for your own peace of mind.

except this time you can’t. this time, you’re under strict instructions from seonghwa to fetch hongjoong for dinner. he knows what he’s doing, the corners of his mouth tilting up in an annoying smile after you tried to come up with some excuse as to why you had to avoid hongjoong. clearly none of them worked since here you are.

you knock, three light taps against his door so as not to irritate him too much. he’s working, after all, and you know better than to get in his way while he’s working. “come in, dove,” he calls, surprising you as he refers to you by name; how could he tell from a knock alone?

the brass doorknob is cold as you push the door open tentatively, your feet remaining firmly at the threshold. it’s a surprise to see him turned away from the desk, eyes already upon you before you even fully reveal yourself. there’s a smile on his face, soft and delicate as though he’s gazing upon something beautiful. he’s gazing upon you, but standing before him with your bottom lip tucked neatly between your lips and your thumbs picking at one another, it’s hard to feel like you’re anything but worrisome.

a hand rests upon his lap, fingers drumming lightly upon the thick black fabric of his slacks. the seat he flaunts looks oh-so-tempting, but you refrain from taking it. from closing the gap and shoving your face in his neck like you’ve been craving to these past few days. he always smells so nice; warm spices and home.

“how could you tell it was me?” you ask as you shuffle from foot to foot in his doorway. his smile grows wide as he studies you.

“seonghwa enters immediately after knocking, yeosang wouldn’t be visiting me, and you,” he pats his lap twice, your favourite seat becoming just that more tempting. still, you somehow manage to hold yourself back, “well, you never knock but since you’ve been avoiding me—”

“i have not!” you squark, eyes going wide and feet finally carrying you forward into the lions den. your hand slips from the door it had been holding open, and the slam of it shutting lets you know that you are in fact trapped. there’s no escape from hongjoong now without it being plainly obvious that you are in fact avoiding him, although that seems to be a fact he’s already grown wise to.

hongjoong seems to be aware of that fact too, as the moment the door encloses the both of you in the confines of his office, he taps his lap yet again. this time, you almost break.

“you see, if you weren’t avoiding me, you’d already be in my lap,” he tuts at you, relaxing himself in his chair and letting his legs spread. as sweet as the spot on his lap looks, you must admit that the one between his thighs is equally as enticing. you could sit there for hours just staring up at him in wonder.

you take yet another step into the room, more than happy to deny yourself the pleasure of his lap, less happy to remain so far away from him. you might be avoiding him, but you can’t deny yourself the simple pleasure of seeing his pretty face up close. the sly smile he wears when he teases you is admittedly beautiful, even if it does annoy you to no end.

“maybe i just don’t want to sit in your lap right now,” you argue, to which he responds with a scoff. rightfully so; if you’re going to lie you should at least try and make it believable. “or maybe i just don’t want to get in trouble with seonghwa by making us late for dinner.”

another chuckle, although you suppose this one is even more deserved than the first. you’ve never had a problem flaunting seonghwa’s orders and rules before, so why start now? defeated, you give him a deep sigh.

“come here, dove,” he says through his amusement, adoration laced through every word he speaks. you take another few steps closer, although not as close as it seems he desires you to be.

hands wrap themselves around your hips, tugging lightly at your body until your stumbling forwards into hongjoong’s grasp. they move around your body quicker than you can squirm free of them, pulling and pushing at your limbs until you’re arranged exactly how he wants you, straddling his lap with your hands resting tentatively upon his shoulders. it takes just a few seconds for his arms to snake themselves around your waist, locking you in place.

his head is tilted in such a way that he can appreciate the sheepish look you wear. the way your eyes look anywhere but his own, and the way your jaw ticks in something akin to agitation, although hongjoong knows you far too well to assume that that really is the case. if you were agitated, your pretty lips wouldn’t be pressed into a pout, they’d be forming cute little insults that hongjoong would have to try his hardest not to find sweet. if you really were agitated, hongjoong would know better than to tighten his grip until you have no choice but to lay with your torso flat against his.

you don’t even resist when he traces a finger up your spine to the nape of your neck. it tangles itself with the strands of hair that twist around another, soothingly tugging on them. it doesn’t take much more than that for you to finally relax against his frame, sinking into the warmth his body offers you.

“i wasn’t avoiding you,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

“liar,” he murmurs back.

“i wasn’t!” you insist, “i just… i didn’t know what to do around you. you never yell but—”

“i did.”

you hum in agreement, “you did.”

hongjoong’s arms get tighter around you as though he’s afraid you might slip away unless he holds on tight. you don’t mind; the pressure is honestly quite nice. it helps melt your inhibitions, your fear of telling hongjoong exactly how you feel. you shouldn’t be scared when it’s quite obvious how much the man adores you.

“it felt like something changed between us,” it doesn’t feel so hard to admit that when you’re in his arms, “i didn’t want to do anything that might change it even more.”

you’re met with a few seconds of silence; it’s hard to discern whether it’s comforting or anxiety inducing, yet you’re more than happy to sit in it. if hongjoong needs to take a breather before responding then you’re happy for him to do that. you’d much rather sit uncomfortably for a few seconds than have him raise his voice at you again.

although something inside of you tells you that it’s unlikely for that to happen again.

“you’re silly, dove,” he finally responds, forever taking place in just those few seconds. “the only thing that changes between us is how much i adore you, and that continues to grow and grow each time i see your face.”

“it can’t have grown much these last few days then,” you comment, “you’ve barely seen me…”

“oh, but i have,” he says it as if it’s obvious, “i see you every time i close my eyes. whenever i blink, you’re there, saying something cheeky to seonghwa that you know will get you into just the right amount of trouble to get you what you want,” he brings you closer still, his grip so tight that you’re certain your ribs might crack under the pressure, “so yes, darling, my love for you has grown exponentially these past few days.”

you can’t help but let yourself smile, tucking yourself into that sweet spot between his chin and his shoulder to hide it. he smells so good, just like he always he does, and you pull a deep breath in through your nose. cinnamon and home fills your senses and you realise that no matter how hard you try, you can’t stay away from hongjoong for long.

he’s just as much your home as seonghwa is.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐱𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a princess, bound by duty, is forced into a loveless marriage to secure her kingdom’s future; yet her heart belongs to xavier, the knight who has always been by her side. on the eve of her wedding, he offers her one last chance to escape. stay and fulfill her duty, or run and choose love.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, pov switch throughout story (reader and xavier), angst with comfort/happy ending, subtle implications to intimacy, royal au, longer but pretty fast paced, not really proofread but i don’t think there's a crazy amount of errors, YEARNING. soooo much yearning

★ 𝐰𝐜: 9.2k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: heyyy… so yknow how i said i was gonna write fluff…? yeah i lied. angst is where my heart lies im sorry !!!!! </3 i’m giving you a bandaid though this time, and a happy ending. i’ll try and write fluff soon but don’t expect too much of me LOL. anyways, not connected to xaviers myth at all just wanted to write a lil royal au. even though it's kinda short and fast paced, i like this one. i hope you do too!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

The garden lay in silver and shadow, moonlight dripping through the lattice of leaves like molten pearl. She walked ahead of me, her bare fingertips grazing the edges of blooming roses, heedless of the thorns. The scent of night jasmine curled in the air, soft and sweet, but it paled against the presence of her.

I followed at her side, watchful, my steps measured and precise. This was duty.

This was my purpose.

To protect her, to stand between her and any unseen danger the night might hold. And yet, as I watched her, watched the way the soft glow of moonlight traced her form, turning every movement into something ethereal; I knew my greatest battle was not one fought with swords and steel, but with the quiet, unspoken longing that lived in my chest.

"You know, you don’t always have to be so quiet," she said, glancing at me with a small smile. "I think I’d like your company more if I wasn’t the only one speaking."

Her words carved through me like a blade slipped between ribs. You already have my company, my lady. My devotion. My every breath.

"It is not my place to speak unless spoken to," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

She sighed, feigning exasperation, yet I caught the way her lips twitched into a smile. "So formal. I don’t think I’ll ever break you of it."

Oh, if only you knew. You have already unraveled me a thousand times over.

We walked in silence for a moment, her fingers idly twisting a strand of hair as she gazed at the stars. I watched, as I always did, comparing her to the quiet wonders of the world; the glow of dawn cresting the horizon, the way autumn painted the trees in amber and fire, the sound of rain against stone. And yet, she outshone them all.

If I could choose my fate, I would swear my life to her over and over again. Not as a knight, not as a protector, but simply as a man who loved her.

But fate was not kind.

"The night is beautiful, isn’t it?" she mused, twirling a loose petal between her fingers, a smirk gracing her lips. "Almost as beautiful as me, wouldn’t you say?"

"The night is peaceful, Your Highness."

She let out a dramatic sigh. "How dreadfully diplomatic of you." Turning to me, she walked a little closer, tilting her head. "But I know you, Sir Xavier. I know how you speak when you're being truthful.”

I forced my gaze forward, my posture rigid despite the undeniable pull toward her. "I’m not sure what it is you speak of."

"That you adore me," she said simply, watching me with a knowing smile. "That if the poets were wise, they would write of me through your eyes."

My fingers curled at my sides. The only betrayal of my restraint. "You misunderstand my duty, Your Highness."

"Oh?" She raised a brow. "So it is merely duty that makes you look at me that way?"

"I do not know what you mean."

She hummed, pretending to consider my words. "No, I think you do." Taking a step ahead, she twirled lightly on her heel, the silk and mesh fabric of her gown catching the moonlight as she turned back to face me. Her eyes sparkled in a way that made my heart nearly leap from my chest. "Tell me then, Sir Xavier, if I were to trip right now, would you catch me out of obligation?"

Exhaling slowly, I measured my words. "I would catch you because it is my role to ensure your safety."

"Of course," she said airily. "And if I were to take your hand now, you would let me, but only because it would be improper to refuse, correct?"

"Correct," I said, voice firm. But I made the mistake of glancing at her outstretched fingers—delicate, soft. I had memorized the feeling of them on my skin.

Her smile widened. "And if I were to tell you that your composure is slipping, that I can see the truth beneath all this careful decorum?"

My breath hitched, so slight, so well contained that most wouldn’t have noticed. 

She did.

"You would be mistaken," I forced out.

She studied me for a long moment, her amusement giving way to something quieter. "Liar," she whispered.

The word nearly undid me. But I could not, would not allow myself to falter.

"It’s late, Your Highness," I said instead, my tone the perfect mask of indifference. "Allow me to escort you back to your chambers."

A pause, then a soft sigh, as if she were granting me mercy. "Very well, Sir Xavier. But one day," she mused as she placed her hand on my offered arm, "I do wonder what might happen if I push just a little further."

I did not answer.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬-

The door clicked shut behind him, a soft sound, yet it echoed through the chamber with unspoken meaning.

I turned, my pulse quickening, and met Xavier’s gaze. His eyes burned with something raw; annoyance, yes, but beneath it was something far more dangerous.

Oh, how I loved to tease.

"Sir Xavier," I tilted my head, letting my lashes flutter just so. "Isn’t it improper for a knight to be in a lady’s chambers at this hour?"

He clucked his tongue, a warning. Then, in three long strides, he was in front of me.

Before I could breathe another taunt, his lips crashed against mine, stealing the very air from my lungs. A gasp turned to a sigh as I tangled my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, reveling in the heat—his urgency.

This was what I had wanted, what I had dared him to do.

“You wish to push me?” Xavier’s voice was rough against my skin, his teeth grazing the curve of my neck before nipping the tender flesh. A sharp sting, then the soothing press of his lips against the mark he left behind.

I shivered. Yes, I thought. I do.

"You should be on guard outside," I teased, my voice lilting with mischief. "What if someone were to do something?" Xavier lifted his head from my collarbone, his lips still ghosting over my skin. Mirth flickered through his dark eyes.

"They can wait," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of my shoulder. "Until I’m finished with you."

A shiver ran down my spine as his touch roamed lower, slipping the fabric of my dress from my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet.

Xavier was my knight, sworn to serve me—and oh, did he serve me well.

His hands explored in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing the shape of me as if committing it to memory; every moment spent like this he treats as if it’s our first.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, his lips parting against mine, stealing everything from me as if he needed it more than I did. His hands, rough from years of wielding a sword, skimmed over the bare skin of my waist, settling there, holding me firm; possessive in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

"Xavier," I whispered, letting my head tilt back as his lips wandered lower, down the slope of my throat, the hollow of my collarbone, lingering as if he meant to worship every inch of skin he uncovered.

His breath was unsteady against me, “Say it again.” His restraint, so carefully cultivated, so unshakable—was slipping between my fingers like sand. 

I reveled in it.

“Xavier…” I repeated, ghosting my lips over his.

"You are playing with fire," Xavier murmured against my skin, his voice rough, almost pained. Yet his touch told a different story, sliding over my hips, gripping tighter as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

I smiled, pressing closer, feeling the heat of him searing into me. "Then burn with me."

His answer came not in words, but in the way he lifted me, pressing me back into the silk covered mattress, the weight of him above me stealing the last of my own reason. The world beyond this room, beyond this moment, ceased to exist.

Here, in the dim candlelight, with his lips tracing a path of ruin and devotion down my skin, I was not a princess. Xavier was not my knight.

Here, we were only two souls, bound by something far greater than duty.

Nights like these had become our quiet refuge; where the world outside ceased to matter, and I could simply exist beside him. I watched as he lay next to me, his breath slow, steady, golden hair tousled from my touch. The candlelight cast shadows over his sharp features, softening them, making him look almost dreamlike.

Tonight, I held onto the moment a little tighter. I knew what awaited me in the morning.

Absentmindedly, I traced patterns against his bare chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath my fingertips. He stirred, propping himself up on an elbow, his gaze finding mine in the dim light. Xavier looked at me as if I were something precious, something fragile. And yet, it was he who was otherworldly—his beauty as effortless as the stars scattered across the night sky.

I could spend every night like this. Being with him was easy. Loving him was inevitable.

He was never just my knight. He was my fate.

But fate was not kind.

“I should return to my post,” he murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Before they notice your knight is gone.”

I caught his hand, pressing it to my chest, pouting just enough to make him hesitate. “Stay a little longer?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, but I heard the ache beneath it. “You’ll be okay,” he assured, brushing featherlight kisses across my cheeks and forehead. “I’ll see you when the sun rises.”

We both knew what morning would bring. And yet, neither of us dared to speak of it. As if silence could delay the inevitable. It almost felt like this was the last time I could have Xavier like this. 

“I love you,” I whispered, kissing the back of his hand.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, I heard the quiet sigh, saw the flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before he smiled. He brought his lips to my temple, lingering there as if memorizing the feel of me.

“I love you too, Your Highness.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

“She shall be wed to King Edmund, of the Kingdom of Eastmere.”

The king’s voice reverberated through the towering walls, sending ripples through the royal court. Whispers fluttered in every corner, yet the princess’s face remained as stoic as a statue; though her eyes betrayed a quiet sorrow. I had come to understand her as I would a well loved book, knowing every twist and turn of her thoughts as she fought the urge to shift nervously beside me.

“We have secured an alliance between our lands,” the king continued, his words echoing in the chamber, “in exchange for the Princess’s hand, and her duty to bear the kingdom an heir.”

A sickening wave rose in my chest, threatening to suffocate me. I held my breath, my body stiff, forcing my mind to focus on my duty. To stand still. To remain the loyal protector. But the thought of her beside another man, her hand belonging to him… It was unbearable. Even worse, the image of her carrying the child of a stranger twisted something deep within me, making my blood run cold.

I fought to keep my composure.

Her pinky went to brush against mine, a fleeting, unconscious gesture, before jerking her hand back to her side. The impulse to pull her away, to flee with her to some distant place where no one could claim her, was overwhelming. Where she belonged to no one but me.

Somewhere where no other man would ever come to know the delicate lines and contours of her form, or the quiet, tender sighs that escaped her lips. Where no one else could hear the enchanting sound of her laughter or appreciate the depth and brilliance of her mind. A place where only I could witness the endless compassion she offered to all; where only I could experience the unshakable love and devotion she gave so freely.

But I knew my place.

I was a knight.

She was the princess.

My princess.

My only purpose.

The king's voice was rich with authority, yet tinged with something colder; an unspoken finality that made the air feel thick.

“The union of our lands shall bring prosperity, strengthen our kingdoms, and pave the way for generations to come,” he declared, sweeping his hand in a broad arc as if sealing the fate of all in the room. “This marriage is not merely a joining of two souls, but a bond forged in the fires of duty. The princess shall be married to King Edmund of Eastmere, and with her hand, our future will be secured.”

The weight of his words hung heavy, and I could feel the eyes of the court upon us.

Upon her.

