#insect sitting on flower

[billionneuronscurious]

A hemipteran bug sitting on Celosia sp. (Cockscomb) as it rains.

[flufflecat]

I met a lovely bumblebee a few days ago (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

[cinimuffin]

Messing around in photoshop

[rusted-phone-calls]

I miss touching grass

[rex3o]

Doting wife p2

Royal au! Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna sat on his throne, his face intense as his son plays around him. His advisors standing quietly in front him their heads bowed. His mind lingered on the event that was a couple weeks ago. Since then, he has not stopped.

Every dinner, he makes sure that whatever is served is to your liking, just to see your happy silent reaction when eating. He has ordered the servants to tend to the royal gardens, to plant specific flowers according to your preferences. Just to watch you walk around the garden with your son and enjoy the flowers. He made you go horse riding with him, just to talk about things you liked.

During his meetings with his advisors he would call for you and ask your opinion on certain matters in his meetings with his advisors.

Yet he knows you still hold yourself back around him, he knows you silently enjoy the effort he is putting despite getting onto him during the event. Though your silent enjoyment and appreciation is enough for him. He longs for more.

He longs for you to willing spend time with him again. He longs for your attention and care he had stupidly taken granted for.

His mind settles back into reality as one of his advisors had briefly mentioned about getting his son's portrait painted for his fourth birthday. There it struck sukuna.

-

You huffed as you stood by your mirror, as your lady in waiting examined the maids handling your gown ensuring it was perfect for the portrait. As they tended your hair, and make up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Several hours alone with Sukuna. You pondered 'why' ever since you got the news that Sukuna had requested a new royal portrait of you two. You had one which was done a couple days after your wedding and not one since. So why one now?

Lost in thought, the maids finished and you made your way mindlessly towards the main hall, with your lady in waiting behind you. As you looked up, the painter smiled at you motioning you to sit next to Sukuna, as he is ready to paint. Your lady in waiting helped you up to your seat, whilst doing some finishing touches and ensured your dress was quite fine as she walked back to the painter as he started sketching.

The first few minutes, was met with silence. You remained still, only toying with the ring on your finger, as the only thing heard in the room was the harsh streaks of the pencil against the canvas.

"You look beautiful" he utters out quietly for you both to hear. You simply nod in response.

Sukuna tries to carry the conversation by asking how your day had been, if you had eaten, or how your son was and what he did. Till he softly sighs and glances at you.

"I miss you." he says.

"I am right here husband.. no need to miss me" You say without much emotion not wanting to be vulnerable.

"you know what I mean..." as he looks back up.

"I see how your face lights up at dinner, I watch how you enjoy your time in the gardens with our son. How you only like reading a certain genre of books.. how you only like to drink tea in the evening after dinner...how you despise insects after our horse riding trip."

He hesistatess before continuing.

"I wish you would share such moments with me again.. instead of me observing it from a distance. I want to hear how much you like the food that has been served. I want to walk along with you in the gardens with our son, as you ramble on whatever it is you like.. I want to drink tea with you- I just want to be with you again..."

You sat next to him somewhat speechless. Your hand gripping on the ring on your finger tightens as you take a sharp inhale and exhale holding composure.

"Why.. why has it taken you this long." Quickly and quietly you ask not wanting your voice to break. As your eyes remain on the painter and your lady in waiting. Afraid if you lay your eyes upon your husband tears will rush out.

"I have no excuse my wife.. the best way I can put it into words for you, is watching a candle burn down to its final flicker. Once it's gone and the darkness closes in, you finally understand how much that small, steady glow meant. You were that light in my life.. and i took it for granted."

He sighs as he continues "I am sorry it has taken me to loose you to understand the importance you hold in my life"

As he rests his large hand over yours.

"I may not have given you the love you well deserved over the past four years, but let me make the most of the years we have left to make it up to you. I will take however long it takes."

His hand wraps round yours as he takes it up and gently places a kiss on your knuckles. A tear slips down your face, which you quickly wipe away.

"it won't be easy-" you try to say yet Sukuna interrupts you.

"I know my sweet wife.. I know." As you finally look at him, his deep crimson eyes resting on yours. A quiet pull to one another, urging to be met.

Yet the moment broken by the painter looking up and exclaiming.

"Yes, yes, yes, the look of love keep that look your majesties, I need exactly that! and just you wait your portrait will overshadow any other." He says happily as he starts to paint.

Sukuna face having a subtle annoyance stretched over it, you chuckle quietly.

After the tedious hours of sitting for this portrait ends. The only thing keeping you going was your small conversations with Sukuna, as he his hand remained on yours not wanting to let go. You both walk over to see the work of art. As it depicted you sat facing forward with a soft smile on your face, with Sukuna next to you his hand over yours with his eyes on you.

An arm wrap around your waist, as Sukuna praises the painter.

"You definitely did outdo yourself, look at my wife" he exclaims as he looks at you. Not used to his attention you awkwardly chuckle and avoid his look. His hand grabbing your chin pulling your face up as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"My beautiful wife... you know what let's hold a celebration." Your eyes widen at the sudden plan.

"Over a portrait- no- that's too much." you interject.

"Hush, once people set their eyes upon this portrait they will understand why I had to hold such a celebration" Sukuna smirks at you.

You try to continue, but Sukuna doesn't let you as he looks at your lady in waiting.

"Next Wednesday I want the celebration, ensure my wife glows I want it to be about her-" As you try to speak Sukuna keeps cutting in on what to do for the event.

"Next Wednesday is my birthday!'" A small angry voice is heard, you laugh as your son did what you couldn't. He runs over as Sukuna picks up him.

"Apologises brat, then let it be his birthday AND a celebration-" Sukuna orders as your son continues to whine that it is his birthday.

In that moment, everything goes silent on your mind, as your gaze fixed on your husband and son, as you anxiously anticipated the oncoming years on your relationship with your husband.

The new painting embarking a new chapter in your rekindled love.

part 1

-

Authors note: OMLLLL thank you all so much for enjoying the first part guys oml- and im so sorry this took long to come out I was kinda busy w work and shii loool also like I was kinda stumped on how to continue this from the first chapter as I really didn't think further to continue it till ppl started asking for it. So, i am sorry if it seems a bit rushed. But I do hope this chapter does some sort of justice but unfortutnately I will only be leaving it at 2 parts and nothing more.

- R

[talkbycolor]

MC's kindergarden . . . ↷

Yanderes as toddlers AU

GN!Reader as a teacher who doesnt get paid enough for this.

CW: just a bunch of weird kids wanting to marry their teacher, keep scrolling

Sunny Day Jack.

the golden child, the angel of the classroom, he is a little devil in disguise, getting his classmates into trouble so that his teacher thinks he is the best

he looks like a mini teacher, he teaches colors to his classmates and shares everything (except the teacher)

uses guilt to convince his teacher, but with that little face and red cheeks, who wouldn't fall for it?

a very intelligent child but he is selfish, he learned to steal cookies from the kitchen and has not told anyone

he gives part of his lunch to his teacher, he likes to eat and sit next to him, he is the child who gives bouquets of flowers picked from the playground (MC already scolded him so he should look for other places to get flowers)

MC doesn't usually scold him often since he manipulates and makes kicked puppy eyes to get his way, a mini bastard

John Doe.

probably autistic and socially anxious child, very attached to MC, they must always accompany him to go to the bathroom, he eats in the classroom during recess time while MC teacher accompanies him

this is the child you have to make sure doesn't go through the trash or eat the crayons

he is actually a very sweet boy, MC usually combs his hair before school so it doesn't bother him, for some reason Doe always has it tangled and dirty

he can't count to 10 with his hands, poor thing

cat-like affection, gives insects or interesting things he found on the playground to his teacher

when the children play house, he is the mascot

Alan Orion.

boy obsessed with outer space, his lunch box and clothes are full of planets and stars

wants to impress MC with his knowledge about space, he usually tells them facts about galaxies and constellations during classes

MC of course would notice certain marks on Alan's little body, he would feel protective of the child (llamen al dif)

he steals things from his classmates, he was already scolded several times by MC

animal lover, once brought a moth he found on the playground into the classroom and Doe ate it, he cried for thirty minutes while MC comforted him

when he plays with puppets he pretends that one puppet is him and the other is MC, usually his games are of them getting married and living in the forest

Peter Dunbar.

a very sociable child simply because he is indifferent to all other people other than MC, he enjoys causing mischief to his classmates who play with MC

MC has to make sure Peter doesn't bite his fingers or scratch his face, a habit he has while concentrating

Peter looks like a bald rat when it's very hot weather, which MC finds funny, but they still puts sunscreen on him so the boy doesn't get sun-burned

even though there are many things that Peter doesn't like, like swimming, fruits or singing, he would do it for MC, adding the biggest embarrassment of his life by doing group dance with his classmates but happy to see his favorite teacher smiling

he would bring sweet lunches to share with his teacher, lying by saying that it is too much and he can't eat it all by himself (Peter loves sweet lunches but he loves his teacher more)

probably draws him and MC on the board with lots of hearts around them, causing the other kids in the classroom to start crying because they want to be the only ones for MC

Ren.

a cutie with his teacher, a bastard with everyone else, he knows how to maintain that image very well to fool MC

he sneaks into the staff room to see you, very attentive, isn't he? sometimes he leaves small gifts on your table

fights with Peter every time he tries to get him in trouble with the teacher, he must maintain his good boy reputation for you to love him!

the last time a girl confessed to him, Ren pushed her into the mud of the playground and made her cry, unfortunately the girl told MC and Ren also cried, not because of the scolding but because he didn't want MC to think that he was bad

once he saw you outside of class time, you were at the supermarket and he panicked because he had fake tattoos that he put on (they came in the packaging of the gum he ate)

MC would come to think that Ren lives in a super religious way since he always draws angels. Ren doesn't draw angels, he draws an angel (you)

Mycheal.

another little manipulator but this one cries every time he tricks MC and gets hugs illicitly (little baby)

he is a very hardworking child in class when it is time to do manual work, he likes to make small paper flowers for his teacher

the baby gets very sad every time he is left out of school projects, he doesn't know why no one seems to like him. surprisingly, he managed to get along fairly well with John Doe until he noticed his interest in MC

usually wraps his tail around MC's leg whenever he feels nervous or sick, that has been an indicator for MC to lull the child

kid who is a cotton candy fan, Peter pushed him while they were playing on the playground and his candy fell to the ground (he cried for 40 minutes)

kitten boy starts purring when MC praises his work

Keith and Tenebris.

as for them, I decided that they were twins in this AU (tenebris still has his blue skin and strange smile), they don't seem to get along very well and have a marked rivalry because they both want MC for themselves

Keith usually hates being in the classroom because his classmates are very noisy, MC has tried to help him with the overstimulation so that it is not an uncomfortable experience, since then Keith loves going to kindergarten

Tenebris does not get along with most of his classmates (if not all), he came close to befriending John Doe and Mycheal because they know what it's like to be treated differently because of how they look, but Doe scared him off by showing him a pair of beetles he found on the playground and Mycheal…well, just by being a liar

Keith is a very dedicated child, he likes to take care of the flowers in the playground with the help of MC, his teacher usually reads books about facts about flowers and apparently Keith is one of the few who pays attention (he cries every time that Jack plucks flowers from the garden to give them to MC)

Tenebris uses a toy guitar from the classroom to serenade his favorite teacher, that always kills MC with cuteness (Tenebris gets angry because it's not a real guitar)

when there are school trips, Keith always takes his teacher's hand and tries to pull them to see everything he finds interesting with them, whether it's a flower or a heart-shaped cloud

Tenebris always takes advantage when playing with swords with his classmates to satisfy his violent need to hurt everyone who likes MC, the game ends up turning into a real battle and Tenebris is scolded

Solivan Brugmansia.

at first glance, MC thought that the boy was always upset and didn't like him being around, but Sol just doesn't know what to do like when he's around his favorite teacher

the quiet child in the classroom, prefers to do his work alone, always takes the opportunity to draw MC with chalk on the playground

the boy is obviously obsessed (and not in a fun way) with his teacher, his parents came to the classroom angry because Sol had his sketchbooks full of sketches of you

you are the only person he allows to hold his stuffed animal, he leaves it with you whenever he goes to the bathroom and asks you to play with it, you don't think it's strange that Sol has a stuffed horse, children have strange toys all the time

Sol is clearly a target for bullying, you know it, you see it, so you have to constantly check that he is not hurt (Peter put gum in his hair once and he cried a lot)

SURPRISINGLY, he is one of the few children who has REAL friends, he has Hyugo, a classmate from another class, Hyugo knows about his crush on MC and is not very secretive, Sol has to cover his mouth or push him to the sandbox to make him shut up

Damon.

puppy love, usually chases other children on all fours and licks snot from his own nose

barks every time someone gets too close to MC but in the end the scolding is always worth it since MC teacher strokes his head when he doesn't promise it won't happen again (it will happen again)

he will believe anything you tell him, he is quite gullible with the things that MC says, if his teacher tells him that he can't dig holes in the playground because giant insects will come out of there that will eat everyone, Damon believes it

sweet tooth, loves chocolate, MC has to be careful with what his students eat, Damon often hides chocolate bars in his pockets and that always ends in MC confiscating the chocolates

Damon has a friend in another class who he calls DG, he is his best friend and again Damon is one of the few kids with real friends in your class, DG knows that Damon likes you but unlike Hyugo he is more secretive

when there are school dances, Damon gives his all, always trying hard, not only because he loves to dance but he also loves when his favorite teacher applauds and praises him

 ♡

[ophelieverse]

please please please i need you to write something for my man Aegon I love how you write for him😭

➳♡before fire takes it all

Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

-summary:normally Aegon would ignore Helaena and her strange behavior but,since his wife Y/n got pregnant,he can’t help but think about the words his sister said the moment he announced the news.

