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jacesbeloved · 5 months ago

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for the kingdom: part v

summary: being the youngest daughter of alicent, you hadn’t known what it was like to feel restraint until you had been betrothed to the eldest son of queen rhaenyra for a pact. for who? for the kingdom.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content, cunnilingus, dirty thoughts in a church, porn with (little) plot, dirty talk, slightly public sex, overstimulation | if you liked this, pls do leave a heart or comment, it’d be greatly appreciated ^w^

part: I, II, III, IV, V

ftk taglist: @kentarosbaby @lady-ashfade @simrah1012 @mfrnchsk @sexualityisajoke @elsyyie @instabul l @ephemeralninon @chrisevansgirlfriendsposts @mainstreambitchlife @alexandra-001 @writer-lee5 @nightly-polaris @m4nd0l0r @roroswitherose @how2besalty @eds-gryff f @icantpickausername @solacestyles @blue1006 @highexpectationsgurl @doe-inluv @kitkat-writes-stuff @alex4040 @cl-0-vr @frogoerson @neo-weareone @theamuz @illainebedeakin @littletargaryens-blog @ietss @ttae-yong @daevinvan333

Alyrie Florent.

Alerie Hightower.

Viserys Targaryen.

"Mother," Alicent jumps at the sudden call. Her eyebrows confusedly joining together as she stares at you, rugged and breathless.

Clearly, you had not remembered of your commitment to come with your mother to the Sept at early morrow.

She stares at you from top to bottom before you invite yourself to the place beside her, kneeling and clasping your hands together as she had always told you to do once you arrive at the Sept.

"My goodness, daughter, it is only early morrow... why do you look like that?"

You run a hand through your hair, your chest heaving up and down as you close your eyes. "Look like what?" You ask although you could not really care for an answer.

"Nothing. Pray for your father." Thank the gods you thought.

The run from the inn inside the Streets of Silk was far from the Sept. Not to mention, the hundreds of steps that you had to walk up both in the Red Keep to get dressed and to the Sept itself.

As you finally feel the silence around you, visions of last night cannot be stopped as it runs through your mind again.

"I expected more from you, princess," the teasing tone of Jacaerys' voice hits just the right buttons. His hips hitting your pelvis in slow, hard strokes that has you seeing stars by the minute. The moment his cock entered your cunt, you knew it was over for you.

"Just fuck me, Jace," you say in between moans. Your hands going up your head and into your hair as you desperately pull at it. You hear a deep chuckle come from him as his hands hook your legs around his waist, snaking his arm across your chest and to the back of your neck before his pace quickens.

You scream his name, the sound entering his ears like one of the greatest songs ever sung by poets. That pushes him further. His lips latching onto one of your perked nipples before his warm tongue lovingly laps circles around it. You put one hand on his head, messing up his hair as your sanity decreases by the⎯

"Daughter, did you hear what I said?" The images in your head disappear and you are faced with a furious look from Alicent. Sighing discreetly, you look back at her, giving back the same look. "I didn't catch you clearly."

She shakes her head disapprovingly, "Your uncle, Uncle Gwayne, might return. However, I do not know when exactly he'll come back."

For such a meaningless sentence, you hum and simply throw her a question as you exhale loudly. Feeling your body slowly heat up again. "Really? Why is he bothering to come back?"

Once you heard your mother's continuous flow of words in answer to your question, you peacefully close your eyes again. Hoping to all of the gods that it would keep your mother at bay. You gulp nothing but saliva down your dry throat, feeling all of the tingles and touches you felt last night.

"That's it... Keep your eyes on me, princess. You're doing so good," Jace's eyes lazily look up at you, a grin etched on his lips as you bounce up and down his length. This new position hitting places you never thought one could reach.

Your thighs were burning. You feel the pain in your hips going stronger but the pleasure overpowers it by a league. You wished the two of you could have stayed like earlier where he was the only one moving but after he makes you release in that position, he kisses you messily then pulls you off of the cushion.

His big hands hold the sides of your hips, helping you bounce, even thrusting up on his own every now and then to catch you off-guard. Your eyes close for your own sake as you feel another release close by. Jace watches you with amusement in his eyes as your hips begin grinding on his length, no longer bouncing like you used to, chasing after your release.

So close. Your eyes close shut even firmer. You can taste it⎯

A hand breaks your thoughts again. On the brink of sanity now as the hand belonged to your sister, Helaena, who shows you a caterpillar that she sets on the concrete ground before kneeling beside you.

Gods, you are cruel. You say in your mind. Letting your face do the talking while Helaena opens up about her insects.

"It looks nice." Alicent smiles. You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes as both your mother and your sister converse with each other while you kneel there in the middle. When you close your eyes, Alicent speaks again. "You two must bear the Hightower name."

What is this woman talking about? The thoughts in your head are all over the place. Helaena being too pre-occupied in watching her caterpillar to even bother reply to your mother.

"You married me off to a Targaryen, remember?" You say in a low voice. Clasping your hands together.

Alicent puts a hand on your shoulder and bicep, "It was for the better. Besides, it would have been Jacaerys, Queen Rhaenyra's eldest, or Lucerys. Would've you rather rule over the seas than the seven kingdoms?"

"I agree with you wholeheartedly, mother, now please let me pray in peace."

You peek at her by opening just a small portion of your eye, your mother shaking her head once more before she closes her own eyes. Pressing her hand to her forehead as she too, probably, prayed.

Jace's arms instinctively pull you closer. Wrapping his arm around your waist as he pounded inside of you from over edge of the bed. He's only came once while you couldn't even count how many times your legs shook at his expense.

"How does that feel?" Jace asks in your ear, feeling his hand snake through your stomach and down the apex of your thighs where his fingers skillfully rub against your cunt. The contact making you dive further into the mattress if not for the his arm holding you up by your waist. "Does it feel good? Are you pleased, princess?"

No words leave your mouth, only moans and whimpers as his thrusts got deeper. Each thrust into your delicious cunt making him feel delirious. After delaying his own release numerous times, his release was approaching him now just like a wave.

"Don't stop, Jace, fuck," you grit, gripping the sheets as another orgasm awaits.

Continuous groans and grunts leave his mouth. The veins in his neck just as angry as the ones that line his cock. His hands rush to pull your upper body up, placing his hand flat against your neck as your back is now flush against his chest. His other hand stimulating your clit. Every part of your body was on fire and he knows it.

His hand around your neck tightens ever so slightly and you feel your vision turn white. Everything becoming too much. "I'm close. Fuck, I'm coming again, Jace," you cry out.

"It's okay, princess," he grunts, feeling his own release come about as your legs shake, cunt tightening around his cock with a scream escaping your lips. His lips ghosting all across your ear and the side of your neck as rubs soothing circles on your belly. "I got you."

"Y/N, are you okay?" The question from Helaena makes you jolt. Sweat beading on your forehead as you rush to stand up. Both Alicent and Helaena looking at you with great concern. Your face was pale and your clothes had numerous wet spots because of the sweat.

You laugh uncomfortably, "I am. Are we going now?"

"You're the only one we're waiting on." Alicent tells you with a nod, turning around and walking away.

Brushing the feeling of last night off, you hurriedly follow your mother and sister out of the Sept and into a carriage back to the Red Keep.

Before the council meeting later in the day, you have a good amount of time to rest in your own shared chambers with your husband.

He hasn't arrived yet so you use the time to take back some strength after tiring yourself out last night. It may be the low-end cushion that you laid yourself on last night but your bed now has never been comfier. You were tossing and turning all around it while hugging your pillows.

Your handmaidens had their own affairs to deal with, thankfully, it meant no random hair braiding and no anything that would disrupt your peace in your haven.

That is if your brother only bothered to take the locked door as an answer.

"Does my door being locked mean nothing?" You ask at Aemond, having to walk back to your bed after opening your door for him. His return meant the others have just came back as well, it was only a matter of time now before Jace comes to both of your rooms and your peace is disrupted.

Aemond takes a seat near the fireplace. "You sneaked out last night, didn't you?"

Your brother knowing wasn't too surprising for you. He knew of all things, even things he shouldn't know in the first place. So when he asks, you answer with honesty.

"Are you telling Mother?"

Your brother hums, shrugging subtly as he inspects the things you had on the table. Random stacks of books and golden chalices filled with water. Jewelries of various design scattered all over.

"Alicent scolding you does give me some pleasure," Aemond says but you know he's just being an asshole. "It does not give me any use though."

You sigh. Dramatically falling on the soft cushion of your bed as you speak again. "Then tell me what I have done to warrant this astonishing visit from you, Aemond."

A thought hits and you jolt, "You're betrothed?" The scowl on his face says otherwise. "Found a girl?" "Aegon's dead?" You exclaim in a theatrical manner.

Aemond snickers, "Have you seen Otto?" The sudden question goes past your mind as you ask him about the mission last night.

"It was just me and Cole working. Our brother and Jace were as useful as a dragon without wings," Aemond shakes his head, standing up from his chair and exploring the room. The constant walking around bugged your senses.

You glare at your brother's remark. "Honestly, brother, shouldn't you be reporting to the Queen about what happened to the mission?"

"Shouldn't you be welcoming your husband with open arms outside?" Aemond retorts before he holds up a finger, "Oh, apologies, you already welcomed him with open legs last night."

"You should visit a brothel, brother. Or talk to Cole if you are truly irritated with the world," you throw him over an old mirror compact that you had on your nightstand, your brother catching it perfectly before settling it down on a random surface.

Your door opens and just in time, Jace enters. He looks surprised seeing Aemond first thing inside of your room.

Gazing at him, he had his usual clothes back on and not the cream-colored shirts and pants. His hair was in a different way disheveled, there were some strands that look naturally curled compared to how his hair used to look like the first night when you two married.

Aemond glances at him before he turns to you. With a nod, he leaves your room in silence.

"What's your brother doing here?" Jace asks as the door closes. Opening his closet and placing his clothes inside.

"I don't know either," you shrug indifferently. Lying back down on your bed as you watch him move around. The curls on his head bringing back a certain person that you met only once or twice before.

Jace notices you staring at his hair and so he speaks, "It is better not to comment unless you want to be deemed treasonous, my dear wife." The grin on your lips telling him everything he needs to know about what was in your head.

A meeting was called into the council room. Something about an update regarding the recent mission that finished last night⎯or so you thought.

"Where were you?" Your curious eyes go over Otto's figure. He definitely looks surprised when you stop him before he enters the council room. Your grandfather's presence giving you an unsettling feeling as he comes from one of the farther connecting hallways within the keep.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "If it pleases you, I came from Maegor's Holdfast." The way he says it has a condescending tone that you would rather not point out.

You nod quietly, going inside the small council that was now full of people.

Rhaenyra's way of ruling always boggled you. She is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and yet her small council is crowded. Not only are the seven mandatory positions already here but, Rhaenyra's children were there, Baela and Rhaena Targaryen were there, you and Aemond were even there despite not having any official position in it.

"I want everyone to feel included," as Rhaenyra said on the week that she was able to compose her own small council.

As you walk through the room, your eyes immediately lock with Jace's. It was clear that he had just finished bathing, as evidenced by the wetness of his hair, curls bouncier and more evident than before. It would be a crime for you to say it was not refreshing seeing a new hairstyle on him.

"Dearest wife," Jace nods at you with a small smile.

Contrary to his greeting, you sneer lowly, "Husband."

You take a stone ball from the middle, occupying the vacant seat beside your husband as the council chamber quiets down. The queen nodding at her other council members before she starts.

The meeting at the council went smoothly. Majority of Rhaenyra's council members did their job exceptionally well. Food was not scarce, problems were given solutions, and houses were given adequate attention in terms of their worries.

Whilst the Queen went on about the operations within the city, an occasional share of ideas from you and your mother, you could feel your husband's stare boring into you every time you look away to stare at Her Grace.

He figured that was not enough. His fingers brushing past your hand like a sin. So discreet, so subtle underneath the table as if you two did not consummate your marriage the night before.

You feel his hand creeping on yours again, this time you feel the warmth of it stay a little long before he withdraws it fast. "Jace? Aemond? How did the task go?"

Jace clears his throat, gesturing at Aemond who seemed to already have an answer to the Queen's question.

Aemond starts, "The task cannot be said as a success, your grace. It is clear from last night that more men must be employed in the field, not just Prince Jacaerys...nor Prince Aegon," he raises an eyebrow at your direction. Giving him back the same look before he clicks his tongue and turns back to Rhaenyra.

"I believe the perpetrator has someone inside of the Red Keep, as well as outside, where they hide their other men. They cannot hide this long if not for said allies." Aemond pulls off of the stone table and rests on the chair.

"What do you propose we do?"

This time, it's Aemond that gestures at Jace. "We need to set out more guards on patrol. Not just guards wearing their uniform but guards that are civilians. If these perpetrators do have men inside of King's Landing, we can only know if we live within King's Landing and see its every day operations without raising any suspicions."

People around the table nod, some even proposing additional ideas to it but Rhaenyra seemed to be well pleased with what her son and your brother suggested earlier.

"Your Grace, I fear this has not reached you yet but the mercenary that Prince Jacaerys and my granddaughter bought here is allegedly from the North."

Your head turns, "He's not."

All of the attention zones on you at the sudden interjection. "The man is from Essos. He has burns on his wrist to his arm. There's a group of people within Essos that have those."

"And how would you know that? You have not travelled to Essos nor have you seen this prisoner face-to-face," Otto says with another rather condescending tone. It was clear from the look on his face that he was undermining the information you're giving.

Your jaw clenches. Scoffing in disbelief at your grandfather's statement. "I would know that because I was the one attacked, as you should have known," you put your elbow on the table. "You do know that, right? Jacaerys was not the only one attacked—Hells, it was me that was attacked not him. I killed him."

"That is not something to be proud of," Alicent whispers from beside you.

"Let her be," says Aemond with a bored tone.

Otto does not say any more as an uncomfortable silence settles around the small council. Rhaenyra, sensing this unsettling atmosphere, clarifies the situation before her orders are officially given out.

Jace glances at you as a check up after the cross between you and your grandfather. He was nibbling on his lips as you two lock eyes once more.

"Am I the one speaking?" You question him rhetorically, rolling your eyes at him as you lean on your chair and listen to the politics between them one more.