“I trust,” he continued, his gaze now falling upon her, “that you will carry this responsibility with grace, my daughter. This alliance will shape the course of history. Your sacrifice will be the foundation upon which our kingdoms will stand.”

My heart tightened in my chest as he spoke. Sacrifice. That’s what he called it. As if she were nothing more than a pawn in a grand game. 

His game.

She stood motionless, a mere figurehead of his will. I could see the storm brewing beneath her composed exterior; the storm I knew she could never voice aloud, not here, not now.

"You will make Eastmere proud, Princess," the king added, his tone softening for a brief moment, but his eyes were cold, calculating. "And in return, Eastmere shall forever be in your debt."

I wanted to scream. To break the silence and shatter the very foundation of this agreement. But all I could do was stand there, my fists clenched at my sides, a silent protector in a world that refused to hear her.

The king's eyes scanned the room, as if weighing each soul in his court, a brief moment of respite from the heavy declaration that had just passed through his lips.

"That will be all for now," he said, "You are dismissed."

The royal court, filled with murmurs and exchanged glances, slowly began to stir. Servants began to shuffle from the back, ushering those who had gathered into their rightful places, the noble families making their way toward the grand doors with a hurried sort of politeness. The air was thick with the weight of the announcement, yet there was an underlying hum of excitement and anticipation from the crowd. The murmurs continued, though softer now, as the royal court began to filter out one by one.

I remained still, standing at attention, my eyes locked on the princess. She had not moved, her gaze still focused ahead, her posture poised despite the emotional storm I could feel radiating from her.

As the last of the court members filed out, the great hall began to empty, the heavy silence settling in like a fog. But even as the doors closed behind the last of the noble families, I could still feel the tension in the air; an unspoken understanding that something had been set in motion, and we could do nothing but follow the path it had forged.

And the princess... she still stood there, unmoving. The weight of her world shifted with the king's command, yet she said nothing.

“There will be a ball in the coming weeks,” the king announced, his tone flat, offering no room for objection. His gaze remained fixed elsewhere, unwilling to grant her any agency in the matter. Not that she had much of one in the first place. “Preparations have already begun. You will meet King Edmund then.”

The princess gave a quiet, resigned nod. “Yes, Father.”

I found myself wishing she would resist, speak out, or even show some sign of defiance. But I knew better. Resistance was futile. To challenge the king was to risk punishment, and she was bound by her duty just as I was to mine.

The king’s dismissive gesture cut through the heavy silence. “You may go,” he said, addressing her without a second glance.

I nodded, stepping forward to guide the princess out of the court. Once we had distanced ourselves from the bustling hall, her composure faltered. She turned to me, her eyes wide and glistening with emotion.

“I would like to go for a walk in the town, if that’s all right?” she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with something I couldn’t quite name. A need for something, anything, beyond the confines of her royal cage.

I didn’t answer right away, but I could feel the ache in my chest at the sight of her vulnerability. “Of course,” I replied, my voice steady despite my own storm brewing within me.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬-

The town was alive with energy, merchants crowding every corner, eager to sell their wares to anyone who passed by. The cacophony of voices, haggling and calling out, provided a welcome distraction, drowning out the constant noise in my mind. I paused often, taking in the glittering trinkets and the smell of fresh baked goods wafting through the air; Xavier’s presence steadfast behind me, a quiet constant.

I longed to grab his hand, to pull him through the bustling crowd, laughing as I handed him wooden swords and bright silk cloaks. Just for a moment, as if we were free. But I knew better. He couldn’t, and I couldn’t.

And we never would.

Beyond the town lay the forest, my sanctuary. It was the one place where I could escape; where I could forget, even if only for a little while, that I was a princess. A place where the world could simply… stop.

As I walked, my thoughts grew heavier with every step, and I couldn’t shake the suffocating weight of my duties. The people around me, their voices rising in a chaotic blend, started to feel like a reminder of the world I was bound to; a world where I didn’t belong in the way I once imagined.

I glanced over my shoulder at Xavier, the one constant in a life that seemed to change with every breath.

“Sir Xavier,” I began, my voice soft, almost hesitant. “Could we go to the forest? Just for a little while.”

He looked at me, concern flickering in his eyes. "The forest, Your Highness?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice gaining strength. “You know how it feels there. It’s... peaceful. It’s the only place that feels different from all of this.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, as if surrendering to the unspoken request. “Of course, Your Highness. I’ll ensure your safety.”

Without another word, we veered off the cobbled streets and headed toward the edge of town, where the thick trees stood like silent sentinels. As we left the chaos behind, the air seemed to change, cooler and fresher, as if the forest welcomed us.

With every step deeper into the woods, I felt the weight of the world ease, if only slightly. Xavier stayed close behind, his presence a steady reassurance, his every movement purposeful as he followed my lead.

We were alone now, beneath the canopy of leaves, the quiet only broken by the occasional rustling of the wind. I breathed in deeply, the scent of pine and earth filling my lungs. It was as if, in this place, I could let go, if just for a moment.

"Thank you," I whispered, turning to look at Xavier, my gaze softening. “For this. I needed it.”

His eyes met mine, and for a brief second, the world outside seemed to disappear. There was nothing but the forest, and the two of us.

Though just as quickly an uncomfortable silence settled between us, growing heavier with each passing moment. Xavier’s gaze fixed itself on the ground beneath him, his blonde hair falling into his eyes, hiding the conflict I knew he was fighting. He wasn’t going to say anything, he never did.

"Should we talk about... this?" I started, my voice tentative, but his head snapped up, his expression suddenly cold.

“There is nothing to discuss,” he replied, his tone final.

My lips twisted into a frown, distress bubbling up. “There is so much to discuss.”

His eyebrows knitted together, mouth pressed into a tight line. “You shall be wed and serve your kingdom well, Your Highness.”

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Oh, would you stop with the formality! Xavier, this is us we’re talking about!”

Xavier stiffened, his words clipped and distant. “You forget yourself, Your Highness. I am your knight, and you are the kingdom’s princess.” His face was frustratingly unreadable, “There is no… us.”

Tears, which had been threatening to fall all day, finally spilled from my eyes. They ran down my cheeks, each drop heavier than the last. My lips trembled, and my breaths came in broken sobs. “You cannot pretend, Xavier. There’s no one near,” I whispered, my voice raw. I looked up at him through tear streaked lashes, my heart aching. “Don’t tell me I mean nothing to you. Don’t tell me I’m just your princess.”

His breath was shaky as he stepped closer, gently wiping my tears away with his hands. I pressed my face into his palm, another sob escaping my lips.

“You know I love you,” Xavier murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. “But there’s nothing we can do.”

"Beg me to run away with you," I pleaded, "Offer me a life somewhere else, anything."

“Would you follow me?” he asked, his words cutting through the air like a sharp blade.

The question stung. And, deep down, I knew he was right.

I wouldn’t.

Because I preserve my duty just as much as he does his. 

My silence spoke louder than any words could, and Xavier exhaled a quiet sigh, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Come, Your Highness,” he said, his voice steady but distant. “The kingdom awaits you, the preparations will not make themselves.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

The days stretched long and heavy, each one darker than the last as the night of the ball crept closer. Silence settled between us like an unspoken grief. She no longer asked to go anywhere, no longer sought the small freedoms she once clung to. The princess; once bold, once untamed, had withdrawn into herself, and watching that light dim nearly tore me apart.

And perhaps, in some way, it was my fault.

Maybe I should have fought for her. Should have done something, anything. Thrown myself into chaos, drawn the court’s attention long enough for her to escape, to vanish into the depths of her beloved forest.

But I did nothing.

As her maids departed one by one, their final touches leaving her adorned for the night, she stepped forward at last. My breath caught, stolen by the sight of her. Even goddesses would bow in her presence—an angel cast from the heavens, stripped of her wings. She was nothing short of perfection.

And yet, she was not meant for me.

Every delicate detail, every shimmering thread, every breathtaking moment; none of it was mine to cherish. It was all for him.

The weight of her hand on my arm was light, yet it anchored me in ways I could not name. As I escorted her from her chambers, the world around us dulled in comparison. She was resplendent—bathed in candlelight, her gown a cascade of silk and shimmer, woven with threads that caught the glow like spun starlight. A vision, an unspoken promise of beauty and grace. And yet, beneath it all, I saw her unease, the tension in her fingers as they brushed against my arm.

“You are beautiful,” I whispered, my voice meant only for her ears. A truth, but not a comfort.

Her lips barely twitched, the ghost of a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Does it matter?” she whispered back.

Yes. To me, it does.

I wanted to tell her she was more than this, more than a political pawn, more than the fate they had written for her. But what use were words when I could do nothing to stop it?

The ballroom gleamed ahead, chandeliers casting golden light over silken banners, the floor polished to a mirror’s sheen. The scent of perfume and wine hung thick in the air, and laughter rang out like the clinking of crystal goblets. But all of it faded the moment my eyes landed on him.

King Edmund.

My heart clenched, breath turning sharp in my chest. He was older than I had imagined, skin sagging with age, the weight of years heavy in his stance. His eyes, hungry and assessing, dragged over her as if she were a possession to be claimed. A trophy to be displayed.

Rage burned through me like fire in my veins.

To him, she would be nothing but a vessel, a means to an end. A womb to bear his heir.

But to me?

She was everything. The universe itself. Life and light, warmth and wonder. She was not his to claim. And yet, he would.

And I could do nothing to stop it.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess of Philos!” 

As I stepped back to take my place for the night, the crowd turned in unison, their conversations fading into hushed reverence. 

The room dipped into a deep bow, and from within the sea of nobles, King Edmund emerged. He moved with purpose, a man accustomed to taking what he desired. His hand stretched toward her, his lips forming words I could not hear from where I stood. Without hesitation, he seized her hand, eager, sweeping her toward the center of the ballroom.

The music swelled once more, filling the grand hall with a lively melody. She moved with effortless grace, every step a testament to her poise. Yet King Edmund fumbled through the dance, his footing clumsy, his grip possessive. When he nearly tripped over his own feet, he let out a coarse laugh, oblivious to the stiffness in her posture, the way her smile barely held.

But I saw it.

The flicker of disgust in her eyes, the silent plea beneath the practiced charm.

Would it be so wrong to admit that her hatred brought me a sliver of comfort? That in the midst of this wretched night, where she was forced into the arms of a man unworthy of her, her disgust was a quiet rebellion—one that only I could see?

It meant she did not want this.

It meant that, in some small way, she still belonged to herself. To me.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬-

The room spun around me as the music swelled; my hand rested in King Edmund’s, his palm too damp, his grip too firm. He led—if it could be called that—his movements stiff and awkward. Every step was clumsy, and yet I followed, because that was what I was meant to do.

"Ah, my sweet little bride to be," he drawled, his voice thick with arrogance. "I have waited far too long to lay my eyes upon you. And might I say, you are even more… ripe than I had imagined."

I swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile as my stomach churned.

"You flatter me, Your Majesty," I said, voice carefully even.

"Oh, but it is not flattery, my dear. It is the truth." His beady eyes roved over me shamelessly, lingering where they should not. "You are a delicate thing, aren’t you? I do so hope you will warm to me quickly. It would be such a shame if my future queen were… cold."

His chuckle slithered through me like something rotten, his grip tightening as he spun me.

"A woman’s duty is to please her husband, after all," he murmured, lips too close to my ear.

I forced my body to remain still, my expression placid, though every part of me screamed to flee.

"Of course, Your Majesty," I said softly, pressing my lips together to stop them from trembling.

Smile. Obey. Be graceful. 

Be silent.

But as I turned, I let my eyes slip closed, let my mind drift far, far away from the leering face before me.

In another world, in another life, it would be Xavier’s hand in mine. It would be his touch guiding me, warm and sure, his body moving in perfect rhythm with mine. There would be no expectations, no crown weighing on my head, no chains around my wrists disguised as silk gloves.

Tonight, I would return home to him. He would lie beside me, his voice a lullaby of warmth as he spun stories only for me, weaving tales of love and adventure until my eyes grew heavy. Under the vast night sky, he would point to the constellations, naming them as if they were ours alone to claim, each star shimmering with the same quiet brilliance as him. Xavier’s hands would clasp my heart as if he had always owned it; because he did, because he always would.

He would hold me like I was something sacred, like I was not just a princess bound by duty but a woman meant to be cherished. His fingers would trace the lines of my palm as though searching for our fate written in my skin, and I would believe—if only for a moment—that the universe had made me for him.

I opened my eyes, and they found him.

He stood against the far wall, half shadowed, his face unreadable to anyone but me. And when our gazes locked, just for a moment, his lips curled into the smallest, softest smile.

It was the only real thing in this room.

A reassurance. A promise. A love that neither time nor duty could break.

Not like the man in front of me, who laughed at his own missteps, oblivious to my revulsion.

My first smile of the night came naturally, though it was not for my betrothed.

It was for Xavier.

And when he grinned back, just the tiniest bit wider, breaking every rule; my heart ached with a wish that would never be granted. 

—

In the stolen breaths between duty and expectation, they existed.

The princess no longer sought escape into the town or the woods; there was no solace in pretending anymore. Instead, she stole what moments she could; lingering just a second too long when he handed her the reins of her horse, catching his gaze across crowded rooms only for both of them to look away just as quickly. It was not enough. 

It never was.

Xavier was a shadow at her side, silent and steady, ever the knight he was trained to be. Yet, inside, it was so painfully obvious he was crumbling. Each glance, each whispered word, each forced smile chipped away at his resolve. He had told himself that she was not his to keep, that she belonged to something greater than him. And yet, every breath she took felt like it belonged in his lungs. 

The night before she was to leave, the castle felt different. Quieter. As if the stone walls themselves held their own breath, unwilling to witness what came next. She stood on the balcony, the cold air biting at her skin, hands gripping the railing as if she could hold onto this place, this moment, for just a little while longer.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

"Your Highness." I closed the door behind me with careful hands, the hush of the sleeping castle granting me the courage to steal one more night. One more moment. One last conversation.

Just the two of us.

My jaw tightened as she slowly turned, the fabric of her nightgown whispering against her skin, silvered by the moonlight. Her eyes glistened, her cheeks damp, and when our gazes met, her lower lip trembled just so.

"Sir Xavier." Her voice was barely above a breath as she dropped her gaze, tucking away a stray lock of hair caught in the night breeze.

If I were an artist, she would be my masterpiece; something to paint, to create, to worship.

I stepped beside her, my hands clenched at my sides, resisting the pull, the desperate need to hold her. Instead, I fixed my gaze on the garden below, the one we had wandered through countless times. The place where she had tucked flowers behind my ears, where her laughter had cracked through my carefully built armor, where moments once felt endless. Now, they were slipping through my fingers like sand, vanishing into something I could never reclaim.

I was about to lose the only thing I had ever truly loved.

She was upset. Touching her will only make it harder for her, I thought.

But when her fingers found mine, when she pressed herself against my chest, I let everything go. The dam broke. My walls crumbled. As my own tears fell into her hair, my lips found the crown of her head, as I tried holding onto her as if I could stop time itself.

"You will not come with me," she whispered against my chest, and for a moment, the world stood still.

I pulled her back enough to look into her eyes, pearls of tears welling back up in the corners as she stared up at me with agony.

I shook my head. "I must. It is my duty, I swore an oath to you."

But she only shook hers in return, her breath unsteady. "No. They have assigned me a new personal guard. No one from the kingdom will accompany me." Her voice wavered, barely above a breath. "I will be alone."

A sob tore from her lips, desperate and broken, and I couldn't decide what hurt more; the sound of her heartbreak or the weight of my own.

Leaving her behind was never an option. I had sworn my life to the princess, spilled my own blood to protect her. There was no version of me that existed without her. I didn’t care if I was merely her knight or something more, every part of me was built to stand by her side.

My lips parted, then pressed shut again as my mind scrambled for words; something to argue, something to soothe. But nothing felt right.

Because nothing about this moment was right.

"I am tired," the princess whispered, slowly pulling away from me, her body trembling in the night’s chill. "And I am cold."

I nodded, swallowing the ache in my throat as I took her hands in mine. "Let’s get you to bed then. You have an early morning."

Wordlessly, I led her across the room, tucking her beneath the heavy blankets, shielding her from everything except the sorrow neither of us could escape. I pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, willing her to feel everything I couldn’t say. Then, as I turned to leave, I felt the smallest tug at my hand. Her pinky curled around mine.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep. Please."

My chest ached, splintering at her plea.

"Of course." 

Slipping beneath the covers beside her, I pulled her close, holding her as she cried; softly this time, her sorrow quieter but no less heavy. I ran my fingers through her hair, humming the song she loved most, a final, desperate attempt to ease her pain. I stayed until her breathing slowed, until her body grew still in my arms.