-warnings:set in season 1,pre blood and cheese and luke death,teen pregnancy(both Aegon and reader are sixteen),talk about child death,Aegon being paranoid and keeping secrets,Helaena predictions,classic asoiaf warnings,reader can be of whatever house you want.

-thank you so much for the request and let me know what you guys think,send you all my love🩷

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It hurts.

Love,Aegon thinks.

Love hurts.

His heart bursts,his heart explodes,his heart climbs down his throat and assaults his temples, squeezing and compressing them until his eyes darken,until it scars the tormented irises and pupils.

Loving too much is fatal.Or not?

Isn't that so?

Live well,live badly.Does he lives at all?

“I don't know”,his conscience responds.

Aegon would like to know,but he doesn’t know.He doesn’t even think he knows what the right way to live is anymore,he’s terrified that he doesn’t know what it means to live anymore.

How can he live?How?

How can he pretend that everything is alright?That everything,in the future,is going to be alright?

Normally Aegon wouldn’t think about these sort of things,he used to live day by day dictated by his own selfish desires.But since he had got married two years ago,something in him changed completely.He started to understand what it meant to love and live for someone else,to wake up every morning early to just watch her sleep so soundly next to him,to stay sober at every hour so that he could remember her kind words,her sweet face and calm voice.Wanting to be a different version,a better one,of himself only because she showed him that he deserved happiness and love like everyone else and in return he only wanted to give her the best he could.

But golden necklaces,earrings,beautiful flowers and the most expensive dresses could not fill the hole that was slowly opening under their feet,a hidden tragedy ready to swallow them whole and to break their hearts and souls forever.

Aegon wasn’t one to listen to his family,he longed for his mother love and his father attention,he despised his older half sister,made fun of his younger brothers and mostly ignored his other sister.Only this time,something happened,something made him look in Helaena direction for the first time and his ears had caught every single word that she had whispered to herself.

His wife,Lady Y/n,the most beautiful and kind woman,a innocent young girl with a heart too big for her body,was pregnant.It was true,what they said about expecting women,she was glowing like the most precious diamond and her happiness about becoming a mother,the mother of the lover of her life child,couldn’t be contained by her shiny eyes and big smile.

«The Maester said that signs suggest is going to be a boy.»Aegon had announced one day at the breakfast table.

His mother had smiled kindly and Aemond had nodded giving his shoulder a warm squeeze.It was still too early in the pregnancy to understand whether is was going to be boy or a girl,but still Aegon had hoped that the Maester was right.Having a son was a dream that he never dared to imagine or to say out loud until then,the living proof that he was going to be better than his father ever was for him.

Helaena was sitting next to him,quietly playing with a wooden butterfly,all lost in the secret gardens of her mind when she muttered something: «A son for a son.»without even understanding her own words.

As their mother and brother were talking,Aegon turned slightly toward her.Usually he wouldn’t pay attention to his sister and her strange behavior,he was disgusted by all of those insects that she so lovingly brought everywhere like some pet on a leash and he was so relieved when his father had betrothed him to Y/n instead that her.He wouldn’t even lister or look over her if in the past,her silent words of warning weren’t revealed to be the sour truth.Aemond had lost an eye just like she had said.Maybe if back then he had listened to her,he would have helped his brother and nothing would have happened.

«What does it mean?»Aegon had whispered to her confused.

Helaena wasn’t looking at him,her fingers gracefully tracing the toy«They only want the boy,not the girl.»she said as if she didn’t heard him,nodding to herself.

Aegon left the spoon that he was holding,a sensation of nausea was crawling up his stomach,his heart beating faster«The boy?My boy?Who wants him?»he asked.

His sister stayed quiet,every second felt like an agony for him.His mind became of stone and a part of his was laughing for the fact that he was actually really listening to her,to her crazy words and empty head.But still,something,maybe his father instinct that was already part of him,told him that what she was saying was another dark truth.

A boy and a girl,she had said.He was going to have both,twins.He couldn’t even imagine it,praying that they would take after their mother soft and gentle spirit but also his fierce nature.Y/n would have been delighted to know that they were about to have twice of the love,but what would she said if she knew that someone wanted their son?

«The rats.»Helaena answered then,her eyes bore holes in his as she turned to look at her older brother,shiny lilac flowers watered in fear and condolences.

It had been months since that conversation and Aegon couldn’t stop to think about it.Every night,as he watched Y/n sleep next to him while he so gently caressed her belly where two new lives were growing,he could still feel his sister horrified stare on him and her heavy words in his ears.

Y/n is talking to Aegon,while they were lying under the covers of their bed.Her head is on his chest,her hair smelled of flowers and peaches,her voice sleepy and always so tender as his hand was staying on her swollen stomach.She's talking to him about her day and he can't listen to her,he can't even see her behind his pale eyelashes that lower,behind his tired eyelids that are threatening to close tightly.

With the fingers of his free hand he massage them,the nail of his index finger finds a tear that was hidden there,at the corner of the right eye,and uprooting it,let it be dried out by air.

Aegon was exhausted.He had difficulty to sleep when every sound made him jump,every shadow in the corner gave him a heart attack.

He would like to stop thinking,he would like to find a way to turn off his mind,to blow up the candle that kept his brain from sleeping and this crazy thought makes him understand that he had become even more incredibly pathetic than he already was.

Aegon was terrorized.If he already ignored Helaena,now he was avoiding her like the plague in fear that she could say something else,or worse,talk about her thoughts to Y/n.

Y/n,his beautiful and sweet wife,already had so much to think about.Being eight months pregnant was taking a toll on her,even though she never stopped smiling,he could see that she was tired and that her body couldn’t bare it anymore.He couldn’t let her worry about something that his weird sister said to him,not when the Maester said that she needed peace,calmness and affection.And even if he hadn’t said that,how could Aegon tell her what was keeping him awake at night?

He set more and more knights to follow his wife around to make sure that nothing happened to her and his children,the Maester came to check on her at least once a day and when he wasn’t with her,his mother would keep her company in the solarium.He had personally hired people to hunt the rats of the Red Keep.Aegon so often dreamed of being just like the armors that Ser Arryk wears,cold, motionless,empty,that he has come to believe that it would be beautiful,it would be fulfilling,to be something without emotions and rest in a corner without light.

Aegon had still to meet his son,both of his children,after he had dreamed of him,of them,for so long.And yet already someone wanted to take his baby away from him.

The flashes of the veins on his forehead tingle and he clash,he crush himself,against an imaginary expanse of water that slaps his brain,crushes his lungs with long ivory tusks,disfigures his face.

Aegon was blocked.

He was stuck in some claustrophobic scribbled box,in a rusty bubble of his faulty soul,and he was afraid see beyond.But he could see the future,the one that Helaena had tried to warn him about.

He could see beyond and,the certainty is disconcerting,he clearly see that the worst nightmare of any human being,what wakes up men in the middle of the night and scares children with simple shadows,is the awareness of being chased:no one can ever escape from themselves,no one has ever escaped from destiny.

Not even him,especially him.

Because Aegon knew already,tasting it on the tip of his tongue,that what will happen is was going to be his fault.Certainly not because of Y/n.

«Am I boring you?»Y/n voice was tired but still sweet«Forgive me,my days are monotonous,predictable and highly boring.»she huffed,caressing his hand above her stomach.

Ever since she had started showing,her husband treated her like the finest and most delicate porcelain.All she could do during the day was read in their chambers,walk through the gardens and pray with the Queen.Not exactly a vivacious life,especially since Ser Arryk followed her every move.

She yawns,she apologizes,and Aegon finally slam the lumpy eyelashes and look at her.

Y/n is smiling,innocent,carrying his children and then his body moves by itself,he act instinctively, and get her closer to him.

A hand behind her nape,a strong and fast grip, almost stuttered,and Aegon feel her words on the palate,he eat them between his lips moving on her open mouth.He kiss her badly,and he hurt himself,he will hurt both of them,he kiss her following the dull rhythm of his ears,he kiss her and he pass the noise of his thoughts to her.

Aegon feels a hole in the center of his throat,a knot of cries,and this makes him sway and covers his eyes with torn red lightning here and there,it breaks his mind.Yet he keep kissing her.He have to kiss her.

Kissing Y/n scratches his soul,kissing her stirs up his fears and reminds him,in the pause of one of her breath,the so natural way in which pleasure and pain mix,get tangled,whenever pieces of skin graze and play with the tongues and crests of a fire.Fingertips caressing purple flames,white sheets reduced to blackened shreds,a plate of ice lying on the jigular.

Kissing Y/n now is like taking a sip of salt.Filling her mouth,having her under his palms,feeling the boiling heat of her cheeks against his nose and against his upper lip.

Y/n forces Aegon to give her every good part of himself,even those he thought were lost by now,and she does it with twisting tongues or with an annoying clash of teeth.All it takes is a simple touch and he’s willing to give her the world.She makes him wanting to be a better person and he so scared to fail her,that he wouldn’t be able to protect her and the most precious things that they created together.

«Aegon.»she whispered on his lips,eyes fluttered closed.

«I love you.»he said without thinking«I love you and our children.And I didn't think I could ever love,not this way.»he confessed,his voice trembling as his mouth was on hers again.

«I love you too.Are you alright sweetheart?»Y/n asked placing a hand on his warm cheek,she could read him like a open book but sometimes even her couldn’t understand him completely.

Aegon wished he could tell her all about what was going on in his mind.To share with her his deepest fears,to let her hold him and tell him that everything is going to be alright and that they will be safe and together for all of their lives.

But when she starts kissing him in a different way,like a helpless girl who would let herself do anything from him,when she starts kissing him with a teenage heat,a heat so in love and so lost, then he would like to do something else.

He would like to yell all the terrible words that Helaena told him,he would like to tug on her and burst her stupid and crazy soap bubbles in front of her eyes and he would like to do it just to remind her who he really was.To remind his sweet Y/n that so willingly loved,accepted and cherished him,that believed that with him nothing could touch her,that he was still a dragon and dragons are known to burn people.

Aegon doesn’t answer her,he just lets his forehead on hers with his eyes closed.

«You don’t have to worry.»Y/n murmured against his skin«You are not like your father and our children already know that,they love you just like I do.»she promised him,their hands interlaced on her belly.

He had voiced his concerns about fatherhood the moment she told him that she was with child,his child.Children now.And she had spent countless nights reassuring him that he was going to be a good father,a better one,unlike his.That he was going to be there for them,but now he knows that he can’t escape his own fate.His father shadow will forever be there to remind him that they are just the same:bound to fail their families.

“Stop it,please.Stop holding my heart so tight in your hands,that's enough.”Aegon thought.

It was in moments like these that Aegon remembered that Y/n was just a girl,a frightened sixteen years old who lives every second with her chest open,her heart too visible to anyone,too exposed.The feelings,the emotions,painted between her bright eyes and lips,make her an easy target,a sacrificial lamb,a too good person who can easily be stabbed in the back.