The thought that you would soon be in a higher place than you are now—clearly not in Rhaenyra's place as the ruler of the iron throne—but still in a high position as the queen consort, having to listen through all of this talk and plans and politics, then plan treaties and feasts together with the other houses, it suffocated you.

Your husband knows that too but, he says no more.

Years of your life was spent within the four wall of your own room. Now, you stand outside of it as numerous servants usher in and out of it while holding different furniture.

You did not want to dwell on the thought of your own space being changed now that your mother's going to occupy your previous room before the marriage but, it stood right across the door from the library—a reason on why you loved your room as well—you cannot just ignore it.

With a deep sigh, you turn around, going inside of the library only to find it empty.

The gods may have hated you enough to take you away from the room you call home, but they do have some conscience to let you have the library all on your own.

Studying was never your forte, reading was. Folklores, history, stories of the maesters, you loved reading about them all.

"I figured you would be here," a voice speaks from the reading area. You were in between the bookshelves, looking for another book to read along with the five that you already have stacked on your hand. "No one loves the library as you do."

"I'm occupied, fortunately, you can go back to our chambers, my beloved husband," you huff, pulling out another book from the shelves before you head out to the open area for reading only to see Jace holding a stack of books himself.

You fake a gasp as you point at him, "I didn't know you can read."

He ignores your attempt to ridicule him and instead places his stacks of books beside yours. You raise an eyebrow at him and he already feels another joke coming up. "I knew you couldn't read! Do you want me to read them then summarize 'em for you, my dear husband?"

"I had this delivered from the Citadel's Library. I figured my beloved wife could use more books to read to...broaden her horizons." Jace crosses his arms, hip leaning on your table.

"I din't take bribery, Jace. What do you need?"

The prince's forehead creases in disbelief, "Are we not allowed to give gifts now?"

"You're awfully suspicious," you reply back fast, standing up from your seat and going back to the stacks of bookshelves.

Jace doesn't reply, instead, he watches you look for books again. He swears he could feel his life span decreasing each time you act like that—like how? He doesn't know as well. The poor man massages his temples as he grabs the book at the uppermost stack from those he bought before walking over to you.

"Your servants have told me that you have almost finished all of the books in the library so I sent a raven to ask for more books. You are free to read them as they are yours and I will make sure the books in our chambers are sorted out as well, if that's okay."

You tap your fingers over the spines of the books, Jace slipping the one he held in his hands at the end so you go past it as well.

"And why would you do all that, husband?" You ask, staring into his eyes as you stand in front of him.

Jace keeps his cool, clasping his hands together, "You said it yourself. I am your husband. It is my duty to keep you entertained."

"Oh but there's a lot of different ways to keep me entertained," you say with a sly smile, the rising ends of your lips making his breath hitch. His mouth falls open but no words leave it, his eyes, however, darken.

The prince replies back, "I'm sure I know a way or two to keep you entertained."

You grin, thinking he's not getting the signal and so you run a hand through his curly hair. "That hair suits you... but I think I know how your hair could look better."

"And how's that?"

"In between my thighs."

Jace scoffs, looking through the cracks behind the bookshelves go check if anyone sneaked in. When he sees no one, he does the first contact as he backs you slowly into the other side of the wall.

The two of you no farther than an inch away from each other as he places his hands on your sides with much care. Pressing his lips on yours before you feel the sides of your dress be bunched up by him.

You willfully open your mouth to him, letting him explore it with his tongue as you did his. Sucking on the wet muscle while you tangle your arms around his neck like a second nature. You could feel his lips stretching into a smile when he starts to pull away.

The dashing smile on his lips seemed to have put you under a spell as you nod eagerly when he nods first. Jace keeping his eyes on yours as he went on his knees in a hurry. He bunches up your skirt, your urgent hands grabbing a hold of said skirt so his hands would be free to—

"Jace!" You hiss, getting caught off-guard when he pushes himself in between your legs. Gripping your thighs tightly as you start to feel his hot breath right where you need him the most. Praise all of the gods for letting you wear a kirtle because it made everything all the more easier. Your legs nearly give out when you feel him lick a stripe up your slit. Mouth falling open in pure ecstasy. It's only been a day since he last touched you but it felt like a year. His mouth laps at you like a starved man. Nose poking at your bud which made everything much more pleasureful. Your hands naturally find solace in his hair, pulling and tugging on it until groans vibrate through your core. He nips at your cunt, the contact of his teeth to the sensitive bud making you yelp. It doesn't take long for him to have you screaming quivering in his grasp. His name spilling out of your mouth like a prayer. You tasted so good, the prince feeling addicted to your taste as he can't even stop himself from fucking his tongue in and out of your hole. "Seven hells, it feels so fucking good, Jacaerys," you mewl, shamelessly grinding your hips on his mouth. His curls scattered all over your hands as you slowly feel that release coming up. He abruptly inserts two fingers inside as he pulls away, chin glistening with your release. You nearly come at the erotic look on his face. His lips crashes with yours again, silencing your moans while you taste yourself on his tongue. His fingers thrusting in and out of you in a quick motion. "I'll make you feel so much better later, I just need to fuck you now," his voice is strained. Desperately untying his trousers. You were so caught up in your own pleasure that you didn't notice his shaft poking against his trousers so when he finally undoes them, you pull it down in one swift motion. The sight of his erect cock making your mouth water. Jace puts one of your legs up to his hips, whispering, "Jump," as you do so enthusiastically. Your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as both of your legs hook around his waist. You pull him into another hungry kiss, Jace navigating the two of you until he finds a counter. He pushes everything off of it and places you gently on it, the sounds of books and metal hardware falling onto the carpeted floor. He didn't care, nor did you. "I need it so bad, Jace," you whimper, pulling away to look down your middle. The sight of your husband holding his cock as he runs it up and down your slit making you roll your eyes way back as your head falls back. You were biting your lips to try and stop more of your sounds from coming out. He thrusts in one swift motion, the blunt head of his cock hitting the sweet spot of yours that he seems to have memorized already. The two of you moaning loudly in unison. Jace wastes no time in fucking you. His pelvis snapping aggressively into yours as your legs desperately try to pull him closer. "I'm so close, Y/N," he grunts, putting more force into his thrusts as he chases after his own orgasm. Your cunt clenches greedily on his cock. The sensation making Jace bite his lips to stop himself from spilling before you do. He drops a hand to your clit, instantly getting a reaction from you. Your back arching off of the table as you scream about the pleasure. One, two⎯a few more strokes to your spot and you almost⎯ "Can I have a word with my sister once you two are done?" You thought it was only your mind making up scenarios but it wasn't. Another knock sounding, "Oh, and keep it down. Halaena is trying to put Jaehaerys to sleep."

#hotd #jacaerys imagines #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon fic #house of the dragons fic #jacaerys velaryon imagines #jace x reader #jacaerys x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace velaryon smut #hotd smut #hotd fics

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anne-bsd-bibliophile · 13 days ago

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The Beggar Student by Dazai Osamu

"I could feel the hands of fate upon me. I'd been caught. In his heart of hearts, the student is a thirty-two-year-old drunken poet."

"Not even the wisest reader knows the anguish of the writer who has sent a truly awful piece of writing to a magazine in order to survive. Here goes nothing, I told myself, pushing that heavy envelope into the mailbox. It hit the bottom with a thunk. And that was that. Another crummy story. On the surface, it pretends to be a mirror to my soul, although I know as well as anyone the slimy worms of compromise are wriggling in the muck at the bottom. It's a work in which the work is far from done. ... It makes me so ashamed I want to scream and run around in circles. I promise you, it's terrible. A lousy piece of trash. I have no right to call myself a writer. Such is my ignorance. No insights to impart. No illuminating views."

"I wish I could just cut my belly open and let all of the words come spilling out. No matter if it's gibberish, as long as it's my flesh and blood doing the talking."

"My work will disgrace bookstore windows all across the land. Critics will sneer; readers will give up. That hack writer has outdone himself again, they'll say, setting a low bar for writers everywhere. Tough to beat."

"I'll have you know, I may look like an ass, but I'm not a total moron, and when I say I lack conviction, I only mean it relative to my own high standards."

"You ought to try this out sometime, dear reader. Sit yourself down on the sofa of a coffee shop or bar, facing the fireplace beside the madam of the house, so that both of you are staring at the flames, and talk as if you're speaking to the fire - I promise, up against even the dullest mind, you'll be able to sustain a lively conversation for hour after hour. But take heed, reader: you must not look into each other's eyes, not even once."

"I couldn't shut up if I tried. The only way I can stand being alive is if I'm playing the buffoon."

"One might call reason the glue that holds society together. In that sense, the order we enjoy is artificial, but we need this artifice if we want to go on living."

"Even if I feel bad for a person, I'm certain of the cold hard fact that I can't do anything for them, which leaves me feeling even worse."

"Growing up, I found the name incredibly embarrassing, so despite being a string bean, I've been publishing as Osamu Dazai, a name that makes me sound like a street fighter who might break your neck."

"...This guy's a good person. Not egotistical like you." "Hold on," I said, bristling at being labeled a good person. "I'm plenty egotistical..."

"When something pushes me over the brink of fear, I have a nasty tendency to begin laughing like an idiot. A disturbing, wild laugh. I lose control, can't hold it in. An expression not of brazenness, but extreme cowardice that takes me to the limits of delirium."

"Truth is that grownups are the same as kids, except a little worse for wear. Kids ask a lot from grownups, but grownups ask at least as much from kids. It's a real mess. But it's the truth. We count on you to hold it all together. ...To put it gently, we're always one step away from being overwhelmed. To put it harshly, we're all babies who cant' take a word of criticism."

"Next time life gets you down, curl up in a blanket in your rented room and open a good book."

#dazai osamu #japanese literature #the beggar student #quotes #book recs #book recomendations

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sakkiichi · 1 year ago

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MEOW?

them as cat parents.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao, Shikanoin Heizou, Albedo, Kaveh, Alhaitham, Childe x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, headcanons.

word count: 1.7k.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

— All cats adore him and he’s fond of them too, he’s the perfect cat parent.

— Kazuha is soft, warm and gentle, all attributes very appealing to the small felines that tend to follow him around everywhere he goes: from the streets of Inazuma City, to the docks of Ritou, to even during his trips to Liyue.

— Kazuha is a free spirit, wandering from one place to another, a fallen maple leaf, vibrant red in its trajectory across the sky. His desire to see the world makes it difficult for him to linger in one place only, so it is not likely he ends up adopting a cat of his own.

— However, always that he’s in Inazuma, the wandering samurai makes sure to visit his late friend’s gravestone. In those occasions, as much as he keeps his composure, Kazuha’s grip on your hand tightens, a reassurance to himself, that the heavens won’t part in thunderbolts and take you away too.

— These visits are heavy on his heart, but your company and the soft mewls of the white kitten his friend left behind manage to shine a little sunlight in his stormy memories.

— The small cat’s ears perk up when you two show up, its tail swishing as it leaps into Kazuha’s arms, eliciting soft giggles from the wandering poet.

— You could stare forever at the sight of your lover’s smile when the little one paws at his cheeks curiously, playing with the tips of Kazuha’s moonlit hair. You sigh dreamily, gaze soft. If a day comes when you’re too weary and old to travel anymore, you’re so taking in the kitty.

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

— He’s the cat.

— Seriously, now. Cats are drawn to him. And even if he denies it, he has to hold back a smile when the little creatures follow him around.

— The wanderer is secretly very, very soft on the cats.

— Oftentimes, he lets them hide under his hat, carrying them around when he goes for walks around Sumeru. He thinks, that way, his doll won’t be so lonely either (he definitely introduces it to his favorite cats he befriends but shh don’t tell him you saw that.)

— If you point out how the kittens seem to consider him one of them, Scara will blush deeply, frowning and spouting how you’re seeing things and that no, he’s not keeping any of them.

— Oh yeah, he totally went out to feed the kitties some scraps that night, it’s late and he wanted to sleep, you see? and the animals were being loud. (No, it’s definitely not because he feels guilty of saying he’s not keeping them).

— One time, you caught him rescuing a very small black cat on a thunderstorm, and to this day, you still believe that’s the most precious thing you have ever witnessed.

— The smile on your boyfriend’s face and his wide indigo eyes when he felt the warmth of the kitten’s small body against his hollow heart are definitely a treasure you want to keep forever.

✧ XIAO

— He’s the cat, number 2.

— Liyue’s cats have a favorite and that’s definitely none other than the mighty vigilant yaksha, the conqueror of demons, the bane of all evil.

— In truth, he’s just a blushing awkward mess around the kittens.

— One, he’s scared to hurt them. They’re so small and their mewls are so soft… such pure and innocent creatures… What if his karma were to taint them?

— Two, he’s clueless.

— Literally. One time you were playing with the stray cats around the streets of Liyue, Xiao showing up as you were rubbing a tabby one’s belly. When you put the small kitty in the adeptus’ arms, he didn’t know what to do.

— What if he accidentally drops it? Or holds it too tight?

— Please, reassure Xiao :( he really needs it.

— Wrapping your hands around his, your body against his, you petted the cat with Xiao, the small animal nuzzling into your boyfriend. His blushy face when the feline purred in pleasure was too adorable, you’ll have to make him hold cats more often ehe.

✧ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

— Heizou wants to protect beautiful things, to keep them in the precious light of their safety.

— That, of course, includes cats.

— They’re so adorable, brightening his day when he’s away from you and the small animals follow him around on his way to work in the mornings.

— They look so cute, with their big shiny eyes, observing him curiously, that the detective starts to take them under his wing.

— As unexpected as it was, to hear “meow?” instead of “I’m home, sweetheart!” one day as the front door swung open, you can’t deny it was beyond adorable, the way your boyfriend walked into the living room with a small cat nestled on top of his head.

— Yes, you ended up keeping the little one.

— It now joins the detective gathering clues for the cases he solves; sometimes the small animal leads the way when it’s too dark to see the trails, or it gently scratches Heizou’s legs when it senses danger.

— And rest assured, that Heizou will keep the kitty safe too. No matter what. It reminds him of you, sometimes, when it stares up at him with a starry gaze. Something as precious needs to be cherished.

✧ ALBEDO

— He finds cats to be very interesting creatures.

— Independent, intelligent, able to fit in practically any space… he wonders if they’re actually liquid or if their structure has been alchemically altered to have such fascinating properties.