Only then did I carefully slip away, laying her to rest alone.

At the door, I turned back for one last look—at the rise and fall of her chest, at the tear streaked face softened in sleep.

And in the silence of her chambers, I let myself collapse.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

I dreamt of him.

I dreamt of the day we first met, back when we were just children. His father, a palace guard; his mother, a maid. He had begun his knight training at an age far too young, but back then, he was still just a boy—silly, carefree, untouched by the weight of his duty or the stain of others blood. His blue eyes sparkled beneath the sun as we ran through the gardens, our laughter echoing through the hedges. No talk of honor, no weight of expectation. Just us. Just a moment untainted by the future.

"You’re not very good at being a knight, you know," I teased, breathless from chasing butterflies. "Knights are supposed to be serious."

"Maybe I don’t want to be a knight," he huffed, flopping onto the grass beside me. "Maybe I just want to be a boy who plays in gardens with princesses."

"Then don’t be a knight," I had said so simply, as if the world would allow it. "Just be my friend."

And for a time, he was.

I dreamt of being sixteen again, of the soft clink of rocks against my balcony in the dead of night. I could still see him standing below, his figure barely visible in the dark, hair a mess, but that grin; bright, mischievous, unwavering. He would gesture for me to come down, and I always found a way. No matter the risk, no matter the scolding I might receive. He was my best friend. He was worth it.

"You know one of these days, they're going to catch you," I whispered as I slipped through the garden gate, my heart pounding with the thrill of it all.

"Then I suppose I'll have to fight off the entire palace guard," he said with a dramatic bow. "Or maybe just talk my way out of it. I’m quite charming, you know."

"Oh, of course," I laughed, rolling my eyes as he took my hand and led me toward the stables. "The prince of smooth talking himself."

"Exactly." The boy gave my fingers a squeeze. "Now come on, the stars are waiting."

And so we ran, past the towering walls and royal expectations, into a world that was just ours—if only for a little while.

I dreamt of his accolade ceremony, the air thick with the scent of spring, the world alive with new beginnings. The sun was warm, the flowers had just begun to bloom, and the future stretched before us like an open road. He knelt before me, the weight of the sword pressing onto his shoulders, yet his posture did not falter. His oath rang clear, steady; words of duty, honor, and loyalty. But when his gaze flickered toward me, just for a second, I knew there was another promise there too. One meant only for me.

Afterward, when the formalities had passed and the kingdom celebrated its newest knight, we slipped away. Just as we always had.

"Sir Xavier," I teased, following him into the quiet corner of the garden, where the ivy curled around marble arches and the noise of the court faded into the distance. "You wear the title well."

"Do I?" He asked, turning to face me. His armor was pristine, the sigil of the royal guard emblazoned across his chest. But it was his eyes that held me still; bright, searching, something unspoken lingering between us.

"Yes," I whispered. "You do."

For a moment, we just stood there, the world holding its breath. And then, with all the hesitance of a boy still learning what it meant to want, he reached for me.

"May I?" His fingers barely brushed my cheek.

I nodded.

And then his lips met mine; soft, uncertain, but real. A vow all its own.

I had thought his knighthood would be the most important moment of the day. But standing there, heart hammering against my ribs, I realized this—this—was the moment I would remember forever.

I dreamt of the night I knew.

The castle had been silent, but my body had burned. Feverish, weak, barely able to lift my head from the pillows. The royal physicians had come and gone, whispering reassurances to the maids, but none of them stayed. None of them held my hand.

But he did.

I remember waking in the hazy glow of candlelight, the flickering shadows dancing across his face as he sat beside my bed. His fingers were calloused but careful as he pressed a damp cloth to my forehead.

"You're here," I rasped, voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitched, exhaustion lining his features. "Where else would I be?"

"You shouldn't—"

"Rest," he interrupted gently, shifting closer. "I'll be here when you wake."

And I believed him.

I had closed my eyes then, but not before seeing the way he looked at me; the kind of look that made the world feel smaller, like it was just the two of us and nothing else. The kind of look that wrapped around my heart and never let go.

It was that night I knew.

And it was that night I realized, somewhere deep in the corners of my soul, that loving him would be the easiest and hardest thing I would ever do.

I dreamt of another life.

A home far away, nestled in fields of wildflowers, where the wind carried the scent of lavender through open windows. A place untouched by duty, where no one whispered about alliances or heirs. Where no crown sat heavy on my head, and no sword was drawn in my name.

The cottage was small, but it was ours. The wooden floors creaked beneath our steps, the fire crackled softly in the hearth, and outside, the stars stretched endlessly above us.

And in the bed beside me was him.

His warmth pressed against my back, one arm draped lazily around my waist, fingers tracing idle patterns along my skin. His breath was steady, comforting, the sound of a man who no longer had to stand guard at my door, who no longer had to watch me from afar.

"Are you asleep?" His voice was hushed against my hair, laced with drowsiness.

I smiled, eyes still closed. "Almost."

He sighed, pulling me closer, his lips brushing the back of my neck. "Good."

"Why?" 

"Because then I get to wake up with you."

In my dream, I let myself believe it was real. That when the morning came, I wouldn’t wake in a castle, bound to a life that was never truly mine. That I would open my eyes to sunlight spilling through sheer curtains, to the sound of him humming as he started a fire, to the promise of another day with nothing but love ahead of us.

Yet…

I turned to whisper his name, expecting the warmth of his presence, his steady heartbeat beside mine. I reached out for him, feeling nothing but empty sheets.

And then—I woke up.

Alone. Cold.

Reality crashed back down around me, like a wall of stone falling from the heavens. My heart twisted, choking on the weight of everything I’d just lost. It had all been a dream, a beautiful illusion.

The reality was harsh and unforgiving. He was gone. The warmth was gone. And I was left to face the truth; my heart forever bound to him, while my life demanded something else.

The maids filed in one by one,

“Let us get you ready. Your carriage is almost here, Your Highness.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭-

In the weeks following the princess’s departure, I found myself reappointed as a palace guard, just as my father once was. It was a role I had never aspired to, one that felt like a cruel mockery of everything I had trained for. Years of relentless knight training, of discipline and sacrifice, reduced to nothing more than standing watch in silent corridors.

But perhaps it wasn’t just the job that felt hollow. Perhaps every role within the palace was just as dull, just as lifeless. Or maybe it was simply her. Maybe she had been the color in an otherwise gray world, the force that made even the most monotonous days feel like an adventure.

Without her, life trudged on, empty and unremarkable.

It was as if no one noticed she was gone, as if the kingdom hadn’t lost its brightest light. Life carried on, indifferent. The garden still bloomed, the sun still rose, the halls still echoed with laughter that didn’t belong to her. It was infuriating; the way the world refused to grieve her absence the way I did.

But grief is a quiet thing. It does not stop time or bend the world to its sorrow. It lingers, unseen, in the hearts of those who loved her.

In my heart.

The days blurred together, an endless cycle of routine and hollow duty. Standing guard at the palace gates, patrolling the halls, listening to the mindless chatter of nobles who had already forgotten her. I hadn’t. I couldn’t.

I still woke before dawn, despite no longer having her to escort on morning rides. My hands still reached for a sword heavier than the one at my waist; the one meant for battle, for protection, not for ceremony. I still turned at the sound of laughter that sounded just close enough to be hers, my breath catching in my throat before reality set in. She wasn’t here. She wouldn’t be.

Old habits refused to die, lingering like ghosts in the spaces we once filled. The maids still glanced at me when they passed, pity in their eyes, as if I were something broken. 

Maybe I was.

Some nights, when the weight of missing her pressed too heavily on my chest, I wandered. Past the banquet halls where she used to sneak extra desserts to me when no one was looking. Past the library where she would read until her eyes drooped, always insisting on finishing just one more page. Past the training grounds where she had once challenged me to a duel, laughing even as she lost over and over again.

Tonight, my feet led me somewhere I hadn’t dared go since she left. 

The garden.

The moonlight bathed the flowers in silver, their petals swaying in the cool breeze. It looked the same, smelled the same, but without her, it felt… empty.

I stepped forward, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots the only sound. Here, in this very spot, she had tucked a flower behind my ear. Here, she had whispered secrets, ones I carried with me even now. Here, I had kissed her for the first time.

I exhaled sharply, my fingers brushing the petals of a rose before curling into a fist.

The world had not stopped for her absence. But I had.

The weight of tomorrow settled heavy in my chest, pressing down with every breath. My fingers curled tighter, nails biting into my palms as if pain could ground me, as if it could silence the roaring in my head.

Nothing.

Nothing.

For weeks, I let myself believe it. That I was powerless. That she was lost. That there was no way to stop what was coming.

But standing here, in this garden where she had once laughed freely, where she had taken my hands in hers and promised that no matter where life took us, we would always find our way back to each other; how could I believe that?

The moonlight wove through the leaves, casting shadows that danced like ghosts of the past. I could almost hear her voice, her laughter, the way she had once called my name with nothing but joy. And now? Now, her voice would be bound in silks and duty, reciting vows to a man who would never love her the way I did.

My breath hitched as I looked up at the stars, the very ones I had once pointed out to her, spinning stories in the quiet safety of the night.

How could I let this happen?

My heart pounded against my ribs, the realization striking as hard and fast as a blade—I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

Nothing, I could do nothing.

Nothing, there was nothing.

...

Something.

I had to do something.

My pulse steadied, my mind clearing for the first time in weeks.

Tomorrow, the first day of summer, she would be forced to walk down an aisle.

But tonight—

Tonight, she was still mine to save.

—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

The kingdom was suffocating in its silence, a stillness that clung to the air like dust in an abandoned room. It mirrored King Edmund himself; aged, stagnant, repulsive. The maids moved like ghosts, the servants like shadows, none daring to utter a single word. The only sound that ever shattered the hush was the king’s laughter; loud, hollow, and grating, echoing through the castle like a cruel reminder of who held dominion over it all.

“I shall have your chambers decorated to your liking, my dear.” The king’s grin stretched wide, revealing yellowed teeth, his voice dripping with false sweetness. Yet, as I stepped inside, the room told a different story; it seemed fit for a concubine. The balcony was low enough that I could make a quick escape if needed, and the thought frequently crossed my mind. Still, it was a mercy compared to what awaited me beyond these walls. 

Sharing a bed with him.

Oh, and the garden. 

I despised it. It was a mockery of what it should be; twisted, decaying, and suffocating under its own neglect. The flowers, I’m sure once full of color and life, now stood like corpses, their petals crushed and grey. Weeds had taken over, crawling through every corner, claiming the space with a savage grip. It felt like a reflection of everything I loathed—everything that had been stolen from me. The beauty, the life, it was all gone. Just like me.

The castle walls pressed in around me, cold and lifeless, as if the very stones were whispering of all the joy they had swallowed whole. This place was nothing like home—it was a tomb masquerading as a palace. And I was just another relic trapped inside, left to rot beneath the weight of duty.

King Edmund’s presence was suffocating. His breath reeked of spoiled wine, his touch like a stain I could never wash away. The way he looked at me made my stomach churn, and I could feel his gaze even when he wasn’t there; a constant, sickening reminder that I was his now. His to claim. His to control.

I loathed every inch of this castle, from the damp, drafty corridors to the suffocating silence that swallowed my screams before they could ever leave my throat. No one spoke. No one looked at me for too long. The maids avoided my eyes, their hands trembling as they adjusted my gowns or brushed my hair. They knew. They knew what my life had become, and yet, they too were prisoners here. There was no help. No escape.

And the nights, the nights were the worst. The way his laughter would slither down the halls, seeping under my door like a poison I couldn’t escape. The moments I would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the breaths I could hear on the other side of the door. Waiting. Dreading.

I thought I had known misery before. I thought I had known fear. But nothing could have prepared me for this. For him. For the way my world had shrunk into something unrecognizable, something unbearable.

The garden was just another cruelty in an endless sea of them. What was once my sanctuary had been turned into something grotesque, something twisted beyond repair. I used to believe in tending to the things I loved, in nurturing beauty where I could. But what was the point, when everything I touched was destined to wither and die?

Tomorrow, the first day of summer, I will be wed. 

The night air is thick with the scent of rain, the distant rumble of thunder a quiet warning in the distance. I sat at the edge of my bed, the weight of a crown I do not yet wear pressing heavier than the gown draped over my shoulders. The torches and candlelight in the chamber flicker like fallen stars, indifferent to the war waging inside of me.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

The sound is soft and blends in with the rhythm of the rain.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

I stand, heading to the balcony doors.

Clink.

Clink. 

Clink.

I notice a pebble.

Swinging the balcony doors open, I step out into the rain.

"Your Highness."

There he is, not even a foot below, standing beneath my balcony. The only thing in this world that still feels real. His armor is dulled from the road, his hands rough with the journey, but his eyes—his perfect blue eyes still shine, still burn with that quiet intensity that always made me weak.

My breath catches, my heart stuttering in my chest. He shouldn’t be here. This is reckless, dangerous, if anyone were to find him, to find us—

And yet, something inside me softens, loosens, like a knot finally coming undone.

"You shouldn’t be here," I whisper, though I make no move to step away.

"And yet, here I am," Xavier says. "Here, where you are. Where you have always been."

He is a sight against the bleakness of my world. A dream standing in front of me, golden even in the pale moonlight. His hair sticks to his forehead from the rain and wind in a way that makes me want to reach down and brush them back. His jaw, sharp and strong, is clenched and tight, as if the road refused to let him rest. And his lips—full, pink, familiar—are pressed into a line, barely concealing the emotions warring inside him.

He looks so painfully handsome it almost hurts. Compared to the king, to his yellowed teeth and sickly complexion, Xavier is the sun and stars themselves; warm and golden and impossible to look away from.

The sight of him is enough to make me forget it all. Just for a moment. My hands tremble at my sides, aching to reach for him, to feel the strong, steady grip that once held me so carefully, so reverently.

Xavier steps closer, eyes searching mine. "I swore an oath to you once," he murmurs. "Not to your crown, not to your kingdom—to you. Say the word, and I will keep it."

His breath is unsteady, his lips parted like he’s barely holding himself together. "Say the word," he says again, voice raw, "and we’ll leave this place behind."

He stretches out his hand to me.

The wind stirs, carrying his words through the hollow halls of my heart. I think of golden thrones and cold hands. Of heirs and alliances. Of chains wrapped in silk and satin.

And then I think of him.

Of the way the dim light catches in his lashes. Of the curve of his smile, the one I haven’t seen in weeks. Of forests and open roads and a love that has never asked me to be anything but myself.

I take a breath;

I take his hand.

[monster-disaster]

What about a sweet heart who has muti tongues? He's shy but in bed it's a whole new story.

A Co-worker. Definitely a co-worker.

You work on the same floor but in different departments, so your paths rarely cross. Despite this, you are always kind and polite to each other, exchanging small greetings and smiles. Over time, these brief interactions turn into taking breaks at the same time. He is usually the first to arrive in the kitchen, making sure there's fresh coffee ready by the time you walk in. He wears glasses and often pushes them up on the bridge of his nose when he's nervous. A habit you find endearing. His laugh is soft and quiet, and he always casts his eyes down, looking at you through his lashes. If you want to get to know him better, you have to take the lead in conversations. At the beginning, you talk about work, but soon your discussions drift to hobbies, family, and whatever else comes to mind. The kitchen where you meet for lunch every day is filled with the aroma of various foods, with a strong hint of coffee always lingering in the air. When you casually mention that you dislike the smell, he suggests heading to the nearby park instead. It’s just a few minutes’ walk away. You decline at first, not wanting to take up his time, but he insists, saying he’d love to get some fresh air. Especially with you. From then on, you spend your breaks on a park bench, eating and chatting. Sometimes, he surprises you with coffee, and you bring pastries. Before long, you’ve learned his favorite treats and your conversations become the highlight of your day.

It’s a slow process with him. He’s cautious, not wanting to misread your kindness and risk the friendship you’ve built. The thought of making things awkward, especially since you work at the same place, weighs on his mind.

The more you learn about him, the more you appreciate his subtle sense of humor and thoughtful nature. You start noticing the little things he does just for you: always making sure your favorite coffee is ready, sharing a silly joke to brighten your day, and the not-so-subtle way he begins waiting for you after work to walk you home.

But despite your obvious sympathy for each other, it takes a bit of alcohol to cross the line you both have been carefully avoiding for so long.

One evening, a co-worker invites you out for a few drinks with the others. It's nothing fancy, just a cozy pub at the corner with mismatched chairs, stained tables, and a bartender who somehow makes the best drinks you've ever had.

