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joelsrose · 1 month ago

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Guns & Roses

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Summary: New series! Joel Miller couldn’t stand you, and you weren’t exactly fond of him either. Yet somehow, fate seemed determined to weave your lives together, no matter how much you resisted.

TW: just mean!joelmiller - 4.8k words eee enjoyyy

Chapter One

You and Joel Miller were not friends. Not at all.

Ever since Joel Miller had entered Jackson, there had been something—something you couldn’t quite name—that kept him at arm’s length from you. It wasn’t just indifference or distance; it was as though every time you were near, it set off an invisible alarm in him, a deep, simmering irritation that crackled in the air between you.

You didn’t understand it.

It felt personal in a way that made no sense, as if just being around him was enough to make him want to leave the room.

And you had no idea why.

Sure, Joel was a gruff man, with his trademark stoicism and hard edges. Everyone knew that. He was someone who struggled to connect, someone with walls so high you’d wonder if he’d ever learned how to take them down.

But slowly, after a few months in Jackson, Joel had softened. Not by much, but just enough.

You’d see him offering small smiles to the townsfolk, his weathered hands occasionally helping out with a chore, his nods of acknowledgment more frequent. He wasn’t friendly, exactly, but he was warming up to the people around him. Jackson, with all its noise and community, had chipped away at his rough exterior.

But with you? Joel Miller remained a brick wall.

He didn’t smile at you. He didn’t wave or nod. He didn’t even make eye contact unless it was absolutely necessary. Every interaction felt like walking on thin ice, a sharpness to his silence that made the air between you ache with discomfort. The warmth you’d see in him, the small flickers of humanity that everyone else seemed to coax out? They evaporated the second his gaze found yours, as if all the walls that had softened for others came crashing back up around you.

It wasn’t just confusing. It stung.

What made it worse was that you couldn’t figure out why. You were well-liked in Jackson. You had a reputation for being kind, caring, funny—charismatic in a way that drew people in without much effort on your part. People sought you out. You were the type of person others trusted, the one who could make a tense moment lighter with just a smile. You knew how to connect with people, how to build friendships that were rooted in something real. You had friends everywhere—Tommy, Maria, the patrol groups—and wherever you went, you fit in.

But not with Joel Miller.

With Joel, it felt like no matter what you did, you could never find your footing. He didn’t laugh at your jokes, didn’t seem to care about the easy rapport you had with everyone else. If anything, his coldness made you doubt yourself, made you second-guess every interaction, every conversation. You, who had always been so sure of your ability to connect, were suddenly questioning everything.

You could still remember the day Joel arrived in Jackson, Ellie by his side, both of them looking weathered and wary. There was something raw in the way Joel had embraced Tommy, a kind of relief that softened the edges of his usual guarded self. For a moment, he had looked so vulnerable, so unburdened by the weight of the world, that you’d thought, maybe, just maybe, we’ll get along. After all, if Tommy loved him, how hard could it be?

Tommy had been so excited to introduce you two. You were one of his closest friends in Jackson, practically family, and he’d pulled you aside that day, a wide grin on his face as he said, “I can’t wait for y’all to meet, I know you’ll get along great.” There had been such hope in his voice, such warmth. It had made you smile, had made you eager to get to know Joel. You had thought of all the ways your bond with Tommy would naturally extend to Joel—how you’d become this little trio of friends, tied by loyalty and time.

But it hadn’t happened that way.

Instead, from the very first moment you and Joel had locked eyes, something had been off. You couldn’t pinpoint when, exactly, it shifted, but as the months wore on, the gap between you seemed to widen. You couldn’t understand what you had done to push him so far away, but whatever it was, it felt irrevocable. It was as if, in Joel’s eyes, you had done something unforgivable before you even had the chance to know him.

Tommy’s words echoed in your mind sometimes, taunting you with their false promise: You guys will get along great.

You remembered the first time you had met Joel—it had been one of those evenings meant to feel light and warm, filled with laughter and food. Maria had invited you to Tommy and hers for dinner, a small gathering, just family and close friends. The kitchen had smelled like garlic and rosemary, the scents swirling around you as you helped plate the dishes while Maria buzzed beside you, chatting about the latest updates in town.

Then you heard the door creak open, the murmur of low voices carrying into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie had arrived, their figures framed by the dying evening light streaming through the doorway. There was something comforting in how they stood—a familiarity, an ease that only family can share. Tommy’s laugh rang out, hearty and genuine, as he clapped his brother on the shoulder, leading him into the room.

“Hey, Maria,” Joel’s voice cut through the air—gruff, grounded, with a depth that seemed to echo from the very walls of the house. And then, Tommy turned to you with that warm brotherly smile of his, introducing you.

You’d smiled—nervous but friendly—extending a hand as you offered a casual greeting. “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Joel.”

A light-hearted joke about the food had slipped from your lips, something meant to fill the space, to break the silence, to ease the unfamiliarity. But Joel had only stared for a heartbeat too long, his hand moving to shake yours with a grip that felt as solid and immovable as stone. There had been no warmth, no softness in his eyes, no smile to meet your own. It was as if your presence unsettled him, a chill descending between you two in that brief exchange. You had felt it then—the distance, the resistance.

And it only grew from there.

Through the evening, you had tried. Tried to coax him into the conversation with little remarks, to pull him in through laughter and lighthearted banter. Ellie had laughed, her bright smile flickering like sunshine breaking through the clouds. Tommy had nearly fallen out of his chair at one of your jokes, his laughter filling the space between bites of food. Even Maria had chuckled softly, her eyes glowing with warmth as she nudged you playfully.

But not Joel.

Every time you spoke, his brow furrowed just a little deeper. His lips pressed tighter together, and his eyes flicked away from yours as if he couldn't bear to hold your gaze. It wasn’t outright hostility, but the coldness lingered like a shadow, hovering between every word exchanged. The more you tried to engage him, the more distant he seemed, as if you were pushing against a wall that refused to budge.

And the more Joel pulled away, the more it gnawed at you, turning your confusion into something more jagged, more bitter. How could someone you barely knew have such a hold on your thoughts? How could one man’s distance feel like a rejection of everything you thought you were good at?

As the days blurred together, you’d find yourself thinking about it more than you cared to admit. And as much as you tried to brush it off, tried to tell yourself that you didn’t care, that his coldness didn’t matter—it did. It mattered more than you wanted it to.

And Joel? He didn’t seem to care.

That was why, when you saw your name paired with Joel for the next patrol, you were stumped. A frown pulled at your lips as you stared at the roster, the list mocking you with its cruel pairing.

Joel Miller.

The man who could barely look at you, who actively avoided your presence, now slated to spend hours—days even—alone with you out in the wilderness. Whoever had put this together had to be playing a joke on you.

But as your eyes drifted down to the bottom of the roster, you saw the telltale initials: M & T. Maria and Tommy. The two people in charge of organizing patrols.

Of course.

You gruffed in frustration, the idea of spending hours in silence, or worse, awkward small talk with Joel, made you inwardly groan.

Shaking your head, you started the short walk toward Maria and Tommy’s house, the crisp winter air biting at your cheeks. The snow beneath your boots crunched with each step, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet evening. Jackson’s main path was lined with soft, glowing lights that reflected off the fresh blanket of snow, guiding your way.

Their house wasn’t far, tucked neatly alongside the other homes, warm and inviting with its soft glow spilling from the windows. You could see the familiar curl of smoke rising from the chimney, a sure sign of the roaring fire inside. As you approached, you could hear voices filtering through the thick wooden walls—louder than usual, urgent. You slowed your pace, the tension in the air becoming palpable, the muffled sound of raised voices stirring something uneasy in your chest.

“What the hell is this, Tommy?” Joel’s voice cut through the stillness, gruff and laced with irritation. You stopped short of the door, your breath catching as curiosity took hold. You shouldn’t eavesdrop—you knew that—but you couldn’t stop yourself. You needed to hear what Joel had to say, especially if it would finally give you some insight into why he always seemed to look at you with that simmering frustration.

“What’s the big deal, Joel?” Tommy’s voice echoed back, exasperated but steady, trying to keep the peace.

“You know damn well what the big deal is.” Joel’s tone was biting, sharp enough to cut through the thick wooden walls. His frustration was palpable, practically vibrating through the air. “You’re pairin’ me up with her? Jesus, Tommy, you know I can’t stand her.”

The words hit like a physical blow, and your heart clenched painfully, the sting immediate and deep. You had suspected it for a while, of course, but hearing him say it out loud—that he couldn’t stand you—felt like a punch to the gut, one you weren’t prepared for.

You weren’t the type to let words get to you, especially not like this, but this—this was different. A lump formed in your throat, and before you could stop it, tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over. You pressed yourself closer to the door, the silence inside the house heavy as if even Tommy was taken aback by Joel’s outburst.

Finally, Tommy spoke again, his voice filled with frustration, tinged with disbelief. “And why the hell not? She’s a good person, Joel. A damn good person with a heart of gold. What the hell did she ever do to you?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing. You stepped closer to the door, your heart pounding as you waited—needed—to hear Joel’s response. You needed to know why.

“It’s not that simple, Tommy.” Joel’s voice was quieter now, the frustration tempered, but it carried a weight that made your pulse quicken.

“What the hell’s so complicated about it?” Tommy shot back, his voice rising in disbelief, clearly at the end of his patience. “You’ve barely said two words to her since you got here. If you’ve got a problem with her, why don’t you just spit it out?”

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. For a moment, you thought Joel wouldn’t answer at all. The tension hung in the air like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

And then, in a voice so low you almost didn’t hear it, Joel finally spoke. “It’s just… I can’t, alright? I can’t… be around her like that.”

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, confusion swirling inside you. What did that even mean? You had no idea what he was trying to say, but it twisted something deep within you, the uncertainty gnawing at your insides.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy sighed, his voice carrying the weariness of too many conversations just like this one. You could practically hear him running a hand through his hair, frustration and exhaustion blending in his tone.

“Look, you don’t have a choice here. What if one day it’s just the two of you out there, the only ones available for patrol, and something goes sideways? You gonna let things fall apart because you can’t get over yourself and work together?”

There was a pause, Tommy’s words hanging in the air like a plea for reason. You knew you had heard enough. The knot in your chest had tightened to the point of pain, and you were ready to turn away, to retreat before things got worse.

But before you could move, the door creaked open.

Joel stood in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out the warm light from inside. His eyes found yours immediately, and in that instant, you knew—he had seen you. And he knew you had heard everything.

The flicker of recognition in his eyes made your chest tighten even more, your heart racing as the tension between you grew impossibly thick. There was no apology in his gaze, no softening in his expression. He just stared at you, his features tight and unreadable, leaving you suspended in the heavy silence of everything unsaid.

Behind him, you could see Maria and Tommy, their faces filled with worry, watching as the situation unfolded like a slow-motion tragedy. You felt exposed, raw, like an open wound, and the last thing you wanted was for anyone to witness that vulnerability.

Joel pushed past you without a word, his shoulder brushing yours as he strode down the steps, his footsteps heavy against the ground. He didn’t even glance back, leaving you standing there, heart in pieces, with nothing but the cold air biting at your skin.

You turned on your heel, walking away from the house, your steps heavy, dragging, like your body was weighed down by the ache in your chest. You wanted to move faster, to disappear into the night, but your legs felt unsteady beneath you, refusing to obey the urgency in your heart. Each step felt like a struggle, the sting of unshed tears blurring your vision as you tried to hold it together.

“Wait—” Tommy called after you, his voice tight with concern. “Come inside, talk to us.”

But you couldn’t. The tears were already threatening to spill, your throat tight with the pressure of holding everything in. The last thing you wanted was for them—for him—to see you like this, breaking apart in front of their eyes. Your vision wavered as the first tear slipped free, and you blinked hard, trying to will it away, trying to push down the hurt that was clawing its way up.

You needed to get out of there. Anywhere but here. You moved faster, your boots crunching in the freshly fallen snow, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts as you made your way down the path. The cold air nipped at your cheeks, but it did little to numb the burning in your chest.

Behind you, you heard Tommy rushing after you, his footsteps crunching through the snow, his voice softer now, urgent but gentle. “Hey, kid—he didn’t mean it. You know Joel. He’s complicated. He doesn’t know how to—” His words trailed off, as if he couldn’t find the right way to explain something even he didn’t fully understand.

You stopped, your feet rooted to the ground, but you didn’t turn to face him. You couldn’t. Not like this. Not when you were one breath away from falling apart entirely, from letting everything you’d been holding back flood to the surface.

“I’ll be fine, Tommy,” you said, your voice tight, barely managing to stay steady. It felt like a lie, like a betrayal of the truth you were burying inside, but you couldn’t let him see you like this. Not over Joel Miller. You wiped at your eyes hastily, trying to brush away the tears before they fell. “I just… I need to go.”

There was a pause, the silence thick between you, weighted with sympathy, with Tommy’s understanding and his guilt. He didn’t say anything else, and in that moment, you were grateful. He didn’t push. He knew better.

So you walked away, your heart heavy with the weight of it all. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but the sting of Joel’s words hurt so much more, echoing in your mind like a wound that refused to heal. And underneath it all, one question burned like fire, searing through every doubt and every hurt—Why?

Why did Joel hate you so much? What had you ever done to deserve it?

•••

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of your small home, casting soft, golden beams across the wooden floor. The house was modest—just enough space for one person, with a kitchen that opened into a cozy living room, and a bedroom tucked away in the back. The walls were lined with small, personal touches—books you had collected over the years, a few framed photos of moments from before, and little trinkets you had scavenged from various patrols. It was a quiet space, peaceful, but this morning, the weight of the silence felt heavier than usual.

You sat on the edge of your bed, your hands lingering over your boots before pulling them on with a sigh. The air in Jackson had the sharpness of early morning, and you knew the day ahead would be long. As you tied the laces, the conversation you’d overheard at Tommy and Maria’s house replayed in your mind—the sting of Joel’s words, the coldness in his voice. "Jesus Tommy, you know I can’t stand her." It had been days since, but the ache of it still hit like a fresh bruise, tender to the touch.