— When, after exhaustive observation, the chief alchemist finally concludes that cats are indeed just naturally like that, they become his favorite companions (after you, that is).

— Sometimes, when Albedo is around Mondstadt, the kittens there follow him to the alchemy bench, rubbing against his legs when he’s working.

— You and the cats become Albedo’s favorite models as well. He loves your giggles when the little ones paw at your lap, trying to climb on your shoulders.

— They also become his little helpers when he paints, handing him a brush when he needs it, even without him having to ask.

— If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see the chalk prince trying to converse with the kittens too.

— Something along the likes of “Hmm… which color do you think [Y/n] would like best here? This one?” The kreideprinz asks, dipping his brush into it. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” He coos as the cat, rubbing its chin.

— Now you wish you could sketch, to immortalize the moment. Luckily, you have your kamera with you.

✧ KAVEH

— Oh sweet disney princess Kaveh, cats and pretty much all animals adore him.

— Neither you nor him know when the cats around Port Ormos started following him, but now they just won’t leave.

— No matter how many times he (halfheartedly) scolds the kitties, they are not fazed by the architect’s pouty expression.

— So your home becomes home for the cats milling about Sumeru.

— Your lover goes as far as to design a whole area for the little animals, building small houses for them to stay in with their own bowls of food, color coordinated and decorated, of course.

— You look happy helping him care for the cats too. However, when you offer to buy them food, your boyfriend can’t let you; he’ll take on extra commissions if he has to, but Kaveh just can’t allow you spending money on this little, albeit adorable, “problem.”

— There was one time one of the kitties sneaked inside your house, making it to your room. Let’s just say, the small feline found Kaveh’s face very entertaining and decided to nuzzle against it. The scene was so precious you couldn’t bring yourself to shoo the cat away, deciding to lay down with your partner and his new fan.

✧ ALHAITHAM

— Around the time he had to fill in the position of acting grand sage, the hours your boyfriend could spend with you were helplessly diminished, due to him having to cover overtime.

— You felt a little lonely, so well, can you exactly be blamed for adopting a baby cat from the local shelter?

— Turns out, your decision kind of “backfired” on you. For, in the hours he’s away, not only do you miss Alhaitham, but the latest addition to your household does too.

— The kitty has become very fond of your lover, often curling up beside him while he reads. One hand holding his book and the other caressing the kitten’s grey fur, the sight is rather candid, you think, smiling, as you curl up beside them.

— At your presence, the cat doesn’t hesitate to jump into your lap, swishing its tail and meowing for more petting from the scribe beside you.

— With a tender grin tugging at his lips, Alhaitham leaves a kiss to your temple, resuming his affections on the little one.

— No matter how brief, as long as you can have moments like this, everything will be alright, you muse, closing your eyes, heart warmed by your two boys.

✧ CHILDE

— Repeat after me, Childe: no, you can’t train the cats to fight on the battlefield with you.

— Once you get past that, he’s good at caring for the kittens. Makes sure they always have food and toys, comfy beds and a space to play. Ajax is good at taking care of those he loves, as proved with his family.

— Speaking of which, his siblings would adore playing with the cats you and Childe adopt, especially Teucer! (he totally talks to them about mister cyclops, the animals staring up at him curiously, pawing at his figurine softly).

— As much as you’re against your cats joining your boyfriend in his battles, they love watching him as he practices, their large eyes following the movements of his dual blades or his bow.

— The harbinger always makes extra time for the adorable pets, playing with them after his training, no matter how tired he is.

— Those times, he doesn’t get scolded when he’s late for dinner (you’ve been secretly watching, smiling to yourself at how cute your lover is. Yes, you totally were staring too while he was shirtless, muscles taut as he wielded his hydro conjured spear).

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flowercrowngods · 2 years ago

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it’s steddie yearning hours

🤍 also on ao3

It’s a little fucked up, maybe, the way Eddie can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Steve‘s sleeping form. He’s a sight to behold — curled up on his side, making himself as small as he can; his hair is a mess, hiding his face from the world but not from Eddie, not quite. The room is dark except for the light of the lamps outside that comes in through the blinds, landing right on Steve, and Eddie thinks how fitting it is that Steve would be found by the light even in total darkness. He would be found and unaware of it.

And Eddie Munson is left to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest like that would save his heart, keep it where it is, keep it for himself. He shouldn’t be looking at Steve like that. Not when they’re hardly even friends, not when what they have is only remnant of a world ending. A world saved. A world forever changed.

He sighs, leaning his whole weight against the frame, clenching his fists in his t-shirt, doing everything to stop himself from stepping closer to the bed, running fingers through Steve‘s mess of hair, brushing lips to his forehead and climbing in bed with him.

The doorframe holds his weight, his sanity, his heart, and Eddie slides down with another heart sigh that the poets would have called wistful. Yearning. Longing and belonging.

He hits the ground and hopes that it would break the haze. But nothing can. There’s a heaviness inside him that makes it hard to breathe and leaves him wishing that Steve weren’t in his bed, in his heart, in his life. Not like this.

He wants to be friends with Steve. Real, actual friends. People who don’t have to hold each other through nightmares, people who go to the arcade together and make fun of each other. Who exchange their favourite tapes and go on trips together.

He doesn’t want to be bonded to him by trauma and horrors unimaginable alone. He wants to fall in love slowly, gently, wants the secret smiles and the fluttering inside his chest that he overheard the girls at school talking about.

He wants another chance with Steve. Another try. Without monsters, without death and dying, without saving and being saved. He wants Steve Harrington to choose Eddie Munson for who he is, not for what they went through.

He wants Steve to choose. To have a choice.

Breathing through a lump in his throat has become second nature to him lately, and he finally looks away from this boy that has yet to drop the other shoe on Eddie.

After who knows how long, Steve stirs, stretching with an adorable little groan until he stills, his eyes on Eddie. He can feel them. He doesn’t look up to meet them, can’t be responsible for whatever Steve would find in his eyes.

“Hey,” he hears, Steve’s voice incredibly soft despite the rasp of disuse that’s marking it.

Eddie shivers a little and finally looks up. “Hi.” A beat. You’re beautiful. “Sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm,” Steve nods, yawns again, then curls up some more on his side, scooting over to the edge of the bed so he can better see Eddie. “How long was I out for?”

Two hours, forty-eight minutes. “‘Bout two and a half hours,” Eddie says, smiling when Steve’s eyes widen. “There’s dinner. If you’re hungry.”

He’s holding his breath, shallow as it is, because his lungs cannot be trusted around Steve anymore. Not with the way he smiles every time Eddie makes dinner. Not with the way he hides said smile behind the blanket a little bit, like he doesn’t want Eddie to see, like he can’t believe he’s smiling in the first place.

Eddie wants to get up and hold him. Trace that smile with his fingers. Make it stay.

What are we doing, Steve? What are you still doing in my life? Why did you make yourself a home like it’s worth staying here?

Slowly, still a little clumsy from his prolonged nap, Steve gets up with the blanket in his hands and drops it on Eddie’s lap. Must have mistaken his shivers for being cold. Then Steve steps over him, ruffles his hair as he does, and Eddie wants to cry a little bit at the way Steve snickers at it. He’s ridiculous. Eddie is ridiculously gone for him. It hurts more than it should.

“You hungry, too?” Steve asks, fingers finding Eddie’s hair to comb through the curls he just messed up. Eddie doesn’t have it in himself to move his head, to put a distance between them, to confront Steve about what this is, what they’re doing, what it all means.

All he does is nod — slowly, so Steve’s fingers stay where they are. They do. Eddie pinches his own fingers to stop from reaching out and snatching Steve’s hand, bringing it to his lips, making him stay. Stay here. Stay in his life forever. Stay and never realise that there’s no reason for him to do that.

He meets Steve’s eyes even though that’s dangerous business. “Starving.“

Steve’s face does this thing again. That thing where he softens so visibly, his eyes shining a little, his lips twitching into both a smile and a frown. It’s mortifying. It’s liberating. It’s being seen by Steve.

“You didn’t have to wait, Eddie.” His voice is soft. Chiding and grateful all at once, and Eddie’s heart flutters.

“I know,” he shrugs, and that’s that because he bites his tongue. I wanted to. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait.

Steve huffs and then he’s gone, rummaging around in the kitchen before he reappears with two plates of lasagna in his hands. Instead of asking Eddie to come join him at the table or settling back in bed, Steve hands one plate to Eddie and then slides down the other side of the doorframe so they’re face to face, their thighs pressed together. It’s a tight fit, but their bodies are angled just so, making this as comfortable as it gets.

It’s one of the first things they figured out together, sitting in the door like this. Wayne comes home sometimes to find them like this, even joined them on some occasions. Just to talk, just to be there.

Steve reaches over to grab the blanket again, draping it over both their laps, and Eddie shoves a large forkful of lasagna into his mouth to stop himself from saying something stupid.

What are we doing? When does it end? When is the last time I get to sit with you, share my blanket with you, get you to eat my lasagna? Tell me; just tell me so I can prepare. Tell me you won’t stay so I can stop dreaming.

They eat in silence and Steve’s eyes are on him for most of it, but Eddie doesn’t look up. It’s heavier tonight, heavier than usual. Heavier because Steve’s cheeks are streaked with the imprint of Eddie’s pillow, heavier because his hair is a wild mess, heavier because Eddie wants to breathe him in and hold him forever.

But Steve is awake, and they only hold each other when they have a nightmare. Because that’s why they are in each other’s lives. There is no room for feelings, for romance, for yearning when their smiles only exist to keep each other alive.

“Are you okay, Eddie?” Steve whispers, his plate empty while Eddie barely touched his own, too busy not looking at Steve that he forgot to be a person in the process. It’s nothing new, really, but he’s gotta get a grip.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

See, that’s the thing about Steve. He always gives you two chances to say something. The first try for all those impulse answers, the things you wish for yourself, the hand wave of dismissal. And then the second chance without judgment.

And Eddie loves him. Can’t lie to him again, so he just shrugs. His second chance not yet taken. Steve bumps their knees and Eddie’s eyes water. He eats his lasagna with stinging eyes and slightly shaking hands, because Steve can’t know. But Eddie might explode if he doesn’t.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

And, see, that’s another thing about Steve Harrington and the way he sees you. He knows Eddie hates being still, can’t talk when he’s sitting down. Can’t talk about anything meaningful when the world is quiet and dark and still.

Steve knows what Eddie needs. And it’s a little fucked up, maybe, but Eddie knows that Steve secretly needs it, too.

And he should say no. Should swallow his emotions, his thoughts, his fears, his aching and yearning and longing and belonging, should swallow it all and smile it away, bump his knee into Steve’s and propose they watch a movie together.

But he doesn’t. He can’t swallow tonight, not when there’s a lump in his throat, not when Steve is so warm against him, not when—

“Okay,” Steve smiles, climbing to his feet. “Let me go get ready, you finish your lasagna. Can I, uh. Can I borrow a sweater?”

“You know you don’t gotta ask.”

Another smile and he ruffles Eddie’s hair again. It makes his heart jump. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course,” Eddie whispers, barely audible, and not for Steve’s ears, just for his own need to say something. Anything. To make this real.

Ten minutes later, Eddie closes and locks the trailer door beside him and they start walking. The night is quiet even though it’s only just past eleven, and it’s a tad colder than Eddie expected. Beside him, Steve sticks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, fluffing up the hood of Eddie’s sweater so it covers his neck from the light breeze. Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him, Steve smiles and cocks his head down the street.

“Shall we?”

Eddie only hums but sets the pace. They’re both looking down at the ground, neither of them really caring where it is they’re going. It’s not about getting anywhere, it’s just about moving. Walking. Talking without looking at each other, finding excuses and answers in the night sky and the swaying treetops.

They walk in silence for a good half hour before Eddie finds his courage, his words, his peace with the possible answers. The night can cover for him and convince the daylight of little white lies that sound a lot like, I’ll be fine.

“You know you don’t have to do all this, right?”

Beside him, Steve’s steps falter a little. Maybe he didn’t expect Eddie to talk after all. “Do what?”

“This, I don’t know,” Eddie sighs, opening his arms to indicate the entirety of his life, really. “Sticking around. Staying.”

Steve frowns a little but he keeps his steps in sync with Eddie’s. That’s the whole point of their little nightly walks. No stopping, no looking, no seeing.

“Do you not want me to?”

God, how he wants Steve to stay! But also… Not like this. Not like he thinks Eddie might break if he leaves. Which Eddie will. But it shouldn’t be what makes Steve stay.

And there’s no way to say that. So all he does is shrug.

There’s a little pained noise from Steve, and Eddie scrambles for words that evade him, truths that make him too vulnerable, too real, too much.

“Okay,” Steve says after a while, and he sounds so small when he does. Eddie looks over and sees him pinching the bridge of his nose, nodding slowly, his mouth opening and closing with words unsaid. “Do you… Should I go home?”

Maybe you should, Eddie thinks. Get back to people you can be friends with; real friends.

“Maybe,” he says, slowing to a stop, looking away from Steve. “But I don’t want you to.”

“I… Okay? I don’t—“ Steve sighs and stops as well. “If it bothers you that we’re friends, then you can just—“

“Are we?” Eddie interrupts him, wincing at the way his own voice sounds. “Are we?” he repeats, quieter this time, opening up the question to honesty and vulnerability rather than disbelief and challenge.

Steve frowns again, confused, and Eddie remembers why they don’t do this in the quiet of his room; why they don’t do this while looking at each other. He can’t look at Steve and ask these questions. It’s too much.

So he turns and keeps walking, following the familiar road they’re on. Steve follows, a bit behind, and it leaves Eddie feeling horribly alone.

“You know,” Steve says after a while, scoffing, sighing, breathing until he tries again. Eddie waits. Here comes the other shoe. It’s finally there. “You know, I should be used to it by now, but it doesn’t really stop hurting when people keep questioning your intentions. With the kids, I kinda get it. There’s, like, years separating us. I get it when they’re hesitant to call me their friend.

“And with Robin, you know, she spent weeks after Starcourt just waiting for me to drop her. To be like, ‘Alright, thanks, it was good while it lasted but you’re an actual nerd and I don’t care for that shit at all.’”

Steve laughs and Eddie frowns, No laugh should sound so hollow.

“I had no idea she was so obsessed with the idea of me leaving her. She didn’t trust that I would stick around, that I actually loved her, that she’s my best friend and— God, she… I just, I don’t get it, y’know?”