Her goodness and naivety makes her vulnerable and Aegon knows it,Gods,he knows it.

Because Y/n is not,in the slightest,capable of defending herself,she is not even able to understand the reality of the universe,she does not come to terms with the subtle and treacherous truths.She does not accept the existence of evil in the world,she does not accept the possibility that often what is considered good and right,is not really good,is not really right.

So how could Aegon get her away from the black that drips from his nails,scars,thoughts?Y/n thinks she knows how dark his soul is,she thinks she's got it,but he know she doesn’t.

It will never be like this.

«Aegon.»she calls for him again as soon as she realizes that his mind is wandering too far.

Y/n throws his name on his skin and he swallow the panic that warms his esophagus,which runs through his every rib,as he block her head in his hands,almost in a trap.

Aegon push her to lie on the mattress,make her collapse between the pillows almost as if he had beaten her in a duel,and he hovers on top of her relaxed body,carefully holding her stomach.

Y/n doesn't tremble.

He’s are literally assaulting her and she lets him do it,she agrees,she welcomes him between her legs,in her heart,in her mouth that moves a little away from his and then falls on his eyelids that are still closed.

Aegon wish he could tear his eyes out,blind himself with huge metal spikes.He doesn’t let anyone get so close to him,he’d never done it and now more than before he wished didn’t do it.Because now they would see it,they already saw it.It was evident,under the lights and everyone eyes that his legacy was about to be born and die all in once.

Even the rats will see it.If someone dared to direct their steps towards Aegon,if someone dared even raise their head towards him,they would see his pupils and find Y/n and their children in there.

At the center of all his thoughts,of all his hopes:the end of an entire life that has bent over itself in the hope of scraping together some more time and living it with them.

So what's wrong?What binds his eyelashes in a white spider web?Could Helaena be right or he was being paranoid again?She was right about the fact that Y/n was carrying twins,the Maester had confirmed it months ago,but could she be right about the rest?

Then he felt it,against his warm palm and his heart skip a beat.A little kick,yet strong and determined to be felt.

«Looks like someone woke up.»Y/n giggled,looking down at her body.

«I didn’t mean to wake them.I’m sorry.»is all that Aegon can whisper and he doesn’t even know what he’s really apologizing for.

Y/n listens to him and suddenly recognizes something in the tone of his voice.She relaxes her limbs under him even more,completely wipes away any trace of tension as if someone had just cut the thin threads that moved her body,and she sulks as she touches his lilac eyes that he still deny her,stubbornly.

«Why are you so sad?What happened?»she said,concern covering all her beautiful face.

It’s not what happened,but what could happen.

Aegon forced a smile on his lips«A bad dream.That's all.»he lies,shaking his head.

Thats what he prayed every night,that it was all a nightmare and that he would wake up soon.

Y/n rubs her fingertips on his eyelashes and he feel her lips lying against his cheekbone.She’s smiling.

«Don't worry.I just found the last sleep crumbs that were hiding from you and threw them away. They were the ones who held back the bad dream and now they are gone.»she explained to him,peppering sweet kisses on his face.

Aegon eyelids rise on their own and he clash with the flickering image of his wife looking at him and bringing to his face her index finger on which one of his eyelashes is placed,almost a crescent moon caught in the air and hovering towards the earth.

«Do you want to make a wish?My mother always told me to do it,but I have to admit that almost none of my wishes ever came true in this way. Maybe I was asking for impossible things,out of my reach.Same thing with the shooting stars.Do you want to try anyway?»Y/n was rumbling,now he remembered why she was friends with his sister.

Aegon leverage his elbows,without getting too far away from her and look at her strangely«What?»he asked confused.

His cheeks mottled red and it seems to him that the way she bites her lips is yet another punch against his anesthetized emotions.

«Forgive me,it's such a stupid thing.Please forget it.»and while she is saying it she moves her nail in the act of throwing away his wish that has taken on the common form of a pale eyelash.

Y/n gesture makes the eyelash roll down and it swirls over itself and chases the earth,chases its tail,forms several open circles into which he stick his dream,his nightmare,his hidden thought.

The eyelash is lost on the red carpet and Aegon don't see it anymore.

He look for Y/n gaze again as she pushes him back into kissing her.She asks him,clumsily,to let go of those silly words of hers.The words of a girl that was still too young and forced by her father to grow up too fast,a girl hat was still a child herself with all of her fantasies and fairytales.A child that will raise children soon.

Because Y/n was better than Aegon,she is,even if she doesn't know it,and she showed it to him so many times that he has now lost count of the occasions when he felt at fault.Occasions when he realized he don't deserve her.

Aegon prefer to ignore this reality of the facts,he prefer to put his lips on her collarbone and bite slowly,resume and rummaging through her fertile body,one hand in her hair and the other under her nightgown,and grab as much as much as she offers him.

And Y/n offers Aegon everything,always.

«No wish was ever fulfilled?No one?»the question comes out of his teeth before he can control it,it pours out as his mouth moves over her belly that he suddenly feel quiver.

She is laughing.All three of them are,he realizes as he start tracing with his fingers his children imaginary features on the skin of her stomach.

«Maybe two of them.»Y/n says,referring to the lives she created inside of her«But I found out that my wishes only come true when I look at myself in a puddle.»she laughs again with her mouth open and then moves her head into a pillow.

His fingertips tingle on contact with her skin and his stomach closes into a knot the moment he notice how the intimacy that his movements has turned into familiarity.Because that is what they were going to be soon,a family.

«When did you looked at yourself into a puddle?»Aegon suddenly asked,giggling a bit when another kick met his hand.

Y/n hand found its way into his messy silver locks«The day that my father had accompanied me here for our betrothal.»she tells him,a warm feeling in her chest at the memory.

«It was raining.»he said,he remembered perfectly the first time he saw her.

He remembered her father fussing all over her wet hair,trying to adjust her dress and to make her look presentable.But she was still the most beautiful and vulnerable creature that Aegon had aver seen.A little wet bird in a golden cage.

She nodded«Before entering the Keep i took a deep breath and,as I stared at my reflection into a puddle at my feet,I secretly wished that the husband i was going to have would love him as much as I love looking at the star.»she smiled lovingly down at him.

It came true.Aegon felt his heart exploding in his chest,he loved his wife more than anything in the world.It was so easy for him to love her,how could he not?The thought that she had to wish for something like that,for something that for him was like breathing made his eyes flutter with little tears.

Aegon moved an arm and he already knew that he will hold her hand,remaining palm to palm,as he already know that her fingers will chase his,that they will squeeze,gasps.Wrists banging against wrists,veins in contact.

The time of a whole life that slips away.

«I have never made a wish.»he confessed then.

He just took,he just wanted.

Oh Aegon,what a stupid mistake.

He stole the dreams of his future child,he had plundered entire experiences of the past,and yet he could have simply asked.With courtesy,with kindness.With a little humility.

What a stupid mistake.

«You must have had a really bad dream.»Y/n whispers in her voice broken by his caresses,and then leans and puts her forehead against his as he rise to look at her«But it’s never too late,you can still have your wish.»she reassured him.

No he couldn’t and maybe they should stop talking,stop wasting time.They both should just exchange their saliva and shut up.Pant,moan obscenely and stop everything else.Eliminate among them the layers of soul,the remnants of some childish hopes,and join like empty bags.

It would be better this way,Aegon recognize this too,just below the surface,just below the peel of his chest,at least admit with himself that it would be better that way.He should stop discovering her hips with words,with confessions,with Helaena confusing words,with half-truths:it's too risky.

He should just close himself and unite with her only the bodies,discover the consistency of the painless choices and stay there stationary,inside an empty and deep gap in which the arms and legs move frantically without ever finding anything to hold on to.

This was his life once,before her.

Aegon had endless possibilities of oblivion,between the broken lines of the light palms,he had everything a young,spoiled prince could ask for.

The simplicity of superficial human relationships flowed through the buttonholes of his fingers and he continued to be unhappy,stubbornly perpetuated his pursuit of unhappiness,but he didn't know it,and therefore he really wasn't.

Or maybe yes?Maybe a part of him knew that?Is that why his chest is burning now?Because now he was finally happy for the first time and he didn’t wanted it to end?

Because now Aegon has Y/n and he managed to create something pure and innocent and beautiful with her,giving them all of the good qualities he didn’t knew he possessed.

Y/n seems to listen to his every secret and fear,to feel his breathing change and become noisier,deeper.She place a hand on his abdomen, slowly,she traces with her fingertips first his palm and then also his wrist,then also the blue vein,and repeat his name,repeat his name,repeat his name again.

Aegon enchant himself in front of the movement of her mouth and listen to the ticking of her heart that stretches until it pulls a painful fist on his gums.

He’s an adult now,a husband and a father.He should behave as such and leave the butterflies to the kids and remember that him,in his stomach and belly,only have the worms of rotten apples.

This happens to those who never make a wish. Didn't he know that?

«I would kill for our family,even innocent people if this means keep the three of you safe.»Aegon suddenly said,voicing his thoughts out loud«Would you still love me after that?»the question is sour in his mouth.

Y/n opens her eyelids to the sound of his question,frantically slams her eyelashes,those eyelashes,and swallows with difficulty.The cheeks are even redder and the ears are also red,the eyes are shiny.Atoms of soul and innocence:they agglomerated together and formed her,a little girl composed of glass and cobwebs,bubbles and feathers.

The bravest Lady he had ever met.

«Of course I will love you.My heart is your for eternity.»she replies and doesn't hesitate for a moment«And I would do the same for us.»she added with a whisper.

Her love for him is equivalent to a black hole in which he could immerse himself and observe a boundless horizon of stars broken and stuck in an icy ground.

She loves him.

And she knows that Aegon loves her too.But right now he can't even answer her,to tell her that he’s sorry,that he’s scared,that he reciprocate her feelings with the same intensity or that maybe he reciprocate them in an even more desperate way than her,crazier.He wish he could tell her that he wished they had more time,that he wasn’t who he is,that he wished that they were born in a different place and had different lives to share forever.

Y/n face is beautiful,her forehead is smooth,no flickering lines to scar her tranquility,and the skin near her eyes is crumpled from the day they got married and started to live a life together.It's the restrained cries,the sleepless nights,the quarrels,the misunderstandings,the voracious kisses left on them like square pieces.

Y/n looks at him,her eyes are still shiny,and with her fingertips and palms she clings to his camisole.

Sh clings to him and Aegon doesn’t feel any weight,he doesn’t feel any pain,no discomfort.Then at least one thing shines certain and bright in his mind:she has become the very consistency of his body.She has entered his limbs,without him noticing,and she is so close to him,beyond the blood and the breaths,that her hand is now an extension of his,her chest is his,her back is his,her lips are his.

And they would be able to see it,all perfectly together in the faces of their children.

And it is not a mere matter of possession,just an arranged marriage to unite two houses,this is not the truth and it will never be.It is something ancestral,like being destined to meet her,being destined to belong to it,being destined to live there,despite time and space.

Aegon and Y/n were sitting on the opposite ends of a timeline,at two distant points in human life, so far away that they saw each other like blurred halos,and they wanted so much to find the other,they have desired it so much,so much,that they have decided to tilt the axes of existence,to hang on to them,and to reunite with an interweaving of hands.

They had bent their faces,touched their souls by ticking of nails,and nothing was the same again.What a stupid mistake they made,something that their innocent son will pay one day.

Aegon felt like he was on fire,his whole body was trembling and his heart ached in his chest«Y/n…I…I-»but what could he tell her?

He could push her away from him,go ahead and just do it,but on his bones he will still find her shape and her footprints.If he looked for her,looked for her in him,he would find that she was everywhere.

«Y/n,I’m…I’m really sorr-»he tried to choke out what he could.

«Do you know what I wanted when I first looked inside a puddle?»Y/n didn’t let him finish,instead she kept stroking his face lovingly to help him calm down.

Aegon doesn’t move and she puts her index finger against his right temple,light.He knew that,from where she was from,it usually rained during the end of the summer and that she loved playing outside with her siblings and mother.She was the one that taught Y/n to look inside poodles and to dance in the rain,something that she would teach her future children too.

«I wished I could see myself.I wanted it intensely,I really wanted it with all my strength,as I never wanted anything in life.»Y/n started to explain him.