When you arrive, a few of the others are already there, and you spot him in the middle of the group. His face lights up the moment he sees you, and he immediately gets up from his chair to order you whatever you’d like. The others exchange knowing glances at his enthusiasm, but they wisely keep quiet. They’re well aware that if they say the wrong thing, he’ll retreat back into his shell.

Outside the office, he seems much more relaxed, though his soft-spoken nature remains unchanged. Before you know it, you find yourself pressed against his side, partly because there isn’t much space around the table and partly because it’s the only way you can hear him over the noises. Of course, you’re not complaining.

When the night comes to an end, he offers to walk you home, and you accept without a second thought. You might second-guess it later, but for now, all you want is to spend more time with him, away from the others' curious gazes.

As you walk side by side, the cool night air feels refreshing after the warmth of the pub. The city hums softly around you. Its sounds create a comforting backdrop to your quiet conversation.

As you reach your doorstep, there’s a moment of hesitation from both of you. He looks at you with those thoughtful eyes. His glasses catch the soft glow of the streetlights as he pushes them up on his nose—just like you’ve seen him do so many times before. The alcohol buzzes under your skin, mingling with the unspoken tension in the air between you.

You find yourself inviting him in, and to your relief and excitement, he accepts.

Surprise catches in your throat when the entrance door of your apartment barely clicks shut, and your back is pressed against the wooden surface. His lips on yours are overwhelming and searing. His body firmly pins you in place. You squeal in shock, but the sound is quickly swallowed by the intensity of his kiss. It’s then you realize that something strange—his tongue brushes against yours, but there’s not just one. There are two, working in tandem to take your breath away, leaving you dizzy and pliant in his arms. "Where’s your room?" He asks, breaking away from your lips, panting with a hint of urgency in his voice. "The last room," you manage to reply, your thoughts still swirling. "But what about…" You trail off, touching your lips in wonder, trying to grasp what just happened. He grins, a new expression on him, but one that suits him well. "Don’t tell me that’s the most unusual thing you’ve ever seen on a monster." "No," you admit with a small smile. "It isn’t." "Good," he says, scooping you up into his arms effortlessly. "Then let me show you what else I can do with it."

And he does.

He does.

The kind, quiet guy you've known for the past several months is gone. In his place is a man who takes charge and refuses to let it go for even a second. He manhandles you effortlessly, putting you on the bed within moments and leaving you powerless to do anything but moan and gasp. His name echoes off the walls of your room as the rough pads of his fingers explore every trembling inch of your body, followed by his lips. By the time he moves down between your legs, your nerves are ready to burst with anticipation and need. His claws dig into the soft meat of your thighs as he pulls them apart, pushing you wide open with his shoulders. When you look down at him, he grins, licking his lips with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The moment his tongues touch you, your back arches off the bed, and a loud moan escapes your lips. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you have to force yourself to bring your gaze back to the male between your legs. He feasts on you with abandon, lapping at your folds, slurping on your wetness, and sucking on your clit. His tongue rubs over your sopping pussy while you writhe underneath him, holding onto the sheets with a vice-like grip. His relentless attention drives you to the edge. Each stroke of his tongues pushes you closer and closer to an overwhelming climax. Your breathing becomes ragged, and you can feel the tension building in every fiber of your being. He seems to sense this, increasing his pace. His tongues work you with a precision that has you gasping for air. Your moans grow louder, filling the room as he brings you closer to the edge. His name spills from your lips in a desperate chant. A plea for more, for everything he’s giving you, and more. Your hands leave the sheets, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as your hips move instinctively against his mouth.

Just when you think you can't take more, he adds a finger, then another, stretching you and pushing you further toward the brink. The combination of his tongues and fingers working in perfect harmony is almost too much to bear. Your body tenses, your muscles coiling tight as a spring. With one final, powerful suck on your clit, he sends you over the edge. Your back arches off the bed, and you cry out. The sound is raw and high. Waves of pleasure crash over you, each one more intense than the last, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

As you come down from your high, he continues his gentle ministrations, easing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until your breathing steadies and your body relaxes. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction and something deeper, something almost tender. He moves up your body, placing soft kisses along your stomach, between your breasts, and finally capturing your lips in a kiss that is both passionate and sweet. You can taste yourself on his lips as his tongues play with yours.

[allisonlol]

Ah, a Jouno simp...I've always been more of a Chuuya and Fyodor simp. Having said that Jouno is fast becoming a new contender. On that note..if you get time (uni is a real time eater) could we maybe get headcanons on ideal types of woman for Chuuya, Jouno & Fyodor please

a/n: chuuya and fyodor are on TOP too! jouno was love at first sight tho <33 but i would love to do this for u!! keep in mind y'all this is my OPINIONNNN so be nice or else. felt like i was writing kunikida's list of ideals LOL

warning: fem reader

(Chuuya, Jouno, Fyodor) And Their Ideal Woman

Chuuya

i feel like he's...not really picky??

like as long as ur decently nice and somewhat confident he'd be down to get to know u

i feel like chuuya would definitely be drawn to someone who puts a lot of effort into their appearance tho. he does the same so it's not a double standard!!

^such as well-put together outfits and styling ur hair or makeup to match

this is random but i think he likes girls who wear glasses...it's fine if u don't but bonus points if u do!! especially the round frames

doesn't care about height much. but if ur taller than him don't tease him too much or he'll be insecure :(

personality wise, i think chuuya would like someone who is sweet and a little shy, but knows when to stick up for themselves? like not a pushover

someone who is soft-spoken would be a nice contrast to his hotheadedness and bring out his softer side <3

Jouno

his type is me. next

all jokes but i think jouno would like someone who is very similar to him

^you would have to have a substantial amount of things in common to get close to him in the first place, since he doesn't waste his time on anyone

i'm thinking someone who is quick to aggravate, reserved, and sarcastic

there's a lot of playful banter instead of flirting

appearance doesn’t matter much since he can't exactly see you lol. but he would like to lightly trace over ur face and such to picture what you look like

due to his enhanced sense of smell he would love someone who smells good all the time...like regularly uses lotions and perfume but doesn't over-do it (too much would give him a headache)

^has an inclination towards sweet and warm scents, like vanilla. claims the florals are "too overpowering" (although he likes cherry blossom)

i also feel like jouno would like someone with longer hair. he likes running his hands through it or playing with it :)

Fyodor

he likes anyone who will shut up and sit down to obey his order <3

i'm only partially joking here. he would need someone who will typically submit to him

^doesn't mind pushback once in awhile tho. likes the debates that come up if you question or disagree with him

fyodor would like someone who is very quiet, softspoken, and intelligent. the less friends you have, the better too!

^wants you all the himself lol. if you're very introverted, he won't have to worry about you getting close to anyone else as much (did someone say...possessive...)

does want someone who is close to his intellect but doesn't match it. he wants to be able to teach you things and feel superior

don’t bash me here BUT i think fyodor would like a woman who fits that “trad wife” stereotype. like just chills at home and does housework for him. he tends to neglect taking care of himself and his surroundings so he appreciates if you care for him in that way

i also believe fyodor would be drawn to someone who's style resembles his own. i have a very distinct image of a woman with dark hair, elegant clothing, dark makeup

another one who appreciates if you put a lot of time into your appearance

immense bonus points if you're also russian or can speak the language

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @scul-pted @exorcisedstraydog @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @dreaming-of-ambedo @nervousyetconfidentway @beautiful-is-boring @irethepotato @serenareiss @thescrunkly @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @disa-ster

[gingerkunoichii]

this is part 1. i cant post the FULL one on here for some reason but here is the link to the full writing on AO3 ! pairing: dark!shikamaru x female reader

oneshot au set around two years after the fourth shinobi war where Shikaku DIDNT die because he doesn't deserve that

words: 12467 (had to seperate into two parts because it's so long, OOPS.)

warnings: extremely toxic relationship, NSFW smut, swearing, cheating on partners, general scumbag behaviour from both parties, dependancy

summary: you and Shikamaru have been messing around for years now - never making things official, making eachother jealous in sick games, purposefully going back and forth to eachother, arguing, hating, fucking. now after months of not speaking to him after he got a new girlfriend, you decide its time to cause chaos in his life again.

You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow as your eyes flickered to Shikamaru’s with a glint of mischief - you were here to cause mayhem, to press and push him, to break through that lazy facade he held as always that infuriated and drew you in, you had been obsessed with cracking that shell for a while now. Sometimes it worked, with him fucking you wildly whenever you succeeded and sometimes it failed with you returning to the night. No matter the situation you were in or the man you found yourself with - you found yourself always going back for that sweet release with him specifically, like a drug. You hadn’t spoken to him in months after he did a.. certain thing.. and you reacted in what you thought was a completely reasonable response - he disagreed as he always did, but yet here you were, like a street cat you came and went when you wanted to. You studied him, the dark hair he always wore pulled back into a ponytail, loose and trailing around his neck and shoulders as he blinked steadily waking himself up, and his intense eyes that reminded you of the very deer that the Nara clan tended to, the way he leaned back on his hands with a carefully neutral expression, his dark eyes betraying just a flicker of curiosity. Your lips curved into a faint smirk, one that promised trouble.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said, your tone light and teasing. “I expected a bit more of that dry wit you’re so fond of..” You drew on your words. You had, as usual when you got bored late at night, invited yourself into the Nara clan compound, and fortunately for you his dad Shikaku had let you in - saying it’s a good thing he has someone like you to ‘keep him on his toes.’ You had invited yourself to his bed like it was your own with your weight upon it waking him up as you threw yourself down - he was not impressed and had sat there in silence, annoyed as he woke himself up, knowing that you being here late at night only meant one thing, trouble.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow but didn’t rise to the bait immediately. Instead, he let out a soft sigh, as if your words were already weighing on him, making him tense. “Maybe I’m just conserving energy y’know, since you decided to come here when I was sleeping..” he said lazily with a yawn - looking over you as you laid at the end of his bed, though his eyes flicked to yours, searching for the game you were obviously trying to play now. She’s always up to something, especially since it’s been months now.

You let your smirk widen as you leaned back fully again against his covers, your hair pooling around you like liquid. He opened one eye to look at you, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation. “I’m not going to give you the reaction you’re fishing for, you may as well just leave now and let me sleep.” he said flatly.

“Oh, I’m not fishing,” you replied, your tone low and teasing as you leaned slightly closer, touching the covers. “I already know how to get a reaction out of you, Shikamaru. I’m just deciding whether it’s worth the effort tonight.” You had come here with a plan, as you always did. You found it most enjoyable to get a reaction out of the other-wise level-headed Shikamaru - he had already cracked under you multiple times, countless in fact.

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, his lips twitching into the faintest of smirks despite himself. Troublesome as ever. He shifted slightly, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on his knees, the covers rustling as he moved. “You’re like a hornet.” he said with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Do you just go around poking at everyone to see what sticks?”

“Only the ones who make it interesting, duh.” You replied smoothly, he had your interest - despite everything that happened, despite your incessant need to toy with him and his need to hurt you too - to try and play with him, to try and outsmart him constantly. “You should take it as a compliment.”

Shikamaru shook his head, though he couldn’t suppress the small chuckle that escaped him. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just add ‘compliment’ to the list of things you’re terrible at giving.” His words were dry, hinting at your previous times with him as you scoffed, not even bothering to satisfy him in responding to it.

You let the moment stretch, enjoying the way his dark eyes remained steady on yours, the way you captivated his attention even if it was late at night and the last time he had actually spoken to you being months ago - even if he was lazy, even as you knew you were testing the limits of his patience. That, after all, was part of the fun. You were here however for anything but to make him comfortable, in fact you relished in making him uncomfortable - in pushing him, which was exactly what you were gonna do. To see if he’d do something, a perpetual game of cat and mouse, though if the cat was much more lazy and had sharper claws than most.

You let out a long, deliberate sigh as you eased back fully onto the bed, your arms stretching upward. Your fingers splayed slightly as if measuring the ceiling, your gaze absently tracing the lines of the wooden beams above. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at your lips as you concocted a way to get underneath his skin, a quiet amusement dancing behind your eyes.

“I really shouldn’t be here,” you said casually, your voice soft and almost wistful as you side eyed him for a reaction with a permanent smirk etched onto your face, anything really. “Especially now that I’m a... ‘thing’ with Naruto hmm? Doesn’t look good at all.” Your tone lingered on the word "thing" as if the very concept were amusing or foreign to you in front of him, such things had never stopped you before. You tilted your head slightly, turning your attention back to Shikamaru, the wooden beams suddenly boring. Your arm lowered, and with a quick flick of your fingers, you poked him lightly in the leg where it was covered near you as if tapping the glass of a fish tank.

Shikamaru didn’t flinch, though his expression turned deadpan as he glanced at you, I knew it, I had heard of months ago, right after I got with Temari  - I had a feeling she’d turn up to gloat eventually, to try and get a reaction, like she always fucking does. He leaned back slightly, letting his head rest against the wall behind his bed. “What, are you expecting me to congratulate you? Feel guilty for letting you stay? I’m not playing this game Y/N.” He yawned, not giving you what you wanted just yet.

You turned your head fully to the side now, your eyes narrowing in mock curiosity, as if he could ever dare to question your intentions. “It’s not a game,” you said, though your smirk betrayed your words. “Just an observation. I shouldn’t be here. Late night visits to a man's house never did anyone any good.” You watched him yawn as you spoke.

Shikamaru let out a slow breath, his gaze lifting toward the ceiling you’d seemingly been measuring moments before. “You say that like it’s some kind of profound statement,” he muttered. “You’ve already decided to be here, so what’s the point in pretending otherwise?” He looked at you with a bored expression, already tired of your shit the more you spoke. You had invaded not only his room but his precious sleep time with your bullshit games.

Your smirk widened slightly. “I suppose you’re right,” you admitted, your tone light and unbothered. “But it’s still fun to see how you react when I say it.. It's new afterall.” You had been doing this for years with him - a constant back and forth, but you still found entertainment in it - how despite however many times you did it he never kicked you out, never actually got sick of you.

He tilted his head to look at you, his dark eyes steady, though there was the faintest flicker of exasperation in his gaze. “And what reaction are you hoping for?” he asked, his voice calm but pointed. “Am I supposed to kick you out? Go tell Naruto that his girl is over at mine? Tell you to stay? Or just sit here and listen while you work through whatever it is you’re avoiding.” He folded his arms over his black shirt - the dim light showing the rumpling of the fabric as he did so.

You chuckled softly at how pointed he was as usual, the sound low and velvety. You enjoyed playing games with the minds of men within the village, finding it the only worthy entertainment nowadays amongst all the seriousness - your games had yet to catch up with you and you were just about fine with that. He also was the only one that matched your mindgames in such a fucked up way. “You always think I’m avoiding something,” you said, your voice carrying a faint teasing lilt. “Maybe I just enjoy your company, huh, Shikamaru?”.

Shikamaru sighed, shaking his head slightly as he looked back toward the ceiling. He spoke finally - his voice quiet but tinged with wry amusement. “Still as predictable as ever.”

Your eyes sparkled as you raised an eyebrow. “Predictable?” you echoed, your smirk sharpening slightly. “Now, that’s a new one.” You sat up slightly, looking him directly into his deep brown eyes. “Careful, Shikamaru. If you start calling me predictable, I might have to try harder to surprise you, maybe I’ll start appearing at yours even later at night to engage in these wonderful chats.” 

He let out a small chuckle. “Troublesome woman,” he muttered again. “You’re already exhausting enough as it is.”

You leaned your head back further on to the mattress, closing your eyes briefly as your smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Exhausting, maybe,” you murmured, your voice quieter now. “But I doubt you’d let me stay if I wasn’t at least a little entertaining.”

His gaze flicked to you again, lingering for a moment as he weighed your words.You was trouble, no doubt about that, you had a penchant for turning up at the worst times, like when he had started a new relationship, trying to get a reaction out of him, saying the most random shit and observing his reactions like he was some sort of lab rat—but there was something about your presence, your unpredictability, that kept him from telling you to leave no matter what you two went through. Entertaining, huh? That’s one way to put it.

“You’re lucky I don’t mind losing sleep,” he said finally, his tone dry and sarcastic.

Your smirk returned as you opened your eyes, your gaze finding his once more. “That’s what I thought,” you said softly, your voice carrying a quiet satisfaction despite his obvious sarcasm. He was the only man to match your energy in any sort of way and now being here you wondered why you had given him the cold shoulder for the past few months, sure he did something fucked up but still, this was exhilarating, a dark toxin. You wondered if you should take a different approach to this, maybe throw yourself at him or something when he knew that you were both now in relationships. You shifted slightly on the bed, your long hair cascading over your shoulders as you propped herself up on one elbow. Your eyes studied Shikamaru’s profile in the dim light, the faintest hint of mischief glinting in their depths as your lips curved into a languid smile. You seemed to savour the stillness of the moment as it allowed you to think - to plan, to watch his reaction, the quiet tension that always lingered between you both.