Steve turns around because Eddie’s steps had slowed while Steve sped up, and Steve is walking backwards with his hands in his pocket, looking at Eddie with a hurt, confused expression.

“And now you’re telling me you don’t want me to stay and that I should go home, but that you don’t want me to do that either? You’re asking me if we’re friends, Eddie? What the hell else would we be? I’m…” He shakes his head and spreads his arms. “What do I have to do for anyone to believe me I just wanna spend time with them because they’re cool and I feel really fucking good being around them?”

Eddie doesn’t wanna look at Steve, but he can’t look away either. They’ve stopped again, a few feet apart, and Steve looks so open, ready for Eddie to answer, to tell him, to talk, when all Eddie wants to do is run away. Run to him. And he can’t do either. Can’t tell him.

“It’s not that,” he says lamely.

He gets to watch as Steve’s face scrunches up, crumbles, and then falls until there’s nothing left. His expression empty.

“I’m going home now, Eddie.”

“Why?”

Steve shakes his head and swallows. “Because I’m hurt. And confused. And I don’t wanna talk anymore, not when you don’t.”

And with that, Steve turns around. Walks down the road, disappearing into darkness until the next street light catches him. Attracting light even in darkness.

And Eddie breaks finally. He runs down the street, halfway catching up with Steve until he’s close enough to make sure the other boy can hear him.

“I’m terrified,” he says, making Steve stop. He doesn’t turn around yet, but it’s enough for Eddie to keep going. “I’m so fucking terrified that you only think you have to be my friend because we nearly died together. Terrified that you’ll leave because this thing between us is so heavy, loaded with trauma and memories. I’m terrified that you won’t come over anymore one day, that you’ll be done, that you’ll find friends that are not bonded to you like I am. Or like the kids and Robin and the rest are. I’m… Stevie.”

His voice breaks a little and he approaches Steve’s form, the light catching in his hair, making Eddie feel like a moth on his way to the flame.

“I wonder if we’re friends not because I doubt you. It’s because I know I have nothing to offer you. Nothing but, like, an open ear for your memories or open arms for your nightmares. Nothing but shared memories, which I know are only a fraction of what you’ve been through. That’s not how friendship works, Stevie, that’s not what will be enough in the long run.”

He sighs, rounding Steve until he’s in front of him, but Steve’s looking down at the pavement.

“I want to be your friend, Stevie. But I have this gnawing feeling that that ship has sailed.”

Steve shakes his head when Eddie is done. Says something he can’t quite catch.

“What was that?” Eddie asks, his voice tender, his eyes watery, his breath heaving. He hates being so vulnerable, but he hates even more the thought that Steve would just leave and think Eddie never cared for him.

“You make me dinner,” Steve says then.

He sniffles. Reaches for Eddie’s hand until he seems to think better of it. Eddie feels the emptiness, the cold air on his skin, and longs to be brave enough to take Steve’s hand now. He isn’t. But he thinks about it. He thinks about it all the time.

“You make me dinner and let me sleep in your bed. You make me smile and when I’m at work, I think about you sometimes, just to think nice thoughts. I don’t… There’s nothing you have to do, Eddie. You don’t have to do or be anything to be my friend. And I don’t want you around me just because you know what it’s like to drift off in your head, or just because you don’t question it when I can’t talk. I want you around because you make me laugh and you make me happy and if I could get paid for spending my days with you and with Robin, I would do nothing else in life. Because you, Eddie Munson, are good. And you’re enough. You’re a dork and a nerd and a fucking menace, and you’re kind and good with the kids and you’re a great friend. A great friend, Eddie, fuck!”

Steve is crying, but that’s okay because so is Eddie. Sincerity is scary, scarier than facing down the demo-bats, scarier than telling Wayne he’s queer, scarier than just about anything he’s ever done. But it also allows him to take Steve’s hand and pull him against his chest.

It makes him laugh when Steve sounds so frustrated when he says, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

It makes him pull back and wipe away the tears from Steve’s cheeks, ignoring the ones on his own.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

He hums in surprise when that makes Steve lean in again, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck.

“I’m… I don’t know what to say,” he whispers into Steve’s hair.

“‘S okay,” Steve says. “That was, uh, a lot.”

Eddie laughs, feeling light and elated and a little hazy, the words still catching up with him, his limbs tingling with sensation just thinking about Steve thinking about him at work.

It does nothing to dissuade him from yearning and aching and longing to brush a kiss to Steve’s hair that is so close to him now. His hand comes up to the back of Steve’s neck, and the world slows down. Steve’s breath hitches, and Eddie’s heart jumps.

“I’m… I’m gonna say something, too, okay? Gonna try, at least. Stop me whenever, okay?”

Steve doesn’t react, but his hands begin to move in slow, minute movements along Eddie’s back. It gives him courage. Makes him dream.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. “I make you dinner because I like to take care of you. I let you sleep in my bed because… because it’s gonna smell like you. I like the way you smell. I make you smile because that makes me stupidly happy. Stupid, really. You make me a little stupid sometimes, Stevie. Because I want to be your friend more than anything in the world, but lately I also… I wanna climb into bed with you and hold you even when there’s not a nightmare. Just to hold you. I wanna tuck that rebellious strand of hair behind your ear just to touch you. I wanna touch you all the time, Steve. It’s a little crazy. Drives me crazy.“

He sighs and goes for the kill because they’re in too deep now, he can’t stop. Steve knows anyway, Eddie is sure, but he wants Steve to hear, too. He wants to say it. Wants to make it real.

“I wanna kiss you,” he breathes, and it’s too real for even the night to disguise it later. “All the time. And you should know that. You should know that maybe we can’t be friends after all.“

The words leave his mouth and he’s ready for Steve to push him away, to let him down gently with regret in his face and repeat his words from earlier, let go and go home like that would solve Eddie’s predicament.

But Steve doesn’t move from the tight embrace. Or, the doesn’t move away.

His hands on Eddie‘s back begin to wander more, leaving goosebumps along the way from his shoulder blades to his hips. His face where it’s tucked against Eddie‘s neck turns slightly until his nose connects with his collarbone. Steve straightens and his nose is replaced by his lips, connecting with Eddie‘s throat, his neck, his jaw.

And then Steve pulls back. Looks at Eddie with hooded eyes, hands moving from his shoulders to his jaw. Cradling Eddie‘s face like he’s something precious.

Eddie is holding his breath, tracking Steve’s every motion, not daring to move or even breathe too deeply lest he scares him off, breaks the spell, bursts the bubble.

Steve swallows and looks down at Eddie‘s lips. “What if I told you that I wanna kiss you all the time, too?”

“Then I would call you crazy.”

Steve smiles and leans in to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, breathing into the night, “Call me crazy, then.”

“You’re crazy.”

It’s the last thing Eddie says for a while before he tilts his head forward to capture Steve’s lips with his own. Steve hums and smiles into the kiss, opening his mouth to let Eddie in deeper, holding him so close there’s no room for doubts or regrets.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #idk what this is i was in the mood for yearning and a little bit of pain that comes with learning to be vulnerable #dio words #this is so long omg shut up dio

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heartaces · 3 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐔𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝟑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ASTARION EDITION ⟶ part one

“there is a time and place for violence. i mean - this place is perfect. but is it the time?”

“heaven forbid. we’re all entitled to our secrets.”

“sitting by the fire while you do all the hard work sounds marvelous, actually.”

“couldn’t you wait ten minutes before being an absolute freak?”

“you’re welcome to try and kill me, of course. but i don’t die easily these days.”

“ugh, don’t be so nice to me. it makes me want to be nice back.”

“a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

“stabbing someone a dozen times can be many things. but ‘the right thing to do’? hm, i doubt it.”

“immortality is only as good as the life you’re living. an eternity of luxury sounds a lot better than an eternity of struggle.”

“what are you doing? this isn’t safe. you can’t trust him.”

“look, i’m a not a details person, all right. but turning up and causing chaos has worked for us so far.”

“they were clearly artists. you can tell because it’s a mess in here.”

“you know, there is a point where bravery becomes stupidity. and walking into that thing would be very, very stupid.”

“i’ve had enough of bad poets singing of my looks - urgh.”

“is the plant bothering you?”

“until then, try not to die.”

“oh yes, i’m fine. i just feel… awful.”

“shut that oversized chicken up.”

“you know, the only way to cure temptation… is to give in to it.”

“next time, just warn me before you do something stupid.”

“there certainly is a strong ambience down here. i don’t know if it’s the bats or the decaying - everything. it’s quite homey.”

“it’s nice to see heroes are as awful as the rest of us.”

“unusually polite for a god.”

“of all the places you dragged me, this might just be the most foul. and that is saying something, given some of the things you exposed me to.”

“i mean, i hate to judge the proverbial book, but that oath may be all cover and no pages.”

“a shapeshifter? it could be anyone. i mean - it’s not me. but it could be anyone else.”

“sometimes we need to think with our heads before our knifes, dear.”

“you could watch for anyone acting strangely, but - well, you know the lunatics we camp with.”

“thank you. for being that evil bastard.”

“can you feel that? the dark, it’s - hungry. best watch the shadows.”

“this place brings back the worst memories.”

“well, that’s disturbing. still, better than having an actual conversation with him though.”

“oh no. not again.”

“honestly, just once, could we end up somewhere normal?”

“i prefer to travel in smaller groups. it’s more… intimate.”

“nice as it is, she still doesn’t have the best hair in the camp.”

“thank goodness. i was worried i’d have to get involved. now, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

“i much prefer it when i’m the one prowling in the shadows - about to strike.”

“ah, nothing says ‘true love’ like faking your own death to avoid someone.”

“you’re not going to eviscerate him? i was hoping for a show.”

“it’s just a waste of a perfectly good cult we could be controlling.”

“can you - ugh, can you shut up and let me read?”

“i hate to be negative. but they’ll carve you up like a goose.”

“my, she sounds positively demented. i love it. let’s tell her everything.”

“you villain. i didn’t know you had it in you.”

“a well-presented face can open a lot of doors.”

“hardly a promising introduction.”

“do you mind? i’m brooding.”

“i’d rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it’s all the same to you.”

“easy now, let’s not do anything hilarious.”

“i’m with you, my dear. wherever this leads.”

“i appreciate anyone who opens a conversation with bodily harm.”

“nothing like a little camp drama to spice up the evening.”

“it’s almost a pity things ended up amicably.”

“what do you see when you look at me?”

“i would’ve liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine.”

“do you have any other chaos you need to unleash here?”

“all i want is a little fun. is that so much to ask?”

“don’t be so sour. i like a good time as much as anyone.”

“this seems like a lovely little spot. the sense of impending doom aside.”

#indie rp #bg3 prompts #rp meme #ask meme #rp prompt #sentence starters #sentence meme #rp resources #rp ask meme #roleplay meme #ask prompt #rpc #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #*#ok that's enough of tags #ask memes.

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valentine-cafe · 11 days ago

Text

˖⁺. ﹙ poet naga boyfriend x fem reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . if you do not sit still. . . !! 🍒 : naga ˖ grim reaper ˖ poet character﹙ verse 781 talisen. ﹚

cockwarming your boyfriend during theatre rehearsals always bring you trouble, if only you had the patience. . . cw: cockwarming, spanking

Talisen who's always such a sucker for your pussy until he has rehearsals.

Don't get him wrong. It's still his no.1 girl but. . . When that man has a script in his hands good luck trying to get them on your thighs instead.

You could be sitting all pretty in his lap. Pink walls clamped around his veiny cock. Nurse him with every throb, every flutter of your cunt he's usually all over. With slick that seeps from the heat of your slit. Drips down his balls in the most tantalising way.

And yet his hips will remain still.

You'd think they're nailed to the chair at this point.

The cold feeling you yearn for around your thighs - squishing and gripping - as he fucks you raw is instead circled around white paper.

Damn his assignment. Damn Professor Utkarsh for giving it to him. ( Not really the latter, but your desire-riddled body is blaming everyone and everything at this point ).

"Baobei. . . Stay still."

Not even a tender stroke to your hip when you squirm! His thumb is fixed to the edge of the sheet stack. Has he even looked at you yet? Seen your throbbing pussy, all for him? Seen you making a mess of his favourite chair?

"Gege. . ." You trail off.

Not a word.

Brows twitch. Well damn him too. Your hips lift and buck back down. No response. So you do it again. And again. And -

That cold feeling comes down like a blizzard. Sharp on your thigh in a small thwack! Long nails join the scolding and nip at the supple flesh. It looked like a mere flex of his arm and you were sandwiched back onto his dick. Firmly and unforgivingly.

"Stay. Still."

A low hiss meets your ear followed by the click of a snake tongue. You can see his eyes peering over your shoulder and fixed to his script.

His lines that are soooo much more important than seeing you cum for him.

Good luck, darling. Maybe if you help him out he'll reward you with some humps against your sweetspot. Otherwise, you might as well catch the dildo instead.

#﹙ cupcake rush. ﹚: talisen 781 𖹭 ݁#monster boyfriend #monster smut #teratophillia #smut #monster fucker #terato #naga x reader #grim reaper x reader #monster x reader #oc x reader #monster oc #x reader #reader insert #original character x reader #talisen 781 #asterism

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jester-lover · 1 year ago

Note

May I please ask for a Jamil, Leona and Azul with a female reader, where the reader is a secret admirer of them and has been giving them secret little gifts with cheesy love notes throughout the year and has always acted like "That's so corny, why would I ever do such a thing-" if they are ever around hearing about the gifts- just trying to throw them off the trail the whole time because they are too embarrassed to admit they have been crushing on them this whole time- and maybe the receiver of said gifts figuring out who it is one day- thank you!