All of her life was planned for her,from the moment she came to the world,by her father that only saw his daughter as piece of chess to move on the board in order to gain power.She didn’t even knew who she was if not Lady Y/n,a proper and polite young girl ready to marry in the royal house.But now she knew who she was,what she liked to eat,to read,what to do in her free time and it was all thanks to Aegon that had shown her how to be selfish for the first time and to live for herself.

«And I see myself now,I can see myself,but I'm not happy.Because I have a new wish,much more important:that you can see yourself in the same way I see you,the way our children already see you.Then yes,i would be happy.We would both be happy.»she told him,sincerely with a little smile on her beautiful face.

Y/n had plundered his last feelings,which were nothing more than bread crumbs left attached to the eaten crusts.If the world fell,the sun fell,all the snow,the hail,the rain and the lightning fell,even the rainbow.He will make fire pour from the sky,he will spill blood just to keep his family alive and safe besides him.

Aegon doesn’t say anything,he moves forward on top of her and kisses her one again.He has a wish now:time.The only thing he wanted was time,more time to see his children grow up and become beautiful people,time to spend with them and to teach them how the world works,to help them and hold their hands,to protect them when they were scared and to remains them that he will love them forever.More time with Y/n,to love and cherish her,to grow old with her,to make her smile and laugh at the most inappropriate times,to caress her sweet face at night as he watches her sleep.He just wanted more time,he deserved it.

«How about,the next time that rains,we go outside,just us.»Aegon murmurs on her lips«I have a wish to make.»he continued with a small smile.

And he prayed the gods,whoever could listen to him,that it would become true the moment Y/n giggled and nodded her head.He hoped but hope can do nothing against an already written destiny and then he will be ready to go to war.

[theballadofharkness]

She makes me laugh

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: At a coven meeting you are cornered by Jen and Alice who question just why someone as sweet as you could be the lover of infamous witch-killer Agatha Harkness which allows you to take a trip down memory lane.

Word count: 2K

A/N: In this version Agatha never lost her powers after going up against Wanda and is still doing her Witches Road con with reader 💜

Present Day

The room is dimly lit, a mix of flickering candlelight and the soft glow of a fire crackling in the hearth. Agatha, perched in an armchair near the fireplace, is deep in discussion with Billy, her new pet to mentor, who is peppering her with an endless stream of questions about runes and hexes. You’re standing by a side table, fingers idly tracing the edge of your teacup. The warm, herbal scent of your brew is comforting, but the moment doesn’t last.

"Mind if we join you?"

You glance up to find two witches Agatha and Billy had invited who ‘if memory serves you right, were called Jen and Alice standing before you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled skepticism. Jen, tall and imposing with sharp features, crosses her arms. Alice, smaller but no less intimidating, tilts her head, her dark curls bouncing slightly.

"Sure," you say softly, gesturing to the empty chairs nearby.

They don’t sit. Instead, they step closer, effectively boxing you in against the side table.

"So," Jen begins, her tone casual but with an edge. "We’ve been wondering about something."

"Yes," Alice chimes in, her voice saccharine but her eyes sharp. "How exactly does someone like you end up with someone like Agatha Harkness?"

You blink, caught off guard. "Someone like me?"

"You know," Jen says, gesturing vaguely at you. "A green witch. Soft-spoken. Sweet. The kind of person who probably rescues injured birds and talks to houseplants."

Alice glanced over at your partner. "And then there’s Agatha. Infamous witch killer. Master manipulator. She’s—"

"Agatha," you finish for her, your tone calm but firm.

Jen raises an eyebrow. "Exactly. How does that even work? What could you possibly see in her?" Their words are laced with skepticism, curiosity, and maybe a hint of judgment.

Their question echoes in your mind as you pause, your gaze drifting toward the fireplace. Agatha is gesturing animatedly as she explains something to Billy, her smirk firmly in place as she counters one of his endless questions. Even from across the room, you can feel her presence—commanding, magnetic, yet somehow still comforting. You smile as you find yourself slipping into a reverie, memories of you and Agatha unfurling like the petals of a flower.

~

Boston, Massachusetts~ 1902

When you first began exploring your gifts as a green witch, you’d been hesitant, unsure of yourself. Your magic felt wild, unpredictable, and you’d doubted if you’d ever truly master it.

But Agatha saw potential where others saw uncertainty.

The forest was alive with whispers. Leaves rustled overhead, their sound blending with the soft hum of insects and the distant hoot of an owl. You stood in the center of a small clearing, your hands trembling slightly as you tried—again—to coax the stubborn seedling in front of you to bloom.

Agatha leaned against a nearby tree, her arms crossed, watching you with an amused glint in her eyes. She was patient, but her smirk betrayed her confidence that you’d get it eventually.

“Darling, you’re overthinking it,” she said, her tone somewhere between teasing and encouraging. “Magic isn’t something you wrangle like a wild horse. It’s something you become.”

You frowned, glancing at her. “Easy for you to say. Your magic just... works. Mine feels like it has a mind of its own, and it’s not listening to me.”

At that, Agatha pushed off the tree and strode over, her boots crunching softly on the forest floor. She crouched beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Her touch was firm, grounding, and you immediately felt some of the tension ease from your body.

“You’re not trying to control the plant, are you?” she asked, her voice gentler now.

You hesitated. “Maybe a little.”

She laughed softly, her breath warm against your cheek as she leaned closer. “That’s not how green witches work, my love. Your power comes from connection, not control. Feel it. The seedling doesn’t need to be told to grow—it needs to be invited.”

Agatha’s hands slid over yours, guiding your fingers to gently brush against the delicate leaves of the seedling. “Close your eyes,” she murmured. “Feel the life inside it. The roots in the earth, the sun above, the pulse of the world around it.”

You did as she said, her voice a soothing anchor. At first, you felt nothing but your own nerves, a jittery buzz beneath your skin. But then, as her steady presence grounded you, you began to sense it—a faint thrum, like a heartbeat, nestled in the tiny plant.

“That’s it,” Agatha said, her tone laced with pride. “Now, give it a little nudge. Not with force—with love.”

You exhaled slowly, releasing the last of your tension, and let your magic flow. A soft green glow emanated from your fingertips, and before your eyes, the seedling began to grow, unfurling into a vibrant flower.

Agatha chuckled, her pride unmistakable. “I told you, darling. You’re extraordinary.”

For the first time, you believed it.

~

London, England~ 1934

The coven was gathered in a large, ancient hall, the air thick with magic and tension. Agatha stood at the center, commanding the attention of every witch present. Her presence was magnetic, her violet magic crackling faintly at her fingertips as she outlined her plans for the coven’s future. You sat off to the side, a little nervous but determined to support her. You were still new to gatherings like this, still finding your footing among witches who had centuries of experience over you. But tonight, you felt steadier, bolstered by the way Agatha had kissed your temple before the meeting and whispered, “You belong here. You belong with me.”

The murmurs in the room grew quieter as Agatha continued to speak, her sharp wit and undeniable power holding everyone in thrall. But not everyone was as respectful.

“So, what’s she doing here?”

The voice cut through the room like a dagger, dripping with condescension. You turned to see its owner: a tall, haughty witch with a cascade of dark hair and a sneer fixed firmly on her face. Her name was Evelyn, one of the oldest and most arrogant members of the coven that Agatha decided to target.

Agatha’s speech faltered for only a moment before her gaze snapped to Evelyn, her smile vanishing.

Evelyn didn’t seem to notice—or care. She gestured toward you dismissively. “She’s a green witch, isn’t she? What could someone like that possibly offer on the road to a coven like this? Much less to you, Agatha.”

A ripple of unease spread through the room. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but before you could respond, Agatha’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and dangerous.

“Careful, Evelyn,” she said, her tone cold as ice.

Evelyn smirked. “I’m only saying what everyone’s thinking. Green witches are... quaint. Charming, perhaps. But hardly worth—”

“Enough.”

The word cracked like a whip, and the entire room seemed to hold its breath. Agatha stepped forward, her violet magic sparking to life around her hands.

“You dare question why she’s here?” Agatha hissed, her voice rising with fury. “She’s here because she’s my witch. That alone makes her more powerful than you could ever hope to be.”

Evelyn opened her mouth, but Agatha raised a hand, silencing her.

“And if you had even a fraction of her talent,” Agatha continued, her voice dripping with venom, “you’d understand that green witches are not quaint—they are essential. Especially on the road. Their connection to life itself is magic in its purest form. And this one?” She turned, her piercing gaze softening as it landed on you. “This one is extraordinary.”

Evelyn faltered, her bravado crumbling under Agatha’s glare. Without another word, she slunk back into the shadows.

When the meeting ended, Agatha found you near the doorway, her smirk returning as she leaned close.

“Don’t let her words get to you, darling,” she said, her voice smooth. “She’s just jealous. And you know...” She paused, her grin sharpening. “I’ll take particular pleasure in draining her magic when the time comes. No one disrespects my girl.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. With Agatha, you always felt safe. Always seen. Always loved.

~

Brooklyn, New York~ 1966

It was late, one of those evenings where time seemed to stretch lazily. You’d been in the kitchen, preparing tea, when Agatha waltzed in, still dressed from the day but barefoot, her hair slightly mussed. She had that playful smirk on her face, the one that always meant trouble—or fun.

From the little radio on the counter, Donovan’s "Season of the Witch" began to play. Agatha’s eyes lit up as she sauntered over, her hand outstretched.

“Dance with me, darling,” she said, her voice low and inviting.

“Here? Now?” you asked, but the smile creeping onto your face betrayed your feigned protest.

“Of course here, and always now,” she quipped, pulling you into her arms before you could resist.

You’d laughed as she twirled you around the small kitchen, her movements both elegant and ridiculous. She hummed along to the tune, spinning you until the world felt like a blur of candlelight and laughter. When the song slowed, her hands slid to your waist, her forehead resting gently against yours.

“In this moment,” she whispered, her voice unusually soft, “there’s no one else in the world. Just you and me.”

~

Westview, New Jersey~ 2023

One rainy afternoon, as the two of you sat curled up on the couch, Agatha decided to entertain you with her “wicked witch” routine. She stood dramatically, throwing her shawl over her shoulders like a cape, and cackled so convincingly you almost spilled your tea.

“My pretty!” she screeched, pointing a finger at you. “And your little garden, too!”

You’d laughed so hard you cried, clutching your sides as she pranced around the room, mimicking the exaggerated gestures of the Wicked Witch of the West.

“Do you know,” she said, finally flopping back onto the couch beside you, “that character was based on me?”

“Oh, really?” you teased, still catching your breath.

“Absolutely,” she said with a grin. “I was the blueprint. Too bad they didn’t get the look right- I felt downright insulted at the nose they went with.”

You laughed so hard your sides ached. Her ability to make you laugh, even on the darkest days, was one of the many reasons you’d fallen so deeply for her.

~

Back to the present

You can’t help but smile, your fingers tightening slightly around your teacup as Jen and Alice exchanged a glance, clearly impatient.

"Well?" Alice prompts. "What’s the big secret?"

You look back at Agatha just as she catches your eye. Her smirk softens, and with a theatrical flair, she blows you an exaggerated kiss. You giggle despite yourself, shaking your head.

Turning back to Jen and Alice, you simply say, "She makes me laugh."

Alice blinks, clearly taken aback by the simplicity of your answer.

"That’s it?" Jen asks, incredulous.

You shrug, your smile unwavering. "That’s everything."

Before they can press you further, Agatha’s voice cuts through the air.

"Darling!" she calls, her tone dripping with exaggerated affection. "Don’t let those two bore you to death. You’re far too precious for that."

The room chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh along.

Jen mutters something under her breath, but Alice just shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Well, I guess if she makes you happy..."

"She does," you say firmly, your gaze drifting back to Agatha as your heart swells with affection.

And for the rest of the evening, as the coven continues their meeting, you sit a little taller, secure in the knowledge that the love you and Agatha share is as fierce and enduring as it is unexpected.