You stood and moved to the small table by the door where you kept your patrol gear—your rifle, your gloves, a well-worn coat. Everything felt heavier today. As you strapped on your holster, you caught your reflection in the window. You looked tired. Not just from lack of sleep, but from the quiet hurt that had been growing inside you, quietly gnawing at your spirit since the moment Joel’s words reached your ears.

With one last glance around your home, you opened the door and stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your cheeks. The stable wasn’t far, just a short walk, but the journey felt longer today. Each step reminded you of the awkward silence that was bound to hang between you and Joel, the weight of unspoken words and the tension that had always been there but now felt even more unbearable.

When you arrived at the patrol meet-up spot, your eyes immediately landed on your horse. He whinnied softly, recognizing you as you approached. You smiled faintly, running your hand along his muzzle, brushing through his thick mane. It was a ritual by now—whispering a soft hello to him, patting his side, and taking a moment to ground yourself before setting out. He was the one constant, the one being you could rely on during patrol. You leaned in, pressing your forehead gently to his, letting the warmth of his presence calm your frayed nerves.

But then, you heard the familiar sound of boots crunching in the snow behind you. Without even turning, you knew it was Joel.

You felt his presence like a weight in the air—heavy, silent. He said nothing as he walked past you, his eyes fixed on his own horse. There was no greeting, no acknowledgment, just the awkward tension that had settled between you both like a fog. The memories of that conversation played over again in your mind, and the pang of hurt hit you square in the chest as you stiffened slightly.

You stole a quick glance at him as he saddled his horse. His face was set in that same stoic expression, the one he wore around everyone in Jackson—but with you, there was an added distance. He kept his eyes averted, focusing on the task at hand, and for a moment, you wondered if this day would pass without a single word between you.

With a sigh, you climbed onto your horse, settling into the saddle with a practiced ease. The silence between you and Joel was palpable, thick like the cold morning air. You wanted to say something—anything to break the tension—but the words caught in your throat, stifled by the hurt that lingered.

Joel mounted his horse without a glance in your direction. You both sat there for a beat, the sound of horses shifting in the snow the only thing breaking the stillness. Then, without a word, he nudged his horse forward, and you followed suit, the two of you riding out together into the white expanse of the wilderness beyond Jackson.

The only thing heavier than the quiet was the unspoken weight between you.

You began your journey through the thick silence that had settled between you and Joel like a fog. The cold wind bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the coldness that radiated from the man riding just ahead of you. His shoulders were hunched, his back stiff, his eyes never once flickering in your direction. The snow crunched beneath your horse's hooves, the sound the only thing to fill the uncomfortable quiet between you.

Not a single word had passed between you since the patrol began. The tension was unbearable, the weight of Joel’s unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. You hadn’t expected warmth or friendliness, not after everything, but the biting silence cut deeper than you could have imagined.

Hours passed before Joel finally spoke, his voice a low mutter as he pointed toward a narrow path. “We’ll go through here,” he said, his tone flat and emotionless, as though he were simply checking off a list. It was strange to hear him speak after so long, and for a moment, it felt as though his words didn’t belong to him.

You followed in silence, the trail winding deeper into the forest, the trees closing in around you. The snow-covered ground glittered under the faint sunlight, casting long shadows that twisted and danced between the trees. The world felt smaller here, more enclosed, and with each passing moment, the unease inside you grew.

Eventually, you arrived at your destination—a crumbling cabin tucked deep in the woods, half-buried in snow, its wood aged and brittle against the cold. The stillness of the air made everything feel heavier, like even the trees were holding their breath. You dismounted your horse quietly, your fingers stiff from the biting chill as you fumbled with the reins. Joel had already tied his horse to the post, his movements precise, practiced.

He turned toward you, the lines of his face hardened, eyes sharp as they caught yours for a moment too long. His jaw clenched, the tension palpable. “Follow me,” he ordered, his voice cutting through the cold air like a whip. “And don’t say a word. Not a single word. From here on out, we’re silent.”

His command, rough and unyielding, struck you with a sharpness that left your chest aching. It wasn’t just the cold seeping into your bones—it was the weight of his disdain, pressing down on you, constricting your breath. You nodded, your throat tightening with unspoken words you knew would only make things worse.

You followed him toward the cabin, the wind howling softly around you, whispering secrets you couldn’t quite hear. The snow crunched beneath your boots, the scent of pine lingering in the air. But despite the open wilderness around you, the world felt unnervingly small. The cabin door creaked on its rusted hinges as Joel pushed it open, the sound echoing like a warning in the eerie stillness. You hesitated before stepping inside, the dim light barely illuminating the cramped space that lay beyond.

Your pulse quickened, your instincts telling you something wasn’t right. You’d been on enough patrols to recognize danger, but this… this felt different. It felt personal. Like the shadows themselves were watching, waiting.

Joel moved ahead of you, his broad shoulders tense, his gun drawn as he scanned the small room. His silence felt thick, suffocating, the air between you charged with unspoken tension. You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the hammering of your heart, but the unease gnawed at you, made every sound sharper, every shadow darker.

And then it happened.

A figure lunged from the darkness, too fast for you to react, the world tilting violently as you were tackled to the ground. The impact stole the breath from your lungs, the cold, hard floor biting into your skin. The raider was filthy, wild-eyed, his hands rough and cruel as he pinned you beneath him, the sharp gleam of a knife flashing before your eyes. Panic surged through you, but your limbs felt heavy, useless against the overwhelming force holding you down. The knife hovered dangerously close to your throat, the cold steel grazing your skin, and for one terrifying moment, you thought this was it—this was how it would end.

But then Joel was there.

He moved like a storm—fast, brutal, and unstoppable. In one swift motion, he yanked the raider off of you, throwing him to the floor with a strength that seemed to come from somewhere far deeper than just muscle. Rage radiated from Joel as his fists met flesh, each blow landing with a sickening crack that echoed through the tiny cabin. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The raider’s body went limp beneath him, but Joel kept going, his fists relentless, pounding into the man with a fury that seemed to possess him, until the only sound left was the ragged heave of his breathing and the wet thud of blood dripping onto the floor.

You lay there, gasping, your chest rising and falling in uneven, desperate breaths. The world spun around you, the edges of your vision blurred by adrenaline and fear. You pushed yourself up on trembling arms, your body weak, every nerve on edge. Your heart thundered in your chest, so loud you could hear it in your ears, drowning out the silence that had settled like a heavy fog.

Joel turned toward you then, his chest still heaving with exertion, his fists stained with blood. His face was dark with anger, his eyes burning as they locked onto yours. “What the hell was that?” he growled, the fury in his voice so raw it made you flinch. “You could’ve been killed.”

His words were a blade, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the thin veil of composure you’d been clinging to. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to breathe. You wanted to speak, to defend yourself, but the intensity of his stare pinned you down more effectively than the raider ever could. Every word you wanted to say died on your tongue.

And then he muttered it, low and venomous, just loud enough for you to hear: “Fucking burden…”

The words sliced through you, deeper than any knife. You felt them settle in your chest, a sharp, stinging ache that spread like wildfire, consuming the air around you. You stared at him, the sting of his words leaving you breathless, your heart sinking as if it had been thrown into the abyss.

“No,” you spat, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, his body going rigid as he turned fully to face you. “Excuse me?” His voice was dangerously low, like the quiet before a storm, but you didn’t back down. Not this time.

“You heard me.” Your chest was still heaving, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but your resolve was stronger than your fear. “You don’t get to treat me like I’m some… problem you have to deal with. I’m out here trying to do my part, same as you.”

His expression darkened, disbelief twisting his features. “Do your part? You almost got yourself killed back there! If I hadn’t been here—"

“If you hadn’t been here?” you cut him off, your voice rising as the anger overtook the fear. “What, I’d be dead? Is that what you think? That I can’t handle myself? I’ve been on patrols long before you showed up. I’ve survived without you. Just fine.”

Joel scoffed, his lips curling in frustration. “Yeah? Didn’t look like it just now.”

His words were another blow, sharp and biting, but you refused to let them break you. “I didn’t need you to save me, Joel. I would’ve figured it out.”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw working as he fought to control the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You think this is a game? You think you can just figure it out when you’ve got a knife to your throat?” His voice was loud now, booming in the small space, filled with a frustration that felt all too personal.

“You could’ve died. And for what?”

“Fuck you, Joel.”

The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, raw and jagged, fueled by the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t care about the consequences, didn’t care that his eyes had gone dark with shock. You were done. Done with being treated like something fragile and disposable.

Joel stared at you, his body tense, his mouth slightly open like he hadn’t expected the bite of your words. For a moment, the space between you felt like a battlefield, the silence pulsing with the weight of everything unsaid. The anger that simmered in you wasn’t just from this moment—it was months of pent-up frustration, of feeling like you were constantly crashing against a wall with him, never allowed in.

Your chest heaved, your hands trembling with the adrenaline still coursing through you.

“I don’t need you to save me,” you said, your voice shaking with the force of what you felt. “I never asked for your help, Joel. And I sure as hell don’t need you treating me like I’m some burden. So fuck you.”

His eyes flashed with something—anger, guilt, maybe something softer, but he quickly buried it beneath that familiar cold exterior. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back, might throw something just as harsh in your face. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped, just for a second, like your words had found their mark.

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice low and hard. “You don’t need my help? Then don’t ask for it.” He turned sharply, storming out of the cabin without another word, his footsteps heavy in the snow, leaving you standing there in the cold, breathless and burning with the aftershocks of everything you’d just said.

But even as the silence swallowed him up, you knew the storm between you wasn’t over—it had only just begun.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #ellie tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #tommy miller #joel tlou

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pinaybelieber · 1 year ago

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Okay, let's talk about the sex scene. This is going to be a quite lengthy post but bear with me. I've been keeping this in for the past 2 days.

1. In the beginning of the Paris hotel scene, Henry did say that they should make love. Keyword: "make love". There's a difference between fucking and making love.

2. Alex was a bit nervous because it was his first time to do this. In the book, they just do blowjobs during their first few encounters and it's also the same in the movie. Alex hasn't tried any sex with penetration, especially with a man. But Henry was so understanding, he guided Alex physically and emotionally how to exactly make love.

3. The sigh that Henry let out after guiding Alex with his hand to push down deeper... that was so fucking cinematic and perfect! He literally was teaching Alex to learn his body, when to move, and what pleasures him. Also, that little nod he did once Alex was inside him, that's consent!

4. Matthew Lopez (director) and Robbie Taylor Hunt (intimacy coordinator) did a great job in showing Alex and Henry's vulnerability. They focused more on their emotions instead of using a wide shot from one side. Mind you, this is not porn. This is a romance film! If you want to see two hot men fuck, then I suggest you fire up your incognito browser and load those porn vids. Again, go back to my point on #1 just in case you're forgetting something.

5. The point of the sex scene is to show the building mutual trust and affection between Henry and Alex. I can't emphasize this enough that we don't get a lot of queer media with this kind of intimate scene. Most (not all) of queer sex scenes (that I have seen) are always heated and rushed. I don't mind those actually but if you're gonna let me choose which one I'd prefer, I'd choose this one.

6. Taylor and Nick did a great job in portraying the blooming love between A&H. The early stages of love is always delicate. So it's given that they'd be more gentle towards each other.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Now stream the movie again on Prime Video!

#red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #taylor zakhar perez #hrh prince henry #nicholas galitzine #rwrb #lgbtq #firstprince #alex claremont diaz

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mistyorchid · 3 months ago

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Unrequited

Logan Howlett x mutant fem!reader

summary: Your deep-seated fear of rejection is the only barrier preventing you from kissing the smug grin off of Logan's face. Thankfully, Logan can smell how much you want him. *reader's power is optimism, which Logan loves distrusts. warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, age gap, reader is 21+, masturbation (fem!), scent kink, oral (fem! receiving), voyeurism, size difference, pussy worship, praise kink, pet names (sunshine, bub, doll, good girl), mention of unprotected p in v, using Logan's hair as handlebars. wc: 3.2k

Your world used to revolve around men. Now, your life revolves around the duty of saving it. If yearning for boys who never liked you back was an Olympic sport, you'd definitely win gold.

Everyone was in a good mood, having just returned from a government-sanctioned mission. The world needs the X-Men. You belonged to a community that respected your unique abilities. Powers aside, you were still a young woman yearning for romance. You forgot how it felt to be embarrassingly invested in a one-sided crush until you met Logan.

Your first mission seemed simple enough: act like Logan's arm candy for the night to investigate New York's elusive anti-mutant club. Memorize the names of club members, hide a mic in the manager's coat. In and out.

Unfortunately, Logan was more focused on how high the cut of your dress was. The unforgiving pink latex material suffocated your soft body and exaggerated the protruding curves of your breasts. As Charles described it, you needed to look like a liberated woman. The manager had a soft spot for confidence, and Charles explained that power attracts power.

Logan wished his hard cock was liberated from the uncomfortable friction caused by his slacks. That night, he learned that beauty truly is pain.

He watched as you glided around the room, earning lustful stares from the human members. Logan was ordered to blend into the crowd and allow you to complete the mission. His usual stoic demeanor was replaced with a charged, jealous glare.

"You're compromising the mission, Logan. I thought I taught you better," Charles tutted. His bald mentor checked in on their progress using cerebro's telepathic power.

Logan swatted his forehead, momentarily disoriented at the intrusion of Charles.

"Not my fault you put miss goody two-shoes in that god-awful dress," he snarled. "She's out of her element, and you know it."

"Her powers are extremely useful in this situation," Charles sighed. "You may not trust her, but her bubbly personality is the key to securing the club's trust. Just let her work . . . alone."

When the pressure in his head subsided, Logan knew that Charles no longer supervised the unholy thoughts bouncing against the adamantium confines of his brain.

He drifted to the bar and sat down, positioning the stool so he could maintain visual of your progress. Your kind eyes crinkled as you laughed and playfully swatted the manager's bicep. He painfully recalled the moment you revealed your powers to the group.

A month earlier, the X-Men gathered in the danger room to discuss how to approach the mission.

"The manager is emotionally vulnerable at this time. Surrounded by humans whose lives revolve around hate and mutant discrimination." Charles rubbed his temple to alleviate his anger.