Secret Admirer

Feat/ Jamil, Leona, Azul

CW/ Female reader, fluff, insecurities, shyness, embarrassment

Jamil

Jamil wholeheartedly thinks someone’s messing with him at first

That is, until the little gifts and notes get more personal

When he starts finding bottles of his favorite hair oil, little compliments about his basketball skills, and pocket-sized bug spray, he knows it’s someone who knows him

At one point, Jamil couldn’t believe someone would care for him, but this mindset was quickly taken over by his desire to lavish the attention this stranger gave him

He feels like he’s in the spotlight; someone cares for him the most, and the thought brings a blush to his cheeks and a flaming desire in his heart to find the person who is giving him these tokens

Jamil almost can’t believe it's been you this whole time, but the surprise washes away into a form of pure delight he hasn’t felt in ages

He most definitely catches you slipping something onto his side table or getting something in the mail that has strikingly similar handwriting to yours

Either way, he quickly tells you he knows, stumbling over his words as he tells you he feels the same way

Jamil finds your immediate denial and slow acceptance of the fact that you’re caught to be a beautiful sight and knows he’ll treasure you above anything else

“I know it’s you…I’m glad I’ve been getting such sweet attention from someone I love just as much…”

Leona

Leona knows from the first letter

While he figured out that you were his secret admirer from day 1, most likely from the fact that the paper smelled just like you, he keeps a facade of stupidity on toy with you

He waves around the little pink notes and gifts almost cartoonishly, chuckling to himself as he watches you stammer on about how cringe-worthy such loud declarations of affection are

He keeps every trinket, letter, and preservable good you get him, keeping it in a box carefully hidden in his dorm

(because God forbid anyone thinks he’s gone soft)

One day, when he knows you're catching on to his knowledge, he presents you with the box and tells you how he knew from the beginning and that he feels the same way about you

“Who knew you could be such a poet, Herbivore? Way better than the other poet I know…”

Azul

You would think he would know too, but he’s deluded himself into thinking you’d never like him back and that it’s one of the twins messing with him

But then, as he thinks about when he’s finding the little charms and notes, he realizes the twins would be working at those times and unable to plant them

Then, he starts thinking about how, whenever he brings up the admirer with you, you immediately start denying or shying away from the topic

(He’s pacing around his office at this point)

Azul most definitely sends out Jade to keep a close eye on you, and when he reports back confirming your role as Azul’s secret admirer, he practically melts

Not only does he plan out how he’ll tell you he knows, he has you presented with a special VIP offer to eat at the lounge

This is, of course, so he can get you alone

Half way through his planned speech, he starts bumbling on about how he can’t believe it and how he’d love to be your partner and take care of you

“O-of course I knew this the entire time! I just didn’t say so because I-I quite enjoyed the attention…”

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sugairsstuff · 1 year ago

Note

hey… 💋 was wondering if you could write something for aragorn… you know who this is. you know what i’m asking for.

@theactofknowing yes i know who this is. here is payment. (p.s. they also write!)

(credit to @cafekitsune for the divider)

to bloom

aragorn x half-elf gn/reader

warnings: descriptions of nudity

summary: you and aragorn have known each other for years, resulting in the two of you inevitably falling in love with each other though never admitting it. though, it turns out all a love confession took was a bar of soap and you two bathing in a lake together.

Exhaustion has long since seeped into your muscles, the motion of placing one boot in front of the other becoming a rhythmic pattern you refuse to break for you know you won’t be able to pick it back up again.

Strong winds roll through the grassy fields, making a mess of your untied hair and causing your eyes to catch the billowing of a dark cloak in front of you. You raise your head slightly to gaze at the owner of the garment: reluctant heir of Gondor, unnamed leader of the little band titled the Fellowship the group of you have formed- and although commonly known as Strider, this part-elf is simply Aragorn to you.

The pair of you had been picked up by the group of hobbits you traveled with in Bree, helping them to evade the infamous Nazgûl and inevitably being brought along the daunting journey laid out for them. You had first met Aragorn years ago when he had first left Rivendell. You led a similar fate to Aragorn after you befriended him, leaving the safety of your current life for one of adventure alongside the ranger. Poets would say you were seeking meaning, you joke that you were bored.

The seed of friendship you and Aragorn had planted then was watered through the experiences you shared on your travels, the memories that wrapped themselves like vines around that bond holding you two together, and every laugh and secret you both managed out of each other in peaceful times. But then you two began to look at each softer, speak to each other quieter for the words were meant only for the two of you, touch each other in fleeting moments that may not have been accidents- and then that seed grew into a budding flower of more that you gathered up and have held deep within your chest. Though no matter how much you both watered the bond of your friendship since then, that flower has never seemed to bloom.

Aragorn finally looks over his shoulder to the rest of you, and everyone momentarily pauses as he lifts his hand to guide everyone’s attention to a forestry patch of land seated a few hundred metres south of the hill you all waited on. “We’ll take camp there for tonight. We won’t reach Lothlorien by dusk, and I haven’t seen a better place for cover yet.” he instructs. Nobody seems to disagree, not even the opinionated elf or eager dwarf who both wait at your sides. Once three of four hobbits start celebrating, enthusiastically asking who would hunt for dinner, you offer Aragorn a small smile and nod of assurance. He repeats the gesture and turns to lead the way, but not without a response to the impatient hobbits, “You all can hunt dinner for us tonight, how does that sound?” which silences them.

You hurry a pair of paces to match the long strides of Aragorn, who slows down when he notices exactly who is on his tail. “You look exhausted,” you tell him, amusement flickering in your eyes as you look to him.

“As do you,” Aragorn shoots back, his brows raised in subtle entertainment at your rather honest opening line.

You scoff lightheartedly and get to the point of your words, reaching down to the satchel at your side to unbutton the flap and reveal the contents. Aragorn leans over you to peer into the bag, finding four small bars of soap.

“From the travelling merchant we crossed earlier?” the heir asks, and you nod proudly as if this was a noble accomplishment on your end.

“I do not have confidence in myself to survive another day with the… natural aroma of our companions,” you jest, and pause, “or you.”

And to your pleasant surprise, Aragorn’s chin tilts back- outlining the sharp line of his jaw- as the man lets a genuine laugh escape his lips. “I would not say you are so innocent in the matter, either,” he says, the closed-lipped smile on his face not faltering as you send a warning glare his way.

You feel lighter as you walk alongside Aragorn the rest of the way to the tree border, smiling like a giddy child for longer than need be over the silly interaction. You and Aragorn maintain the front as the lot of you push further into the forest until Aragorn stops, glances around, and looks to you and Legolas for approval.

You turn to look over your shoulder, and when you see that the forest has become dense enough to block the border to the grasslands from your line of sight, you say, “I think we are far enough in.”

Legolas had already found perch on a fallen log, fiddling with the strings of his bow, and so you and Aragorn simply take that as a sign he agrees.

As the sun dips behind the distant hills, the shadows of the trees encompassing you all extend until the soft starlight slipping through the canopy dims them. Now, camp is set up, and the fire Aragorn once was stroking while Gimli cooked the hunted meal of the evening has been forgotten. Most of your companions have spaced out their places for the night, all but the hobbits who crowd next to their friend Frodo.

You gingerly place your things down nearby Aragorn’s, and when you offer to take first watch Aragorn’s volunteer to do the same comes not much later than yours. You both sit next to each other as you listen to the idle noises of your companions turn to quietness, and quietness to silence save for the surrounding sounds of the forest.

You catch Aragorn glance to you in your peripheral vision which tempts you to steal a glance back. When you do, you are surprised to see he has risen from the leafy floor he was sitting on and began crossing the few metres that separated the two of you. You stay sitting, craning your neck as Aragorn now stands a few feet in front of you. You tilt your head in questioning.

“There is a lake nearby, I saw it when I scouted the perimeters earlier,” his voice is low, quiet, though you see his Adam’s apple bob slightly as he swallows, “May I borrow the soap?”

Any hint of drowsiness has been stolen from your body, your heart beating rapidly as you nod to him. You do not like how the thought of the man doing the simple act of bathing makes your body blaze like a catching fire. You dig into your nearby satchel and hand him one of the square, neutral coloured bars. Aragorn turns the dry thing in his hand a few times before he turns and walks away.

You do not watch him go and rather turn back to your satchel to close the button of it, wondering why the crunching of leaves beneath Aragorn’s walking feet ceased so swiftly. Curiously, you turn to check, finding Aragorn returning your gaze.

Aragorn clears his throat. “Would you like to join me?”

You can only blink, feeling that flame return to your body as his words act like oxygen and spread its tendrils through you.

“Yes, I would,” you say, though the words come out more breathless than you had expected.

You feel Aragorn’s eyes on you as you stand, dusting off your trousers in the most awkward of ways before padding over to where he stands. He only looks down at you, the look in his eyes gentle yet unreadable before he quietly turns and begins to guide you to this lake.

“What of the others?” you ask, glancing back.

“I do not wish to bathe with Gimli,” Aragorn responds with blunt humour, looking back at you with a raised brow.

“No, I mean that we promised to watch the camp,” you correct, managing not to roll your eyes.

“The lake is not far. We will know if something happens.” he assures.

Although it may be easy for him to remain alert, you are not sure if you can trust your instincts once you are distracted with the sight of Aragorn’s bare body. Aragorn seems to see apprehension on your face, and makes a bold move of reaching back to brush his fingers against yours. Then, your fingers close around each other’s like lock and key, and Aragorn is gently pulling you until you reach a clearing.

The trees wrap around the small, oval lake like a wreath. The water is not murky, a sign that it is untouched, and instead when you peer into it you see both your reflection and the moon above.

When you turn to see what Aragorn is doing, unsure if you are welcome to begin undressing so openly, you see that the ranger has already begun to do exactly that. You heart leaps and your chest flutters so much that you think that bud in you is instead a cocoon that has just sprouted a dancing butterfly.

Aragorn already unclasped his cloak from around his neck, discarding it nearby on a rock that borders the lake’s edge. He disarms, setting his weapons on the same rock should he need them, then reaches for the hem of his tunic. The man pulls the fabric off of him slowly, revealing to you the muscles beneath that you have only been able to imagine until now. You gaze at him, following the movement of his hands until you see them stop. Your eyes flick up slightly and are met with an amused half-smirk on Aragorn’s end. That flame in you moved to burn in your cheeks as you turn your head away, seeing Aragorn slowly walk towards you in the edge of your vision.

“Do not be nervous,” he says quietly, his hand turning your jaw slowly so you meet his eyes again. You feel your heart in your ears as his attention moves lower, lower, lower, and then back. “Would you like me to help?”

You can only nod. He smiles and nods back before his hands move to the clasps of your cloak, working it undone with ease. He sets your weapons aside somewhere- too distracted to take note- before he pulls your tunic off of your raised arms. Aragorn takes a step closer, removing the rest of your undergarments before a turn of his head causes his lips to brush against the shell of your half-pointed ear, “Beautiful.” he murmurs, evoking a pleasant shiver that slips down your spine.

His hands, resting on each side of your waist, move downwards until they reach the band of your trousers. You kick off your boots in silent encouragement, and Aragorn turns his head further to look down at you properly. Then he begins to slowly drag the last few pieces of your clothing that kept you decent, and once you stepped out of them- Aragorn now kneeling before you as he set aside your aside garments- you heard both of your breaths hitch.

Aragorn rises again, your breaths heavy as you both glance in the direction of whence you came, checking that none of your sleeping friends have noticed your absences. You look back at Aragorn first and see how the moonlight betrays Aragorn as he slowly drifts his attention back to you, illuminating the red tinting of his cheeks. He takes his sweet time in simply looking at your body, and you hear him sigh softly- a gentle, sweet exhale. The amusing thought of him swooning over you like a damsel crosses your mind.

Aragorn seems to notice the light dancing in your eyes, and he takes your hand and leads you to the rocky edges of the lake. “After you,” he tells you, and you feel as his eyes never leave you as you descend into the water. You wade around, taking note that water in the area you stand reaches your middle, and watch as Aragorn strips himself of the rest of his clothing.

Shamelessly, you stare as he undos his trousers, slipping them off alongside his undergarment and blushing when he sees you looking. You offer a coy smile in return, reaching over the edge to grab the soap he left on it as he enters the water alongside you.

“You first,” you tell him, and he obeys by wading over to where you stand. As you dip the soap into the water, getting some of the substance on to your hands, you feel a little grateful that the water is just high enough to reach Aragorn’s waist. He remains where he is as you work the soap into his skin, your heart jumping each time he sighs when you press into a particularly sore muscle. His skin gleams with moonlight and sparkles with droplets of water that cling to the short strands of hair on his chest leading downwards. You wash his arms, focus on his shoulders, and when he turns around to let you do his chest your hands linger there.

“Friends do not do these things,” is what Aragorn decides to say to break the comfortable silence.

“No, they do not,” you agree, your voice wavering with uncertainty. You keep your gaze on his chest, cupping water in your hand as you rinse off the soap. You let him wash the parts of him below the surface of the water, grinning as you can’t help but steal glances. But he says nothing else, nor do you, as you quietly find a seat on a ledge in the rock. Aragorn moves to stand between your legs, leaning back so his head is nearly against your chest.

You gather soap on your hands once more, lathering the suds through his hair. You watch from above as he sighs and closes his eyes, giving in to temptation as he leans further back into you. You massage the soap into his dark oak curls, watching his eyelashes flutter against his cheek and the corners of his pink lips tug upwards ever so slightly. You tilt his head back a little more as you cup water into your free hand, pouring it along the back of his head and watch as it drags the soap off of his curls that resist straightening even when wet.

Before you have the chance to climb down from your perch on the rock, Aragorn reaches a hand to your calf. His fingers dance along the skin, as if exploring, and travel up until they reach your thigh. By then, he’s looking up at you, and you are looking down at him, and his face is so close to yours you know that you both are only trying to see who caves first.

And it is Aragorn who does. He tilts his chin only slightly, which is enough to capture your lips in his as you lean over him. Your hands move to drape around his neck as his continue their journey up your thighs. He lifts you by the waist, bringing you back down to the lake floor with him so that it is he who must bend downwards to keep kissing you. You press your chest into his, standing practically between his legs as you both run your hands over each other’s bodies. Aragorn leaves a spark everywhere his fingers brush- your waist, your legs, back, chest, neck- he is everywhere but it is still not enough.

You know now what it feels like to bloom as that bud deep within your chest comes to life as Aragorn’s hands find their final place on each side of your face. His thumbs stroke gently in a lover’s caress as he finally breaks the kiss, though he does not move far. The look he gives you as you both stand together- chests heaving and lips puffy red with adrenaline pumping through your veins- tells you that Aragorn has just discovered what that feels like too, for there has been a matching budding flower in him, as well.

“We are not friends,” Aragorn finally says. You have never heard his voice so soft, “we are more.”