Masterlist

[bakuhve]

in your light, i rest

leona kingscholar x reader! reader

every afternoon, you read beside leona in the botanical garden- your peace, your escape, and maybe something more.

the campus of night raven college was rowdy, as always. during after class club activity time, the rowdiness seemed to double.

laughter and loud voices spilled through the air, sharp whistles cutting through the chatter of students swarming the courtyard. cleats scraped against pavement from the direction of the field, and the clatter of potion bottles echoed from a window flung open in the science wing. a hum of energy buzzed through the edges of your skull, making it impossible for you to think.

you clutched your book to your side and quietly slipped away from the noise.

reading had always been your escape. a soft, quiet world that you could hold in your hands, one page at a time. in a school where magic surged and tempers flared like firecrackers- where you were relied upon to take care of overblots that could swallow weeks of calm in a single breath- there was something sacred about the stillness found between printed worlds. no danger. just stories that waited for you, always there.

your steps carried you to the familiar path that curved toward the botanical garden, already feeling your shoulders loosen at the scent of the sun-warmed earth and the gentle rustle of leaves ahead. you knew who you’d find there, sprawled in a patch of dappled light like he was born to belong in it.

and just like always, where he was, your peace waited.

the glass walls of the botanical garden curved above you like a cathedral of green and gold. sunlight filtered in through the high windows, casting lazy beams over the jungle of vines and flowers and plants. it was warm in the way only enclosed gardens could be- humid and slow, like the world had decided to stop spinning for just a while.

and there, exactly where he always was, laid leona kingscholar.

sprawled across a sunlit patch of grass with his arms behind his head and one leg bent, he looked more like a lion in the savanna than a student. his tail flicked lazily against the ground, his eyes closed but brows relaxed in that rare, unbothered way he only wore here. you didn’t have to say anything as you stepped inside. you didn’t have to.

“took you long enough,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching with the barest hint of a smirk. his eyes stayed shut. “could hear your footsteps halfway down the path. all stomp and no stealth, as usual, herbivore.”

you rolled your eyes fondly and walked past his shaft of sunlight to sit right beside him in the nearby shadow- close, but not quite in the same warmth he claimed. the grass was cool beneath you, the shade a welcome relief on your skin. you always preferred to read in the shadows. the light was too harsh on your pages, too eager to expose what you wanted to disappear into.

“maybe i wouldn’t stomp if the campus wasn’t full of students yelling about spell duels,” you replied, cracking open your book. “some of us are trying to hold onto the last threads of sanity around here.”

leona huffed, amused. “you picked the wrong school for sanity.”

“tell me about it,” you murmured, your voice already falling into that soft, distant cadence you used when reading. “but at least this place still has you.”

his tail flicked again, slower this time.

“damn right it does.”

your conversation tapered off, fading into the hush that always settled over the garden when you were together. the only sounds that remained were the low hum of insects nestled in the leaves, the rustle of branches swaying gently above, and the slow, rhythmic turning of pages as you disappeared into your book.

you always did that- slipping away into other worlds with such ease. your brow would furrow at tense moments, lashes fluttering as if you were blinking back tears, and then your lips would part in a small and amused smile at whatever line the author had crafted. leona watched it all from under half lidded eyes, pupils blown wider than they should have been. the sunlight brushed against his skin like a blanket while the shadows curled softly around you.

his predator-like gaze trailed up the slope of your cheek, the curve of your brow, the way your fingers tightened slightly when something in the story gripped your heart. you were still. but never unmoving. always changing with the story, alive in a quiet, almost sacred way.

if he was the sun in this little routine for you both- stretching out in warmth and demanding the world bend around his comfort- then you were the moon. cool, quiet, steady. you didn’t orbit around him, though. no, he found himself drifting closer to you, again and again.

drawn in by something softer than gravity and twice as stubborn.

you didn’t even notice him staring until his voice cut gently through the air.

“you make the weirdest faces when you read.”

you blinked, lifting your gaze from the page. “excuse me?”

“not bad weird,” he said, tail swishing once behind him. “just… expressive. like you’re living it.”

you smiled, a little embarrassed but not annoyed. “maybe i am.”

“tch.” he let his emerald eyes fall shut again, arms folding behind his head. “figures a herbivore like you would get emotionally invested in a piece of fiction.”

“and yet you never seem to mind watching me do it.”

he didn’t reply right away, but his smirk deepened just a little.

“cause it’s peaceful,” he said low and quiet. “you’re peaceful.”

his voice came out much more soft, much more sweeter than he had intended.

your eyes flicked toward him, cheeks tinting with a quiet warmth you couldn’t hide. no one had really called you that before- not in a world with so much out of your control, not in a school where magic unraveled at the seams and monsters could be classmates in disguise.

you looked at him for a second longer, heart nudging at your ribs, before lowering your gaze and returning back to your pages. that was the thing with leona. he could make your heart skip with the simplest truth- and then let you go on like he hadn’t said a thing.

a few minutes passed, and then without a word, he shifted.

your breath caught slightly as his head slide from the grass to your lap, his ear brushing against your thigh and one hand curling near his chest. he didn’t ask, didn’t need to. he just knew you’d let him. you didn’t say a word, only adjusted yourself slightly, angling your book so the shade still covered your page.

the lion let out a slow exhale, the kind that meant sleep was claiming him fast.

and before long, you were alone in the garden, except for the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, and the feeling of sunlight giving way to dusk.

when leona stirred next, the world was different.

cooler. quieter. the golden haze of the afternoon had slipped into silvery twilight, and above the glass dome shimmered with moonlight. most of the plants had curled into themselves for the night, and a soft blue glow hung in the air like a dream that hadn’t yet faded.

leona blinked slowly, head still heavy in your lap- and then realized you hadn’t moved.

you were asleep too, breath soft and even, lips slightly parted. your book lay beside you, still open to the last page you’d been reading. carefully, leona lifted his head and peered down at it, more out of idle curiosity than anything else.

it was some romance. he could tell by the way the paragraphs dragged on about heartbeats and trembling fingers and stars caught in someone’s eyes. his eyes narrowed slightly as he skimmed a line.

-his mouth found hers, like the moment had been waiting for them to arrive. soft. sure. inevitable.

he stared at the words, then at your sleeping face. the slope of your nose, the softness of your lashes. the way your lips, even in sleep, seemed to beckon.

predator instincts, they always called it. the lion beneath the man. the part of him that hunted without needing to chase.

but this wasn’t hunger.

this was gravity. this was the quiet pull that he had been feeling towards you since you arrived in this cruel and twisted world- the way you always brought a calm he didn’t know he needed until you gave it.

slowly, silently, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

barely there. a brush of warmth. a secret he let the moon keep.

“even in your sleep,” he murmured, pulling back, voice low, “you make it hard not to fall for you.”

his tail swayed once behind him, slow and content. and then he settled beside you again, resting one arm over your legs as if guarding his claim, and let the night carry you both deeper into dreams.

[portgasdwrld]

📂 Op men + them being jealous

part 1

Featuring: Monster trio (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

Warning: fluffy fluff, ended up being the monster trio being subtly jealous lol Ik I was going to make it suggestive but I like it better that way, might change it for the others

Note : After 200 weeks, 1500 minutes and 25 years, I’m finally posting this serie after thousands of drafts 👩🏻‍💻 y’all don’t know how many times I wrote and erased stuff 😭

Luffy

The crew just landed on a new island, it was a huge forest, not a person in sight. You weren’t particularly a big fan of walking around in an unknown deserted place, especially in the New World where you never knew on what or who you could fall.

On the other side, Luffy was absolutely fearless and enjoyed the thrill of exploring the unknown and seeing unusual creatures; Sailing was all about that for him. An adventure wasn’t an adventure if he didn’t feel that rush of adrenaline faced to a strange situation. He had insisted you come with the exploring team while you pleaded to stay behind with Robin and Usopp.

But here you were walking glued to Sanji as your boyfriend lead the way somewhere in this lost territory filled with trees and the noises of wild animals. He was screaming in excitement when he came across weird insects or odd looking vegetables. You sighed heavily as the anxiety was still heavily present in your system.

The cook adjusted his pace to match yours sensing your uneasiness about the situation. He knew you only came for Luffy, so he made sure to help you feel more comfortable in his own way.

Luffy ran forward as he noticed a beautiful blue flower tinted with yellow strokes that looked like gentle waves. He took it and searched for you with his eyes.

-This would look so pretty on your hair!

He exclaimed as he walked over to you and Sanji while waving the flower in his tan hand. You smiled as you thought it was adorable, but Luffy’s eyes quickly glared at your arms wrapped around Sanjis. He didn’t say anything and simply fixed the flower behind your ear, complimenting you with loving eyes and his cute grin.

-You look perfect!

He announced as he put his arm around your neck, naturally removing you from Sanji. A giggle left your lips as you melt into his familiar warmth. His eyes looked down at you with so much love and care, he wouldn’t want nothing to happen to you. Sanji laughed as he noticed Luffy successful attempt to get you away from him.

Your boyfriend closed the distance between his face and yours. With slightly furrowed eyebrows and serious eyes, he wondered if you were fine.

-Yeah, I just feel uneasy about walking here if I’m being truly honest. I’m not a fearless warrior like you, let’s say~

You explained calmly as you stared back into his big brown eyes. His expression softened up and he moved his arm to be able to grab your hand instead.

-Alright, then stay close to me only. I’m the strongest, so I will protect you no matter what! I promise!

-You’re sweet, thank you Luffy.

He gave a squeeze to your hand as you two followed the group through the millions of trees. Luffy smiled to himself, knowing you were relying on him to protect you now~

Zoro

It was all going well, a great night where Zoro was simply enjoying his time drinking with the others. It was all going great until he noticed a man that kept staring at you. You didn’t notice as you were busy goofing around with Usopp, enjoying a fun conversation.

Zoro felt this feeling of frustration grow in him the more he glared at the person shamelessly eyeing you like he clearly couldn’t see you were taken. That’s when it snapped for him: maybe they couldn’t tell? And that angered him even more. How can this person stare at you like a candy while he was sitting just next to you.

The swordsman pulled you closer to him, making sure his arm around your waist is noticeable. He smirked relieved when he saw the man look away with an annoyed huff. He took a sip from his beer as his smile got bigger. Zoro took that opportunity to slip a quick peck on your jawline.

You stared at him weirdly, wondering what have gotten into him.

-Wassup with you?

-I cant kiss you or what?

-Yeah, but you don’t usually do that.

-You always complain

He whined as he rolled his eye, but still he was glad that no one was hungrily looking your way anymore. You were his and he would make the possible to make it known. Even if it needed him to be outside of his comfort zone, he was going to make sure you were safe from lingering unwanted eyes (maybe to also make himself feel better)

You gave him a funny look, confused about his unusual bright expression. You pecked his lips not giving too much thoughts about it, before going back to your conversation with Usopp. You leant your body on your boyfriends that surprisingly responded to it by holding your waist tighter and rubbing his thumb against your tummy.

-You’re really acting strange, but I ain’t complaining

You said under your breath so only he could hear. He chuckled as he drank some more. You looked over your shoulder with a smile.

-Great, because you’re not leaving my side tonight.

Sanji

Hand in hand, you two walked through the village in the middle of all the varieties of shops surrounding y’all. You wanted to buy a necklace so you were hopeful to find something of your taste and Sanji was more than willing to help you.

He had already made his grocery shopping with you yesterday and organized everything late in the evening, so it was his rest day. He wanted to enjoy the sunny weather with his awesome lover on this pretty day.

It all started when the seller was proposing you multiple options at the table and he invited you to come in the store for something more refined for a beautiful person like you. Sanji didn't care, because of course you are beautiful, so it was only natural that other people would notice. He nodded excited to see what other options the man had that could fit you even better.

Sanji cocked an eyebrow when the seller pushed your hair behind your shoulders and got close to your face as he commented about you smelling good. You laughed as you thanked him, mentioning how your boyfriend bought the scent for you as you pointed at the cook. He put a gorgeous silver piece around your neck and handed you a mirror.

-What do we think?

He asked with a content expression, you stared at the mirror with a floating smile as you nodded, approving the jewelry.

-It's so gorgeous! Oh! What about this one?

You asked as your eyes flew to a more elegant necklace. You walked away from Sanji quickly as you engaged in a great conversation with the seller about the jewelries and some specific information, that your lover was honestly unfamiliar with. Sanji felt like you kind of forgot about him and started to wander around the store on his own as he kept an eye on you, still.

"...should I get into jewelries.."

It was those type of thoughts that occupied his mind as he sulked in his corner. Though, Sanji is a gentleman and he loved more than anything to see you happy and passionate, so he put his jealousy aside to let you enjoy your moment. So, he put his ego aside and started to think about which one would look hotter on you-

-Chérie, have you find something you liked?

He asked you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. You hummed as you looked at the other man and you both nodded, agreeing on something the cook had no clue about.

-I'm going to take this one, what do you think babe?