“Shikamaru,” you said softly, your voice carrying a slow, deliberate edge as your smirk deepened, “do you want to do anything?” Your tone was suggestive, your words calculated as they lingered in the air. You tilted your head slightly, watching him with precision—measuring every subtle shift in his expression, every flicker of reaction.

Shikamaru didn’t move at first, though his fingers twitched slightly where his hands rested on his thighs, the covers making a sound slightly. His dark eyes remained fixed ahead not wanting to observe the taunting ghost at the end of his bed that appeared when he least wanted it to, but his jaw tightened, his thoughts churning beneath the surface. Why does Y/N always push just far enough to test me? He inhaled slowly, carefully schooling his expression before he finally turned his head to meet your gaze.

“And what exactly are you implying?” he asked, his tone calm but edged with dry amusement. His dark eyes locked onto yours, steady despite the quiet challenge in your voice. “You’re the one who came here, idiot. Shouldn’t you have an idea if you’re the one asking?” He yawned again.

Your smirk widened faintly as you leaned back again, your fingers brushing lazily over the fabric of the covers, accidentally touching his leg under there as you did so. Shikamaru tensed slightly. “Oh, I have ideas,” you said lightly, ignoring the fact you just did that, your voice laced with amusement. “But I thought I’d give you the opportunity to surprise me for once, I am always the one with all the surprises, it gets boring really.” 

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. She’s trying to get a rise out of me again by coming here and telling me that she’s with Naruto - like I even care, she did this all for some sort of revenge anyways. Always testing, always poking at whatever cracks she thinks she can find. He exhaled through his nose, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“And what if I said no?” he replied, his voice steady as he leaned back on his hands. “Would you be disappointed, or would you just find another way to amuse yourself?”

Your eyes glinted as you watched him, the corner of your mouth tugging upward. “Maybe both,” you said smoothly, your tone teasing. “But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Seeing how far you’ll let me go before you push back.”

Shikamaru tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp against yours. “You’re always looking for the boundaries,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an almost resigned edge. “But don’t act surprised when you find them.”

You chuckled softly at his words, thinking of all the implications he could possibly mean - despite this facade of his right now, you knew for a fact he loved this shit as much as you - this sick game you both engaged in every now and then. “I’m never surprised by anything nowadays,” you murmured, your eyes narrowing slightly as you studied him. “Just curious.”

The air between you both thickened again, the tension shifting but never breaking. You let the silence stretch as you lent your head back, your smirk fading into something more calculative. You were careful, as always, you could see the subtle shifts in him, the way his gaze lingered just a little too long for comfort, the faint tension in his posture that spoke louder than any words as he was acutely aware as to why you were here late at night. It was a dance that you’d both done for a few years now.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice light and teasing, “if you’re not going to take me up on the offer, I suppose I’ll have to entertain myself.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye with a grin.

Shikamaru leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees again as he let out a slow exhale. His gaze flicked to you, dark eyes narrowed with something sharper now—an edge that wasn’t there before. You always played your games with professional precision, but tonight, it seemed, you had nudged just far enough—constantly talking about your new relationship with his friend.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice low, steady, but carrying an unmistakable weight of all the times past. His expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something more—a challenge. This was how he played the game. “Especially now that you’re a ‘thing’ with Naruto.”

Your smirk didn’t falter, though you glimmered with interest as you shifted slightly on the bed, propping yourself up on one elbow again facing him. “And what about it?” you replied smoothly, almost unassumingly as if this conversation was something completely normal, your voice was unbothered. “Are you concerned for him? Or is this your way of deflecting?”

Shikamaru let out a soft, humourless chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s not about me,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut through your teasing. His gaze locked onto yours, his words slow and deliberate. “How do you think Naruto would react if he knew you were here, huh? In my room, stretched out on my bed, practically begging for attention?”

The smirk on your lips remained - this was more like it, your eyes flickered with something unreadable from his perspective—maybe amusement, maybe a flicker of surprise. You studied him carefully, as if weighing your next move. “Begging?” you echoed, your voice carrying a faint lilt of incredulity. “That’s quite the accusation, Shikamaru. Is that how you see it?”

His jaw tightened as he sat back, folding his arms across his chest. “You tell me,” he said flatly. “You’re the one who came here. The one who’s pushing, testing, playing your games. So tell me, Y/N—what are you looking for? And does it even cross your mind what he’d think if he knew?”

“Perhaps-” you said, lightly tracing your fingers yet again on his covers, there was an edge to your voice now as you felt your game finally being played now rather than ignored. “-but Naruto wouldn’t understand. He’s... straightforward.” You smiled darkly, testing him as you paused before continuing. “Too earnest to grasp the nuances of things like this like you and I.” You tilted your head and hummed at the end of your sentence, your smirk returning as you added, “And you know that as well as I do.”

Shikamaru’s gaze didn’t waver, though his expression darkened slightly as he processed your words. Of course she’d rationalise it like that. Y/N always did. No matter which guy she was with throughout the years, she was always coming back to me like a cat in heat. “And what happens when he does understand?” he asked with a smile, his tone carrying an almost dangerous calm. “When he figures out that all this—” he gestured vaguely toward your body on his bed, “—isn’t as simple as you want him to believe?”

Your smirk widened faintly, you loved the back and forth he would give you - that no matter what weird fucked up shit you did, no matter when you turned up - he would entertain you. Your eyes glinted as you leaned back fully again onto his bed, folding your hands behind your head. “Then I suppose I’ll deal with that when the time comes,” you said smoothly, not really caring if and when Naruto might find out. Most guys knew what they were getting into anyways  with you but did it anyways - out of lust or hope that you’d change you couldn’t tell. You and Shikamaru were real messy and it wasn’t a hidden thing throughout the years. “But for now...” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, challenging him as you always did, your voice softening into something dangerously playful. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d do if you were in his place?”

Shikamaru’s brows furrowed slightly at your question as he sighed, and for a moment, he said nothing, his dark eyes fixed on you with a quiet intensity. What would I do? The question hung in his mind, unwelcome and intrusive. He didn’t want to play into your games, but the way you looked at him—calculated, challenging, as though daring him to react—made it harder than ever to keep his footing, his clean streak away from you.

Finally, he sighed, leaning forward again as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not Naruto,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “And you already know that Y/N, you know it too well. So stop trying to turn this into some hypothetical. If you’re here, then be here—but don’t drag him into this just to see how I’ll react.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and pointed, as he met your gaze again, daring you to push further.

Your eyes narrowed playfully as you heard his words, your smirk deepening as you slowly sat up, your movements fluid and deliberate. You sat up slowly and leaned closer, moving yourself to sit beside him. The faintest hint of mischief dancing in your gaze as your hand slid lightly along Shikamaru’s arm. Your touch was feather-light, evoking goosebumps from him, deliberate in the way it tested his boundaries without fully crossing them.

“Do you remember?” you asked softly, dragging your words, your voice smooth and teasing, like silk brushing over bare skin. Your fingers traced an idle pattern on his arm, your gaze steady on his. “The last time we were like this... together?” You paused, letting the memory of the last time you both fucked, whenever that was, settle into his head.

Shikamaru’s muscles tensed under your touch, though his expression remained carefully neutral. He turned his head slightly to look at you, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of exasperation and something darker—something he didn’t care to name and didn’t ever really want to. She’s doing it again. Pushing. Testing. Always seeing how far I’ll go before I push back, before she gets what she wants.

“Of course I remember,” he said flatly, though his voice betrayed a faint edge of irritation. “That’s not exactly something you forget, Y/N.”

Your smirk widened at his response, your fingers trailing just a little higher on his arm as you tilted her head in entertainment, watching him closely. “Good,” you murmured, your tone dropping slightly as you leaned in closer with a whisper, dancing along the line of wrong and right as you usually did. “Because I was starting to think you’d forgotten.”

Shikamaru let out a low sigh, his jaw tightening as he looked away briefly, as if trying to steady himself and his thoughts.  She always knows how to find the cracks, no matter what sort of shield I put up. Always knowing exactly where to press. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said quietly with control, his voice low but steady as he maintained eye contact with heavy lidded eyes in the dim light. “But I’m not sure what you’re trying to prove by bringing it up.”

You chuckled softly, the sound low and velvety as you shifted even closer - shoulder against shoulder now, your smirk never faltering. “Who said I’m trying to prove anything?” you replied, your voice light but laced with an undercurrent of challenge. “Maybe I just wanted to remind you... in case you needed it.” You liked to remind him every few months, to play with his head - for him to play with yours too in a sick sort of way, you liked it. You hated that you liked the hurt, the back and forth of terrible things you’d do to each other - your most recent event of acting out was getting with his friend Naruto in an attempt to hurt him after you caught him kissing Temari.

He turned back to face you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. “And why would I need reminding?” he asked, his tone calm but pointed, knowing exactly the point you were getting at - their entire… relationship if you could call it that was them doing this. “You think I’m going to forget the way you play these games?”

Your smirk softened slightly, though your gaze remained sharp, unyielding. “No,” you said simply, your voice low and smooth. “You seem to forget the way you like to play them too though, Shikamaru.” The air between you both thickened, your words lingering in the silence as your hand stilled on his arm, your eyes watched him closely. Shikamaru’s mind raced, torn between the steady logic that urged him to push you away and the undeniable pull of your presence like it always had—the way her voice wrapped around him like a trap he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. She knows exactly what she’s doing. This sick game between the two of you had gone on for far too long in his opinion - with him purposefully doing things to hurt you, you doing it back ten fold and then him taking it to new levels - if he didn’t pull away it would keep going until mutually assured destruction.He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as if trying to read the thoughts behind your playful expression. Finally, he let out another soft sigh, leaning back on his hands as he shook his head. “Troublesome,” he muttered again simply as he usually did. You leaned your back against the same wall he did, your eyes shimmering with amusement as your smirk curled wider. Your hair fanned against your back, brushing against the wall, and you shifted slightly, the fabric of your skirt brushing against the mattress as you stretched out, languid and deliberate. Your gaze flicked to Shikamaru, locking onto him like a siren does a sailor.

“So, you really won’t do anything with me?” you asked, your voice low, smooth, and teasing. You raised an eyebrow, your tone dancing between playful and provocative. “Here I am, sprawled out on your bed, practically ‘begging for attention,’ as you so eloquently put it. And yet...” You trailed off, your smirk deepening as you tilted your head to watch his reaction. “You’re still just sitting there.”

Shikamaru didn’t move at first, though his jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flicking toward you as if drawn by some invisible force. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees so the back of his head was only visible to you, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared forward into the darkness of his room. She’s relentless. Always pushing, always testing. And she knows exactly how to get under my skin. Y/N relishes in this cycle. It could be a year and she’d still come back for more.

“Are you really that desperate for a reaction?” he asked, his voice low, daring. His tone was calm, but his posture betrayed the tension building beneath the surface.

“Maybe.” You admitted lightly with a playful smile, your fingers idly tracing the edge of the sheets next to your thigh. “But if I really wanted a reaction, I think we both know I’d already have it.” His brow furrowed slightly at your words, he was annoyed - annoyed that you had come back here for this - to sit here and tempt him so he could be the one to blame for your cheating on your new boyfriend yet again, so he would be to blame for cheating on his own girlfriend yet again, not you. His dark eyes narrowed further as he regarded you. “You’re as cocky as always.” he said flatly with a sigh, though there was a faint edge of amusement in his tone - and that’s what you clinged to, the knowing enjoyment that he actually enjoyed this shit as much as you no matter how fucked up it was. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall for whatever bullshit you’re playing right now.” “You say that,” you mused, your voice carrying a teasing lilt as you resumed touching his arm gently, “but I think I’ve gotten under your skin more than you’d like to admit, I always do, don’t I Shikamaru?” Your words were sickly sweet like the nectar of a venus fly trap.

Shikamaru’s lips twitched into a faint, humourless smirk as he leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands. “Maybe,” he conceded repeating the same word you said with an entertained look on his face, his tone measured. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give you what you’re looking for.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly as your almost permanent smirk widened, your amusement only growing at his restraint. “And what do you think I’m looking for?” you asked, your voice soft and probing, like a thread pulling at the edges of his composure.

Shikamaru’s dark eyes lingered on you longer this time, the weight of your presence pressing against the carefully constructed walls he’d tried to keep intact. You sat there next to him, your hand purposefully touching him - making that connection, your eyes glinting with amusement, your smirk daring him to act, to cross the line you had so deliberately drawn. His mind churned, torn between the safe choice of walking away and the pull of something undeniable—a gravity that he knew couldn’t entirely resist, no matter what.

She’s like a poison I can’t stop taking. If I let this happen, it’s only going to complicate things more than they already are. Temari had agreed to date me properly when I swore off ever talking with Y/N again, and I agreed - but here she is, again, and here I am again unable to tell her to fuck off. She’s got me under some sort of genjutsu where I keep making the same old fucking mistakes, I swear. His gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. Damn it all..

He sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair, his dark eyes closing briefly as if gathering his resolve as he turned his head away from you. You asked smoothly as you relished in his conflicted silence, your voice carrying a teasing edge. “Are you finally starting to see things my way?”

He simply scoffed, still not answering you as he felt himself unravelling slowly. He couldn’t help it with you, falling into old habits and hurting not only each other with the way you both acted but the people around you both. Temari, who he was dating now. Naruto who you were dating. It never just ended with you two - it was always so fucked.

You were completely emboldened by his silence, knowing what questions are probably flickering through his mind. Shikamaru was a logical man, yet with you he seemed to become stupid - stupid enough to keep this going, stupid enough not to kick you out his room.

“Do you remember the first time we almost had sex, years ago?” you asked softly, your voice smooth and low, like water brushing against his skin. You stared at the back of his head, waiting and knowing he would turn to face you, he couldn’t help himself as much as you couldn’t.

Shikamaru’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes narrowing as he turned his head to glance at you, sitting his back against the wall as his shoulders brushed up against yours again. “Of course I remember,” he said, though his tone was measured and deep. “Why bring that up now?” A stupid question really, he knew exactly why you were bringing it up.

You chuckled softly, as your gaze drifted upward for a moment as if picturing it, your smirk widening faintly. You murmured, your voice dangerously teasing him. “The way you told me—no, in fact, commanded me—to sit on your lap under that big tree.” You paused, your eyes flicking back to him, watching him closely as you continued. His eyes were barely open, through being turned on or tired you couldn’t tell. “You wanted me so badly, that as soon as I sat there I could feel your cock harden beneath me, It throbbed with want and need, for me. I was so innocent back then - as was you. Both uncorrupted really.” you laughed slightly before carrying on, noting that his eyes hadn’t left yours as he listened, it sounded like he was holding his breath. Your smirk softened, your gaze steady and unyielding as you leaned toward him slightly, your voice dropping to a near whisper as if saying some sort of secret. “You didn’t hesitate back then, selfish man.” You tutted at him, maintaining his dark gaze before carrying on speaking “You couldn’t help yourself Shikamaru. Your hands were firm, sure of themselves. The way you touched my thighs slowly underneath my skirt, willing my legs to open slowly with your hands...” You tilted your head slightly, your lips almost grazing his ear as you spoke, your hair falling forward over your shoulder. “You made your way ever so slowly upwards, first only lightly touching me through my pants, before pulling them aside with those long fingers of yours - so deliberately.” You paused, noticing him finally breathing - the dim light cast highlights on his face. He liked it when you were like this, you could tell because he didn’t stop you, didn’t tell you to shut up. “As if you had all the time in the world under that tree, the afternoon sun on us as you slowly rubbed my clit-” you gasped slowly, intimately, half in remembrance of the sensation of his surprisingly skilled fingers massaging you to completion and half to get a reaction out of him, “-bringing me slowly to my corruption as you told me sweetly to trust you, a feeling I chased many times with you. I know you remember Shikamaru..” “You really have no shame, don’t you?” he muttered, his stare burning into your eyes. He was tense, his shoulder warm against yours, the room felt heavy. You laughed at his words, he was right - you didn’t, at least not anymore, not with him. “Tell me you don’t want such things again, there’s no way. I know no matter who you’re with, you haven’t found it the same.” You stared into his eyes, knowing that his control was frayed, broken like a taut string holding weights on either side. Shikamaru’s dark eyes stayed locked on yours, the challenge in your voice hanging heavy in the air. She was right. I had tried fucking Temari multiple times, to get my mind off Y/N - but it had been average. Just sex, no electricity, no all consuming need to absolutely take over the person who laid below him, it was healthy, normal even. Your gaze glinted with quiet satisfaction knowing that his lack of answer confirmed your words, your eyes dared him to act, daring him to step over the line you’d so artfully drawn between you both. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the silence stretched unbearably, tension crackling as the string of control began to snap.