#aragorn x reader #aragorn #aragorn x you #aragorn x y/n #lotr #lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the fellowship x reader #the lord of the rings #tlotr

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

Text

see me in a vest

cod ghost x f!reader | ghost masterlist

Summary: “You gonna keep lurking in the corner like a ghoul?” Straightening his spine, he lets his narrowed eyes cut into you. Gliding them up and down your face—from the top of your hairline to your arched brow, to the lips twisted up into a smirk. “Hilarious.”

Warnings: Brief mentions of smut. Mentions of a wound, blood (Ghost's but he's obv fine). Flirting. Feelings. FWB to something - they're a mess, but yeah. And, maybe unedited writing? AN: I don't know if I'm on the Ghost train again, but I'm at the station. Wordcount: 3k (this was meant to be 500 words).

Eye contact is a dangerous, dangerous thing. But lovely. God, so lovely — Hedonist Poet

It’s a sight watching you laugh, how it blooms like wildflowers in a wasteland. Your lips are parting around the sound—neck exposed. He can faintly spot the sight of bruises from when his hand last became your necklace.

He shouldn’t be looking your way. Most definitely not be thinking about how he wishes to press your cheek against the tiles of his shower. Ghost really can’t be considering how to ask you to come to his room tonight.

Even if it’s all he thinks.

His fingers brushing against his thumb, rolling and rolling as he tries not to grind his teeth or glare with any more intention.

All about to move his glare, try to find a spot on the table or the wall, but his eyes latch with yours.

The room silences, pausing. Just the two of you, breathing, living—blinking. Or, it feels like it does. Like some poetic bullshit from some film, a scene he’s sure you’ve tried to explain to him when you’ve attempted to fill the silence.

He thinks you smile. The edges of your lips twist further into your cheeks. But it never quite lands, never sticks.

Ghost shouldn’t be thinking about you. But all he does is think about you.

In another life, where he wasn’t dressed in scars or his belief in happiness and thereafter’s hadn’t been stripped from his remaining soul, Ghost suspects you’d be the one he’d want to keep around.

It’s the only reason he clenches his fist, watching you through the outer rim of his mask’s eye sockets and always watching, never intervening. Not even when soldiers below your rank let their eyes drift to your rear—or worse, from your face to your chest.

He lets them.

Allows them to ogle you because he knows they won’t ever be fortunate to see any more. Not just because he’d have their heads but because you’d turn them inside out before you’d even let them touch you. Plus, you ridicule them enough when you catch them—tongue all poison and razor sharp, a thing not to be messed with, something which barks as bad as it bites.

“You gonna keep lurking in the corner like a ghoul?”

Straightening his spine, he lets his narrowed eyes cut into you. Gliding them up and down your face—from the top of your hairline to your arched brow, to the lips twisted up into a smirk.

“Hilarious.”

Sighing, you roll your lips. “You gonna keep boiling everyone alive with your eyes whenever they talk to me?”

“I’m not.”

“For someone who has likely been required to lie for their work, your pretty awful at it.”

Grinding his teeth, he bites the inside of his cheek. Not wanting to rise, to give in—to fucking begin this tedious game of bickering. Instead, he allows a heavy breath to escape through his nose, long and slow, pushing the fabric out before it clings back to the tip of his nose.

Hoping you hear it, take note of it.

But from how you shift your stance, playing with your water bottle—crunching it in your grip—as you tap your boot against the floor, he doubts you have.

“You think too highly of yourself, princess.”

”Princess, ay?” you grin, far too wickedly to be innocent. “Thought you preferred seeing me in a vest, than a crown.”

Clamping his mouth shut, you take a sip of your water—letting the droplets hang on your lip, only wiping them from your chin at the last moment—a knowing look, all telling and haunted with lust and something else.

“Let’s walk.”

And, somehow, against all better judgement, he follows.

The first time it happened, your eyes had been shimmering. A softness to your features aided by alcohol bought by Price in celebration. It allows him to see his reflection in them—finding he’s all cold eyes. Around that though, he’s confronted with something stitched, carved, into the usually hardened expression he’d come to respect. Then it all shifted. A sound, one that was similar to how droplets of watercolour change a plain piece of paper, fills the air. It spreading shades in front of him that filled the scenery—the one the two of you were admiring as the others continued to be loud inside. Ghost can’t recall what he said, but he remembers what you’d said the moment you’d laughter had died: You’re funny for a skeleton. It was stupid. Foolish. Barely funny—in the grand scheme of things. But then, the building next to them had begun counting down, and you were looking at him—stars shimmering above the tips of the Siberian cypresses. There was just you, and him, and a crack of amber light across crisp, disturbed white snow. “Be rude to not kiss at New Year, wouldn’t it, Ghost?” ”Suppose so.”

You didn’t ask for his jacket immediately.

Even if he’d spotted you fighting off a shiver in your two’s awkward ‘walk’. No, you wait until the two of you are far past your usual building, and even then, you don’t ask. As usual, you pulled—tugged, and practically dragged it down his arms—until he surrendered it.

It was easier to bite back a groan. To look at you. Stick his pupils into your unbothered appearance. Allowing, instead, for his displeasure at your insistent but silent demand to show through his body language.

Not that you fucking care.

Chin all tipped up, meeting his stare boldly. Practically egging him on, pushing him, goading him.

Because you do that well. You like to push—not for a reaction, but to crack him.

Cause a break in him that you can slide through and make yourself at home. Somehow, against his better judgement—and usual practice—he lets you.

Each and every time.

Because even if he’d never admit it, he would—and could—go as far as to say he likes that you’re wrapping his jacket around your arms, head tilting up to look at the sky—observing how the stars are flickering. Because he rather enjoys seeing you coated in something of his.

Not possessively. Not because he needs some unhealthy confirmation that you want to be in something of his over anyone else. But because it's nice. A niceness he won’t ever admit. A confession that’ll never be spilt, not even under the most difficult of tortures. Not even if you sunk down on him, buried him inside you and refused to move until he did.

His resolve was stronger than that, something you’d learnt.

“Love it when the sky is clear,” you mumble.

Blinking, he looks up, realising the night looks so similar to the night in that small Canadian town.

When you’d offered to kiss him over his mask but eventually retrieved his lips—front sitting just under his nose, hands splayed across your lower back, pinning you flush to him. Because if he only had one chance to do it, he was going to milk it. Not that it was ever just that once, hence this—the two of you outside, close to an abandoned barrack under a flurry of stars and a half-gleaming moon.

He’s aware of the parallels.

How you’d been wearing his jacket that night, too. Albeit then because he’d given it to you when you’d come looking for him, rather than yanking it from his arms and burying yourself in it.

Ghost should mind.

Should find the idea unbearable, just like he should find you intolerable.

You sigh, not softly or sweetly, but difficulty and loud. “I don’t belong to you, Ghost.”

Ghost. Not the name you called him a few days ago when his fingers were curled inside you—his breath hot on your throat. Your pulse hammering against his tongue.

In a way, he thinks he should find you annoying, insufferable. Instead, he just finds you’re odd.

Odd in the sense that you stick around—not questioning his mannerisms or demands. That you fight everyone out there when sand tries to find places it shouldn’t, snow makes you shiver and blood stains skin—including him, on occasion.

But, when it’s the two of you, you bend so easily—all submissive, desperate. Mouth wrapping around his fingers, tongue swirling, before he’s so much as touched you.

It is why he snorts—and for a multitude of reasons.

Finger and thumb stroking his bare jaw, letting his eyes cast to the ground before looking in your direction. “Bet if I stick my fingers in your knickers, your cunt will say something different.”

You stare. Blank. Unreadable.

Something which makes his jaw tense, and his spine straighten. Because there aren’t many expressions he finds unbearable about you, except the unreadable one—the one you’re so skilled at pulling out across your face, hiding your thoughts and opinions.

He watches as you unfold your arms, displaying the hardest, squinted stare imaginable as your nose scrunched and your lips thin out. Leaving it there, hanging between the two of you—it not swaying as the seconds tick on, to the point he wonders if you genuinely expect him to be the one that cracks.

Then, you shift. You allow the lightest smirk to spread across your mouth into your perfect, soft, unscarred cheek. “Most likely. But, then again, on a base with a bunch of men, my underwear doesn’t tend to be dry.”

He has no retort, no initial thing to say.

So he says nothing.

Because everything he could say wouldn’t land in jest, would likely have his jacket thrown back in his face. And, the one good thing he has waiting (but not waiting) for him when he comes back—from fuck knows where—would be gone, vanished.

Not that he ever wanted this. Never mind needed it.

“Guessing that wasn’t the answer you wanted, Lieutenant?”

Keeping his mouth clamped, he remains silent. Lets it smother, wrap itself around the two of you and embed itself into the silence. Because no, that wasn’t the fucking answer he wanted.

There hadn’t been a reason as to why he knocked on your door, or why he had stuffed a nicer loo roll under his arm and brought you a bowl of soup. He could ration that you were a good solider, a solid member of his team. A reliable force that would get the job done. Someone who questioned and also obeyed. If needed, he could likely list a bunch more reasons why you were integral to whatever operation he was next sent on. But even he knew that wasn’t why he was outside your door. Why he turned the handle when you coughed and spluttered a weak ‘come in’. Whatever sight he’d expected, wasn’t close to what he saw. Your door closing behind him, your hand trying to cover your chapped lips as you splutter half a lung up, allowing him the chance to take in the rest of you. How your eyes were hollowed out by tiredness, your skin tacky and shining in the low light from a cracked curtain. ”D-did I miss a meeting or ‘sumthing?” Shaking his head, he placed the soup down by your bed—using the bowl to nudge several used tissues from its path, as he manoeuvred the roll from under his arm to hand it to you. Your eyes lighting, ever so slightly, by the softer—more nose-kind tissue. ”Jus’ came to check on you.” Blowing your nose, you offer a half smile. ”Because my aim is better than MacTavish’s?” Smirking, he watches as you shuffle over on your bed—allowing him room, something he takes without thought. In the same way he doesn’t need to think about lifting his mask now, how you’ve seen him—bruised, bloody, broken and so much more. An answer in itself as to why he’s here. One he could say with relative ease if the words would form. Instead, he throws his legs up—feels your eyes take him in as you try to clear your throat. “’cause you’re sick.” ”Oh.” And because I care. The latter not leaving his tongue, never mind his lips. Instead, he slides his arm around you, pulling you to lie in the crook of his arm and chest. Hoping that said enough. Explained it adequately. Incase it didn’t, he offered: ”Brought you soup, too.” ”Tomato?” Snorting, he rolled his eyes. “Chicken.” ”Guess that’ll do.” Your head tilting, staring up at him—and he hoped you couldn’t hear how loud his heart was hammering. Because even if this is what he wanted—to be there for you. To have you curled against him for reasons he couldn’t articulate, he hadn’t expected it. Even less the whispered, simple, ‘thank you, Simon’. Never mind that you barely finish the soup before you’re asleep against him.

Kicking at the ground, it’s a stone which pays the price for your annoyance with him. It rolls off, grating against gravel and grass before it came to a sad stop.

“What I was going to say,” you continue, huffing—in that way you do when you’re interrupted by lesser people and idiotic souls. “I don’t belong to you, but you don’t need to worry about every person who makes me laugh. I’m yours. Have been for a while.

“And before your strategic, get-out-alive brain begins firing on all fucking cylinders, I don’t… don’t need a declaration—didn’t need a menial question being asked to certify it. Don’t need you to tell me shit. I’m just telling you that I don’t—well—fuck around lightly.”

Lifting your arms, gesturing to you in his jacket—his clothing. Face pulling into an expression that makes him feel like he’s got a fucking egg on his face. As though he’s a fool, a fucking imbecile for not seeing what it was in front of him.

Maybe, he is.

Which is why he steps closer. Boots crunching gravel in the quiet, you stare at him—gazing through the cutouts and scorching your glare into him, scratching another line on his soul. Marking him. Like you have been doing since the first time he lost himself in your iris’s as your tongue curled out his name.

“I don’t… I don’t do this with others. What we do—is just what we do, Gh—”

“Simon,” he interrupts.

All sharp, like he’s stabbing you with his name, rather than handing it to you. Even if you’ve called it him before—you never have out here. Outside the confines of four walls, with your skin bare and his mouth latched to some part of your body.

“Jus’ mean, if y’gonna talk to me about it just being you and me, should at least call me my name.”

Slowly, you lower your arms, lips spreading into a line before they slide into a smile. “Simon. I don’t do this with other people.” Your eyes look up as you sigh. “Mainly because I don’t think anyone has a bigger cock than you.”

He brings you flush with him in one tug, watching your lips purse—a smirk attempting to grow behind it.

It’s more a grunt than a murmur how he tells you to ‘behave’, gloved fingers in the loops of your belt—a warped noise from the back of his throat beckoning to come out when your hand presses against his abdomen. Right against the clotted scarring of an old bullet wound—the one you’d pressed your palms into when he’d earned it—vermillion staining, clinging to your fingers and arm. Tears hanging from your lashes that you’d attempted to blink away, staring anywhere but at him.

Don’t die on me, Ghost. We’ve not done the wheelbarrow just yet.

When he’d been stitched and released, he finds your hand always goes there. A place you always seek, always find. You never touch his heart—never the thing that beats. You choose the pain embedded in tissue, the one he wonders if you hope to heal whenever you get the chance to brush your touch against it.

Rising on your toes, you roll your lips, softening your smirk into a smile. “It’s just you.”

“Because of my cock?”

He grips you tightly, not allowing you to descend to flat-footedness or move from being against him.

“Oh, a hundred percent. But you’re also a lot funnier than most people we meet, and I really like a man who makes me laugh.”

He pinches lightly—right on your side as you tip your head. “Y’know, don’t you?”

Ghost watches, waiting. Flicking from one of your eyes to the other.

And then you nod. “I know. Don’t worry, won’t make you tell me that you love my company as much as you do my tits just yet.”

He’s close enough for you to kiss the edge of his chin if he doesn’t move. But he does. Squeezing your hips, dropping his head enough, allowing your mouth to brush over his mask-covered lips.

It's enough for now, as you lower back to the ground. Feeling you turn in his hold—back to his chest and stomach as you wrap his jacket around you tighter.

Because he’ll kiss you better later.

A promise he makes silently, feeling your fingers take his, tugging his arm around you. He doesn’t need to see you to see that you’re smirking.

He can sense it.