Sanji kissed your cheeks and whispered in your ears with a smirk.

-They all look beautiful to me, because you are stunning. I don't think I will be of a great help, my love.

You smiled to yourself, because Sanji likes whatever you wear or not. On his end, he just wanted to leave already and pamper you with kisses & hickeys all over your neck to celebrate your new necklace and maybe to let people know you were his..

[fic-girlie]

I've been loving all your Pedro fics so far and you always make them the sweetest towards Pedro and the reader so this was my idea that came to mind since your last fic introducing Pedro and Readers 3rd child Isla Luna Pascal👇🏼❤️💙🥰🥹

( Can you write where pedro and his family are in Mexico with him and where, during a press interview with the cast, Pedro gets asked about manhood / fatherhood. And Pedro explains about his children Mateo and Lucia, and then he talks about his new family member, his daughter Isla Luna Pascal, Pedro get emotional ask he talks about not being with his wife through her pregnancy. His wife sees him emotional, some tears, so she brings Isla on stage, and she sits on pedros' lap, tucked to his neck for the rest of the interview. )

That was just an idea I thought would be emotionally cute and heartwarming. I waited until there were of course the interview and stuff at one part of it came to mind

The light you carry

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress!mom!reader Summary: You watch as Pedro opens up about fatherhood, his voice trembling with love and longing for the family you’ve built together—especially your newborn daughter, Isla Luna. Warnings: pure fluff, family moments

The room buzzes softly with an undercurrent of anticipation and bright lights that feel almost overwhelming, a halo around the polished faces of the Fantastic Four cast seated on stage. Cameras snap relentlessly, microphones hover like curious insects, and the sharp murmur of the press mingles with the subtle scent of fresh flowers arranged neatly along the front row.

You stand just off to the side, your body instinctively protective as you hold Isla Luna close—her tiny form nestled against your chest, wrapped snugly in a soft blanket that you’ve carefully chosen for her delicate skin. The softness of her breath, faint and rhythmic, grounds you amid the frenzy. Your heart swells not just with maternal pride, but with a quiet hope that this moment will feel like a pause from the chaos, a space where Pedro’s heart can be fully seen and heard.

Pedro sits composed in his chair, the familiar glint of confidence tempered by a raw tenderness you’ve only glimpsed in the privacy of your home. His fingers are loosely interlaced, resting just above his lap, but you can see the slight tremor that betrays the storm of emotions beneath his calm exterior. The reporter’s question about manhood and fatherhood cuts through the steady stream of pleasantries, landing with a delicate gravity that makes the room fall silent for a heartbeat. You watch his eyes—dark, soulful, almost shimmering—as they flicker with a mixture of pride, nostalgia, and something unspoken, almost sacred. He inhales slowly, a breath that seems to carry the weight of every moment he’s ever missed and every joy he’s ever held close.

“Manhood,” he begins, his voice low but steady, resonating with a deep sincerity that demands attention, “it’s been a lesson in humility and strength, all at once. Fatherhood…” His gaze shifts subtly, softening, a smile threatening but held back by the gravity of what he’s about to say. “Mateo and Lucia—they changed my world. They taught me how to love fiercely, how to be present even when life pulls you in a thousand directions.” He pauses, as if tasting the words, letting their meaning settle not just on the room but deep within himself. “But Isla…” His voice falters just slightly, the name falling like a sacred whisper. “Our Isla Luna Pascal.” There’s a brief catch in his throat, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he swallows down the swell of emotion. “She’s a light I wasn’t sure I’d get to see this soon. The newest heartbeat in our family, the smallest but the strongest.”

You see the sheen of tears gathering in his eyes now, reflections of all the quiet nights he spent apart from you, away from her. “Being away during the pregnancy, during those months when my wife needed me close, it’s been the hardest part,” he admits, voice dropping to a whisper that only you can hear over the microphone. “I missed the first kicks, the tiny movements that remind you that a whole new life is growing inside you. I missed ultrasounds, doctor’s appointments... the moments when you need your partner the most, and I wasn’t there.” His eyes glisten, the edges of his vision blurred by the weight of that absence, the ache so raw it seems to fill the space between the questions and the answers. “It’s a pain I carry with me, like a shadow that stretches longer every day. But now, being here, holding her in my arms—” He reaches instinctively, but you gently guide Isla toward him, your hands steadying his as they cradle her delicate head.

Your fingers brush the dark curls that have already begun to frame her tiny face, and you offer her without hesitation. “Here,” you say softly, voice thick with emotion but full of warmth. “She’s right here. She’s ours.” Pedro’s hands tremble as they close around her fragile body, pulling her close until her breath matches his, a quiet lullaby against his skin. The softness of her downy hair tickles his cheek, and he leans in, his nose brushing the curve of her head, anchoring himself in this moment—this precious, fleeting miracle. His lips press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head as if sealing a promise, a vow that no matter the distance or the demands of the world, this is where his heart truly lives.

For the remainder of the interview, Isla remains nestled against him, her tiny hands occasionally curling around the few stray hairs of his beard. Pedro’s responses grow more relaxed, his voice infused with the quiet strength of a man who has been humbled and transformed by love. Every so often, his eyes meet yours, exchanging a silent conversation—grateful, tender, and deeply intimate. You see him soften in ways the public rarely glimpses, the fierce star of film and television revealing instead the quiet father who finds his greatest pride in his children’s laughter and the weight of a newborn’s breath against his skin.

——

As the final question is answered and the cameras begin to lower, the tension in the room slowly releases, replaced by a gentler energy—one that feels like a secret shared between you and Pedro, a delicate moment preserved beyond the glare of the public eye. You see him shift in his chair, still cradling Isla carefully, his fingers tracing tiny circles on her soft blanket as if memorizing every curve and breath. His eyes linger on her, soft and awed, before flicking back to you with a silent thank you—a glance so full of meaning it sends a rush of warmth straight through your chest.

The noise of the press fades further into the background as you step forward, reaching out to gently brush a stray curl from Pedro’s forehead. You feel the steady beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips, the faint tremble that still lingers after exposing a part of himself so deeply. “You were incredible,” you murmur quietly, voice thick with pride and love. He offers you a tired, genuine smile, one that doesn’t try to hide the vulnerability but embraces it instead. “Only because I had you carrying her for me,” he replies, voice rough with emotion but steady.

Just then, Mateo and Lucia burst into the room, their bright eyes wide with excitement and curiosity. Mateo, always the protective older brother, eyes his little sister with an intense tenderness, while Lucia reaches out immediately, her small hand brushing Isla’s downy cheek with the reverence only a big sister can have. “Isla’s so tiny,” Lucia whispers, awe painting her voice. Pedro’s smile grows wider as he shifts slightly, lifting Isla higher so they can all see her together. “She’s the strongest little thing I know,” he says softly.

You watch as Pedro’s eyes fill again—this time with pure, unguarded joy—when Mateo folds his arms across his chest, then suddenly throws his arms around Pedro’s neck in a tight hug. “I’m proud of you, Dad,” he says, his voice low but fierce. It’s a moment that stuns you with its honesty, the kind only a child’s love can carry so simply and so true. Pedro holds him close, his face buried briefly in Mateo’s hair.

Lucia tugs at your sleeve, her voice small but insistent. “Mom, can we hold Isla now?” You nod with a smile, scooping her up and settling Isla gently in Lucia’s arms. The baby stirs softly but stays peaceful, her tiny fists curling and uncurling against her sister’s chest. The room feels warmer now, full of quiet laughter and whispered conversations, the buzz of the outside world muted by this sanctuary of family.

Pedro leans back, exhaling deeply, a contented sigh that seems to carry away all the weight of the months apart. “I’ve never felt more complete,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper but full of conviction. “Being here, with all of you, it’s everything.” You reach out, threading your fingers through his, grounding him as much as he grounds you.

In that moment, the glare of cameras and the pressure of the spotlight feel like a distant echo, irrelevant compared to the warmth of your children’s laughter and the quiet strength of the man who holds them close. And as Isla’s soft breath brushes against Pedro’s neck, you know this is the story you’ll carry with you always—the story of a family bound not just by blood, but by love, presence, and the simple power of being together.

[illyrianbitch]

Almost, Always

Pairing: Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Summary: You and Lucien indulge in an old habit, passing mirthroot and memories between you. Somewhere between the haze and laughter, a truth finally slips free.

Warnings: drug usage ('mirthroot'), smoking, the slight angst of nostalgia, two best friends, a late evening conversation, and a confession centuries too late

Word Count: 1.9k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The first drag hit the back of your throat like a memory—sharp, familiar, just a little bitter. Most memories tasted that way recently, held that bittersweet taste of nostalgia. You coughed, more out of surprise than anything else, blinking against the burn as the smoke curled past your lips.

Lucien just laughed, taking the joint from your fingers with an easy roll of his wrist. "Amateur."

"Fuck off," you muttered, voice raspier than intended. Your throat constricted with another cough.

He grinned, pleased with himself, before bringing the mirthroot to his lips and taking a long, slow drag. The ember flared, casting a brief glow across his face. Same sharp angles, same golden skin, same infuriating smirk that had been following you around since you were both younger and dumber and full of life.

You leaned back against the tree and tilted your head toward him. "Where the hell did you even get this?"

Lucien exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the warm air.  "Oh, you know," he said, voice casual, a little smug. "I still have my ways. When people like you, they give you things."

You snorted. "You’re so annoying."

"And yet," he said, passing the joint back to you, "you’re still here."

That you were. 

You took another hit, slower this time, letting the warmth seep into your bones. The hills stretched out around you, empty except for the whisper of spring-blooming flowers and the faint hum of insects in the distance. It felt like a pocket of time separate from everything else, something removed and untouched.

Still, somewhere deep in your bones, you felt tense. So much had changed, so much had happened in the past few years, that it was hard to believe moments of silence, of peace, could last longer than a few seconds. 

Lucien leaned back beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his voice turning mockingly casual. "Tamlin’s actually letting me grow some in the garden now."

Your mouth fell open. "No way."

Lucien’s smirk lingered for just a second longer before fading. He exhaled through his nose. "No," he admitted. "That would require him talking to me."

Your stomach dropped. You weren’t sure why it caught you off guard—of course things were still strained. That was just the way of things now, a long, slow unraveling between Lucien and the High Lord who had once been like a brother to him. But still, hearing it aloud… it was heavier than simply thinking about it.

You studied the way Lucien’s fingers drummed lightly against his knee, how he turned the joint between his fingers like he wasn’t really thinking about it.

"Things still tense, then?” 

Lucien shrugged, rolling the mirthroot a little tighter between his fingers. He flicked a spark off the end.  "Nothing I can change now." He brought it to his lips again, inhaled, and held it before finally passing it back to you.

You hesitated before taking it. Not long—just a second.

Lucien had always carried his pain well. He had years of practice, after all. He could disguise it, slip it between easy smiles and dry humor, hide it beneath that unbearable charm. But there was something about sitting here, in the quiet expanse, with nothing but time and smoke curling between you, that made it harder to miss.

You could’ve pushed. Asked him how he really felt about it. But that was the thing about you and Lucien—some things were too old to prod at, and some wounds weren’t worth bleeding over again. So instead, you reached for the mirthroot between his fingers and bumped your knee against his. "Well. At least we can get high, right?"

Lucien huffed a laugh. "The one true escape."

The two of you passed it back and forth in easy silence, the world slowing, stretching, softening. At some point, Lucien rolled another, his fingers moving with a thoughtless kind of familiarity, and you both fell into something that felt dangerously close to a self-induced state of nostalgia.

You talked about the past. About the reckless, stupid things you used to do when you were younger, when things had been simpler. When it had been you and Lucien and all the others, a little makeshift group who thought they had all the time in the world. It was funny, in a sad sort of way, how quickly things could change.

“You remember that summer?” you asked after an hour of conversation, voice loose from the mirthroot. “The one where we used to sneak into the fields outside the manor? You, me, Tam, Andras—before everything went to shit.”

Lucien chuckled under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Gods. You mean the summer of terrible decisions?”

“That’s the one.”

Lucien shook his head. “I don’t think Tam ever really forgave us for the lake incident.”

You grinned. “He deserved it.”

“He did,” Lucien agreed, smiling to himself. “But I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw the fish in his bed.”

You bursted out laughing. “It was the biggest one we could find, too. I was so proud of that damned thing.”

“And then we spent the next three days trying to outrun him.”