Finally, he sighed—a rough, frustrated sound—and leaned forward, closing the small distance between you both in a single, deliberate motion. The same old mistakes, huh? I’m a moth to a deadly flame no matter what other light is around me. His hand came up to your cheek, his touch firm and quick as he tilted your face slightly toward him, his dark eyes narrowing as they searched yours.

“You always push,” he said darkly, his voice low and even. “Always testing, always trying to get a reaction. Troublesome woman.” His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, slowly lowering to your jawline, his hand on your neck lightly, your memories flared - moments he had wrapped one of his hands around your neck and held tightly - the other covering your mouth as he had fucked you hard against a tree, memories from a year ago, the reason why being lost on you now. Probably you making him jealous at the time, enjoying the way he acted out.  “And you always act so damn sure of yourself.” You smirked at his words - you had won this time, yet again. As he had before, he would risk everything for you and you the same for him. His hand immediately tightened at your neck when he saw your smirk, making your breath hitch. Before you could respond, he leaned in further, his hand loosening around your throat and sliding to the back of your neck as he tugged you forward hard, his lips meeting yours in a firm, deliberate kiss. The tension snapped immediately and you were both all over each other. The kiss turned hungry, fervent, messy.

You gasped against his lips, your hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his black long sleeved shirt. His hands snaked around your waist, tugging at your clothes already.

Wetness started to pool between your legs as it had countless times before - teasing words and dry humour no longer being spoken - just the familiar sound of his bed creaking slightly beneath the both of you as you both fought for control with kisses.

The thought of how wrong this was sent thrill through you as you kept your eyes closed. So wrong, so right. No one in your life had ever made you feel like this. The intensity of the kiss pulled your focus back to him - the way his lips moved against yours with such an urgency that left your head spinning, forgetting about anything outside this room.  His desire was evident and it made your chest twist darkly - it was fucked up really, you had cheated on every boyfriend you ever had with Shikamaru. His lazy fucking attitude bringing you back each time - the need to be consumed, to consume. He pulled back, your vision hazy with how turned on you were, how badly you wanted him. “You’re one sick bitch Y/N.” His words were quick, heavy with desire - the string had snapped. You laughed, pressing him against the wall quickly as your eyes gleamed with mischief. Without breaking your gaze from him, you slipped forward and straddled him, your knees pressing against his sides and your skirt draped over his lap. Your hands pressed him into the wall. “And?” you finally answered breathlessly. “You want me just as much as I want you. Did you miss me in these months? Hmm?” Shikamaru’s eyes were dark, a familiar sneer appearing on his face. He enjoyed this, he was every bit as fucked up as you, you weren’t the only one who had cheated, fucked around behind peoples backs - he did it too, coming to you each and every time. Pushing, always pushing. His jaw tightened, not answering you - not giving you the satisfaction of hearing it outloud. You was right and he fucking hated that you was, he did miss you. 

--------------------------------------- let me know thoughts and send me some more ideas pllleeease I REALLY ENJOYED writing this, its my first time writing smut and generally writing fanfic - the full thing is available on AO4 which ill link again so you don't have to scroll :)

[11queensupreme11]

QUEEEN CAN WE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BEGGING FOR YOU TO TELL US ABT PERCY AND HADES KIDS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Im so curious abt them and especially who’s got the hots for their mommy 🩷😗🩷

😛

I GOT ONE MORE DESCRIPTION IN ME 😩

theromedes! fifth percades child!

his name means "the wise beast-warrior" so yes this is the kid named after anthonius! which makes my next fact even funnier: he is the incest freak who has the hots for his mother 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

however!!! he is a very soft yan!

similarly to hades, he's very likable and well-respected. he's dependable, kind, gentlemanly, and chivalrous. he's soft-spoken too with small, gentle smiles and tender touches 💖 if you were to ever meet this man, your first thought is gonna be "holy shit, he's a Prince Charming come to life! 😍😍😍" he's a true ✨disney prince✨ tbh

because his mother loves humans and hades is pretty indifferent to them, theromedes' kindness extends to humans as well so just like percy, he's well-liked by gods AND humans 💖

just a sweet puppy boy really (got percy's puppy energy but he's more mellow about it lol). you would NEVER think there was anything wrong with this guy, but like i said, he's an incest freak and a soft yan 😂

he feels very guilty about his feelings for his mother. not because he believes incest is bad, but because she's already TAKEN, and by his father. he loves and respects his father and he loves and respects his mother, so he knows he shouldn't be feeling like this 🥺 but he just can't help it 🥺💔 he just loves his mother so much that it blossomed into more

he wonders if his mother were to forgive him if she knew of these impure thoughts... if his mother were to hate him if he knew how badly he wanted to kiss her.... how badly he wants to make sweet love to her.... and he wonders if his father were to forgive him if he knew of any of this too 💔💔💔

he just feels so dirty and ashamed of himself so this poor boy suppresses and suppresses these feelings for as long as he can 🥺💔 but he's like a lovesick puppy, staring forlornly at his oblivious mother and just YEARNING for her 🥺💔💔💔💔

eventually he won't be able to take it anymore... eventually he'll start to be a little more daring... a good morning kiss to his mother that lingers a little too close to her lips... a tight hug that lasts a little longer than usual with his hands wandering.... maybe he sneaks into her bedroom to steal her clothes so he can jerk off to it 🥺💔💔💔

he feels so bad about it tho, but as long as no one knows, then it's fine right? surely he's strong enough to hold himself back from going too far 🥺💔💔💔

[jar-of-hearts131]

Hi! This is my first fanfic! I really love the war siblings dynamic, and I for one love a good dose of angst!

This is a tickle fic!

Lee: Athena, Ares

Ler: Ares, Athena

TW FOR MENTION OF A PANIC ATTACK

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

A God's Burden

“You're doing better” she said matter-of-factly. As the goddess of war and older sister, Athena had been tasked with training and handling the very energetic and new god of war, Ares. She hadn't spoken to him much, and didn't know too much about him. What she did know was that he had a short temper, he had a huge sweet tooth, he preferred the sword to all other weapons, and he had a soft spot for small, fluffy animals, especially dogs. It was odd, to her, that a god meant to be of such a violent nature could be so soft and carefree, but then again, she didn't have much experience with children.

Athena picked up the spear Ares had been using and tossed it over to him as he pulled himself back to his feet. “But charging in blindly will not always win you the battle.”

“So?” He snapped, frustrated that he had lost yet again. “I'm not all wise and calculating like you are, Athena! What do I have to use but brute force and my own strength?”

Again, the same old tirade. They would spar, Ares would lose, start yelling, and Athena would have to calm him down somehow. She didn't quite understand why he was getting so emotional over this. Surely he knew that the best course of action would be to stop complaining and try again right?

Athena opened her mouth to say the rehearsed line she always gave in response to one of Ares's tantrums when he cut her off. “And don't give me that bullshit about how I need to keep my emotions in check! Not everyone can shut themselves off like you do!”

And with that Ares threw down his spear and stormed out of the arena. Athena didn't know why, but a small part of her felt almost guilty. She tried to reason that he would come to his senses eventually and continue training, but as the day went on, there was no sign of him. Athena quarreled with herself in her head, and the big sister part of her won. “Alright,” she sighed. “Let's go find him.”

…

Ares let out a huff of frustration as he sat down beneath a sprawling olive tree. Why was she always able to best him so easily? He was the god of war for Zeus's sake! He needed to be stronger, faster, better! How else would he catch up to the golden child of the Olympians? How else would he be able to earn just a tiny bit of his father's favor? It was no secret that Athena was the favored one out of all of Zeus's godly children. Never a negative word or action was cast in her direction by him. No, that was saved for his other children, or mortals who displeased him. Ares had heard many stories of cities and towns that had dared to disrespect the king of the gods, only to be struck down by a myriad of disasters.

He shuddered. He'd never admit it, but Zeus scared him. Zeus had a quick temper, a trait he had passed onto his son. He was incredibly prideful and vain, and no one was bold or stupid enough to try to bring him down a notch. Those who tried, were dealt with, severely.

Ares didn't want that to be him. He wanted to get stronger, so he could protect himself, so Zeus wouldn't be able to find fault with him. After all, how could the son of the master of heavens have any imperfections? He didn't want to end up like his brother Hephaestus, thrown off of the mountain due to his imperfect appearance.

Tears began to slip down his face unnoticed as he stressed over whether he would ever be the perfect son, the god of war as he was born to be. He hated this part of him, that got overly emotional and screamed and cried. Crying was a sign of weakness, and he wasn't weak. From day one, he was expected to keep his emotions, aside from rage and bloodlust, in a bottle, never to be seen by anyone but him. And still, he had these moments where those pesky emotions forced their way out in ways that he couldn't control. How did Athena do it so easily? Why her and not him? As his thoughts continued to spiral, he curled up tighter and tighter, and began to breathe faster and faster.

…

Athena roamed the grounds searching for her little brother, but the kid was pretty good at hiding. As she passed by the orchards, she heard a whimpering sound, almost like a wounded animal that was trying to hide from a predator. Instinctively, she went to investigate.

It was all she could do to not let out a gasp when she saw her brother, the brash, headstrong Ares curled up and hyperventilating on the ground, seemingly unaware of the world around him. Shit, she didn't know how to handle him like this! Does she hug him? Tell him to get a hold of himself? Just leave him be? No, none of that seemed right. She wished Hera was here, she'd know what to do. But Hera wasn't there, so Athena needed to do something, and fast.

Suddenly, she remembered something from her time with Pallas, her deceased best friend. Whenever Athena was upset or angry Pallas would take a heavy cloak, meant for colder weather, and drape it over Athena's shoulders. The extra weight would help her calm down and bring her back to reality. Maybe that would work with her brother.

Athena took off the cape she always wore. It wasn't as heavy as Pallas’s cloak, but it would do. She gently wrapped it around Ares's frame, and sat down beside him.

“It's okay, you're okay, I'm here” Athena enveloped him in a hug and tried her best to comfort him. After a while, she heard his broken sobs quiet and his breathing even out. She let go of him and turned him around to face her.

“Ares, you can talk to us. No one is going to hate you for having emotions, and I shouldn't have taught you to force them down. I didn't realize how much it affected you, and for that I am sorry.”

Ares felt a spike of anger at her words. He didn't need any pity. He wasn't some broken child who needed to be coddled and protected. Who was she to insinuate that?!

But then he realized something. Pity wasn't something that Athena did. If she was anything, it was genuine. She didn't believe in sugarcoating or false positives. She wasn't one to sweeten her words to spare hurt feelings. So if she had given words of comfort, he knew she truly meant it.

“I-I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have l-lost my temper again. I just got so angry that I couldn't beat you. How can I be a god of war if I can't fight? How am I supposed to protect others if I can't protect myself? I don't want to be weak!”

There. He said it. As soon as those words left his mouth he froze. On one hand, a tremendous weight lifted off his chest for being able to confide in someone. On the other hand, Athena would never look at him the same way again. He basically admitted to being a weak coward right to her face! He was too scared to look at her. He didn't want to see his sister's face contort into a disgusted sneer-

“Wha-?!” Ares yelped as Athena pulled himself backwards into another tight hug. “What are you doing, let me go!”

“Little brother, I am so proud of you for telling me that. Admitting that you are struggling with something does not make you weak. In fact, it takes a lot of strength and bravery to look at something and realize that you can't always do it alone. I promise you, I will never, ever be angry with you for wanting help or guidance. And I will never be mad at you for feeling the need to express your emotions however you see fit. Just, if you feel the need to throw things around, maybe don't do that in Hephaestus's forge. We don't want a repeat of last time.”

They both laughed at remembering Hephaestus's eyes nearly bug out of his head after returning to a forge that had been destroyed by a very angry 13 year old Ares. It had taken almost two weeks to get everything back in working order. Since then, the arena had a special “Rage Room” for when Ares or someone else needed to let off a little steam.

“Are you feeling better, Ares?” Athena asked.

“Not really.” He answered. He wasn't crying anymore, but there was still a tight knot in his chest.

“Well we can't have that now can we?”

“What do you mehEAN?!” He let out a sharp squeal when Athena's hand suddenly started scribbling into his belly.

“I almost forgot how ticklish you are” Ares's eyes were screwed shut, but he could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Why are you laughing so much? We've only just started, and this isn't even your worst spot.” Athena switched to clawing at his sides, causing him to emit shrill giggles.

“Yohur’e the smahahrt one, figuhure it out!” Now that he was laughing, he was being quite sassy.

“Hey! Don't give me attitude!” Athena scolded, but there was no real bite to her voice.

Her hands spidered up to his ribs, causing his arms to clamp down before those evil hands could get any higher. “Ares give me my hands back.” Athena wiggled her fingers as if trying to pull free, but they both knew she could easily get her hands out if she wanted to.

“You cahan get thehehem yohoursehelf!” Ares laughed. “No, I can’t. They're clearly stuck. Come on, I thought you were smarter than this.”

“You ahare being ridiculohous!” He yelped.

“No, I'm not. Now give me my hands.” Athena said sternly. Trying (and failing) to fight down his giggles, Ares slowly pulled his arms up, only for Athena to dig ruthlessly into his highest ribs, resulting in his arms crashing back down once again.

“AthHEnA! Whyhy!” Ares was pretty sure he was dying at this point. Also, if he didn't know better, he'd say his sister was only doing this to punish him for running off earlier. But he did know better. And he knew that his sister just wanted to see him happy. So he didn't fight back too much. After all, he didn't hate it.

Athena started poking around at Ares's neck, as if pushing buttons. Each poke caused him to scrunch up and squeak. “Dohohon't!” Athena would be lying if she said that wasn't the cutest thing she's ever seen. “Stahahap! Whahat are you dohoing?!”

“Don't stop? Wasn’t even planning on it. And to answer your question, I was pressing giggle buttons! Like this one right here!” Athena wiggled a finger into Ares's bellybutton, making him shriek and burst into more happy giggles.

Now, Ares's giggles were adorable, but Athena wanted to kick it up a notch, so she went to grab one of his arms and pull it up to get at his armpits, his death spot, only to be surprised by a sudden shriek, followed by a snort.

Athena couldn't help but cackle at Ares's mortified expression. “What the hell was that?!” She asked through her laughter.

Looking at him again, she realized that har nails had grazed his bicep. She experimentally skitters her nails across the skin, drawing out more high-pitched shrieks and another snort.

Now, Athena isn't usually one to get all mushy. But even she couldn't help but coo over her little brother's reactions.

“Aww, with the way you're acting, your sacred animal should be the pig!” “SHUHUHUT UHUHP!”

Athena dramatically gasped.”Shut up? I so very kindly try to cheer you up and you tell me to shut up? Oh you're in for it now!”

And with that she held him close, and blew a raspberry on his neck.

Ares screamed.

“NAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHP!”

“Are you going to apologize for being rude?” Athena asked before blowing another raspberry and scribbling into his stomach again.

“YEHEHES NOW PLEHEASE STOHOHOHP!” Ares wailed.

Athena smiled, and skittered her nails into his armpits while blowing one last raspberry, drawing out another scream and more belly laughs.

She stopped after another minute, and started rubbing away the ghost tickles. Ares slumped back against her, face red and streaked with tears, still giggling.

“Tired buddy?” Athena asked with a smile.

“Mhmn” was all she got in response. Ares turned and wrapped his arms around her. They remained in a hug for a few minutes until Athena moved to get up, only to realize her lovable dork of a brother had fallen asleep on her.

Smiling, she picked him up and carried him to her palace. He needed the rest anyway.

…

(After the events of the Vengeance Saga. Athena has mostly recovered, but has drastically weakened due to the extended bedrest. Apollo recommended that she take walks every day until a little more strength returns, and then she can do a bit more exercise and spar a little.)

The weather was nice today. Not that it was normally bad, it just seemed exceptionally nice today. Zeus must be in a good mood.

Most of the gods were taking the time to enjoy the weather and take a break from their duties (hey, even gods need a break sometimes). But one goddess in particular didn't seem so happy.

Athena was upset. She didn't know why exactly. She hadn't no reason to be sad. She was (almost) fully healed, Odysseus was home, and family drama was at an all-time low. Yet, she still felt uneasy.

Normally she would go spar with Ares or train one of her mortal champions when she felt off, but Apollo stubbornly refused to let her. Something about her overworking herself. She looked around. She saw grass, trees, Hermes in the distance messing with Poseidon again. But no Apollo. “Surely a few hours couldn't hurt” she thought.

Spoiler: a few hours could most definitely hurt.