"What is the opposite of hate?" Charles asked, turning his colleagues into students once again.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Please tell me it's not love, for Christ sakes."

"Optimism. The enemy of hate is hopefulness. Now, everyone, please give a warm welcome to our newest recruit." Charles gestured to a woman who was the physical embodiment of those girly 90s rom-coms Logan secretly enjoyed.

Her smile reached her eyes, symbolizing genuine happiness. She sported a vintage Talking Heads tee with an image of a lopsided smiley face. Logan's eyes drifted to the tiniest shorts he's ever seen, stopping just under the swell of your ass. Its whimsical star pattern complimented your sparkling teeth.

"Hey, guys. I'm so grateful to be here!" You cheered. Logan could tell you caught him staring by the sudden change in your demeanor.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you timidly explained, "Sorry about the get-up. My uniform's not ready yet."

Logan watched as you surveyed the room, eyes silently acknowledging Jean, Ororo, Scott, and Beast.

You confidently returned Logan's gaze with a dismissive scoff.

Logan found himself inexplicably drawn to your cheeriness. Usually, he distrusted kindness. It was a quality that was manipulated to deceive him countless times throughout the arduous decades of life he had unwillingly lived through.

Your benevolence seemed organic, almost innate.

You continued, "My power is optimism. In addition to what Charles explained, I can extract positive values from anyone and replace their malicious thoughts and intentions. Basically, I'll help the manager override his hatred of mutants. Hate is taught . . . I'll teach him a different lesson. One of hope, equality, and human-mutant coexistence."

Logan felt a blush brewing behind his rugged cheeks. Your eloquent explanation exuded more wisdom than he expected from a "sunshine and rainbows" type of girl. You matched his trademark cynicism with a grounded perspective of reality, but still saw the good in others.

Before Logan chose to introduce himself, Scott raised an eyebrow, silently teasing him for blushing at your words. Logan wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right about his budding interest in the new recruit.

He mockingly countered, "That's great, a 'glass half-full' mutant has never gotten us killed before. What's your code name, Cheshire Cat? Twinkle Toes?"

Scott caught Logan's eyes and mouthed, "Nice," with a sly smirk.

You wouldn't let him bask in the reflection of tears falling down your cheeks.

Logan cursed himself as you turned to face everyone but him. "I don't have a code name. I've got nothing to hide," you coolly responded.

Your face contorted with pain as you recalled your first interaction with Logan. After you'd successfully earned the trust of the anti-mutant club manager, however, he followed you around like a lost puppy.

Everyone was confused. This behavior was extremely irregular for a man who struggled with trusting long-term friends, let alone a woman he'd only known for a month.

He was addicted to the sweet aura of unbridled positivity that radiated from you. A tale old as time, darkness intertwining with light.

The jealousy he felt during your first mission played a significant factor in his romantic interest. It took all of his restraint (and Charles' disapproving words) not to slash the throats of every man who lusted over your latex-clad form.

You remembered Logan sitting at the bar, clearly uninterested in the mission at hand. Uninterested in you.

Clearly, communication was a skill you both needed to hone.

"Nice work, sunshine." Logan clapped a hand against your shoulder, congratulating you on another successful mission.

He was genuinely proud of you. You were awarded a medal of honor by the president for using positive forces to bridge the gap between mutants and humans.

Picking up your pace, you whipped your head around to acknowledge Logan. "Thanks. You know how much I hate that nickname, right?"

As the rest of the crew filed inside the mansion, excitedly discussing how to wind down after a job well done, Logan used his leverage on your shoulder to spin you around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Love to see how red your face gets." A smug grin was plastered over his stupid, annoying, handsome face.

You paused at the mansion's entrance. "Whatever, Logan. I'm not in the mood for your belittlement."

Slipping past the kinetic hallways of mutant students, you swung open the door to your room and started to undress, hoping to destress after a long day. You shrugged off your new uniform and slipped on your favorite Talking Heads tee, not bothering to wear shorts.

"God, so annoying." You sighed, crashing face-down into the bed. You replayed the interaction with Logan, hurt etching its way into your heart.

I won't let him get to me. He makes me feel like a fuckin' teenager!

"Nice work, sunshine," you mocked in a gruff voice.

Logan doubted your abilities, ignored you on your first mission, and patronized you with nicknames. It wasn't fun being the butt of a joke at the hands of someone you secretly admired. You wondered if his recent interest in you was malicious or sincere.

Despite the telltale signs, you seriously doubted that Logan was romantically interested in you.

Never chosen, always on the prowl for scraps of affection. Never again. Your kindness had been taken advantage of before. You quickly learned that the only person who truly loved you was yourself.

Sunshine. The crinkle of his eyes, those stupid tufts of hair that make him look like a cat.

Your hands slowly slipped under the hem of your shirt, inching towards your breasts.

He was staring at my ass when I met him. Wasn't he?

Your right hand softly tweaked your sensitive nipples. Sighing, you allowed yourself to toy with the thin band of your underwear before circling your clit.

Soft moans quickly grew into labored huffs of desperation. Lost in the gratifying haze of your pleasure, you forgot an important detail about your new living arrangement.

Logan couldn't believe the sounds he was hearing.

It's as if God himself probed his mind and decided to fulfill his deepest desires.

A beautiful arrangement of moans and sighs traveled through the hollow wood wall that separated your rooms. To confirm that he wasn't hallucinating, Logan tentatively pressed his ear against the wall.

"Oh, fuck," he heard you whine in a hushed voice.

He could hear the spontaneous hitch of your breath. "Ah! Logan . . . fuuuuck."

His body reacted to the utterance of his name, unconsciously unsheathing his claws.

It took him five seconds to bridge the distance between his front door and yours.

An abrupt knock on your door forced you to pause the act of self-love you were so invested in.

"Hello? Who is it?"

Logan smirked before answering, "It's me. You okay in there? Sounds like you're having a hard time breathin, bub."

That cocky motherfucker. You slapped a hand against your mouth to muffle your surprise. He probably heard everything, you thought, moving to open the door.

"Logan! I- I'm so sorry." You started playing with the loose strands of hair framing your face. He was leaning on the door frame, his large body teasingly blocking the entrance.

His eyes flitted to your hand, noting the nervous tick. As the scent of your hair wafted into his perceptive nostrils, his pupils dilated. He noticed the unmistakable smell of your arousal.

"No need to apologize, sunshine. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." Logan tried to ignore the enticing scent emanating from your body. His eyes searched the room for a point to fixate on. Anything but your pouty lips.

He registered bare legs. The adorable way you were standing, your right leg shifted over the left to distribute your weight. Any decorum he had vanished when his eyes landed on the girly panties you were wearing.

You inched closer to his broad frame, looking up into his downcast eyes. They were still trained on your lower half.

Sunshine. The heavy weight of his gaze. Familiar hallmarks of past interactions. Except this time, he was gawking at your panties instead of those cosmic booty shorts.

"I can smell you. Can't be that unbearable to be around, hm?" Logan teased, finally making eye contact.

"No, you're still an asshole. I'm done playing hot and cold with you." Your clothed tits grazed his taut stomach.

"You want this? Because if not, I'll take it like a man and leave." Logan asked, searching your face for any signs of hesitation.

You averted your eyes. "Do you want me?"

He understood why your response was laced with insecurity. His previous actions had placed a seed of doubt in your mind. Logan gently raised your chin, tilting your eyes into his. "Of course I do, doll. I might be a stubborn asshole, but I'm not too stubborn to admit that I want you. Always have, since I first met ya."

Shock flooded your features. A charged silence lingered in the air.

You caught Logan staring at your lips.

"Just kiss me, you big oaf." You brazenly commanded.

The arm that leaned against the door frame descended to the small of your back, pulling you close to his chest.

Logan closed the gap, not wanting to give you any reason to doubt his feelings for you.

It started sweet and timid, an innocent collage of bumping noses and delicate gasps. When you pulled apart for air, a thin string of spit connected your bottom lips.

You decided you needed his lips on yours in a drastically different way.

"Since you're here, think you can help a girl out?" You pushed yourself away from Logan, palms extended to his chest. You sat on the edge of your bed, slowly spreading your legs.

Logan choked on his words. "I, uh . . . I'd love to." Once in front of you, he kneeled down on his knees.

The playful contrast between your vintage Talking Heads tee and the lacey pink panties that covered your most intimate area made him dizzy.

The frilly nature of it was enough to make him crazy, but they just had to have a cute little bow at the top.

Logan ground himself into his jeans, its denim fabric the only layer separating his cock from the air.

"You sure about this, doll?" he asked, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from your cunt to analyze yours.

You tentatively weaved your fingers through his hair, paying special attention to the tufts. When he leaned into your touch, you knew that the admission of his affection was genuine.

Your hands ghosted over his, pulling them to land on the wide expanse of your thighs.

"I need you, Logan. I want this. Want you."

That was all Logan needed to hear before he hooked four fingers around the elastic of your panties, slowly moving them off of your legs.

You shivered when the room's cool air met your bare cunt.

Logan hooked his strong arms under your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed with ease. "Much better, doll. Wanna be close to her," he drawled, resting your legs over his shoulders.

His mouth hovered over you, fanning warm breaths that made you throb with anticipation.

Logan's lips ghosted over where the bow on your panties was and descended where you needed him most.

He gently kissed your clit, earning a soft gasp.

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" You whined a high-pitched "Mhm . . ."

Logan suddenly licked a broad stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your wetness on the tip of his tongue.

"Need your words, bub. Wanna hear you."

He pulled away momentarily, massaging the sensitive flesh of your thighs. "Oh my god. Yes, I love it . . . please don't stop," you whined.

"That's a good-" Logan paused to pool the release still on his tongue and let gravity drip it onto your folds. "-girl. Fuck."

You sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth. He stared at your cunt fluttering open and closed in response to the contact, aching to be filled.

He would tend to that later. Right now, he wanted to make you feel loved, cared for.

"You taste so fuckin' sweet, doll." Logan cooed, tracing the sensitive outline of your hole before sinking two of his thick fingers into your warmth.

Your hands found purchase in his hair, gasping at the sight of him stretching your walls. He slowly thrust his fingers in and out, steadily building the tension in your body.

"Yeah, hold onto me . . . guide me where you need me." The soft squelch of your wetness made him groan into your pussy.

"Fuck . . . you sound so beautiful, baby." Logan praised, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your clit once again.

He alternated between languidly enveloping your folds with his mouth and licking urgently at your sensitive bud.

"Ah! I- I'm close, Logan." You mewled, hips suddenly rising off the bed. The spontaneous action made your clit catch on the ridge of his strong nose.

You locked his head in between your legs, thighs abruptly closing due to the contact.

"You like that, hm?" he teased. You nodded rapidly, capturing your bottom lip in an attempt to subdue the embarrassing whines Logan was drawing out from you.

Once your thighs rested back on the bed, Logan pulled your legs even closer. You couldn't believe your eyes.

He started making out with your pussy.

Logan's mouth opened and closed again and again, latching onto your swollen lips. His pursed lips glistened with your release.

He actually sighed into your body when a particularly noisy kiss made you clench around his fingers.

"That's my good girl. So responsive . . . can you come for me, baby? Wanna taste you."

He curled his fingers, coaxing the spongy pad of your cervix on every thrust. His palm met your pussy with a steady plap, burying his fingers into your crying cunt.

Your legs started shaking. Unable to stave off your release, your thighs fluttered around Logan's head.

"Oh, fuck, Logan . . ." you moaned, sharply tugging his hair while falling backward onto the bed. You couldn't bring yourself to watch his sly grin as you came undone around him.

"Yes . . . ohmygodohmygod, ah!" You incoherently babbled.

Logan playfully slapped your puffy folds, stimulating you through your orgasm.

"Aw, would 'ya look at that . . . your pussy's blushing just for me, doll." He pressed another kiss to your pulsing clit, smirking into your skin.

He slowly removed your legs from his shoulders and caged your body under his, arms outstretched so as not to crush you.

Logan traced the plush outline of your bottom lip, teasing, "Speechless, huh? Guess I'm not that big of an asshole."

Your pupils dilated as you caressed the rugged expanse of his cheek. You hummed a soft, "Mhm . . ." in response, too fucked out to mumble something more comprehensible.

"Figured you deserved to feel good after what I put you through." Logan averted his eyes. He felt guilty, opening his mouth to apologize, but you silenced him with a sloppy kiss.

You tapped his right arm, silently asking him to lay down on the bed next to you. He moved to cuddle you, but you turned around and straddled his pelvis.

Grinding over his clothed bulge, you teased, "No need to apologize, Logan." Your release was creating a noticeable wet spot on the faded denim.

His hips bucked up to meet your tantalizing movements. His back arched at the thought of his bare cock finally feeling the plush embrace of your cunt.

"Let me make it up to you . . . you deserve to feel good, too."

Logan's hands rested on your torso, stilling your hips.

"If you keep moving like that, I won't get to come inside of you. You want me to fill you up? Hm?"

You mischievously dragged your cunt over the fly of his jeans, clit catching on the button.

"Who said you couldn't come in me more than once?"

Logan wrapped his arms behind the small of your back, pulling you to crash against his broad chest. His lips found your ear.

He whispered, "You fuckin' tease. Be careful what you wish for, bub. I have regenerative powers, remember? Could fuck you for hours, if you let me."

You suddenly nipped at his earlobe. "Oh, yeah? prove it. I'm not so sure, old man."

Logan propped up your chin, caressing the supple skin of your cheeks. Eyes darting between your doe eyes and pouty lips, he responded, "If I didn't heal so fast, you'd be the death of me."

You sealed his promise with a sweet kiss. The only lack of communication in your blossoming relationship would occur during intimate moments like these, lips slotted into the other's, ethereal sighs mingling with his intoxicating groans.

an: Whew! I spent a lot of time refining this one. I'm slowly working on improving the pacing and atmosphere of my work.

#logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #logan smut #logan x reader #logan x you #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #deadpool and wolverine #mistyorchid fic

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orkbutch · 9 months ago

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Rambling about Astarion bc im bored at work. I like Astarion because I think he is a genius take on The Evil RPG Companion, and is an especially great take on The Fixable Bad Guy. I don't think hes evil, but I do think Astarion is a genuinely bad person at the beginning, and I think Astarion is only drawn away from being a bad person - and experiences a great redemption arc - via active intervention from others. Astarion would not redeem himself without guidance; he is absolutely bent toward self destruction and evil at the beginning of the story.