You passed him the dwindling joint and exhaled, looking up at the sky. Your heart ached in a strangely tender way, like you were pressing on a bruise long forgotten, forever unhealed.  “Feels like a lifetime ago."

Lucien took a long drag before answering. "Because it was." His voice was quieter now, more careful. Sincere, in the way it often could be. "We were different people then."

You hummed in agreement, eyes half-lidded, gaze drifting. "We were happy, sometimes."

Lucien didn’t answer right away. You turned your head slightly, catching the way his expression had gone thoughtful, edged with something you couldn’t quite name. When he finally nodded, it was small. "Yeah."

You kept your gaze on him.

Lucien had changed over the years.

Some of it, you’d seen firsthand. You’d been there when he was still the reckless, friendly seventh son of Autumn, smitten and ready to take on the world, willing to throw himself into the fire for love without ever considering the burn.

You’d seen the shift when that love turned to tragedy, when loss hollowed him out, when he stopped being just the golden boy with the sharp tongue and easy laugh and became something quieter, something heavier. You’d watched him step into his role as emissary, seen that spark return as he carved out a place for himself beyond Autumn’s cruelty. You’d thought, for a while, that he had found a home in Spring, in Tamlin. That their bond was unshakable.

But things change, as time always demands— and a lot of those changes had happened when you weren’t looking.

The healing of his scar—you hadn’t been there for that. You had been halfway across the continent, chasing knowledge with Nuan after she'd crafted his eye, letting curiosity dictate your next move while Lucien had been here, adapting without you.

You hadn’t been there for Amarantha’s reign, for the fifty years that had left their mark on him in ways you couldn’t begin to understand. You hadn’t been there when he realized the Cauldron had bound his fate to a stranger, hadn’t seen the way that must have cracked something in him, the way it must have felt like another choice stolen from him.

And now, sitting here with him, passing the ember back and forth between your fingers, it hit you how much time had gone by.

Immortality was strange like that.

Too much time, and yet never enough of it. You blinked, and a century was gone. You turned your back, and the boy you’d known had become a male, his edges sharper, his voice a little rougher, his laugh not as frequent but still just as easy when it came. It ached, in a way, to know you had missed so much. It felt like another thing stolen from you. But you weren’t entitled to it.

Even if, after centuries of friendship, it sometimes felt like you were.

Because that was the trade, wasn’t it? You shared time, shared memories, and in return, you got to witness each other’s becoming. A connection in exchange for the secrets of change.

And yet, the longer you watched him, the more you realized that in all the ways that mattered, Lucien was still the same.

Still the boy who had once laughed too loudly, who had once believed in things like love and loyalty with the kind of reckless certainty that had nearly gotten him killed. He still tilted his head at you in that knowing way, still drummed his fingers against his knee when he was thinking, still carried himself with that effortless, impossible charm.

He was older, a little warier, but Lucien was still Lucien.

And it hit you then, like a sharp inhale—this was the first time in a long time that it was just the two of you. No High Lords, no politics, no battles. Just you, Lucien, and the quiet between you.

Maybe that was why you said it, why it slipped through your lips like something natural and right.

“I had the biggest crush on you back then.”

Lucien went still. His fingers paused where they were handing the blunt back to you, and when he turned his head, his gaze was sharper than before, more present. “You did?”

You shrugged, as if it were nothing. As if saying it now, after all these years, didn’t make your heart squeeze in your chest. “Yeah.”

Lucien was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, he huffed a quiet laugh. Shook his head. "That’s funny."

"Why?"

"Because I had feelings for you then, too."

The words settled between you, neither heavy nor light—just there.

You stared at him, your pulse skipping, warmth blooming somewhere deep in your chest that had nothing to do with the mirthroot. And yet, it wasn’t shocking. Maybe it should have been. Maybe it would have been, years ago. 

Lucien’s gaze was steady, waiting. No teasing, no smirk. Just him. Just this.

Your gaze flickered down to the ember in your hand, burning low, glowing soft against your fingertips. You turned it slowly between your fingers before looking back at him, a small smile playing at your lips. "Yeah," you murmured. "That is funny."

Lucien let out a slow breath, and after a moment, you leaned into him—just slightly, just enough that your shoulder brushed his. He didn’t move away. Didn’t break the moment. Just let it settle, let it be what it was.

"Maybe in another life," you said with a grin, "you and I fell deeply in love."

Lucien huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You could never handle all this."

You scoffed, shoving his arm. You passed him the remainder of the joint and rested your head in the crook of his shoulder. "Always so egotistical. I think I would’ve left my mark on you."

"Maybe," he murmured, voice softer now, unfocused —as if he was drifting into a dream. He took a final drag of the mirthroot. "How funny, indeed."

You didn’t say anything else. Just watched the ember burn down between his fingers, let the moment breathe, let it all slip between your fingers like smoke curling into the air.

Maybe, in another life, things would have been different. Maybe you and Lucien had fallen deeply, recklessly in love, had burned bright and fast and never looked back.

But here, now, you were just you, and Lucien was just Lucien.

Two friends who had grown, had lost, and had survived.

That was enough for you. Lucien was always enough.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

This is an installment of my Mirthroot Mini-Series!

authors note: i was....baffled at the realization that i have no content for my favorite acotar man... so here we are. im hoping this gets me out of my terrible writing rut so everyone tell me its great even if you need to lie hehe

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten  @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon  @glam-targaryen 

@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark 

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered 

@feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli 

@mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows @mellowmusings

@paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch @casiiopea2 @w0nderw0manly

@rottenroyalebooks @jurdanpotter @casiiopea2 @gamarancianne @weesablackbeak

@booksaremyescapeworld @knoxic  @wynintheclouds @dacrethehalls  @louisa-harrier

[dilfsfordinner]

summary- nanami kento being a girl dad

pairing- husband nanami x wife!reader

——————————————————————————

with the growth of a child came the difficulties of their attitude, most adults making it known that they were struggling with parenting through the complaints of certain ages, like “the terrible twos”, which coincidentally, your daughter was in the current stage of.

“come here, now,” your voice was stern, all patience fizzling out of your system as you watched your little girl cross her arms indignantly, scowling at you before pointedly turning her head away.

it was nanami’s idea to use up your weekend at the beach, his optimism rubbing off on you prior to what was now a toddler’s tantrum.

“do you want me to count?” your eyebrows quirked as your daughter continued the silent treatment, hmphing in disobedience. “fine.. i’ll just tell your father.” at the mention of her dad, your baby immediately whipped toward you, her face contorting into a cry as she realized she wouldn’t get away with not listening, little feet stomping as you got up to talk to your husband who was currently preoccupied setting up a tiny, pink umbrella.

stopping with his task, nanami listened as you complained about your little girl not letting you put on sunscreen, her back apparently too sensitive to stand the cold cream. “help me, please,” you sighed, leaning your head against the bare skin of his chest, forehead resting against his collarbones.

a large hand began to rub up and down the length of your spine, comforting you, consoling you in a way that instantly had your nerves relaxing. “you sit down, i’ll deal with her,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head gently before pulling away to trek toward the pouting child in the sand only a few yards away.

the sun was already starting to beat down at only 8 o’clock in the morning, reinforcing your belief that sunscreen was indeed needed to protect your baby from sunburn or sickness. bottle in hand, nanami approached his little girl like she was a lion ready to pounce at him. she wouldn’t look at him either, braving a spanking to stand her ground.

sinking to his knees a few feet before her, nanami didn’t say anything, just opened the tube of sunblock, and began to manipulate the white lotion into a variety of different shapes. first, was a simple sun on the tan skin of his thigh. second, was a couple of flowers, trailing up the outside of his wrist and forearm. the third actually piqued the little girl’s interest, a big butterfly that was messily drawn on the expanse of his chest.

continuing his painting session, nanami concealed his smile as he heard sand begin to drag beneath what sounded strangely like knees, his peripheral vision granting him the ability to watch as his baby began to crawl toward him, big eyes zeroed in on the insect on his chest.

“daddy,” came a quiet voice beside him, nanami finally looking up from the haphazardly drawn shark on his knee to look at the curious little face of his daughter. her eyes were wide but wary as she pointed to his chest, tiny index coming up to smear the butterfly there, almost like she was testing the quality of the “paint” he had used.

“do you want to help me?” nanami asked gently, gesturing to the bottle in his hand. she tilted her head as if she actually had to ponder his question, before she was nodding excitedly, reaching for his hand in a hurried frenzy.

tsking, he pulled the bottle away quickly, his arm high above her head even while sitting. “if you help me, i get to help you too.. okay?”

nodding again, she tried and failed to reach the bottle, little eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. “pinky promise?” he asked softly, large hand coming down until only his pinky nudged the air before her. before he could pull away, her whole hand wrapped around his single finger, shaking it up and down like a giant shaking hands with an ant, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“alright, c’mere baby,” lifting her up by her waist, she set her feet on his thighs, his hands remaining wrapped around her belly to hold her upright before he deposited a puddle of sunscreen in her hand, awaiting her painting.

she certainly wasn’t gentle with it, repeatedly testing the safety limits of his face, one time almost jabbing a sunscreen-covered finger in his eye. slowly but surely, she began to smile, little giggles coming from her mouth, her reaction being enough to tell him that he didn’t even want to know what was occurring on his face.

after a couple minutes, she leaned back in his hands, her index leaving a swipe of white on the tip of his nose before she started to giggle again, “mister kitty.”

ignoring the revelation of her comment, he tickled her sides, smiling at the shrill laughter that echoed along the empty beach, drinking in the fact that his little girl was happy again, that one of her moods hadn’t ruined the day before it even started.

ruffling the fuzzy mop of hair atop her head, he kissed her forehead, “can daddy paint you now?” he asked nicely, her response giddy and quick, clapping her little hands before plopping down into the sand, back to him.

“i want a kitty too!” she practically barked, wiggling her toes in the sand to conceal her very apparent excitement.

“yes ma’am,” nanami murmered, squirting a generous amount of sunscreen in his hand before he began applying the white paste all over her back, letting his hands “accidentally” travel over her arms and legs, somehow successfully applying sunscreen to every necessary area without her noticing.

finishing up, he patted her bottom, urging her to “go show mommy” to which she complied, hurriedly clambering across the sand to jump in front of you, trying (and failing) to point at the “painting” on her back.

“isn’t he cute?” she gushed, jumping up and down, obviously referencing the cat she assumed was on her back.

looking up from your giggling child, you watched as your husband sauntered toward your position on the beach blanket, triumphant grin on his face at his accomplishment. a smile pulled at your own lips at this, not because of his success, but because of the white whiskers and nose that had been slathered across his face by the hand of the girl sitting before you, makeshift face paint making him the world’s cutest dad.

swallowing a laugh, you pulled your baby into your arms, rocking her back and forth as you watched your sun-kissed lover begin to set up that tiny umbrella once again.. strong muscles glinting in the sun heavily offset by the cute kitten makeup on his face… “he sure is.”

——————————————————————————

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・At first it was just kindness. You were there whenever Helaena needed you, and you soon you became her trusted friend.

・Trusted friend turned into something less platonic ... like a small evolution, Helaena realised that she could not live out her days without you by her side.

・Even though the Princess is not one for grand gestures of affection, you know just how all-consuming her love is ... in a deep yet quiet way.

・She gazes upon you with adoration, her violet eyes filled with a warmth barely anyone else ever receives.

・You are her safe place, her constant, the only one she can truly trust.

・Although she would NEVER say it outright - Helaena shows you her love through the way she lingers in your presence, the way her fingers brush slowly against yours, the soft smiles meant only for you.

・When you brush her hair, she leans into your touch, a small sigh escaping her lips.

・Sometimes, when she’s feeling brave, she will trace her fingers over your wrist absentmindedly, as if memorizing the feel of you. Both of you blush but neither says a word.

・She adores giving you small gifts—a butterfly pin she had made just for you, an embroidered handkerchief with her own initials (so that a piece of her is always with you), actually, a lot of your clothes have hidden bugs that she has sewn to signify that you are hers.

・She plucks flowers from the royal gardens and presses them into books before leaving them in your chambers, never saying a word about it.

・When she’s alone with you, she finally breathes. She lets down her walls and allows herself to be just Helaena, not a princess.

・She’ll ask you to stay with her a little longer, finding excuses for you to keep her company; whether it’s brushing her hair, helping her dress, or simply sitting in silence while she watches her insects.