She had only just finished warming up when she felt a sharp sting, and then the sickening feeling of something flowing down her back. Reaching behind her, her hand came back coated in gold. Athena took two steps towards the arena exit, and then promptly passed out.

She awoke several hours later in the infirmary. Apollo saw she woke up and sighed. “What did I tell you about training? I thought you would have learned after last time!”

Athena flopped onto her back with a huff, wincing when the now open wound was pressed on. She turned back onto her side and responded “I was only going to be there for a little while. I didn't expect it to open back up.”

Apollo sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Athena, I know you want to get back out there, and do whatever it is you do. Train another mortal champion, inspire another tactician, or even just spend time with Odysseus again. Don't give me that look, I know you've been sneaking down to the mortal plane. But you seriously need to rest. Immortal as you are, your body needs time to recover.”

Athena shook her head. “I’m fine, Apollo. You don't need to keep me here. I shouldn't just be sitting here uselessly.”

Apollo took one look at his sister's tear-filled eyes and felt his resolve crumble. He took a breath before continuing. “Athena. My dear sister. I love you, but you are the biggest hypocrite I have ever known.”

Athena looked up at him shocked. “Apollo, what the hell?! I am not a hypocrite!”

Apollo just gave her The Look™️. “Really? Just last month you were the one to manhandle Dionysus in here after he decided to push Ares’s buttons one too many times. And the time before that, when Hermes decided to taunt Poseidon by stealing and hiding his trident. If you and Zeus hadn't intervened I don't think even I could have fixed him up.”

Athena’s shiver at the mention of her father’s name did not go unnoticed. Apollo’s tone and expression softened. “Please Athena. I know you always like to be the one to take care of us, but now let me take care of you.”

Athena weighed the pros and cons. On one hand, she really just wanted to get out of bed and pretend this all had never happened. But on the other hand, she knew that it was the most rational and logical thing to stay put and let herself heal. So why was she so against it?

Surely she could handle herself. Apollo didn't need to waste his time on her, not after all that he’s already done. She didn't want to burden him any longer.

Apollo recognized Athena’s internal debate and tapped her forehead to bring her back to the present. “Hey. I know what you're thinking. You are not a burden. I am literally the god of healing. This is my job. And more importantly, you're my sister, and I want you to be happy and healthy. And if that means you have to stay in the infirmary for now, then so be it. I really do care about you, and so do the others. We don't want to see you hurt yourself because you're too proud to admit that you need help. So stop being so stubborn and let me help you.”

It was like he read her mind. Somehow, her (literal) ray-of-sunshine brother knew exactly what she needed to hear at that moment. Athena felt the anxiety and uneasiness in her chest die down, and smiled. “Thank you, brother.”

Apollo smiled back at her. “Of course, sister. Now, you look exhausted. Try to get some sleep, I'll come back to check on you in a few hours. And if you need anything, Iaso and Panacea should be around.”

With that, Apollo left, and Athena closed her eyes.

Hours later, she awoke to a commotion on the other side of the door.

“I’m afraid I can't let you in, Lord Apollo said she needs to rest.”

“I don't care what that sunshiney dolt said! I want to see my sister!”

The door swung open to reveal a ticked-off Ares and a frustrated Iaso. She turned on her heel and stormed off, presumably to get Apollo.

Ares sauntered in and plopped down with a grin in the chair at Athena’s bedside. “So what’s this I heard about you not taking medical advice seriously?”

“Really Ares? You did the same thing last week. If Apollo hadn't gotten Hera to chew you out then you never would have listened. Now, I was already scolded once, so I don't want to hear it.” She turned to her other side, a scowl on her face. She clearly was not in the mood to deal with her currently very smug brother.

“Oh come on Thena, lighten up! I wasn't gonna scold you. Unlike one of our siblings, I don't have a stick up my ass all the time.”

Athena let out a bark of laughter. It was very true that Apollo could sometimes rival her in terms of stubbornness. She turned back to face Ares. At least she could lie on her back now without any pain. “So what are you doing here? You rarely seek me out these days, and when you do, it's either to argue or to spar. I am in no shape to do either right now, so why did you come to see me?”

Ares looked almost hurt. “Can I not come visit my sister just to spend time with her?” His voice dropped to almost a whisper, as if afraid to speak. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok. When I heard you were in the infirmary again, I got scared. Especially after…” His voice trailed off.

Ares didn't have to finish his sentence for Athena to know what he was talking about. It's been months, but the events of that day still burn fresh in their minds. Memories of the arena, of lighting, of white-hot, searing pain, then nothing.

For Ares, memories of fear that was almost paralyzing. That left him unable to do anything but ask “Is she dead?” He's lost count of how many times he cursed his own name or cried himself to sleep since that day, wishing he had these strength to help her, to run over there, hell, he'd fight Zeus if it meant his sister didn't have to suffer the way she did. They had their quarrels, but everyone knew that Zeus had gone too far.

But instead he had stood there, staring at the charred body of his sister and mentor, the one who had taught him everything he knew, watching as she was struck down again and again, just to get back up once more. Watching as she reached the dias and desperately grabbed their father's hand, and begged. His proud, stoic sister, begging on her knees. And then he watched as the last of her strength disappeared, and she collapsed.

He never wanted to see her like that again. He had spend every day in the infirmary with her until she woke up. Every day for almost two months. When she finally opened her eyes, he was there, with Apollo and Aphrodite. He remembered that day clearly. He remembered he had been arguing over her medical treatment, debating over the proper way to dress her wounds. Only to hear Athena's voice softly correct them both. He remembered his eyes filling with tears when he looked over and saw that her eyes were open. He remembered hugging her tightly, then letting go after remembering she was still injured. He had stayed and talked with her for hours afterwards. Well, he talked and she listened, her voice was really raspy and talking was painful. He updated her on everything that had happened while she was gone, about Odysseus being released, about Poseidon, about the slaughtering of the suitors and the family reunion. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he told her about how right she was about the bloodshed, and how sorry he was about ever doubting her mortal (and his son, Telemachus killed his fair share of suitors too). Apollo eventually has to physically remove him so Athena couldn't rest, but he continued to come every day until she could walk again.

Smiling sadly at the memory, his expression darkened. He hated seeing her hurt, and he hated it more when she did it to herself. Yes, he could chew her out about how stupid she was, but that wouldn't do either of them any favors. Instead, he had a better idea.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and then Apollo yanking him by the ear.

“OW! LET ME GO YOU POMPOUS BITCH!”

“I TOLD YOU SHE NEEDS TO REST! YOU BOTH ARE TERRIBLE AT LISTENING!”

Athena watched her brothers argue with the expression of the oldest sibling who is absolutely done with this shit, before getting up with a sigh (no pain yay) and knocking their heads together.

“Both of you shut up. Yelling won't solve anything. Apollo, he was just here to check on me. Ares, we talked about calling your siblings bitches. Now, both of you apologize and be done with it.”

The brothers grumbled out half-hearted apologies to each other and rubbed the sore spot on their heads. Apollo sighed and turned to his sister. “Athena, I can see that you are able to stand now, you can leave after I do one more examination. Ares, if you must stay, you can wait outside.”

Ares walked out the door and sat down in the hall, waiting for Apollo to finish. Around 10 minutes later, Athena walked out the door, sporting fresh bandages and after bottles of assorted liquids and pills. Most likely painkillers of some kind, just in case.

“So where are you off to now?” He asked.

“I need to bring these back to my palace, then I'm probably just going to take a walk.” She responded, shifting the bottles in her arms.

Ares took two of them, smirking at Athena's squawk of protest. “Relax, I'm just helping you out. You'd probably drop one if you tried to carry that many by yourself.” Athena scowled, but thanked him for the assistance. Her arms did feel weak, as much as she hated to admit it, she did need the help.

Arriving at Athena's palace, the siblings went to her bedroom to set the bottles down. Athena frowned at the haphazard way her brother had carelessly left them on the nightstand, and took a minute to organize them.

Ares watched in amusement. “Sis, they're just a few bottles, you don't need to arrange them down to the millimeter.”

Athena scoffed. “Brother, you know I cannot just leave them disorganized. Everything must be in its place.”

Ares sighed impatiently. “Well, when you are done, come meet me outside. We're going for a walk. I know if I leave you to your own devices you'll forget. For all your wisdom, you are terrible at self-care.”

Athena bit back the retort she had, not wanting to be drawn back into their earlier squabble. After what seemed like an eternity (if you asked Ares, in reality it was only about five minutes), Athena stepped outside to meet her brother for their walk.

Wandering for a bit, they came across a clearing after passing through a dense wooded area. Athena recognized it as an old practice area, one that she and her siblings would meet at to hone their abilities or play. The grooves in the trees and patches of dirt were remnants of sword swings, wrestling matches, and rouge magic. The branches held memories of stargazing, long chats, and whispered secrets. The leaves hustled with the sound of laughter and screaming. A fond smile crept onto her face. Yes, there were many memories here indeed.

Athena didn't have to look over to know that Ares has a similar expression. Wordlessly, they walked over to an old olive tree. The branches were barren, long past the days of bearing any fruit, but the leaves still provided plenty of shade to rest in. Still in silence, they sat down next to each other.

“It's been a while since we were here. I can hardly remember the last time I sat under this tree.” Ares spoke after a while.

Athena grinned. “I remember it quite well. As I recall, you were having a bit of a tantrum and I had to calm you down.”

Ares bonked his head back against the tree bark. “Don't remind me of that.” He groaned, his cheeks already darkening from a faint blush.

“Aww, why? It worked didn't it?” Athena cooed, a smug grin still adorning her face.

Ares wanted to wipe that grin right off her face. But he didn't want to hurt her. He mulled over his options. Headlock? No, she was too fast. Wrestling match? No, she might get injured again, and then he'd have Apollo on his ass. He thought back again to that one afternoon and a smile began to form. Oh,yes, that would work perfectly.

“Thena, don't think I'm going to forget about you injuring yourself so carelessly. I think it's my turn to teach you a lesson. But since words will not be effective, I have another idea.”

Athena blinked. One second she was next to Ares, and the next he had pulled her in front of him, her back against his chest, and her arms pinned to her sides.

She caught on immediately. “Ares, dohon't you evehen think about ihit!”

“Aww, giggling already, I haven't even started! I thought you were the stoic one!” Ah yes. His sister's greatest weakness. Anticipation.

“Now remind me. Where is your worst spot? Is it your stomach? Or maybe your knees? Or could it be your sides? Or maybe…”

In her flustered state, Athena didn't notice one of Ares's hands sneaking up to her shoulders.

“... right here.” Ares quickly scribbled on her shoulder blades for a second before stopping, causing Athena to let out a giggly shriek. She yanked a hand free and slapped it over her mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle her giggles.

“Oh no, we can't have you muffling those adorable giggles of yours!” Ares teased, using one hand to hold both of hers and his other to dig into her exposed side.

“AHAREHEHES!”

“Yes that is my name! Don’t wear it out!” Ares laughed at his own joke as Athena groaned through her own laughter.

“Thahat is a teherrible joke! Apollo is fuhunnier than you!” Athena, even like this, was still finding the energy to sass him.

“Now that was just rude! I tell great jokes! And if it was so bad, then why are you laughing? Look at yourself, you can't stop!” As he said this, he spidered all over her stomach and sides. Not her worst spot, but still enough to make her jump around like a fish out of water.

Ares decided a change of positions was in order. He couldn't have Athena injured herself thrashing around like this. He gently maneuvered her to lie on her stomach, then straddled her waist and pinned her hands down with his knees.

“Ares what on earth are you doing? Get off!”

“No can do sis! Can't have you hurting yourself wiggling like a worm!”

“I'll hurt you if you don't get off of me!” Anyone else would be scared at this point, but Ares knew Athena well enough to know she didn't hate this as much as she made it seem.

“Aww Thena, it's just us. You don't have to present to hate this. Come on, we both know you secretly love it.”

Athena felt her face flush and for one was at a loss for words. She refused to let him have the satisfaction of admitting that he was right, but if she could see the look on his face, she'd see the smirk of someone who already knew he was right.

“Alright, too much talking, not enough laughing.” Ares said before digging into her ribs.

Athena squeaked before trying to bury her face into her shoulder while also trying to hug her arms as close to her sides as possible. It wasn't working out too well.

Ares looked down at his sister and felt a pang of adoration. They both knew she needed this. And he was all too happy to help. Besides, it was fun knocking her down a peg or two, and he was finally getting his revenge from all those years ago.

He reached a hand up to flutter against her neck and ears and had to hold himself back from audibly cooing at the result. Athena practically melted and her giggles became intermingled with what could only be described as content owl sounds. Gently brushing her hair out of the way exposed her flushed face, her scrunched eyes and nose, and wide, happy smile. It was very rare to see Athena like this, and gods damn it, he was going to savor every second!

“Thena, I almost forgot how cute you are! A smile suits you better than a scowl.” Ares teased again, smiling even wider when he saw her try to hide her face again.

“I'him not cuhute!” Athena tried to protest, but was almost cut off by more of her own giggles when she felt a finger swipe over the shell of her ear.

At this point she had completely stopped fighting, so Ares decided to pull out the big guns. He began quickly and lightly swiping up and down her spine while clawing at her shoulder blades.

Athena screamed.

“WHAHAIT! STAHAHAHP!”

“ Athena, with these dramatics, it's a wonder you don't spend more time with Hermes or Dionysus. You'd fit right in with those two.”

Ares knew she could handle a lot more.

“Now, if I remember correctly, if I do this..”

He pinched at her ribs before spidering all over her back.

“Then these should come out!”

As if on cue, two huge owl wings sprung out from Athena’s shoulders. Ares grinned. He had made Athena lose control of her powers enough to trigger her wings to come out. He had to fight down a wider smile as he lightly combed his hands through the feathers. They were really soft, and tickled his hands a bit.

He watched in amusement as the wings fluffed up and shuddered as he dragged through the feathers again. He looked down at Athena and saw her entire form was tense and shaking with suppressed laughter. Not on his watch.

With absolutely zero warning, he raked through the wings, making sure to dig right into the muscles of the wings for maximum reaction, and was nearly thrown off from how hard Athena bucked.

“NAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT THE WIHIHIHNGS! AHARES PLEHEASE!”

Yeah, Athena’s wings were horrifically ticklish. A fact her siblings, especially one particular war god, loved to exploit. Athena had hoped Ares had forgotten about that, but she wasn't that lucky.

Ares regained his balance and lightened his touch a bit. Athena was still squealing and laughing her heart out, but at least she wouldn't scream so loud all of Olympus would hear. He loved embarrassing his siblings, but he wanted her to keep some of her dignity.

Athena was in hell. Every touch on her wings was like sparks firing throughout her body. She couldn't remember the last time she was tickled like this. Well, the way she was feeling, she couldn't remember much of anything. It's been a while since she could laugh freely. Being born out of Zeus's head as an adult had stolen the childhood her siblings could experience and left her without a lot of the memories they had. The closest thing she had to that was her time with Pallas, but that was taken away all too soon. Even in her frenzied state, she felt her mind begin to spiral.

A sudden buzzing sensation on her spine yanked her out of the dark headspace. Ares smiled at her from where he had just blown a raspberry right between her wings. “C'mon, no looking sad! I know you were thinking unhappy thoughts and that is not allowed right now!” Ares's goofy declaration completely wiped any residual sadness Athena felt left over and replaced it with a giddy, fuzzy feeling.

Ares continued to rake through the wings and blow raspberries, occasionally reaching down to scribbled on her sides or ribs, cutting through the harsh laughter with sweet giggles and even the occasional snort. Ares learned that if he squeezed her hips, she would let out a squeal, if he dug into the spaces in her ribs, she would snort, and gently tracing her sides produced absolutely adorable giggles.

He decided to finally leave her wings alone and give her a breather. Athena, after a few minutes of giggling, retracted her wings, before closing her eyes and breathing heavily. Ares reached down and traced her arms, drawing out more giggles.

He got up and off of her before pulling her into a bear hug. Athena relaxed into the hug and they both just sat there for a moment, before Ares whispered “I'm not done with you just yet” before blowing a raspberry on the side of her neck and scribbling frantically all over her torso.

“WhaHaIT NOhohO!” Her laughter was laced with all sorts of sounds. Giggles, snorts, random owl sounds, it was all there. Ares finally decided she had enough and finished off with another raspberry on the other side of her neck.

He just held her as the giggles began to die down. He waited until she had fully relaxed before moving again, this time propping her up against his side with his arm around her shoulders. He was surprised to see her curled up a bit and cuddle into his side.

“Tired sis?” He asked with a smile.

“Mhmm.” She mumbled before yawning. Athena closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep in her brother's arms, a small smile still on her face.