I think comparing him with Shadowheart is what drew me to that conclusion. If you are nice to Shadowheart, as in you talk to her and respect her boundaries and do stuff she generally agrees with, she will choose to free Nightsong all on her own. You don't need to roll to convince her at all, or romance her or even push back on her Shar worship that much. You just leave it up to her, and she chooses that path. (Side note, what brilliant writing.)

Astarion is not like that at all. Even if you were tight as fuck he would not choose the good option, with no input, in Act 2. Astarion, like all the companions, needs help and connection to reach healthy actualization, but I think its great, resonant writing that Astarion needs the most active intervention of all. Because he's had his autonomy so completely taken away from him, he simply doesn't know how to use it anymore. He doesn't know how to connect with other people anymore. He's someone that's learned to enjoy cruelty, to resent the pleasure of others, and to be entirely selfish for survival. It makes sense that he must be dragged back into being capable of trust. He needs to be forced to be part of a community again; caring about things; allowing for vulnerability and optimism.

And like. How fucking smart is it to have THIS guy in THIS game. Because of the tadpole and the existential threat they're up against, he is actually forced to work with you. This kind of character is so hard to do in most RPGs because its like... why wouldn't he just betray you all and leave? Why would he stick with you? The tadpole clears all of that up. Astarion must stick with you or hes lost and dead. Astarion knows that you and the other companions are collectively stronger than him, so he can't betray you. He is forced to rely on you by default.

This is also what makes him SUCH a good version of the "you can fix him" romance; you are almost never the direct target of Astarion's bastardry because he can't fuck with you. The problem with Fix Him's is that usually they are a threat to the romantic lead, and fixing him requires enduring, soothing and forgiving the worst of his badness as some kind of test of loyalty, hopefully proving to him that being bad isn't necessary (toxic shit). But Astarion... can't do that. He is afraid to actually fuck you over because you are directly tied to his survival, and because you quickly show yourself to be more capable than him. He cannot have real power over you. (Until he's ascended, then he becomes the absolute worst version of the fix-it.)

I do think the trade off is that Astarion not directing his bastardry at you makes it easier to Ignore that Astarion is A Bad Guy, but I think that'd happen even if he was more of an asshole to you, so who cares. I think he's got the best written Redeemable Evil RPG Companion arch I've seen honestly. I love that he's so fun while being so tragic, whether redeemed or not.

#Astarion #bg3

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mtchacrvle · 3 months ago

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- 🌹Yandere! Clingy prince Alphabet.

🪻note🪻yandere behaviour. And a little bit of NSFW if you squint hard enough. ( not proofread )

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

-🌹 yandere prince or his real name Raizel, love to show his affection with physical touch. Such as, kissing, hugging, cuddling, etc. Any sort of physical touch as long as it's from you, he'll love it.

It could get pretty intense honestly, well, his name ain't clingy prince for nothing lol. Anyways, if he wakes up from his sleep/nap, and you're not there besides him, he'll turn the whole castle upside down. And when he finally finds you, baby girl, there's no way you're getting out of his grasp. You have other plans ? Cancel it. Cause

His clingy percentage is at 99%. Going to the bathroom? He'll be there. Going out to have a tea party with the other noblewoman? He'll be joining you in disguise, wearing a soft pink dress with a big ass hat to protect his face and you know damn well he'll demand the maids to put make up on his face and make him look like a woman. This mf would even learn to walk in heels just for you. And trust me when I tell you he has done this before, I mean it. Going on a walk at the garden? He'll excuse all the maid and he'll gladly hold the umbrella for you, with his right hand holding the umbrella and his left hand on your waist.

Overall, his very freaking clingy man. Since the minute he realises his feelings for you. that's your queue to say bye-bye to your freedom and your personal space. But mostly your personal space lol.

———

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

-🌹 Very messy. If someone hurts your feelings, even for a little bit. Their head will be off. He can't wait to be the emperor so that he can publicly show who you belong to and how much you guys are in love with each other.

He can have blood head to toe and still loves you dearly. He never sees this as a burden. No no. They disrespect you. They deserve this. You are an angel, his angel. Nothing can get between the two of you. He'll be torturing the prisoner while laughing and smiling and while thinking of you.

To sum it up, he is cray cray for you and would do anything. (⁠⑉⁠⊙⁠ȏ⁠⊙⁠)

———

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

-🌹 Never. It won't take long until he snaps, but after he kidnapped you, he won't mock nor made fun of you. But it's more into the opposite.

He'll be very gentle and soft with you. He'll even go as far as change the whole castle to your liking. Just say the word. You don't like dark colour? You want to change it to pink and purple? Sure! He'll fill out his room and office with all the books you like. You like sweets? Just nod and you'll have more than 60 different kinds of deserts and sweets in front of you.

———

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

- 🌹 uh yes? If you are not into physical touch, that's something he'll force on you. He'll kiss, hug, cuddle you even tho you clearly stated that you don't like it. He just doesn't care.

He lives for your touch. He needs to touch you even a little bit so that he won't lose his sanity. You're the only one that has been keeping him sane. He even goes as far as tying you up if you won't stop squirming and hitting him when he tries to give you affection. If you still won't stop squirming, he'll cry so damn hard. Snort even started to fall out of his nose, his eyes were red. And he'll keep on asking " why can't you just let him love you ", " I don't care if you hate it! You don't have to return the affection just let me love you! ".

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

- 🌹 It won't take long for him to open up for you. To him, when 2 people are in love with each other, there would be no secrets between them. So he would rant out to you about his whole childhood to you. He is very good and communicates too, he'll reassure you if you ever felt insecure or if you feel like he doesn't love you anymore.

____

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

- 🌹He would be very hurt by it but would won't show it to you because he don't want you to view him as "weak". Again he'll gladly tie you up if you won't stop fighting back. But don't worry, he won't hurt you. He'll only suffocate you with his hugs and love. So it's not THAT bad.

_____

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

- 🌹 Nope. These whole things aren't a game to him. Even tho sometimes you would question his actions either he really loves you or he just plays with you. And every time you ask him this, his face will drop immediately because how can you say that? He would be so confused as why would you even think that. " What makes you say that my love?! ", " am I not giving you enough love? Is that it? ", " don't EVER say that, my love for you is not a stupid game. I wish you would be able to see just how big my love for you ".

Enjoy if his darling escape? Babe the second he didn't see or have you by him he would go berserk. Sweet puppy like and clingy Raizel that you know? Gone. It's like you don't even know him. And speaking of escape. Yea, the chances of you escaping are very..very..low. with how clingy and touchy he is, yea you won't be able to escape. The top 3 reasons why you WON'T escape :

1. He's very fucking clingy (duh)

2. The security is tight af. If he can't or won't be able to cling to your side, he'll send not 1, not 2, nor 3 knights, but 5. Yea.. you bet all 6 of them are bulky ASF lol. Why 5 you ask? Well... 1 for you left, 1 for your right, 2 from your back and 2 sitting in front of you. (As if you can't protect yourself)

3. The maids, servants, butlers, knights, gardeners, cookers, everyone there would tattle if you even set food outside the bedroom. Yea all of them are snitches. Can't trust none of them.

So...yea.

____

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

- 🌹 Other than his clingy and touchy tendencies, he also very jealous, possessive and obsessive. When the emperor throws a welcoming party for Raizel younger brother, a duke from different nations has been hitting on you right in front of him. (Yea not a very smart move) he tries to be nice at first but when the duke won't budge, that's when he punches the duke nose and stab his eyes with a sword in front of the other guests.

The emperor saw this and he is proud. Yup you read that right. He is PROUD. Well the emperor ain't that sane and innocent either. He kidnapped Raizel's mother and baby trapped her. So you could say that he's proud because Raizel has his yandere and cray cray tendencies. Like father like son. And did the guest say or did anything? Nope. They just pretend nothing happens and just continue with what they're doing.

____

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

-🌹 Babies. Lots of em. Sure he's clingy, but he still needs an heir. And plus, he can imagine what it's like when you guys have children. Whose eyes would they have? It would be so adorable if the kid has your features and his personality, so that they can protect and keep an eye on you when he's not around.

The second he gets the news that you're pregnant, the whole castle would be baby proof. Every stairs would have at least 5 guards. 2 maids, 2 butlers, 4 knights would entertain your kid.

When you're pregnant, he's clingy tendencies would only increase. Whenever he goes, he would pick you up and bring you with him. He did most of the work for you, feeding you, dressing you, bathing you, picking your clothes. Everything. Oh your tummy hurts because the baby won't stop kicking? He'll rub and scold his child for hurting you. Your back and feet hurt? Come here, he'll rub and massage you until you feel better. He'll even go as far as rubbing and sucking for breast if that hurts too. Overall, he's not a bad husband or a bad father. As long as you just accept your fate and just become his, he'll give you everything you could've asked for. Nothing is too expansive or too impossible when it comes to you.

____

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

_🌹 He'll lash out his jealousy, but don't worry he won't harm or lash it out on you. He would find something or someone to take his anger out. Preferably someone who makes his jealousy kick in.

Let's just say if one day his jealousy gets out of hand and you're sure he will be throwing hands, you can "calm" his jealousy by holding him back while giving him a kiss on the cheeks or holding any part of his body. Touch his bicep or hand and ask him to calm down, he'll FLOP. He will forget why he is mad in the first place and will demand ask you to not stop touching him. If you did stop, he'll pout and sulk so bad that you started to feel bad. In the end, you always gave in, so he pout and sulk did its job lol.

____

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

-🌹On my first post about Raizel, he is a brat that always try to get y/n on trouble, he is the pain in the ass and yet, y/n still being patient with him. But what if you are not his knight? Perhaps a princess from a different kingdom?

If you are a princess, he'll approach you rather normally. Well normal in his eyes. Raizel doesn't believe in love at first sight and it would take a lot for him to like you. Let's just say that he has been keeping an eye on you for a couple of months. He'll probably ask you to dance with him and he'll make sure that your first dance is with him. After the dance is over, he won't let you go. He'll ask you if you would like to take a walk with him and he would try to get you to know better. He'll slowly try to seduce you before kidnapping you.

____

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

-🌹 He's sweet and soft ONLY to you. His darling. In his eyes, you are fragile and soft. He couldn't even have the heart to get mad at you. You never do wrong in his eyes. And yes, he's very different from everyone else. Even with the emperor and the empress. So it would shock both the emperor and empress when they see how affectionate he is when he's with you. But once you are not with him? Forget different, he's a whole new person. Everything irritates him. Someone sneeze or cough? He'll be yelling and throwing hands. All the servants walk in an egg shell when you're not around him. That's why, whenever you suddenly show up to his office,the prince would smile and run towards you. While the servant relaxed. He'll always send the servants out because he wants you to pour affection for him and he doesn't want anyone to see it.

____

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

-🌹 He's the type to "punish" you with his presence lol. He'll tie you on the bed, and would cuddle, kiss you however he likes. And in the morning, if he has work to finish, he'll drag you with him. One time, he dragged you to one of his meetings with other kingdoms, you want to go to the bathroom. He insisted on coming with you. And he did. The emperor just smiles and shakes his head. In the emperor's eyes, the prince reminds him of his younger self when he first laid eyes on the empress (Raizel mother). Oh good ol days.

____

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

-🌹 Eh..tricky question. Depends on how you actually act. If you just accept your fate and go along with his clingy nature, you would have some freedom (but not much personal space). He won't lock you in the bedroom all day. But, if you want to take a walk or something, he has to come with you. So that he can protect you :).

If you refuse to accept him, then say bye bye to your freedom AND personal space. So my advice is just to let it all happen and you'll be happy.

____

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

-🌹 On a scale 1-100, he's in between 60-70. He is patient, but not THAT patient. It won't take long before snap. And once he does, you have 0 chances on escaping and stuff. So better accept him from the start when he is still patient.

____

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

-🌹 You? Escape? HAH, you won't. But if you did, IF you did, he'll burn the village down and would target every kingdom. His sanity is gone. And when he finds you, he's not the same.

The second he found out you are dead, he didn't waste any more seconds and would kill himself. And before he kills himself, he will hug and kiss you after that, he'll lay you in his chest and off himself while saying he'll love you and he'll see you soon. (that's quite depressing than I thought.)

____

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

-🌹He would feel a bit sad and guilty. But only a little bit. To him, you being with him and him taking you with him are better and safer. He views the world to be very vicious and you are too fragile to be in this kind of world.

He would never let you go. letting you go never were the options. He would rather die than let you go. You are his life, without you, he won't be able to last even a day.

____

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

-🌹 him being the oldest, meaning he didn't have much happy childhoods. Never really had any friends to play with or even someone to be affectionate with. The emperor loves Raizel, but he just doesn't know how to show it. And the least he could do is love how he was taught by his father (Raizel grandfather). The emperor would sign him the best teacher in the kingdom and would pack his schedules with learning, swordships, dancing class, basic etiquette and more. That's what makes Raizel don't have much friend and free time when he's younger. He doesn't know how to love or how to express his emotions.

____

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

-🌹 No, the only different about him are his personality toward his darling. He still killed, torture, and kidnapped his darling like a classic yandere. He may not hurt you physically but he will mentally, by keeping you in his bedroom and would take all of your personal space.

____

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

-🌹 the fastest way for you to escape, if to let it all happen. Let him love you, worship you, touch you, cling to you. And you'll be escaping in no time. The moment you start to give in to his affections, he believes that you finally love him as much as he did to you.

____

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

-🌹 you are the love of his life, why would he hurt you? He will and can hurt you by not giving any personal space but that's it. He'll never hurt you physically. He would rather die than hurt you. You pouting broke his heart into a million pieces, there's no way he can hurt you.

____

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

-🌹 The amount of love he has for you are unexplainable. He would kiss , lick breath on the ground you walk on. Everything your body touch is something pure. In his eyes , you’re a goddess , his goddess that did no wrong in his eyes.