AN: huge thank you to G. this wouldn't be possible without you nudging me, and making me accountable. dedicated to @theashfallx because she says she'll devour more of this man if I write it, so i had to finish it for her too.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost riley #cod ghost x reader smut #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost smut #cod ghost x you #cod x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod mw x reader #call of duty fic

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shugar0cone · 11 months ago

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Alastor x reader with a sweet tooth 👀? anything from soda to hard/chewy candies to pastries basically 🎉

*honestly Alastor is surprised your teeth ain’t fucked up with how much Shugar and hard shit you eat.

Charlie brought some of her candy too you, you both enjoyed sweets sometimes y’all would go on a swweting trip, aka you consume a shit tone of sugar. You tried to get Alastor to eat some with you but he refused the only thing that was worth eating to him in dark coco with espresso, yep that’s it.

But one time OHHHH you were so close to get him eating a sour hard candy. “Please my dear!.” You leaned on Alastor. He hated when you used ‘dear’ on him. It was a no escape on what you needed/wanted him to do. “Darling I have to keep my smile, don’t need to ruin it.” He smiled thinking that would make you stop. You smiled mischievously knowing that would come up. “Alastor this doesn’t mess up your teeth see.” You grinned almost as wide as him.

He took the green sour ball out of your hands. You smiled knowing that you possibly won until Niffty came along and swept it out of his hands. “MINE!” Yells Niffty putting it in her mouth, and makeing a sour face. “Oops looks like I can’t doll.” He leaned down to you smiling.

Next day you had a soada, Alastor did like fizy drinks like champagne and fancy bubble water but one again that’s it, no wonder he is a fucking stick. “Here al!” You say a champagne glass with your sprite. “What’s this?” He said. “What can’t do somthing nice for my love, my poet, my charmer!” You gasp. He deadpanned to you. “It’s sparkling water Charlie had some in her stash.” You say sitting crossing your arm. He took a sip as a record scratch played. “YES! I FUCKING DID IT!” You say raising your arm. You turn around seeing Alastor drink the whole thing. “This ain’t bad I don’t do well but this has a kick.” He said. No shit it’s from hell Donald’s.

A/N: so there ye go love! Now I know this ain’t the best because I have a sweet tooth and never met anyone who hated sweets, especially when you come from a family that makes ALOT of pastries and sweets. Anyways hoped y’all love it.

-Shugar

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar

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7s3ven · 11 months ago

Text

ATHENA'S GIRL. luke (pjo) - pt 3

trailer > part 1 > part 2 > part 3

( master list )

IN WHICH... Luke has to finally acknowledge his growing fondness for Y/N while she does the opposite and pushes her feelings down in order to fit her mother’s expectations.

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you. I see you changing from how I've designed you. Have you forgotten your purpose?"

Warnings : Y/N swears a lot

—

Y/N was the talk of the town after Athena oh-so dramatically claimed her. She didn’t even have to spend a single hour in the rowdy Hermes cabin.

The H/C-haired girl turned her head, looking around at her surroundings. Her heart almost did a leap of joy when her gaze landed in the rows of books that seemed to fill the cabin up to its capacity.

“Excuse me, which bed should I take- Oh. Okay. You’re walking away. Yeah, just act like you don’t hear me. It’s fine.” Y/N watched as the young girl brushed past her without a single word, ignoring her question. Judging by the state of some of the beds, Y/N assumed the neater mattresses were the ones available.

She set her things down on the squeaky floorboards, sighing. She didn’t have much with her; only a novel and some spare change as well as her school textbooks. It looked like she wouldn’t be needing this anymore.

Y/N sat in the edge of the mattress, pressing her lips into a thin line when she felt a spring break. “Man, I hate it here already.”

Y/N felt even lonelier at meals. None of her so-called siblings wanted to associate themselves with her. She could feel their envious stares on her as they constantly whispered how they could’ve easily solved a murder case. Finally, Y/N had enough.

She placed her silverware done, tensely smiling while clasping her hands together. “Are you guys familiar with Nabokov’s work?” She piped up, catching the attention of everybody at the rickety wooden table. They each turned to each other, confused.

“He’s like… a German poet, right?” A boy replied, furrowing his eyebrows together as if Y/N’s inquiry were stupid.

She shook her head. He was the stupid one. “I found a clue in one of his books. And the nationality of the writer helped quite a bit in unpacking it. But none of you seem to know Nabokov so I doubt you could’ve solved the mystery. I solved a crime in under an hour, slayed a dragon, and easily killed a happy. What have you guys done? Made friendship bracelets?”

One of the kids hid their untidily made bracelet, thickly gulping as if he was self-conscious.

Y/N was about to turn back to her food before someone else spoke up. “Vladimir Nabokov was a Russian author, best known for his work Lolita. Or rather, infamously known because it’s quite a controversial piece.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to the kid with pretty brown eyes and long, braided hair. “Three movie adaptations were made, all of them equally hated to no one’s surprise.” The younger girl added, causing Y/N to smile.

She stabbed a string bean as she shrugged, “It’s always the Russians pulling some sort of weird crap.”

“Language.” Another teenager uttered. Y/N turned her head to stare at the boy, unimpressed. She raised her brows in an almost pocking sort of way.

“Fuck… off.” Y/N tauntingly smiled, causing Annabeth to lightly snort. “Don’t you guys fight monsters? I’m sure you can take a bit of swearing. Can't you?" She leaned forward, "Listen here, you little bitch. I dealt with Castellan's shit for months. You think I can't take you and your stupid ass now?"

"Colorful language you've got there, writer. As always. You gonna use it in your next global article?" Luke placed a heavy hand on Y/N's shoulder as he quietly chuckled. "Hey, Akut," The Hermes boy turned his attention to the teenage boy, "I wouldn't mess with this one. She's fierce. And she was best friends with Clarisse for a while."

A flash of fear crossed Akut's face at Clarisse’s name. “I was only teasing. Jeez.” He grumbled to himself, shrinking back. “She doesn’t have to be such a whiny bitch about it.”

Luke clicked his tongue, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“A whiny bitch? Oh, I’ll give you a whiny bitch, punk!” Y/N grabbed her plate that still had a decent amount of food on it and slammed it into Akut’s face. “How’s that, huh?!”

“She could be Ares’ kid with that anger.” Chris whispered to Luke.

“She’s probably still adjusting to camp… you know how it is.” Luke’s gaze stayed glued on Y/N as she whacked Akut across the place with a goblet. His eyebrows raised in partial surprise but he did nothing to stop her. Akut was asking for it anyway.

Luke felt Annabeth tug on his sleeve and he slightly leaned down to listen to her over all the shouting because some other Athena kids were trying to pull Y/N off Akut. “I like her.” Annabeth murmured, “She reminds me of Thalia… a little bit. Thalia never had such strong rage, though.”

Luke chuckled under his breath as he ruffled the young girl’s hair. “Guess it’s time to finally stop this before she ends up killing poor Akut.” Luke grasped the back of Y/N’s orange shirt, pulling her back. “Chiron and Mr D are gonna have a mean jab at you, writer.”

Y/N merely scoffed as she wiped away the blood smeared across her chin. Akut had blindly punched in her direction and landed a lucky shot. “He deserved it.” She muttered, eyes flickering to Akut’s bruised face.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you cleaned up before Chiron whoops your ass. You, get Akut some nectar.” Luke sternly pointed at a nearby Ares kid before he dragged Y/N towards the infirmary. He had patched up Annabeth enough to know what he was doing.

Y/N was silent as Luke wiped her lip with a towel soaked in alcohol. She quietly winced but that was the only noise she made. Luke gently dabbed the cloth against her split skin, being mindful of how hard he pressed.

“What? Not gonna snap at me this time? I’m waiting for you to tell me that I’m holding the towel wrong.” Luke joked but Y/N simply shrugged and let him continue.

Luke’s gaze raked over her suddenly soft and deer-like features. In this moment, she almost seemed peaceful. He had seen many different versions of Y/N. The stressed one, the annoyed one, and the bloodied one. But never calm version until now. Without the biting remarks and sharp tongue, Luke couldn’t deny that she was beautiful.

He heard Y/N clear her throat. She raised her brows, as if questioning why his actions suddenly halted. “Y/N… you’re pretty. Did you know that?” He found himself accidentally whispering his thoughts but the look of shock swirling around in Y/N’s eyes made it worth it. Her eyes softened slightly before she looked away.

“Are you just gonna stand there like an idiot, Castellan?” She asked, glancing at him again.

“You’re just too good-looking, writer.” Luke teasingly uttered before going back to cleaning Y/N’s small injury. “You better behave yourself after this, though. Chiron will end up punishing you for attacking Akut, even if he started it with words.”

“He just got on my nerves. Everybody does. They all whisper and say they could easily do the stuff I did, knowing fully well they probably couldn’t.” Y/N’s lips curled into a scowl, “I just got ripped away from my life, from my school, and probably from my dream of attending Harvard. How did you think I’d react?”

“To be honest, I thought you’d be less violent. Must’ve been all your pent up rage.”

Y/N’s angry eyes turned to Luke and for a moment, he was scared she’d attack him. But they softened and suddenly, Luke was aware of how close they were. He could easily lean down and kiss her.

The duo were interrupted when Annabeth walked through the open door. She took in Luke’s wistful expression and Y/N’s slightly flushed cheeks but didn’t comment on it.

“I thought I’d come and introduce myself.” She uttered, “I’m Annabeth. You’re pretty good at fighting, did you know that?”

“The orphanage was run by a strange woman… she taught us how to fight and all sorts of crazy things.” Y/N clicked her tongue.

“Well, anyway, I think what you did was your quest was impressive. Rarely any newbies can say they slaughtered a monster, let alone two.”

Y/N lightly smiled at the young girl. “Thank you.”

Luke pouted, poking Y/N’s shoulder. “How come you aren’t this nice to me, writer?”

“Because you’re an idiot, Castellan. And you merely existing annoys me.” She sent Luke a pointed look while Annabeth muffled a snicker. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Y/N hopped off the bed, “I’m going to finish Akut or whatever his stupid, hideous name is.” She walked out of the infirmary before Luke could grab her.

“Are you going to stop her?” Annabeth questioned, raising her eyebrows.

“… Nah, I kind of what to see how this ends.”

It did not end good. Akut ended up needing stitches and Y/N was dragged into Chiron’s office while Mr D and a few Ares kids betted on who would win in a fight; Y/N or a random Aphrodite girl. The answer was obvious.

Y/N lay in her bed, half asleep yet half conscious. She rolled over, hitting her forehead on the wall next to her but she didn’t bother to open her eyes.

She wasn’t sure when she ended up in a temple made entirely out of white marble with pink veins running through the slabs of stone. Fluffy clouds floated around and Y/N waved them aside to see who the two figures standing in the distance were. She instantly recognised Athena but the short woman with beautiful locks of curly blond hair standing next her was unfamiliar.

“Mom?” Y/N carefully called out, causing Athena’s head to turn.

“Back so soon, my dear?” She asked in that calming, silky voice.

“Where are we?” Y/N questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. Athena didn’t get the chance to reply because her companion, whose blond hair was now brown and pale skin tanned, answered for her.

“You’re in my temple, of course!” She joyfully clasped her hands together while Athena kept her calm composure.

“It seems you are unfamiliar with the goddess of love, my dear.”

Everything seemed to click in Y/N’s mind. “Aphrodite.” She breathed.

“That’s why she’s your daughter and not mine, even with how pretty she is.” Aphrodite let out a giggle, gracefully grinning and showing off her pearly white teeth. In the beautiful goddess’ presence, Y/N felt inferior.

“Um… if it’s not crossing a boundary, I’d like to ask why I’m here.” Y/N piped up as she stepped closer to the deity duo. “Every time I fall asleep, I end up in different places.”

“Something seems to be troubling you. Oh, is it love problems? Because I can solve anything!” Aphrodite, as gleeful as ever, beckoned Y/N forward. “It’s that Hermes boy, isn’t it! Aw, I knew you two would end up in a thrilling and cute romance!” Aphrodite jumped around as she gushed over what Y/N and Luke could possibly become.

Y/N stole a small glance at her mother only to flinch at Athena’s furious facial expression. “Aphrodite, some privacy please.” Athena uttered, lifting a hand that seemed to hush the goddess of love.

“Oh…” Aphrodite seemed to hesitate before she nodded, “Of course.” Her body faded away into a mass of pink glitter and Y/N was left alone with her mother.

“So, you and this Hermes boy?” Athena quirked an eyebrow which made Y/N shrink back.

“We’re nothing, mother. I don’t even like him that much. To be honest, he’s annoying and he talks too much.”

Yet, Athena was not convinced. “I have created a clear pathway for you, my dear. Annabeth is a bright girl but I want you to be my star pupil. However, if you choose not to follow in my footsteps, then you will merely be only another disappointment.”

Y/N stiffened. Failure was her worst fear, whether it be within a school exam or being unable to meet someone’s expectations. She had never failed and she was not about to start now. With reluctance, she turned to Athena. “What do I have to do?”

Y/N quickly opened her eyes, quietly panting. She found herself back in the cabin and a sigh of relief slipped past her lips. She lay awake in her bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling. She could hear light snores coming from her siblings and while the crackling sound of fire was supposed to calm her nerves, it didn’t. Eventually, Y/N rose.

She made an effort to keep quiet as she slipped past the cabin’s front door and into the chilly night air.

“Can’t sleep, huh?”

Y/N almost let out a loud shriek when she turned around only to almost crash into a certain Hermes boy. He had oh-so coincidentally been standing on the Athena’s cabin porch.

“What are you doing here?” She quietly hissed, on edge from both her dream and seeing the very boy her mother despised.

“I had a feeling you couldn’t sleep. The first few days are always the worst. You’re homesick and you’re also stuck with the realisation that you probably won’t ever go back.” Luke’s grin was visibly in the dim light coming from his lantern. “If I’m being honest, I was just on patrol duty and you happened to step out while I passed by.”

Y/N fidgeted with her fingers as she slowly sat down on the squeaky porch, wincing as it creaked. “What was the first night like for you?” She slowly questioned, staring up at Luke.

He shrugged. “Hard. I missed my mom and my friends and, well, Thalia.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side at the mentioning of Thalia’s name. “Who’s that?”