・Helaena speaks in riddles and half-truths, but around you, her words take on a soft, intimate quality.

"If a moth is drawn to a flame, yet the flame does not burn it ..." (aka devotion from both ends. One is endless curiosity and the other is making sure their actions do not hurt the other. It's about you and her.)

・She is always comparing you to something ethereal - e.g., a rare moth, a fleeting sunrise, a melody no one else can hear but her.

・You asked her why she liked moths so much and she said: "moths are ... overlooked. Much more than butterflies. They are drawn to light...just like everyone else. Yet, just like everyone else. They are not treated the same."

・One of your favourite memories with Helaena is when she introduced you to Dreamfyre.

・You thought, 'surely today is the day that I day," oh how wrong you were.

・Dreamfyre chooses her riders for specific reasons both Rhaena Targaryen and Helaena Targaryen were not the most politically powerful of their time, nor were they the most feared.

・But Dreamfyre does not seek conquest or brute force—she seeks something deeper. Rhaena and Helaena both had a deep connection to things beyond the mortal world, and Dreamfyre recognized it.

・Rhaena and Helaena were both women who were not meant to rule. They were overlooked, dismissed, forced into positions they never truly wanted.

・Many Targaryens could have tried to claim Dreamfyre, but she has never allowed herself to be ruled by greed or ambition.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

You Are My Safe Place

Always Hold Grudges (You) x Forgives Too Easily (Helaena)

Has Insane Dreams Of The Future (Helaena) x Believes All Of It - Lemme Write This Down Honey (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Love Transcending Boundaries

Forbidden Love

Only You Understand

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer

Picture You by Chappel Roan

Do I Wanna Know by Hozier

𝒀𝒐𝒖 & 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒇𝒚𝒓𝒆

・To Helaena, Dreamfyre is more than just her dragon; she is her kindred spirit, the only creature who has always understood her.

・Dreamfyre is ancient, wise, and deeply connected to her rider’s emotions. If Helaena is bringing you to meet her, it means she sees you as someone truly important.

・The cave depths of the Dragonpit echo with the sound of slow, deep breathing as Dreamfyre stirs at Helaena’s approach. The Dragonpit is huge; even more spacious down below, where the chained dragons sleep.

・You were glad that Dreamfyre's place was quite close to the exit.

・As you walked closer to the now fully awake, and alert dragon, you squeezed Helaena's hand tightly, your fingers trembling. Hell you're whole body feels like it's trembling.

・When you're close, you can see Dreamfyre's great silver-blue head and her glowing eyes ... that settle on you with deep intensity.

・Your heart starts to pound even more so.

・Helaena strokes the dragon’s snout, whispering in High Valyrian, her voice a soft hum against the cavern’s stillness. Then she turns to you.

“Now you must not be afraid,” she murmurs, because there is an underlying meaning beneath her words: Dreamfyre will know if you are.

・The dragon sniffs the air, then lowers her massive head, exhaling a warm breath that ruffles your hair. She is assessing you.

・You hold your ground. Dying by a dragon seems like a pretty cool way to go, so you stare the dragon in the eyes. And for some reason, your hand start to move.

・You gently cup the side of Dreamfyre's face and smile.

・Helaena is holding her breath - she hadn't expected you to do that. And she's impressed.

・With a few slow blinks, Dreamfyre huffs which causes your hair to fly backwards.

・And then you feel it, her head moving towards your hand, liking the touch.

"She accepts you," Helaena says with glee.

[mediumgayitalian]

It has been an hour.

Nico scratches some dirt off his ankle.

“Hey, Solace,” his brain says, but his mouth doesn’t form the words. Instead, his jaw drops into a sigh, quick and gasping and soundless, and his shoulders droops with it, landing his chin in the cup of his hands.

Will is pretty in the sunlight.

This is not a revelation. Noticing Will’s pretty in the sun is just — it is there, it is obvious. ‘Will is pretty in the sunlight.’ ‘Snow makes your hair wet.’ ‘Flowers smell nice.’

But still he thinks it, still he shapes his tongue around the words, pursing his lips around the sounds; Will is made of yellows and golds and blues, swirling celestia, and in the cradle of the meadow in the depths of the ancient woods, he is radiant like gilded clouds. He is beautiful and he is blinding. He is thick coiled hair, sticking out in dandelion poofs, he is strong scarred hands tanned dark and dappled, he is bare toes and browned knees. Nico’s throat is dry, and his whole body is thumping, thumping, straining; the words echo in the cavity of his mind, in the tubes of his veins. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Instead, he sits.

Instead, he smiles.

Instead, he says, “You are such a dweeb.”

And Will snorts and ignores him and cups his broad hands around the little critters, tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth. The ants walk easily around the mountains of his knuckles. He coos.

“Honest. Just — hours, of you watching ants.”

“I like watching ants,” says Will loftily. He turns back to grin, to stick out his tongue, and his helmet slips down his straight nose, blue frill flattening. “So there.”

Nico smiles. He smothers it. He smiles again and rolls his eyes and says, “Of course you do.”

And Will snorts again. And it is exasperated and long-suffering and pleased, so pleased, and he looks back when he thinks Nico isn’t looking and bites his lip and shivers. And Nico stares at the white of his too-big front teeth and is hungry, like a scorpion in the springtime, and is silent.

Will looks away. He repeats: “I like watching the ants.”

Nico licks his lips. “I know.”

“I — they’re smart. And disciplined. I just think they’re — neat.”

“I know.”

“And kind of — cute.” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, careful not to disturb the little black dot balanced on the crown of his knee. “You know. For insects.”

“I know,” Nico says. Or sighs.

And Will huffs and says: “Well, what do you want to watch?”

— and it is there in his eyes again, the shine, the bright light of his stubbornness, and Nico’s eyelashes blink and his eyeballs water and his mouth drops open and says, jumping ahead of his brain, “You.”

Will’s mouth snaps closed. He looks away, hasty, tips of his stuck-out ears reddening.

“Well,” he says. He coughs. “Well.”

He looks back at the ants.

Nico smiles. He watches him watch them. Watches the chin he rests on his hand, watches the slide of his bright bright bright blue eyes, tracing the patter of microscopic little legs.

Time stretches on.

[haerenven]

Hey! I love the way you write! Could you do one where the reader is accidentally creepy? They like bones and things normally associated with death and don't realize how creepy that can be. With anyone you like!

        ∎∎       ╱       𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃.     جميل 🗝️  ㅤㅤ ˙ㅤ♱𝆬 ㅤ      

Pairings. Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader

summary. Gothic

— (a/n): I kinda love this !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀斕⠀⠀⠀(⒛)⠀⠀⠀𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑⠀⠀⠀横᜴⠀⠀⠀𝐈𝐈

Midnight Conversations Among the Bones– When the ship docks at an island, you always seem to find the nearest graveyard, admiring the artistry of time-worn tombstones and tracing the names of forgotten souls with reverence. At first, Zoro thought it was just another one of your quirks, but over time, he finds himself sitting beside you, arms crossed, listening to your musings about the beauty of decay while the moon bathes you both in an eerie silver glow. He doesn’t say much, but the way he stays? That says everything.

The Swordsman and the Morbid Romantic – You see beauty in death, not as something tragic but as an inevitable masterpiece of time. Zoro, a man who has danced with death more times than he can count, finds himself mesmerized by your perspective. “You don’t fear it,” he mutters one evening, watching you cradle a delicate bird skull in your hands like a precious gemstone. “Nah,” you reply with a knowing smile. “It’s proof something once lived fiercely.” He never forgets those words.

Gifts That Raise Eyebrows (But He Loves Them) – While others bring flowers or sweets, you present Zoro with things like polished bones, antique daggers, or tiny vials of ash from places long forgotten. The first time you gifted him an ornately carved femur you found in the ruins of an abandoned temple, he held it up with a raised brow. “Huh. Guess that’s one way to remember the dead.” But later, you find it tucked carefully in his things—kept, not discarded.

Accidentally Creepy but Incredibly Endearing – You casually say things that make people shiver, but Zoro barely blinks. “I think skeletons are beautiful. Imagine all the things these bones have witnessed.” Or, “If I ever die, I’d like to be buried beneath a tree, so my body can feed its roots.” The crew gets goosebumps, but Zoro just nods, arms crossed, like you’ve said something completely reasonable.

Conversations with Brook Are… Interesting – The first time you meet Brook, you light up like you’ve seen the most stunning artwork in the world. “A talking skeleton? This is incredible! Brook, do you ever get lonely without your flesh?” The crew falls into stunned silence, expecting Brook to be unsettled, but instead, he’s thrilled! “Oh, what a fascinating question, Yohoho! Well, I do sometimes miss blinking… but I must say, I make an excellent coat rack now!” You and Brook become inseparable, exchanging poetic thoughts on the beauty of bones, much to the crew’s mild horror and Zoro’s mild amusement.

Love in the Graveyard – There’s something about old ruins and overgrown cemeteries that make you feel at peace. You’ll pull Zoro toward a moss-covered gravestone, asking him to sit with you as the wind whispers through the trees. “The dead don’t mind company,” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder. He sighs but doesn’t move away, merely letting the weight of your presence sink into his bones like an unspoken promise.

A Different Kind of Swordfight – You are graceful in battle, moving like a wraith, with a presence that is both haunting and mesmerizing. Zoro watches the way you fight, your movements akin to the wind through forgotten ruins, and he wonders how someone so in tune with death can make even the act of violence look poetic. “You fight like a ghost,” he mutters after a particularly beautiful strike. You grin. “And you fight like a legend.”

You Collect Skulls, and Zoro Just Accepts It – Your room on the Sunny has little trinkets from your travels—delicate bones, preserved insects, ancient coins, and tiny vials of sand from places where battles were fought. When Nami sees a polished skull sitting on your shelf, she nearly drops her maps. “Why… why is that here?” You shrug. “It’s beautiful.” Meanwhile, Zoro, leaning against the wall, just grunts. “At least they don’t talk.”

The Poetry of the Macabre – Late at night, when the ship is quiet, you murmur words like incantations, reciting poetry about the fleeting nature of existence, about how even warriors turn to dust. Zoro listens, half-lidded eyes watching the way candlelight dances over your features. He’s never been one for poetry, but your words settle in his mind like a blade sliding into its sheath—fitting, sharp, undeniable.

“I’ll Carve Your Name Into Legend” – Zoro may not be poetic, but his actions are. He listens when you speak of tombstones and memories, of how people live on in the whispers of history. One day, after a particularly brutal battle, he places his sword down beside you and murmurs, “If I die before you, carve my name into something that lasts.” The words are gruff, but the meaning is clear. He wants you to be the one who remembers him. You press a palm against his cheek, smiling softly. “You’ll live long enough to carve your own legend, Zoro.

The Beauty of Bruises and Bite Marks - Zoro does not treat you like something fragile. He has seen the way you dance through battle, the way you smile at the sight of broken bones, the way your eyes shine with something dark and beautiful when blood is spilled. He knows better than to be gentle—not in the way others expect.

When he touches you, he does so with purpose, with a strength that leaves bruises along your hips, with a grip that lingers like the ghost of a battle won. And you? You relish it. You trace the marks he leaves on your skin like they are proof of something sacred, like they are relics of devotion carved into flesh.

“You like this too much,” he mutters one day, eyeing the faint bite mark on your collarbone, the way your fingers skim over it with something close to satisfaction.

You smirk, tilting your head so the candlelight catches the shadow of it against your skin. “What can I say? I like knowing I’ll still have a piece of you on me when morning comes.”

Zoro doesn’t respond—not with words. Instead, he pushes you down, lips ghosting over the same spot, teeth grazing, and you shudder because you know he’s going to leave another.

Even the Grave Will Not Take This Away - There is something poetic about your love—something eternal, something that will not be erased even when your bodies turn to dust. If death ever comes for you first, you know Zoro will not mourn in the way most do. He will not weep, will not break. He will carve your name into something permanent, something unshaken by time, as if daring the universe to forget you.

And if death ever comes for him first, you will not cry either. You will stand at his grave, dressed in black, fingers tracing the edge of his name with a strange, almost reverent smile. “I hope it was as good as this,” you’ll whisper to the wind, because you know—no matter how glorious his end may be, no matter how sharp the final moment—nothing will have ever felt as real, as consuming, as the love you shared.

Even death will be jealous of what you had.