- he would do anything to win you over , you like cats ? He will fed all the cats in town. You like fancy things ? Everyday when you wake up , there would be new jewellery on your vanity table. You name it , anything that you fancy , he would buy it for you. He has no problem spoiling you if it means you would be his happy.

—————-

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

-🌹as you all aware , he’s clingy. Like , very clingy. So he doesn’t have that much of a patience when it comes to waiting. If you still doubt him in any way , but still let him touch you ( affectionately ) he would still be sane. But , if still doubt him and won’t let him touch you , that would set the ticking bomb. He could hold on for about 1 month max. ( it is what it is babe )

—————

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

-🌹 If it means you would be only with him then yes. For fun , nope. One of the things he scared of the most is when you giving him silent treatment or not speaking in general. Maybe because you’re just tired and don’t feel like talking but still , he hates it. He couldn’t bare the feeling not hearing your voice.

——————

🪻 A/N 🪻I'm sorry if this look rushed. I also would like to apologise for not uploading more. I'm not in my best self this past month and I'm still recovering. But don't worry, I'm fine compared to before. Millions of thank Yous to whoever that liked my previous work, it means a lot to me. My grammar is not the best, I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but English is not my first language and I'm still learning. I'll try to upload more in the future, and I would love it if you guys leave some suggestions or requests for my next post. And thank you to those you follow my blog, all love for you guys (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡.

#yandere #yandere x reader #oc #obsessive behavior #yandere oc #clingy yandere #clingy af #female reader #yandere male #yandere prince #male yandere #soft yandere

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helaintoloki · 3 months ago

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hi can you do a ben hargreeves angst where klaus is still able to see him in season 3 and he sees how close y/n has gotten to ben sparrow you can do whatever you want with it

warnings: language, lots of angst

notes: okay i actually loved writing this you are a genius for coming up with this scenario

summary: Ben is forced to watch you fall for a completely different version of him

Ben once thought having to watch the woman you love live her life without knowing you looked on as a spirit incapable of communicating with her was the worst fate imaginable.

But he was wrong.

Watching the woman you love grow close to another version of you while you can do absolutely nothing to interfere was more torturous than any other possible outcome.

Ben absolutely loathed the Sparrow with his entire being. He couldn’t understand why you would even consider trying to get to know the man- he was a complete jerk, absolutely hostile, and not at all understanding or compassionate to the dilemma your team found yourselves in. Ben also thought his haircut was stupid, and the Sparrow’s demeanor gave the ghost a sense of second-hand embarrassment every time he talked.

And yet you were drawn to the man like a magnet, and how could you not be? He looked and sounded exactly like what you imagined your Ben would have if he had survived the accident and been able to grown into an adult alongside you. Despite his callousness and his blatant lack of trust in you, you were eager to learn more. Did he like the same things your Ben did? Did they share the same interests? Were their mannerisms the same? You desperately needed to know, and the Sparrow did not deny you this. Though he held a certain sense of disdain for your team, he wasn’t prideful enough to turn down the company of a pretty girl who seemed to follow him around like a lost puppy. He took advantage of your kindness and your vulnerability, and your Ben hated that he could do absolutely nothing to stop this.

You sit on a lone bench and watch as the Sparrow completes his workout for the day. He’s allowed you to tag along so long as you don’t get in the way, and you agreed. You’re completely mesmerized by his toned arms and grunts of effort that escape his lips as he lifts weights, and Ben can only roll his eyes.

“Seriously? This guy?” He asks you in exasperation, but of course, you don’t hear him at all. This doesn’t deter him from continuing his attempt to persuade you to stay away from the Sparrow. “You are way too good for an asshole like him. He’s just using you to feed his ego!”

“Do you like to read?” You ask the man as he sets down his weights and reaches for his towel to wipe off the sweat from his brow.

“Read?” He retorts haughtily, almost offended by the notion. “What am I, a nerd?”

Ben knows neither of you can see him, and yet he flips the man off anyway in response to his answer. Your shoulders visibly deflate at his words, and the ghost can only frown and attempt to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. It goes right through you, the coldness prompting you to shiver involuntarily, but it makes him feel better to know you can at least sense him in some way.

“My Ben liked reading, so I just thought maybe you would too,” you offer meekly, prompting the Sparrow to roll his eyes.

“Alright, new rule. You wanna hangout with me? Then don’t bring up ‘your’ Ben. Got it?”

“Right, sorry,” you murmur quietly while awkwardly fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. You hover over the one on your index, the purple gem gleaming in the light. Ben knows that ring because he gave you that ring, and that’s why it nearly kills him all over again when he watches you hurriedly remove it and hide it away in the pocket of your sweater.

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for being you,” he gently reprimands you with a sigh before focusing his harsh gaze on his lookalike. “And you should stop being a dick to quite possibly the nicest girl you’ll ever meet. You don’t deserve her, and I’ll never understand why the universe decided you should get to have her.”

Of course, his lecture is unheard and has no impact on the scene that unfolds before him. He watches in gut wrenching agony as the Sparrow seats himself beside you on the bench, his rough hand coming to rest gently upon your thigh and squeezing to get your attention. Your eyes almost seem to sparkle as you look up at him in search of validation for your efforts to get to know him. There’s a shift in the air that fills Ben with dread, and despite all his efforts to stop it he can do nothing to prevent your lips from meeting the man’s in a purposeful kiss.

Your heart flutters in your chest as the Sparrow pulls away and carefully tucks your hair behind your ear, his voice coming out in a soft whisper as he says, “You’re with me now. Forget about him.”

And to Ben’s absolute horror, you obediently offer a silent nod in agreement to his command.

#request #the umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #sparrow!ben #sparrow!ben x reader #sparrow!ben imagine #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 4 months ago

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Astro thoughts : short n sweet <3 moonshinin' <3

Moon in the first house - Very empathetic sweet creatures. Def could be used a lot by people that they love and trust because they can be very giving to their energy a little too much. Attractiveness is through the roof as their auras are usually more open. Very smooth, soft bodies and have an innocent energy around them majority of the time. Its hard to stay mad at them.

Moon in the second house - They need time alone so they can get their thoughts in check. This is a taurus ruled house, so sometimes their emotions can be thru the roof, but they can be extremely level-headed/grounded with the way they move through their circumstances. Money can flow to them smoothly if they keep their focus high on the prize. Other wise, they can be duped by peasants with their fortune if they are not careful.

Moon in the third house - Very practical, intelligent nature. Honest and self aware. Very deep and can bond with anyone if you let them. Truly can keep you on your toes with each convo they have. Can talk to much, or can be way too quiet No in between. Can make a friend outta anyone tbh.

Moon in the fourth house - Light hearted nature. Very sweet and kind to anyone they meet but they keep to themselves a lot. They do NOT like too many people in they're space and it is a treasure to meet them AND to have them around 24/7 because they do not like being around just anybody. You gotta be more complex to get to know them, they are truly a one of a kind. Mysterious nature.

Moon in the fifth house - Great actors. Have a lot of gifts in the arts and could soothe people's emotions with them if they allow their vulnerable side to show. Children LOVE them and are usually inspired by them. The personality of this individual is raw, gentle and nurturing and they must be protected.

Moon in the sixth house - Boundaries is a big thing for this group. Gotta keep their energy in check because they can almost be like in hermit mode. Needs friends that understand their nature to keep them balanced. Animals and plants are their best friend.

Moon in the seventh house - Can have issues with lovers do to their high intensity with their emotions. It's almost like people can't see them for who they are and theirs a lot of potential of a transformative love. With the moon shining its light here, they are almost capable of turning anyone into a special relationship if the chemistry permits.

Moon in the 8th house - Beautiful souls that have a gift in penetrating the minds, souls and bodies of the people they meet. They have internal woes that never seem to make it to the sky, but they know how to water them and make them grow in the ground. True balance is needed with them so they almost always are going thru dark nights of the soul just to get them their. They have a lot to learn, but also so much to show to themselves and others as the journey is a long beautiful one in the end.

Moon in the ninth house - Captivating souls who are needing to bond with people who can change the perception of their mind through the eyes of travel or simply growing in this lifes journey. They know a lot about their favorite topics and would love to share it with anyone who wants to listen to them. Calming auras who enlightens you with the way they think, and are meant to teach and inspire in some way, shape, or form.

Moon in the tenth house - The sweet talkers of the group. The audience just adores them. You really can't stay mad at them for to long. They have sensual energy and people feel this right away. Celebrity energy. Secretive by nature. Most don't know a lot about you, even if your emotional state is in full view to everyone. Masters of manipulation, don't say I didn't warn you ;)

Moon in the eleventh house - Can make friends as soon as they walk out of their house. Shy and reserved in new environments but tend to be a lot sweeter and open up when their comforted. Has a unique presence and a distinctive style. Could almost convince anyone of anything as their looks and attraction tends to make people look the other way.

Moon in the 12th house - Alluring. Majestic. Spontaneous & a wanderer. Protect these children at all cost. There is more than what meets the eye. They attract a lot of people like bees to honey. But flies like you too. Can't let everyone in, they don't know what to do with you. Gotta be more open with being yourself, no matter how mysterious you come off. Boundaries are needed for this group since they are more prone to evil eye as their secretive by nature. People are always trying to spy on them and see what they have that they don't.

#astrology thoughts #astrology theories #astrology #tropical astrology #astrology observations #astro knowledge #astro observations #MOON in astrology #moon in the houses #cancer #short n sweet astro #deja's astro observations

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heechwe · 1 month ago

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midnight faith | 𝐩𝐣𝐬

୨୧ pairing: park jongseong (jay) x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.5K ୨୧ genre: fluff, semi-angst, smut ୨୧ tags: werewolf!jay, established relationship, pet names (darling, sweetheart, etc.), biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, knotting, creampie, cock stuffing, breeding kink ୨୧ synopsis: You know his history and where he comes from, both being huge factors that affect your current relationship, but all you care about is your future together. ➸ banner created by @hobeemin ♡

The grass surrounding the blanket underneath your back prickles your ankles. Jay sits crisscrossed next to you, observing the way the sunlight peers through the forest trees and paints your skin. His breath goes in and out in uneven increments, and you open one eye to look at your boyfriend. You’ve had your eyes closed for the past ten minutes, focusing on Jay and all he had to tell you about his history, pre-werewolf and all. The boy is practically shaking at the fact you haven’t responded to any of it, but with a smirk, you reply, “So it really isn’t just caused by a bite?”

Both of you laugh, the sound reverberating around your patch of grass. In relief, Jay sinks to a resting position on his stomach beside you and props his chin on your chest. “Yeah, that’s not exactly how that story goes. Well, at least for me it didn’t.”

You run your fingers through his hair. “So it was a genetic thing?”

He nods. “My parents thought maybe it would skip a generation since my grandfather didn’t inherit it from his father. Sadly for them, I came home after some party scared as all hell, wondering why the fuck I had claws and this desire to run on all fours.”

You giggle as Jay takes one of your hands into his and kisses your knuckles. “After a while, I learned how to control the shift, but I shut myself away from everyone, especially my parents. Because of them, it was this huge rush to understand myself, my abilities, and my family’s history. The one thing I couldn’t get over then was that it wasn’t a choice. It was always something I was born with.

“But, it’s all in the past now.” Jay sighs and presses his cheek to your stomach.

“Well, parts of it are. But, Seongie, it still gets to you and affects how you are around people. Sometimes, you act like everyone’s fragile when you’re around, like you won’t be able to control your impulses or actions, so you don’t let yourself truly be yourself. Including me.”

He looks back up to you, recognizing the truth in your words. “I try not to,” he whispers, moving so your faces are at eye level, his lips an inch away. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not you.” Pain flashes over his features, too strong for him to ignore. “I don’t fear a lot of things, but the possibility I could harm you scares the fuck out of me.”

The vulnerability Jay can often hide so well is written all over him. His hands shake and his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, but it only takes the well of tears in his eyes to strike a knife through your chest. Your boyfriend may be a supernatural creature, but it wouldn’t take a genius to see the guy’s immense capacity for kindness. The way his eyes widened in fear when he shook your father’s hand when they first met, the whispers of a lullaby he sang to your sister’s newborn daughter when you had to babysit her, and his adorable fascination with tiny animals prove all of his fears will never become a reality. “Baby, you don’t have a harmful bone in your body. You may have impulses as a wolf, but there’s no way you would hurt someone on purpose.” The wind brushes through the trees as you speak, barely covering the tremble in your voice. “And you would never hurt me.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you wouldn’t be so scared if you didn’t love me, and I love you enough to know all the fear is in your head. You just have to trust yourself.”

You brush your mouth against him, and the sound of the wind in the brush and the heat of the sun ebbs away. Your reassurance and touch ease his worries until it’s only you and Jay, nestled against a soft blanket away from the world and lost in each other with the soft collide of each other’s lips and tongues.

Jay grunts and backs away from you, a heady expression flashing across his eyes.

Breathless, you reach for his hand. “Is that what you meant by hurting me?”

He nods, saying your name while trying to slow down the fast pace of his heartbeat. “I love you, and I never want to hurt you, but what if I didn’t mean to? I mean, I can’t even kiss you without feeling like I’m losing control. How could I make love to you?”

You shake your head and reach for him, his body and yours coming into contact instantly.

“Because we trust each other, and we use that trust to know and respect our limits. If you’re scared, we stop. If I don’t like something, I'll tell you.” You smile, nipping at his lips with a quick peck. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind losing control with you. I feel that way with you a lot of the time anyway.”

Jay chuckles and kisses you, rendering you breathless. “God, what am I gonna do with you?”

It sounds more like a statement than a question when it leaves his lips, but you grin regardless. “A lot of things, I hope. Right now, I just want you to kiss me some more.”

And as Jay lies you down onto the blanket with his mouth attached to yours and quickly trailing down your neck, you listen to the sound of his breath and the trickles of the river, forgetting his fears the longer he holds you in his arms.

The moonlight bathes your bedroom in blue shadows, the color of Jay’s brown eyes more hypnotic than ever before. His bare chest quietly heaves up and down, unsure of where to start first. Shaky hands hold your waist against him, too scared to venture further than where they are at in the current moment.