Ares watched her sleep with a small smile that matched her own, but his was tinged with concern. Athena hadn't slept well in ages, not since that day in the arena. He really hoped she would be able to rest, even for just a little bit.

Gods, he missed this. Just messing with his siblings, not a care or responsibility in the world. Not fighting with them, or spending every waking moment treading on eggshells around their father's quick temper. Not dealing with one problem after the next, with no respite. But he shouldn't get to greedy. Sure, it's been eons since he had time like that, but at least he had time like that at all. Athena never had time to just be a kid and explore the world. What kind of brother was he to let that happen? Ares vowed to himself to make sure his sister would get to experience all that she missed out on. He would see to it personally.

But for now, he was a bit tired. As his eyes closed, he felt Athena stir for a moment, and then relax again. He wrapped both arms around her protectively. “I won't let anyone or anything hurt you ever again.” He thought as sleep finally overtook him.

…

“It's nice to see them not fighting for once.”

“I agree Apollo, maybe we should just let them be. Athena rarely gets to sleep, and Ares never looks this peaceful.” Artemis sighed. “I know it's getting late. I'll keep an eye on them from the moon chariot. You don't have to worry about them.

“But-”

“Yes I know you can't help it. But trust me brother. I will take care of them for the night. Just let them rest. And as for you, go get some rest too. I know you haven't really been sleeping since the first time Athena reopened her wound.”

“How did you know?”

“We're twins, Apollo. I know these things about you. You criticized Athena for it, but just like her, you'd kill yourself to help others. I know you want nothing more than to help her. But you need to be able to help yourself first. So take the night. Get some sleep. Take care of yourself for once. I got them.”

“... Alright.”

“Goodnight brother.”

“Artemis!”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Artemis just smiled, as radiant as a full moon. “Of course, brother.”

Apollo returned to his home, and was able to sleep through the night for the first time in a while. Under the watchful eye of their younger sister, Ares and Athena both slept peacefully until the light of Dawn danced on the horizon.

Ares was the first one to wake, blinking a few times and gathering his bearings. He shifted, but felt a weight on him. He looked down, and smiled in surprise and adoration when he saw Athena, still asleep, holding onto him tightly. He was awake, but he supposed he could stay a little while longer.

Later Athena would remark that it was the best sleep she had in a very long time. She didn't remember Ares carrying her back to her palace, or Aphrodite helping Apollo change her bandages. She didn't remember all of her siblings gather in her room as she continued to sleep, tidying up and making sure everything was nice and tidy, just the way she liked it. She didn't remember Hermes bringing a hand carved wooden owl, a gift from Odysseus, and a card from Telemachus. But she awoke to the changes, and to her siblings all there, with some food. They all had a picnic in her room, and spent some time forgetting about their duties, their responsibilities, their quarrels. And they talked, and laughed. They swapped stories, and shared memories. And none of them mentioned it, but there was something different in the air that day. Something fresh. A new chapter for all of them.

[nixotene]

Kind of in awe over how similar the actors for tua seem to be to their characters (in interviews at least) so take this with a grain of salt. I just think it’s cool how the casting directors seemed to find the perfect actors to play the roles, both looks and personality wise.

Master list of details I’ve found they share with their characters ig lol

Luther/Tom: loves working out and apparently does his learning while working out (cut to scene of Luther doing push-ups while reading). He’s a big softy and loves bringing the group together. He’s always there to boost his fellow actors self esteem.

Diego/David: Acts big and boisterous but is actually very invested in how others perceive him. Wants to be seen as the cool macho one but (not so) secretly has a heart of gold. He also seems to be the one they’re most likely to lovingly bully. Also dated Ritu (Lila’s actress) but kept the relationship as hidden as possible.

Ritu/Lila: she laughs to hide her true emotions. She overall tries hard to hide her true emotions. Again, secretly dated David and were only found out by fans through their families. Hate to say this one but seemed to break up due to events of s4 (just speculation as they stopped following each other/deleted photos off their socials a little before the season came out which likely means issues while filming it).

Allison/Emmy: cares a lot about her self image. Is a famous actor. I mean, they all are but like she really holds herself as one in interviews. She has a very refined actor way of answering questions while still allowing herself to be fun. Honestly hard to tell if she’s like Allison because I can’t tell how she’s like off screen, which is a good thing. She does often refer to the others in sibling/family terms which is so sweet.

Klaus/Robert: always saying the most unhinged and out there things. Constantly barefoot. He’s the glue that seems to hold them together and always knows how to make light of a situation through use of his quirky humour. I don’t know how watching the final scene together would have gone without him. Also appears to be a drug connoisseur.

Five/Aidan: very quiet until he needs to say something. He seems to very much be an old soul in a kids body. I remember in an interview on how they handled shooting the final scene and he mentioned he didn’t cry until he was alone in his trailer because he takes awhile to process things like that. He just seems like a very thoughtful person.

Ben/Justin: kinda sassy but in the way that you just love him more. The others (especially David) seem to love to bug him constantly. I love this bc Ben and Diego do seem to have been close before Ben died. He enjoys his alone time and solitude. He is soft spoken yet sassy. Honestly feels like he acts like a mix between umbrella Ben and sparrow Ben which I love.

Viktor/Elliot: he’s pretty introverted and doesn’t speak much unless prompted. Just overall a sweetheart that doesn’t want any trouble. He’s also a writer. Also tramsgemder

[gavisuntiedboot]

Friends with benefits! Pedri 🥰🥰

I just love avoiding sleep don't I? Here we go.

~~~

"I told you not to call me when I was busy."

"You wouldn't pick up at 1:30 in the morning if you didn't want to speak to me, angel."

You tried your best to suppress your smirk, opting to roll your eyes instead so that the Canarian could see your feigned annoyance.

"I'm curious - sue me. Now what do you want to I can hang up in your face and get back to studying? These kinematics aren't going to enter my brain just by staring at them."

"You know what I want."

This little "arrangement" with Pedri had been going on for the better part of a year now. It started off as a summer fling: you were heartbroken by a long-time boyfriend, and he was tired of Instagram models spreading his messages to every gossip site that would pay a Euro. So when he met you at the coffee shop where you worked, soft spoken and hands trembling as you punched in his order, he knew that you were going to be the most fun project yet. And boy was it a project. Between school and work, you barely had a second to breathe, and all the things he did to seduce other girls (dinner, clubbing, tickets to a match) seemed to have no place in your schedule. But Pedri is a patient boy, and after receiving variations of the "I'm so stressed and tired and home alone" text, he knew the only way he was going to get what he wanted was to go to you.

And come he did. Well, both of you did. The buildup and flirtation had led to some of the most mind blowing sex he had ever had. He never even thought about wanting to corrupt a sweet, innocent little thing until you. The tears on your lashes as you looked up at him, his soul sucked out of his body with you asking "did I do good?" was a combination he would like to inject directly into his veins. So that was the arrangement from thereon out. He had told you he didn't have the time or capacity for a committed relationship because of his job, but if you were down to keep doing this, then so was he. And honestly? The thought was appealing. You were swamped with responsibilities, with no time to breathe let alone try and go on dates and be a girlfriend. Why not just have mind-blowing sex semi-regularly?

Turns out, this fucker got a lot hornier a lot more often when injured. Since there were no games or early morning training sessions, Pedri had been calling you almost nightly during his injury, often coming over just for the company. It would be a lie if you said it was unwelcome, but you still had a life and tasks to complete.

"Pedri, I have-"

"The day off tomorrow. You told me that last week, so don't lie."

"Right. I have a reading day at school and I took off from work to study. I need to get like a 98 on this exam to get an A in the course."

"Maybe I wanted to call you and help you study."

His face lit up as he heard your laughter come through the line. He knew he had been clingier than usual lately, and a wiser person would have questioned why he wanted to spend all of his free recovery time with his sex buddy. Put Pedri wasn't wise. He was 21 years old with a cute girl who was DTF and he had her address saved into his phone.

"So I'll be there in...?" He let his voice trail off, and your sigh came through clearly.

"I need an hour at least to finish this chapter."

"Perfect. I'll shower and head to you."

~

You had not even closed your laptop yet when the doorbell rang, causing you to jump slightly at the loud sound at such a late hour. In your PJ shorts and tank top, you scurried to the door, ushering in your boy toy before the others in your building could see. Mrs. Rodriguez 3 doors down loved a good scandal, and you weren't going to be the one to cause it.

"Took you long enough." You said, pushing him towards the bed as soon as he kicked off his shoes.

"Eager now aren't we, angel? I haven't even said hello yet."

"There are better things for you to be doing with your mouth."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"I don't know, Pedri. This whole get together was your idea. You have to take charge."

What famous last words. Not even 15 minutes later, he had you digging into the wood of your headboard, hips moving with reckless abandon as you rode his face. Your pants and moans came as if it wasn't three in the morning, and he wrapped himself around your thighs to bring you closer, closer, closer whenever you dared to hover or lift your weight slightly. One you had finish, you dismounted and laid next to him, aftershocks wrecking through you. He smirked, propped up on one arm as he watched you struggle.

"Do you want to go back to studying?"

"Fuck you."

He rolled on top of you, smiling wide and leaning back so the dim light could reflect off the wetness on his hard cock.

"Oh no, baby. You'll never get a good grade like that. The grammatically correct way is, "I want to fuck you." And you can add a 'Please' at the end if you're feeling polite."

~

Pedri was concerned to get a call from you three days after your little session. You had blocked his number so that you could focus on your last exam, and he expected you to be gone for longer.

"Hello?"

"I got my exam grade back."

Your voice was mellow, and he mentally stilled himself, preparing to be yelled at first thing in the morning. He didn't want you to fail, of course. It's just something there were things personally more important to him than your grades.

"And?"

"I needed a 98% for an A." Your voice was still flat and gave nothing away.

"Right. And you got...?"

"I got a 98.5%." Pedri shot up from his mattress.

"So that means that we'll be fucking intensely during your next round of exams, right?"

~~~~~~~~~

Okay here you go! fun fact this is based on me irl when i slept over at a guy's place and then the next day got a 99 on my exam. Enjoy!!!!!!

[gulnarsultan]

Can I request oneshot: Dark younger Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto(x men movie) x fem s/o whose mutation is that her power is giving people bad luck and because of this power she always isolates herself because she doesn't want to hurt anyone. she was found by Erik whom he fell madly in love with her, and he doesn't care about her power and tells her to embrace it and so with huge reluctance she did; personality wise she is gentle and soft spoken and when he reveals his dark love for her instead of being afraid and running away, she is compliant (This takes place the after First Class when Erik left the X men to recruit mutants to join him that's when he first met fem s/o and noticed her power he gave her the codename misfortune since then she's with him all the way to Dark Phoenix)

Hello. Thank you for this beautiful scenario. Honestly, I especially like writing Erik as a dark or yandere. I hope you like it.

◇ Sweet misfortune ◇

After leaving the X-Men, Erik began recruiting mutants to his side. He found several mutants with different abilities. Then he was walking through a neighborhood and saw your reader. He felt as if his heart had stopped for a moment and he couldn't breathe. The reader enters her house a few minutes later. Erik spends weeks gathering information about the reader. No matter what, Erik was determined to hook reader. He meets the reader by pretending it's a coincidence. The courtship process, which lasts a few weeks, quickly progresses to the lover stage. The reader is anxious and insecure about her mutation. However, Erik is very helpful to the reader regarding her mutation. Erik's obsessive love soon comes to light. Unlike Erik's anxiety and fear, the reader did not fear, did not try to escape, or did not fight. Erik is very grateful for this situation. Once you both start a relationship, breaking up is out of the question. From now on, you will be together until your last breath. Erik is protective, possessive and jealous towards you. The reader and Erik have a happy family. Erik is determined not to lose his family again.

[lady-arcane]

The Daughter of Littlefinger { 1 }

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"They call me Baelish’s girl. A whisper behind silk fans, a name spoken with knowing smirks and hushed amusement, as if I am some pet my father keeps in his pocket, trained to play his games. But I am not a pet. Nor a pawn. Nor a fool. I am something else entirely—though, if I were wise, I would not admit to what."

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I was born in a brothel, though no one in court would ever say it aloud.

They would whisper it, of course, behind painted fans and smirks, in the same breath that they called me Baelish’s girl. Not quite a lady, not quite a bastard, something between a shadow and a secret.

My mother was a whore. She had hair like autumn and eyes like the first bloom of spring—Catelyn Stark’s ghost in a cheaper dress. She was beautiful in the way that made men reckless, and that, I suppose, was her first and final mistake.

I do not remember much of her. A voice, soft and humming. A hand, cool against my forehead. The way she smelled—lavender and something warm, something fading. When I try too hard to summon her, she dissolves into candlelight and smoke.

She died when I was four.

No one ever told me how. Some said illness, some said an accident, some said a jealous man who did not take kindly to her affections being divided. Maybe it was all of them. Maybe it was none. I used to think that if I asked my father, he would tell me, but I never did.

And perhaps that is the truest thing about us—our relationship was built not on what was said, but on what we both refused to say.

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Petyr Baelish took me in, but he did not raise me.

No, I think I raised myself.

I learned early that silence was my strongest armor. That men would mistake beauty for softness, that kindness was only currency, that power was not about strength, but about knowing which strings to pull and when.

I watched my father, listened to him, memorized the way he twisted words into something sweet and sharp all at once. I learned when he lied and when he only made people think he was lying. I learned that truth is a weapon like any other.

And I loved him, in my own way.

How could I not?

He was the one who took me from the filth of that brothel, who dressed me in silk, who gave me a name that people whispered with something like fear. I could have been nothing. I could have been dead.

Instead, I was here. In the capital. In the court. In the game.

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The first lesson my father ever taught me was this: Power is an illusion, and the best illusions are the ones people choose to believe.

He told me this when I was seven, sitting across from me at a table too grand for two people alone. His fingers toyed with the stem of his wine cup, a casual gesture, but I knew better than to think my father’s hands ever moved without purpose.

"Tell me, Rowan," he had asked, voice soft, almost amused, "do you know why men follow kings?"

I had hesitated, uncertain. Because they must? Because the king commands them? Because that is how the world works?

But even then, I had understood that my father rarely asked questions to hear simple answers. So I did what any good daughter of Petyr Baelish would do.

I smiled and said, "Because they choose to."

He had leaned back, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he had nodded. "Smart girl."

I had known then that I had pleased him.

But what I did not know—what I could not know—was how much that lesson would shape me.

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Court life was a performance, and I was a fast learner.

At first, I was merely the little shadow at my father’s side. A girl with clever eyes and a too-sweet smile, always listening, always watching.

The lords dismissed me. The ladies pitied me. But Myrcella Baratheon found me interesting.

It was not a friendship in the way of stories— no promises of forever—but I was her lady-in-waiting, and she was the closest thing to a true friend I could afford.

She looked up to me, I think. She liked how I carried myself, how I never shrank away.

I exist in the spaces between. A girl who listens more than she speaks, who watches more than she acts. I am careful. Cautious. A shadow in silk.

And yet, I am not invisible.

She calls me her dearest friend, her wisest lady-in-waiting, though she is far too young to understand what wisdom truly costs. She clings to my arm and tells me her dreams, her hopes, her childish fears. I listen. I nod. I smile when required.

“You’re not afraid of anything,” she once told me.

And I smiled, because I had already learned that fear was not something you showed. It was something you used.

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Joffrey liked me too, in his own way.

Or perhaps he just liked that I was never foolish enough to cower before him. I knew how to speak to him. Knew when to flatter, when to feign laughter, when to let him think he had won.

He once asked me if I was loyal to him.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

It was the only answer he wanted.

But later, when I was alone, I thought of my father and all the times I had asked myself the same question.

Was I loyal?

To whom?

my father?

To myself, I decided. That would have to be enough.

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People think power is won in battle, in blood, in steel.

But I knew better.

Power was a whisper in the right ear. A secret traded at the right time. A name spoken in the right room.

It was knowing when to smile and when to strike.

And I was my father’s daughter, after all.

Even if I was trying, so desperately, not to be.

—End of Chapter One—

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Greetings, Dreamers and Readers ✨🌸

So, here it is—chapter one of Life and Lies of Lady Rowan Baelish. Honestly, writing this introduction felt like stepping straight into the viper’s nest that is Westeros. Rowan’s childhood, her mother’s death, and her first real taste of court life—this chapter lays the groundwork for everything she’ll become.

I wanted it to feel real, not just as an origin story but as a reflection of how survival shapes people differently. Do you think it captures that? Does it need more? Less? Let me know your thoughts—I’d love to hear what you all think.

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Comment, ask questions, or just scream about the chaos to come. I’m here for all of it lol.

✨ Bye and take care, Hope you all have a good day ✨