Standing in front of him now, underwear-clad and more sure of him than he is in himself, you kiss him to quell his fears. You hope the act is as reassuring as it feels. “I trust you,” you promise him.

He nods, his lips turning at the corners despite what anxieties still linger in his body. You kiss him harder, dissipating what is left of his resolve. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nails digging into the small of your back when you press your tongue inside of his mouth.

Jay takes his lips from yours, his breath ragged. “If anything is too much,” he says, “you have to tell me.”

“Cross my heart,” you tease, but sincerity is still present in your tone.

Suddenly, he lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist, the act knocking the wind out of your lungs. Half a dozen kisses meet the column of your throat before Jay bites down on the skin. He sucks and licks at the pieces he’s bitten, marking you for himself as he lays you down gently onto the bed.

You can barely think straight as he rips the material of your bra off of you in a quick motion, the sounds of the seams ripping apart hitting your ears. He inhales a shaky breath, mesmerized by the swell of your breasts under the cover of nightfall.

“You’re so breathtaking, you know that?” Jay phrases it more as a statement than a question. You blush and try to hide your face with your hands, but he takes your palms in his instead. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Your heart clenches. “Neither do you.” You sit up to take his face in your hands, kissing both of his cheeks before once again meeting your mouth with his.

A low rumble emits from his throat, the groan shooting to the space between your legs. You moan into his mouth, taking one of his hands and pressing it to the cotton covering your clit.

“I want you this much because I trust you, Seongie.”

He mumbles out a curse. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to. Please,” you say, dipping his hand inside your underwear to feel the pooing wetness. “I need you to touch me.”

Without warning, his eyes glow a bright hazel in the darkness of your bedroom. The hunger he’s tried so long to suppress seems to come over him in a wave. His hands press you back down into the mattress and his face comes into contact with your underwear. You can feel his breath against your center, and you want more than anything for him to bury his mouth there and leave you a mess in the sheets.

“Jongseong,” you call out, “please.”

He smirks and takes his hands to the corners of your underwear to yank them down. Not violently, but with a serious edge that takes you back. Where was the shy boy that you began the night with?

“Use your words, pet,” Jay demands with a growl.

“Put your mouth on me, please.”

“That’s better.” The cool temperature of your room on your body is replaced by Jay’s tongue, the man you love licking lavishly between your folds. You’re unsure how he’s never done this before when he knows exactly how to make you buck your hips into his awaiting mouth. He’s already so perfectly in tune with your body, knowing when to take time away from your pussy to swirl his tongue around your clit.

Moans and gasps leave you in quick succession. Your hand buries itself in his hair, and he continues to growl and groan into your center to make you shake even harder.

“I know you’re close, my love. Don’t hold back on me now.” He takes a second to kiss the insides of your thighs before diving back into your pussy. With a long swipe of his mouth from your perineal to your clit, you cry out as your orgasm washes over you.

You take your hand from Jay’s hair when you come down, wiping the sweat off of your forehead with a laugh. “That was–”

Jay smirks and bites his bottom lip. “I’m not done with you yet, pet.” He presses your lips against his, the taste of you filling your mouth when he slips his tongue inside. “Flip over for me.”

You do as he commands as he takes both his jeans and briefs off quickly. By the time he pushes your hips back against him, his cock brushes against your entrance and the wetness from your previous release.

“Fuck,” he whispers, letting himself be coated in your arousal before moving any further. He loves the feeling of your body wiggling against his for any kind of friction, your legs spent and weakened from the pleasure you just received. But he’s going to love it even more when he feels you wrapped around him fully. “Ready, my love?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

Sliding inside of you is so easy with your earlier slick, causing garbled moans to leave both of your mouths at the same time. Jay chastises himself for waiting this long to be intimate with you knowing now how exquisite it feels to have your walls pulsing around him, welcoming his body like he was always meant to be there. Around you, inside of you, calling him yours.

He begins a slow rhythm, thrusting in and out at a comfortable pace, He laces his fingers with yours, wondering how he was so lucky to find someone so understanding, so beautiful, so patient. Anyone else would not have been so stubborn to cut through the many walls he put up, but he’s grateful to have found you who was willing to do the work so effortlessly.

These thoughts make any sense of uncertainty dissipate completely. And in doing so, his control loosens and desire heightens to an unfathomable degree as he watches your body ease up and down his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jay curses, his length swelling to the point he cannot think about anything but your pulsing walls around him. His body is locked to yours, this cock cinched to the point he knows it’s too late to slow down or stop. He had only ever heard of this prior with his brothers and friends who also shared his genetic disposition. But now, knowing it isn’t just a myth and he has no control until he fully releases inside of you, he has never been more turned on in his life.

Knowing he’ll fall apart inside of you, make you as swollen as he feels, is enough for him to come then and there. But Jay knows depriving you of a second orgasm when you’re this close would be cruel. And he’s anything but a cruel person.

He pounds harder into you and wraps an arm around you to find your clit with his fingers, rubbing the bud tenderly. It’s an insatiable mixture of heady and delicate; so intimate you wish you could kiss him while he thrusts deeply from behind you.

“Seongie, I’m so close.”

“Me too, my love. I could stay here all night,” he grunts his beautiful, filthy words into the space between you, the sounds accompanied by the meeting of your bodies. “You want that too, don’t you? Want to be filled up with nothing but my cum, belonging to nobody but me, huh?”

“Y-yes, more than anything,” you confess, loving the intimacy of his explicitness.

“So dirty for me. So perfect.” He kisses the center of your back as he continues to plow mercilessly into you.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna–” You have no time to finish your sentence as the second release floods your senses, the feeling in your body as bright as the moonlight and heavy as the sweat coating both of your bodies.

You barely have time to recover as Jay also comes a few seconds after, bottoming out as he releases. He refuses to let any of his cum go to waste, continuing to thrust inside of you in spite of your sensitivity. You mumble about it being too much and for him to pull out soon, but he’s focused on making sure none of him spills out.

When he’s satisfied, he releases you and lets you fall onto the comforter of your bed, spent and exhausted.

You giggle as he places kisses all over your sweaty face. “Jay, please.”

“What? I can’t kiss you now?” He asks, burying his face in your neck.

“You can when I’m not gross.”

“I think you’ve never looked more beautiful.” He grabs your palm and kisses each finger individually.

“Stop it,” you say, bashful. Jay knows you know it’s true, though. How could he not think so, completely in love and satisfied with your body filled with nothing but him?

He wraps the both of you in your blankets, his chest against your back. He’s never felt closer to you than in this moment, and he could not ask for more.

Well, besides another round in the morning.

“I love you,” he says before falling asleep nestled close to you.

“I love you too, babe,” you respond, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat and the glow of the moonlight as your eyelids close.

@mini-mews @jayparked @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

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physalian · 7 months ago

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10 More Character Types the World Needs More of

Part 1 was specifically character dynamics, but I’m considering this a sequel anyway.

1. Fiercely independent character’s lesson isn’t to “trust people”

I’m not projecting. You’re projecting. There is a divide wide enough to fit the Grand Canyon between “trusting that someone isn’t lying” and “trusting someone to follow through on a promise”. Most dumpster fire attempts at these characters (almost exclusively women) rely solely on mocking them for the former because “not all men” or something.

Being consistently let down in life makes you hesitant to a) gain friends, b) pursue romantic interests, c) maintain familial relationships, d) get excited about any event that demands participation from someone who isn’t you. None of this is simply a bad attitude—it’s a trauma response. There is no lesson to be learned, and not even exposure therapy can help because it’s a real, legitimate, and common stunt people pull, whether they mean it or not.

So write one of these characters and legitimize their fears, give them someone who proves the exception to the rule, but do not let the lesson be “well they just haven’t found the right person yet”. Even the “right person” can let them down. It's about not becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy by sabotaging a good thing to prove it will inevitably go bad.

2. Conventionally attractive men who aren’t horndogs

I’m going to find every way I can to tell you to write more aces. This is to fight the stigma that attractive people must be attracted to people. Give me gorgeous aces and demi’s, men, women, enbys and everyone in between, who put a crap ton of effort into looking their best, and yet happen to not have a very loud libido. They look good for themselves, and not to impress anyone else.

Give me someone who could have anyone they wanted, gender regardless, and just simply has no interest. Or, they do actually have a significant other, but sex, how hot their partner is, or how horny they are, isn’t their internal monologue. I don’t even care if it’s unrealistic, it’s annoying to read.

And, you know, giving men male characters who aren’t thinking about sex all the time can be good, right? Right?

3. Manly warrior men who also write poetry

A.K.A Aragorn, Son of Arathorn. Just give me more Aragorns, period. This dude is either covered in filth, blood, guts, and the last 30 miles of rugged terrain, or singing in Elvish at his own coronation while pink flower petals fall. A man can be both, and still be straight.

A man can also drink Respect Women juice, you know? He ticks off all the boxes—he’s gentle when he needs to be, not afraid to hide his emotions, kind to those who are vulnerable and afraid and need a strong figure to look up to, resolute in his beliefs, skilled and knowledgeable in his abilities without being arrogant or smug, and the first boots on the battlefield, leading from the front.

4. Characters who are characters when no one is watching

This is less a specific type and more a scene that doesn’t get written enough. This whole point comes from Pixar’s Cars. I. Love. This. Movie. It’s not Pixar’s best, for sure, but this is my comfort movie. The best scene, one that’s so unique, is when Doc (aged living legend) thinks he’s alone when he rolls out onto the dirt race track and comes alive tearing around the oval.

This character’s unbridled, unabashed glee and euphoria at proving to himself that he’s still got it, when he’s completely unaware of his audience, is perfection. Not enough credence is given to characters to just… enjoy being themselves. He’s not doing it to prepare for the climactic race, he’s not doing it for the plot, he’s doing it just to do it, not even to prove Lightning wrong—just for himself.

Give your characters a “Doc Racing” scene. Whatever their skill is. Maybe they’re a dancer, a skater, a swimmer, a painter, sprinter. Just let your character love being alive.

5. Characters whose neurodivergence isn't “cute”

A.K.A. Lilo Pelekai from Lilo and Stitch. Really, her relationship with Nani is peak sibling writing. But Lilo herself is just so realistic with how she interacts with the world, how she interprets her relationships with her so-called friends, how she organizes her thoughts and rationalizes what she can’t quite understand, and how friggen smart she is for an… 11-year-old?

But she’s not “cute”. As in, she wasn’t written by generic Suits who were trying to cash in on the ND crowd by writing what they think will sell, but also making her juuust neurotypical enough to still be palatable by the rest of the audience. Lilo’s earnestness is what endears her to everybody. But also, she doesn’t get a free pass for her behavior, either. Her “friends” aren’t forced to accommodate her and Nani isn’t written as the cold-hearted villain for trying to discipline her.

6. Straight male characters with female friends

Am I double-dipping a bit here? Yes. While I completely understand how tempting it can be, this type of character is in dire need of exposure and representation to prove it’s possible. No weird tense moments, no double-glances when she isn’t looking, no contemplations about cheating on his girlfriend (and no insecure jealous girlfriend either). Just two characters who enjoy each other’s company and are able to coexist in a space and be in each other’s spaces without hormones getting in the way. Peak example? Po and Tigress from Kung Fu Panda.

Let these two rely on each other for emotional strength in times of need, let them share inside jokes, let them have a night alone together at a bar, at home, cooking dinner, getting takeout, talking on the patio in a porch swing… with zero “will they/won’t they.”

7. The likable bigot

I’m actually on the fence with this one but it’s something I also don’t see done often enough and I’m adding it for one reason: Bigots aren’t always obvious mustache-twirling villains and the little things they do might seem inconsequential to them, but are still hurtful. So showing these characters is like plopping a mirror down in front of these people and, I don’t know, maybe something will click. They don’t have to be MAGAs to be dangerous, and only writing the extremes convinces the moderates that they aren’t also the problem.

Example: I have a “friend” who recently said something along the lines of “I have lots of gay friends” followed up shortly by “I don’t think this country should keep gay marriage because it’s a slippery slope to legalizing pedophilia.” You know. The quiet part being that she *actually* thinks being gay is as morally abhorrent as being a pedo. But she totally has lots of gay friends. Including one who was driving her during that conversation. (It’s me. Hi. I’m apparently the problem, it’s me.)

She’s absolutely homophobic, but the second she stops announcing it, she’s a very bubbly person. She’s a ~likable~ bigot and thus thinks she can distance herself from the more violent ones.

8. The motherly single father

I say “motherly” merely as shorthand for the vibe I’m going for here. “Motherly” as in dads who aren’t scandalized by the growing pains of their daughters, and who don’t just parent their sons by saying “man up boys don’t cry”. Dads who play Barbie with their kids of either gender. Dads who go to the PTA meetings with all the other Karens and know as much if not more than they do about the school and their kids’ education.

Dads who comfort their crying kids, especially their sons. Dads that take interest in “feminine” activities like learning how to braid their daughter’s hair, learning different makeup brands, going on nail salon trips together. Dads who do not pull out the rifle on their daughter’s new boyfriend and treat her like property. Dads who have guy friends that don’t mock him and call him gay. Dad who does all this stuff anyway and is *actually* gay, too, but the emphasis is on overly sensitive straight men’s masculinity here.

Wholesome dads: a shocking amount of single-parents to female anime protagonists.

9. The parent isn’t dead, they’re just gone

Treasure Planet is an awesome movie in its own right, but what’s even better? This is a Disney movie where the parent isn’t dead, he’s just a deadbeat who abandoned his son and isn’t at all relevant to the plot beyond the hole he left behind for Jim to fill. The only deadbeat dads Disney allows are villains and those guys are very vigorously chasing an aspiration, that aspiration just doesn’t include quality fatherhood. Or motherhood. Disney has yet to write a deadbeat mom, I’m almost certain.

I just wrote a post about the necessity of the “dead parent” cliche, but what is perhaps more relatable because it’s more common, and what earns even more sympathy and underdog points for the protagonist? The hero with the parent who left. Then there’s a whole extra layer of angst and trauma available when your hero can now plague themselves with the question of if the parent leaving is their fault. Death is usually an accident. Choosing to abandon your kid is on purpose.

10. Victim who isn’t victim-blamed or told by their friends (and the narrative) to forgive their abuser

Izuku Midoriya lost so much support from me the moment he told his friend, bearing the consequences of domestic violence across half his face, that Midoriya thinks he’ll be ready soon to forgive his abomination of a father. I am firmly in the “Endeavor is a despicable human and hero” camp and no I’m not taking criticism. I audibly gasped when I heard this line and realized Deku was serious. Todoroki needs friends like the Gaang to remind him that he's allowed to hate the man who's actions caused the burn scar across his f*cking face.

I understand that the mangaka apparently didn’t anticipate the vitriolic backlash toward Endeavor during his debut and reveal of his parenting tactics but the tone-deafness of telling a fifteen year old with crippling emotional management issues and a horrible home life that his abusive dad in any way deserves and is entitled to forgiveness on the grounds of being related is disgusting.

Take it back further to a more famous Tumblr dad: John Winchester. Another despicable human who got retroactively forgiven by his sons after his death in a “he wasn’t so bad, he really did try” campaign. It’s one thing if the character believes it, it’s a whole different matter if the narrative is also pushing this message.

Katara is a perfect example: She lets go of her grudge for her own peace of mind and stops blaming Zuko for something he had no hand in, stops blaming him simply because he’s a firebender and he’s around to be her punching bag. She doesn’t forgive the man who killed her mother, because that man doesn’t deserve her forgiveness. Katara heals in spite of him, not because of him, and had she let him off the hook, she would have gotten an apology for getting caught, not for what he did (which is exactly what happened).

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #character design #character development #aragorn #pixar cars #kung fu panda #lilo and stitch #treasure planet #atla #katara #my hero academia

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twilightcitysky · 20 days ago

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Whooooo okay, so. Thoughts.

You can get a lot done in 90 mins. Many books are made into 90 minute movies.

(Season 2 was 6 episodes... but maybe 90 minutes of it total was actually *necessary*.)

Think about what we've learned. Neil wasn't the person we thought he was, and it showed in his treatment of a story we all love. He said himself that he gave fans what they wanted (in terms of the kiss), but we "wouldn't like it." His ego thrived on manipulating, ridiculing and generally stirring up the fan base. The more upset and vulnerable we were, the more satisfied he felt. What do you think, then, was in store for us in his Season 3? Do you think his scripts would have left us feeling satisfied, even if we got the cottage ending?

The new producer doesn't know GO, but the cast and crew love this world and love the story. I'm going to choose to trust that a group of people that overall has been so united and wonderful, so very much on the same page in terms of this love story, will see things through. And I'm excited for an ending that truly is for us... because let's face it, we almost didn't get an ending at all. A TV show that gets rocked in this fashion generally does one of two things: cuts ties and continues if there's enough financial incentive to do so (think House of Cards, Rick and Morty-- both of which are/were MUCH bigger and more profitable than GO), or cancels. Considering how long it took to greenlight S3 and Mickey's "We did the impossible" post on X, I'm sure Amazon was on the verge of pulling the plug. (I'm not going to talk about my opinion on the ethics of these decisions. I'm just saying it's reality. Corporations care about their bottom line and their optics.)

It'll be okay. Let's be optimistic. Neil is gone, the story will continue, and they're doing it for us.

(Last thought: remember that-- in a different reality where Neil Gaiman actually is the person we thought he was-- we might not have gotten anything more satisfying in terms of the A/C love story. Neil doesn't think "settled relationships" are good television. He wouldn't let them lay a finger on each other until the very last episode, I guarantee it.)

(Also, this is the guy who decided that "Crowley lives in his car and Aziraphale doesn't know or doesn't care" made any kind of fucking sense; no, I'm not over it yet.)

#good omens #good omens season 3 #gos3 #the finale #ramblings #we'll be okay #good riddance to plotlines like 'aziraphale goes to Scotland for no reason'#'crowley lives in his car now'. 'Why?' 'Because #'farting nazi zombies'#need I say more

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thewulf · 6 months ago

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Teaching Trails || Azriel

Summary: Request - can i request a teacher reader x azriel where she's Nyx's teacher/tutor and feyre or rhysand asks az to pick him up since they're busy and he swears he falls in love on sight seeing reader be so sweet on Nyxie and how comfortable Nyx is around reader? just something sweet and fluffy and maybe a super nervous az when reader notices him at the doorway?? You can decide the rest. love your work!

A/N: Ahhhh I loved writing this. Idk I just picture Nyx as a sweet bubbly 5/6 year old in this. Adored writing this!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy!!)

As you stand at the edge of one of the many expansive terraces of the House of Wind, the air around you is crisp, the sky a clear, deep blue above the sprawling city of Velaris below. This majestic residence is perched like an eagle's nest atop a solitary mountain and commands a breathtaking view of the Night Court. Its beauty a sure giveaway to ancient power and elegance. Yet despite its grandeur there’s a poignant isolation to it. Especially for young Nyx, whose days are spent within these walls that soar closer to the stars than to the streets where other children play.

Inside the palace is a labyrinth of ornate halls and vast chambers. Each room a masterpiece of art and architecture designed for gods rather than a playful child. The echo of Nyx’s laughter often bounces off the high ceilings. A reminder of the solitude that accompanies his royal upbringing. He is a small but vibrant figure roaming the endless corridors exploring shadowed corners and hidden nooks. His solitude veiled by the splendor surrounding him.

It's during one such quiet evening as the horizon painted a watercolor of twilight hues that Feyre brings up her growing concern to Rhysand. They are in their private chambers. A place where the masks of High Lord and Lady can be set aside. Where vulnerabilities can be voiced without the weight of a crown.

"Nyx needs more than just us. He needs more than this palace," Feyre starts with her voice steady yet filled with an urgency that draws Rhysand’s full attention. "He’s missing out on normal interactions. The kind that happen away from royal duties and ceremonial greetings. He’s a child. He should be learning through play, through friendships formed in mud and laughter. Not just in state rooms and formal gardens."

Rhysand’s expression is torn. As a father he yearns for Nyx to have every happiness the world can offer. But as a ruler the thought of his son, so precious and so exposed, wandering beyond the enchanted safety of their home is daunting. "It's dangerous, Feyre," he counters. His voice laced with a protective edge. "The world isn’t always kind, especially not to those of royal blood."

"But isn’t it more dangerous to raise him in a bubble? How will he learn to lead? To understand his people, if he only ever sees them from a balcony or at formal events?" Feyre’s hands gesture emphatically. Her eyes alight with passion. "We need to let him explore, Rhys. We need to let him be a child. Not just a prince." Their conversation stretches into the night. Debates entwined with silent contemplations until a resolution begins to dawn much like the first light over the Sidra. Rhysand’s fears don’t dissipate entirely but his love for Nyx and his trust in Feyre’s instincts lead him to a concession.

"Alright," he says finally. A reluctant smile breaking through his concerns. "We’ll find him a teacher. Someone who can guide him, teach him, yes, but also someone who can take him beyond these walls. Let him learn about life. About our people through his own experiences. Not just through stories and reports."

Feyre’s relief is palpable and together they set out to find the perfect candidate. The search is exhaustive with candidates from across Prythian and beyond interviewed. They seek not just an educator but a guardian of sorts. Someone who understands the delicate balance of nurturing a child like Nyx. Someone who can foster his curiosity and protect his spirit.

The search for a tutor for young Nyx was not a decision taken lightly. Within the ornate conference room of the House of Wind, Feyre, Rhysand, and other key members of the Inner Circle—save for Azriel, who was away on duty—gathered to commence the rigorous interview process. The room was filled with an air of solemnity as each candidate presented themselves. Their credentials scrutinized not just for academic excellence but for a deeper understanding and alignment with the values of the Night Court.

Mor, with her keen sense of people, led the questioning. Her bright eyes missing nothing. Cassian injected moments of levity lightening the mood with his humor. While Amren's piercing gaze seemed to delve into the very souls of the candidates searching for sincerity and resilience. Each member of the Inner Circle brought their own perspective ensuring that the chosen teacher would not only educate Nyx academically but would also nurture his emotional and cultural development.

Then you entered the room. With a demeanor both warm and composed you introduced yourself. As you spoke about your educational philosophy making sure to emphasize experiential learning and emotional intelligence the panel was visibly impressed. Your background in educational psychology coupled with your years of experience teaching in diverse environments highlighted your capability to adapt and thrive in any teaching scenario. More importantly your genuine passion for fostering young minds resonated deeply with Feyre who nodded appreciatively at your thoughtful answers.

Throughout the interview, your approach to education which focused on developing both the intellect and the heart of a student was clearly aligned with the Night Court's ideals. You spoke of the importance of understanding each student's unique needs and adapting lessons to fit those needs. Even suggesting outdoor classes and cultural excursions that would allow Nyx to learn about his heritage in a tangible, engaging way.

As the interviews concluded and the candidates departed the room buzzed with discussions. It was clear to everyone that you stood out not just for your qualifications but for the gentle strength you exhibited. A trait they all deemed perfect for handling the sensitive nature of their prince's education.

When the decision was made Feyre personally reached out to offer you the position. The joy and excitement in your voice as you accepted was palpable. Aware of the immense responsibility of teaching the heir of the Night Court you were nonetheless thrilled by the opportunity to make a significant impact in a young child's life.

As you prepared to step into this new role your heart was buoyant with anticipation. Not just for the challenges ahead but for the chance to contribute to shaping a future leader of the Night Court. The trust placed in you by such revered figures was not just an honor but a truth to your life's work and passion igniting a fervent desire to start this new chapter.

In the heart of Velaris away from the towering isolation of the House of Wind you spend a delightful morning with Nyx at one of the city's lush public gardens. The day is warm. The gentle buzz of the city a distant backdrop to the laughter and learning that fills the air around the two of you.

You laid out a picnic blanket under the shade of a towering silverleaf tree. The spread covered with books, sketchpads, and an assortment of colorful pencils. Today's lesson is about the flora and fauna of Prythian. A topic that has Nyx bubbling with excitement and curiosity. As he sketches a butterfly that landed briefly on the edge of your blanket you explain the role of pollinators in the ecosystem, delighted by his insightful questions and the meticulous care he takes with his drawing.

"Nyx, do you see how the colors of its wings can tell us about its environment?" you ask as you were pointing to the delicate patterns that mirror the blooms around you.

"Yes!" he exclaims. His eyes lighting up with understanding. "It’s like camouflage, right? They blend in to stay safe from predators!"

"Exactly," you reply. Your heart swelling with pride at his quick grasp of the concepts.

The lesson shifts seamlessly from science to history as you guide Nyx through the stories of the Night Court. Each tale woven into the landmarks visible from your spot in the garden. Nyx listens, rapt, as you tell him about the ancient fae who once walked these paths. The battles they fought and the peace that now thrives in their stead.

As the morning progresses Nyx's natural curiosity leads him to a question that makes you pause. His small voice tinged with genuine wonder. "Why don't you have wings like my mom, dad, Uncle Cassian and Uncle Az? Like that pretty butterfly?" he asks. His head tilting as he regards you thoughtfully.

You smile softly, touched by his innocent inquiry. "Well, not all fae have wings, Nyx. Just like not all flowers have thorns," you explain using an analogy you know he'll understand. "Each of us is unique with different abilities and gifts. It’s what makes us all special in our own way."

Nyx nods considering this. "I think it’s cool you don’t need wings to fly. You have books and stories that can take you anywhere," he decides with a wise look crossing his features that makes you chuckle.

"That’s a wonderful way to put it, Nyx. And remember, we all have our own ways of soaring," you say ruffling his hair affectionately.

As you begin to pack up the day's learning materials you lean closer to Nyx with a conspiratorial whisper. "Tomorrow, we’re going to do something special. We'll join a class with other children your age. You’ll get to play and learn together with them," you tell him watching his face light up with sheer delight.

"Really? I'll have friends to play with?" His voice is filled with excitement. His earlier thoughts about wings forgotten in the anticipation of meeting new friends.

"Absolutely," you assure him sharing in his excitement. "It’ll be a lot of fun and you’ll make lots of new friends."

Nyx's eyes sparkle with anticipation as he begins to imagine the possibilities. "I'm going to tell mom and dad all about it tonight!" he exclaims already planning out his evening conversation. "And I’ll tell Uncle Az too. He likes hearing about my adventures."

The mention of Azriel, whom you've only heard about through Nyx’s enthusiastic stories, adds an interesting layer to your perception of the mysterious figure. "That sounds like a great idea," you respond, amused, and intrigued by Nyx’s affectionate mention of his uncle. "It seems Uncle Az is quite the hero in your stories."

"Yeah! He’s really cool! He can disappear like a shadow and is always on secret missions," Nyx says. His admiration for Azriel evident in his wide eyes and animated gestures.

The day ends with Nyx bouncing along the path back to you classroom chatting animatedly about all the things he hopes to do with the other children. His excitement about sharing his upcoming school day with his family, especially with his beloved Uncle Az, whom you've yet to meet but feel like you already know through Nyx's tales, fills the air with joy.

Your heart warms at his enthusiasm knowing that these new experiences are exactly what he needs. As Nyx sketches another flower with his small hand moving confidently you know these moments of joy and anticipation are as precious to him as they are to you, nurturing not just a young prince’s mind but also his spirit. The connections he's building with his family, with you, and soon with his peers are shaping him into a thoughtful, well-rounded individual, ready to explore the world with confidence and curiosity.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon casting a warm, golden light through the windows of your classroom the day's adventures wind down to a quieter, more reflective pace. You sit in a cozy corner of the room on a soft, plush cushioned area you've set up specifically for reading. Nyx nestles beside you as his energy from earlier now softened into the gentle tiredness of a day well spent. In your hands a beautifully illustrated book about the legends of Prythian opens to a page where the heroic deeds of ancient warriors are painted in vivid colors.

As you read aloud, your voice smooth and soothing, Nyx's eyelids begin to flutter gently. You notice his weary smile as he listens. The adventures of the day transforming into the adventures in the pages. Gently, almost instinctively, you begin to caress his hair. Smoothing it back from his forehead in a tender, rhythmic motion. It's a peaceful scene, the kind of simple, heartfelt moment that often goes unnoticed in the bustling life of the Night Court.

Unknown to you his Uncle Azriel stands at the doorway having arrived to pick up Nyx. He pauses there, a silent observer, taken aback by the tranquility and warmth of the tableau before him. His task had been simple. He was to retrieve Nyx and bring him home but the scene he encounters tugs at something deep within him. A longing for such unguarded peace.

Azriel watches as Nyx's breathing deepens, the sweet child drifting closer to sleep with each gentle brush of your hand. Your care for Nyx, so natural and affectionate, strikes a chord in Azriel. He's seen many facets of life. So many forms of relationships and bonds but the simplicity and purity of this moment resonate with him profoundly.

He remains there at the threshold hesitant to interrupt the moment. He was captivated by the gentleness of your interactions with Nyx. The world he usually inhabits—one of shadows and secrets—feels miles away from the soft warmth of this sunlit room. In this pause Azriel realizes that his task isn't just about escorting Nyx. It's about respecting and appreciating the sacred, everyday magic that people like you bring into Nyx's life.

Eventually though the story comes to an unfortunate end, and you close the book before looking down at Nyx to see him fully asleep. A contented expression on his young face. As you carefully consider how to wake him Azriel finally clears his throat softly announcing his presence.

You look up, startled slightly, your eyes meeting his for the first time. There's a moment of mutual acknowledgment. A silent appreciation for the scene he's just witnessed. An understanding that while your worlds may be different the care you show to Nyx bridges them beautifully. Azriel steps into the room. His movements gentle as he did not want to disturb the serene atmosphere you've created.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Azriel says quietly. His voice carrying a warmth that surprises even him. "He obviously treasures these moments with you."

"You're welcome. It's truly a pleasure teaching him," you reply with a warm smile. Your eyes reflecting genuine affection for Nyx.

As you gently wake Nyx his eyes flutter open gradually clearing as they adjust to the presence of another in the room. When he spots Azriel standing quietly by the door a bright, sleepy smile spreads across his face. He quickly scrambles to his feet, excitement replacing any remnants of sleepiness.

"Uncle Az!" Nyx exclaims. His voice filled with delight as he runs into Azriel's open arms. Azriel catches him effortlessly before lifting him into a warm hug. They share a moment, uncle and nephew reunited, their easy laughter filling the room. You grin recognizing him as the infamous Azriel in Nyx’s life.

Then as if struck by a sudden realization Nyx turns back towards you with a look of proud excitement lighting up his features. With a firm grip on Azriel's hand he pulls him closer to you and announces, "This is Miss Y/N, my favorite teacher ever!" His voice carries through the room filled with genuine admiration and joy.

Azriel's gaze shifts to you. A slight tension beneath his calm demeanor as he processes Nyx's enthusiastic introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, his voice steady but softer than usual, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness mingling with his words.

You smile warmly, extending your hand in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you, Azriel. Nyx tells me you're quite the hero," you say. Your tone light and inviting.

Azriel takes your hand and for a moment his usual composure falters under your gaze. He's momentarily taken aback not just by the warmth of your smile but by the unexpected impact of your presence. She's beautiful, he thinks, and kind... The realization that he's slightly awestruck surprises him. He finds himself momentarily lost for words.

"And I've heard you've been learning about heroes in your lessons with Nyx," he manages to say his voice carrying a hint of warmth that rarely surfaces. Nyx obviously pleased with the exchange claps his hands excitedly.

"Can we all walk back home together?" Nyx asks looking up at both of you with hopeful, bright eyes, “Please!” He adds in for good measure as if you weren’t going to immediately say yes to him.

"Of course, Nyx," Azriel responds after looking to you for confirmation.

You nod, gathering your belongings, and the three of you step out into the cool evening of Velaris. As you walk Nyx fills the air with chatter about his day seamlessly weaving together his two worlds with tales of butterflies and ancient warriors. Azriel listens with a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His initial nervousness easing as he's drawn into the simple joy of the moment. His thoughts linger on you, intrigued, and unexpectedly moved by the genuine connection forming between you, Nyx, and himself. A beautiful end to an enriching day.

As the three of you begin your walk back through the twilight streets of Velaris the usual calm that Azriel embodies seems to waver slightly. He is typically a figure of stoic composure, his presence both commanding and elusive shadowed by the mysteries of his duties as the Spymaster. However, today, as he walks beside you, something is distinctly different.

Azriel's steps are measured. His usual fluid grace tempered by a hint of uncertainty. His glances towards you are quick, almost cautious, as if he's trying to decipher an unfamiliar script. The conversation flows easily around Nyx's enthusiastic chatter about his day but each time you turn your attention directly to Azriel a subtle tension flickers across his features.

"You really have a wonderful way with Nyx," you say hoping to bridge the gap with kindness. "He's always so excited to share what he's learned with you."

Azriel nods. A slight flush visible beneath the dusky hue of his skin. "Thank you," he murmurs as his voice is softer than usual. "It's... it's good to see him so happy. You do a lot for him."

The simplicity of your interactions, the easy smiles and gentle teasing you offer to Nyx, resonate with Azriel in a way that is both heartening and unnerving. He's unaccustomed to feeling this way—unsettled yet drawn in, eager yet shy. His hands though normally steady and sure whether wielding a weapon or a shadow clench slightly at his sides betraying his internal struggle.

As Nyx runs ahead a little, bursting with energy as he recounts another part of his day, Azriel takes a moment to compose himself. He glances at you again. This time holding your gaze a moment longer than before. The vulnerability rarely seen by others is palpable now as it was a quiet admission of his nervousness.

"I'm... not usually this unsure," Azriel confesses quietly almost to himself. "But there's something about these moments…. seeing Nyx so at ease with you. It's more comforting than I anticipated."

Your response is a gentle smile, one that acknowledges his admission without pressing further. It's a smile that seems to say you understand that the quiet spaces between words can be filled with kindness, not just silence.

The rest of the walk continues with a softer ease. A budding respect forming amidst the shared glances and the fading light of day. Azriel's initial nervousness slowly ebbs away instead replaced by a quiet appreciation for the unexpected warmth this evening has brought into his usually guarded world.

As the three of you approach the grandeur of the House of Wind, the towering structure casts long shadows over the cobblestone paths. It’s presence as awe-inspiring as it is imposing. Nyx who was still bubbling with energy despite the day's adventures, rushes ahead. Clearly he was eager to recount his tales to Feyre and Rhysand. You pause at the entrance. The vast doors open as if welcoming back its prince.

"It's been a wonderful day, Nyx," you say, giving him a soft hug. "Don't forget to draw that butterfly we talked about!"

"I won't, Miss Y/N!" Nyx promises. His voice echoing slightly in the vast entryway. He turns and dashes inside as his laughter lingered in the air.

You turn to Azriel with a smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for letting me share part of your evening. I should head back home now."

Azriel’s expression shifts. Concern etching his features. "It’s getting late," he observes while glancing at the skies, now painted with the deep blues and purples of dusk. "Please, allow me to walk you back to your home. The streets can be less than forgiving at this hour."

You pause appreciating his concern but ready to reassure him of your safety. "That’s very kind of you, Azriel, but it’s no worry. I know these streets well," you say as you turned to make your way down the path.

Before you can take more than a few steps a subtle but firm presence stops you. Looking down you see one of Azriel’s shadows has stretched out across the path in front of you almost playfully barring your way. It's a gentle unspoken plea that catches you by surprise echoing Azriel’s silent wish for you not to go alone.

Azriel takes a step forward. His gaze earnest. "I would truly feel better if I could ensure your safe return. Please," he adds. A rare hint of vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't expected.

Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes and touched by his quiet insistence you nod to him with a smile spreading across your face. "Alright, Azriel, if it means that much to you then I’d welcome the company," you agree. The warmth in your tone matching the softness in his eyes.

"Thank you," he replies visibly relieved. He quickly steps inside to ensure Nyx is settled and returns to you with a more relaxed demeanor ready to accompany you.

As you and Azriel begin the walk back to your home the streets of Velaris are bathed in the gentle glow of the stars and softly lit lanterns casting an enchanting light over the cobblestones. The atmosphere lends a serene backdrop to the conversation that begins to unfold between you.

"You know, Nyx speaks so highly of you," you start by breaking the initial silence with a warm tone. "He's always so excited after spending time with you. You must have some exciting tales from your duties."

Azriel chuckles softly. A sound so serene that it seems to dance in the night air. "Nyx has a way of making everything sound more thrilling than it might actually be. But yes, there are times when my duties hold some... intrigue." He pause, as if weighing what to share. "Mostly, I'm just ensuring that the court and our lands are safe. It's not always as adventurous as Nyx might depict."

"And what about when you're not cloaked in shadows and mystery?" you ask genuinely curious about the man beside you beyond his role as the Spymaster.

A hint of surprise flickers across Azriel's face. Surprised yet pleased by the interest you’re showing in him. "I enjoy solitude, usually. Reading, training... Though I have a fondness for sword making. It’s a craft that requires precision and patience much like my usual work but with a more tangible, creative result."

"Sword making? That’s fascinating," you remark smiling at the thought. "It must be rewarding to create something so intricate and vital."

"It is," he agrees. His voice softening ever so slightly. "And what about you? What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

You nod before reflecting on your simple pleasures. "I love hiking and just watching nature. There’s something peaceful about observing the natural world. Just seeing how it exists so beautifully without any need for interference."

The conversation flows naturally from there. The earlier apprehension melting into a mutual appreciation for each other’s hobbies and life outside of official duties. As you talk Azriel’s steps seem to synchronize with yours. His presence an incredibly comforting shadow by your side.

When you finally reach your doorstep the city around you has quieted even further. The only sounds being the distant murmur of the Night Court's nightlife and the gentle rustling of leaves. Azriel pauses, standing just a bit closer than before. His usually guarded demeanor dimmed under the starlight.

"Thank you for allowing me to walk you home," he says. His voice sincere and gentle as if reflecting the calmness of the evening.

"It was my pleasure," you respond, finding yourself reluctant to end the conversation. "I enjoyed our talk, Azriel. It’s nice to see the person behind the shadows."

He smiles. A true smile that reaches his eyes making them sparkle with a rare lightness. "I did as well. More than I expected. Perhaps we could do this again, maybe take a hike together?"

"I’d like that," you agree. Your heart light with the promise of future conversations, of shared paths both literal and metaphorical.

"Good night, Miss Y/N. Take care," Azriel says as he steps back ready to meld back into the shadows from which he came.

"Good night, Azriel. And thank you… for everything tonight," you call after him. A smile still playing on your lips as you watch him disappear into the night. The connection between you both stronger and sweeter for the shared walk under Velaris’ starlit sky.

In the days that follow Azriel finds himself inventing reasons to visit your classroom or accompany Nyx to his lessons more often than strictly necessary. Each visit, purportedly to check on Nyx’s educational progress or to discuss scheduling with you becomes a cherished opportunity for him to engage in brief, yet meaningful conversations with you.

Each encounter, ostensibly casual, subtly deepens his affection and admiration for you. He begins to notice the small details: the way your eyes light up when discussing a new teaching method, the gentle patience with which you guide Nyx through difficult lessons, and the enthusiasm that bubbles up when you talk about your nature hikes. Azriel who was typically reserved and composed finds himself drawn into your world of vibrant enthusiasm and heartfelt dedication.

One afternoon as Azriel stands somewhat hidden by the doorway of your classroom just like he did that first day he met you observes a particularly touching scene. Nyx, having mastered a particularly tricky spell, turns to you with a triumphant grin. You laugh, your joy as vivid as the sparkle in Nyx's eyes. He swears your laughter seems to light up the room.

Watching this Azriel feels a warmth spread through him. A warmth that has little to do with the sun filtering in through the windows. It’s in this simple, unguarded moment that he realizes his feelings for you have deepened beyond mere admiration. He's not just falling for your kindness towards Nyx but also for the genuine spirit and infectious joy you bring into every interaction.

As he steps away from the doorway with a thoughtful smile playing on his lips Azriel knows that what he feels is something profound and undeniable. Your spirit which was so vibrant and full of life calls to him in a way that no one else ever has. And as he walks away with his shadows trailing behind him he’s certain of one thing. He wants to explore where this connection might lead not just for Nyx's sake but for his own heart’s as well.

After ensuring that Nyx was safely back at the House of Wind you begin to make your way back towards your home. The day's light is waning casting long shadows that stretch across the cobblestone streets of Velaris, adding a mystical allure to the city’s evening charm.

As you step forward, the sound of your footsteps is a soft echo in the quieting city. You're lost in thought pondering the pleasant interaction with Nyx and looking forward to the solitude of your evening walk home. However, before you can get far you hear Azriel’s voice calling out from behind you.

“Wait, please!” His tone carries a blend of urgency and hesitation that halt’s you in your tracks.

You turn around surprised to see him approaching quickly. His usually composed demeanor replaced by a slight breathlessness. The shadows that always linger around him seem to pulse in sync with the heightened beat of his heart.

Azriel catches up to you. His expression earnest. “I just wanted to ask properly,” he starts, his voice steadying as he meets your gaze. “Would you join me for a hike this evening? There’s a trail not far from here that’s especially beautiful in the evening light. I think you’d really enjoy the views, and...” He pauses before taking a breath reassuring himself, “I would really enjoy the company.”

Your smile deepens, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerable way he presents his request. The softening of his features and the hopeful look in his eyes paint a picture of a man stepping beyond the shadows that define him.

“I would love to, Azriel,” you reply warmly. Your voice filled with genuine excitement. “It sounds like a perfect way to end the day.”

Relief washes over Azriel’s face. His usual stoic mask giving way to a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he says as if a weight was lifting from his shoulders. “Shall we meet at the edge of the city in half an hour?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you agree already anticipating the quiet beauty of the trail and the shared moments ahead.

As you both part ways to prepare for the evening hike the anticipation of the upcoming adventure brings a new spring to your step. Azriel turns back once more watching you walk away, his heart lighter. He realizes just how much he’s looking forward to exploring not only the natural wonders of Velaris but also the potential of a new and blossoming relationship with you. The thought brings that rare and hopeful smile to his lips. One that he carries with him as he disappears into the shadows to ready himself for the evening.

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