Luke paused before he glancing over at the lonesome tree on the hill. “This is going to sound stupid to you but she’s that tree. She was my friend while I was on the run from monsters. We then found Annabeth. Our satyr guide led us here but we were being chased by monsters. Thalia fought some of them off but there were too many… she would’ve died if it were for her father, Zeus, saving her.”

“He turned her into a fucking tree.” Y/N deadpanned.

Luke quietly groaned, “That’s the same ready Percy had as well. Why did the king of the gods turn his daughter into a tree of all things to save her life? I don’t know. I ain’t Zeus. Yeah, a tree is stupid but hey, at least she’s not dead.” Luke sarcastically smiled while Y/N remained unamused.

“I would rather die than become a tree.” She replied, “Imagine all your leaves falling during winter. You’re basically bald then.”

“If you were a tree, I’d cut you down.” Luke snapped back before he could still himself.

“So, Thalia. Tell me more about her.” Y/N abruptly switched topics.

“She was a little fiery and prideful but that’s expected of Zeus’ daughter. To be honest, she was a little bit like you. She seemed to have a soft spot for Annabeth. I think she preferred Annabeth over me.”

“Wow, what a shocker. I prefer Annabeth too.”

“I was young back then but I’m pretty sure I had a crush on Thalia. She could get me to do anything with one look.” Luke slowly trailed off while Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. Her heart felt unexpectedly heavy and for a moment, she thought she was sick.

“I should go to bed now. I’m feeling tired.” She stood up, stretching her stiff limbs. “See you later, Castellan.” Y/N walked back into her cabin before Luke could reply. He watched her disappear, leaving him standing alone in front of the porch.

He sighed. “Good night to you too, writer.”

Y/N was in the bathroom, washing her face tired face, when somebody else entered. They awkwardly stood behind her for a few moments before clearing their throat.

Y/N opened her eyes and wiped away the beads of water that dripped down her chin.

“You did some mean damage on Akut.”

In the mirror’s reflection, Y/N could see a pretty Ares girl with long, curled hair and a camp t-shirt a size too big. She was shorter than Y/N, not by much, but the H/C-nette still had to look down.

Clarisse had changed a lot but Y/N could still recognise that familiar glimmer in her old friend’s eyes.

“So this is where you disappeared off to?” Y/N questioned as Clarisse stepped closer. The brunette was now standing beside Y/N, leaning against the sink next to her with her arms folded over her chest.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” Clarisse uttered, her gaze looking Y/N up and down, “You’ve grown… a lot.”

“So have you, Clari. You look good.”

“You look better. You might turn me lesbian. It’s a shame you like Luke.”

Y/N paused and furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t like Luke.” She said, but it was mainly to reassure herself. She heard Clarisse laugh.

“He’s all you look at. For a daughter of Athena, you aren’t too smart on this topic.”

Y/N remained stone-faced as she calmly turned to look at Clarisse. “I don’t like him.” She repeated, this time firmer.

Clarisse hummed as if she wasn’t convinced. “He’s always looking at you, by the way. You being claimed means he sees you less and I think he misses you. But you shouldn’t care. You don’t like him.” She teasingly smiled as she applied a heavy layer of gloss onto her lips.

Y/N said nothing as she looked away, splashing another handful of cold water onto her face.

“You probably remind him of Thalia. Headstrong and stubborn.”

Y/N let Clarisse’s words sink in before she opened her mouth. “I’m not Thalia.” She quietly muttered. “I remind Luke of Thalia. I remind Annabeth of Thalia. But I’m not her. My identity is not tied to Zeus’ half-blood daughter.” Y/N clenched her hands into fists. “It was nice catching up, Clari. Next time we talk, we should tell each other about our lives after we parted.”

Y/N dabbed her face with a soft cotton towel as she walked back to the Athena cabin, almost groaning at the sight of Luke. “What are you doing here? Again?” She demanded, kicking his ankle.

“Woah! Hey, I’m waiting for Annabeth. I’m not here to annoy you. Yet.” Luke grinned as he leaned against a wall. Or he tried to, at least. He underestimated the distance and ended up falling.

“Smooth, Castellan.” Y/N sarcastically said as she towered over him.

“Thanks, writer. I try.” Luke coolly played his embarrassing mistake off while Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Luke, what are you doing?” Annabeth pushed open the door, arching an eyebrow at the boy who was sprawled across the floor.

“Y/N pushed me.”

Y/N scoffed, “I did not. You fell by yourself, Castellan. Like an idiot, might I add.” She brushed past Annabeth.

“You like her.” Annabeth blurted out as soon as Y/N was out of earshot. It was more of a harsh statement than anything else.

“I do not.”

“You do. What about Thalia? Why don’t you like her anymore?”

Luke furrowed his brows as he glanced at Thalia’s tree. “Thalia’s a tree, Annabeth. I have to move on at some point.”

Annabeth clenched her hands into fists as she glared at Luke. “I don’t want you to move on!”

Luke was confused as to why Annabeth was acting this way. He knew she missed Thalia but she had never burst into a fit. “Annabeth… I have to. You said you liked Y/N.”

“I do… but she’s not Thalia.”

Y/N woke up covered in a thin layer of sweat. She quietly panted. Her dreams were all the same now and depicted Athena ruthlessly lecturing her over and over again to the point where Y/N felt a little scared.

She heard someone shift in their bed. “Are you okay?” Y/N heard Annabeth whisper from across the room.

Y/N gave herself a moment to catch her breath before she sighed. “Yeah… just a bad dream, you know? I’m going outside for a bit.” Y/N kicked the covers off her body, shakily standing up.

“Thalia wouldn’t do that.” Annabeth muttered, “She doesn’t like going outside after nightmares.”

Y/N bit back an annoyed huff. “I’m not Thalia, Annabeth. I never will be her. You and Luke should let it go.” She walked out of the cabin, resisting the urge to slam the door.

“Oh, wow. This is just creepy. Are you sure you aren’t stalking me?” Luke grinned while Y/N sarcastically smiled. She sat down on the steps.

“Does Annabeth always go around and comparing people to Thalia?” She was straight forward and blunt. Luke clicked his tongue as he took the spot next to her.

“Not really… no.“

“Do you see me as Thalia?”

“I see Thalia in you but I know how to tell the difference between you too. Listen, Annabeth was attached to Thalia. And with new things coming to light, she’s on guard.”

Y/N turned to look at Luke, gazing at him in confusion. “New things?” She questioned.

“New… feelings.”

“… New feelings for Thalia the tree?”

Luke held his face in his hands as he groaned. “How are you a daughter of Athena? I’m giving you all the hints, writer.”

Y/N only raised her eyebrows. “I see no hints. All I see is your infatuation with a tree that was once a girl.”

“I like you.” Luke blurted out, unable to withstand any more of her obliviousness. “I don’t like Thalia. Maybe I did before but like I told Annabeth, I have to move on.”

Y/N was silent. She stared ahead while Luke awaited her reaction. Finally, Y/N said something. “You can’t like me… you don’t know me, Luke.”

“But I do! I know your favourite food and I know your favourite book. I know when people ask what your favourite colour is, you say it’s stupid to have one but your favourite colour is actually (insert)! I know you hate parties but you also want to feel like a normal teenager. And I know your favourite drink is (insert) yet the best one you’ve tried is in that cafe across from the school. I know things you didn’t know that I knew”- Luke cut himself off with a small sigh. “My point is I know you!”

“Did you mean you know things I didn’t know you knew about me?”

“Yes!” Luke quietly hissed, not wanting to be too loud in case he woke up the Athena kids. They wouldn’t be too happy about that. “And I know that you like correcting people’s grammar because the only paper you scored a B on was because you made grammar mistakes. You think you’re helping people but they think you’re a know-it-all. Though, when you explain your intentions, they realize you were only trying to help.”

Y/N stared at Luke with her lips parted. “Are you stalking me?” She murmured.

“No… yes? It was part of my quest, writer. I had to.”

“Well, that’s not creepy at all.”

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying? I just said I like you and you called me creepy.”

“You are for knowing all that information about me!”

“Okay, okay.” Luke held his hands up in surrender, “Truce. I really do like you, writer.”

“And here I thought you hated me. What was up with all our bickering then?”

“It was the only way to get your attention. And, I must admit, I did feel a little jealous of you. You were so good at everything… and I’m only good at swinging a sword around.” Luke’s gaze flickered to the ground. He thickly swallowed before lifting his head again. He quickly realized how close he was to Y/N, their foreheads almost butting against each other.

“Do you really like me, Cast-Luke?” Y/N quickly corrected herself. Luke could feel a grin stretch across his lips. Y/N had never called him by his first name before. It was always Castellan this, Castellan that.

“I do. I like you, Y/N. I really, really like you.”

“Okay.” Y/N whispered, slowly leaning forward. She was afraid of what her mother would say but when her lips met Luke’s, suddenly she didn’t care.

All that mattered were Luke’s hands trailing up to grab her waist and the smile that spread across his face like gleeful wildfire.

PJO TAG LIST (FULL) : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @jennapancake @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @justanotherkpopstanlol @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @kamiliora @jamesmackreideswife @2hiigh2cry @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303 @luvvfromme @y0urm0m12 @mochi-lover26 @annispamz

@outerbanks-stuff @csifandom @soraya-09 @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @8812-342 @ch16rles @froggiesstalks @mashiromochi @mqg125 @yorksyree @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast

#luke castellan #annabeth chase #luke castellan pjo #greek mythology #luke castellan x you #grover underwood #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson series #camp half blood #percy jackson fanfiction #pjo show #rick riordan #pjo season 1 #percy jackson fandom #percy pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

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doodle-pops · 5 months ago

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𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆You Have Heterochromia Eyes

Headcanons: Curufin, Argon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Thingol and Beleg

A/N: First of the event to go up. Been thinking of doing one with reader having starry eyes, but that’s an idea for another time. Enjoy!

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

Known for his keen senses, the moment you entered the room, he was able to distinguish the difference in your aura from everyone else, and it was all because of your eyes.

“Your eyes are quite captivating,” he remarks as he stares into your orbs, wondering which to focus on. His inquisitiveness causes him to slightly lean into your space to gain a closer look.

Of course, you respond informing him that your eyes were more unusual than captivating. To which he shuts down politely, informing you that ‘unique’ and ‘majestic’ were the proper words to describe your eyes.

Curufin usually finds it impossible to leave your side, wanting to learn all that he can from you while gazing off into your eyes and getting lost as the conversation continues. He finds it difficult to remain focused, especially when you meet his eyes with an equal stare. “Which eyes should I stare into today?”

As a way of appreciating your eyes, he doesn’t waste a moment launching himself into the forge to whip up a piece of jewellery that matches the shades of your eyes and your personality.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Argon

The youngest Prince of the House of Fingolfin becomes a stuttering, blushing mess as he morphs into a poet while lying about his poetic skills being terrible. He can’t take his eyes off yours to the point that he gets scolded for staring too hard.

He always finds excuses whenever he’s around you to look into your eyes, so he doesn’t come off as creepy. Mostly making jokes or performing some stunts so your eyes can always be on him.

Compliments roll off his tongue ten times every ten minutes because you deserve to know that he adores your eyes and how much they suit everything about you. Loves to make comments about Eru not knowing which colour to give you, so he gifted you the two/three most beautiful.

“It’s almost as if your eyes match your mood as well,” he’ll mumble while pushing his face closer to get a better look as if he wasn’t already an inch away from your face.

As a way of showing his appreciation, he could commission a piece of jewellery for him to wear with the respective gemstones that match your eyes. That way, whenever you’re apart and he looks at it, he’ll remember your eyes (because they’re also sparkly and bright).

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Finarfin

He has seen his fair share of heterochromatic eyes before (his eldest brother), so it wasn’t a big thing when he heard people speaking about yours. That was until he stumbled upon you for the first time and blurted out that your eyes were the prettiest to ever exist, better than his brother.

Finarfin makes it his business to ensure that you don’t ever forget that your eyes are filled with the essence of the Light of the Two Trees, and if anyone disagrees, he’s having none of that.

Poems and songs written by yours truly and recited on the cliffsides or beaches during sunsets and sunrises because your eyes sparkle and light up even more. Gets lost in your eyes, literally, because they’re the windows to your soul.

Loves to observe you as you speak due to your expressiveness which becomes enhanced by your eyes. Every micro-expression, he picks up and fawns over because how can someone look as beautiful as you do when blinking.

Can never be upset with you because all you have to do is pout and flash him those puppy and BAM, the argument is over. It’s worse if you cry because you look beautiful when you do, and he forgets that you’re sad, caught up in your gorgeousness.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Egalmoth

He tells you immediately, right off the bat, that your eyes were the blueprint for the reason behind the name of his House (lies obviously) because he’s starstruck by the magnificence behind them.

Egalmoth deeply appreciates your eyes and the significance they hold (in his opinion). As a Lord of exquisite taste in art and all beautiful things, he makes it his business to turn your eyes into a passionate subject of admiration.

“Your eyes are as captivating as a starlit night,” he would whisper one night while stargazing. “I have never seen anything like them, for I do not know if you should share them with the world or be selfish and share them with only me.”

He can’t figure out which eye he should focus on as you speak because both are equally captivating, it’s impossible to pick one, so you’re stuck with his tropical bird dance. At least he has impressed you, so it worked in some ways.

Like the others, he easily finds himself under hypnosis the minute to flash him a sweet expression whilst using your eyes to do most of the work. Whatever you want, just say the word and Egalmoth will get it for you.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Thingol

“You must be a Maia or Vala, for no ordinary person can possess such beauty all at the same time.” Smooth words to greet you with upon your first meeting, and it did work. Thingol feels as though you have cast a spell and placed him under it upon first sight.

It’s impossible to deny you whatever you want when you bat those pretty lashes and flash him puppy eyes to have your way. You’ve found his weakness, and he isn’t ashamed to say that he enjoys it.

Praises unlike any other and worships the ground you walk on, ensuring that you don’t ever feel ostracised. He wants you to understand that your uniqueness should be cherished and understood.

Like the others, he believes that there must be something extraordinary about you, hence the reason you possess those eyes. It’s as if they enhance a special ability of yours (yeah, getting spoilt).

To him, beyond all the weakness they make him feel, they also bring about a sense of tranquillity, similar to the forest of Doriath. He seldom finds himself strolling throughout the forest, deep in thoughts about you.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Beleg

The moment he met you, he almost fell to his knees, believing that you were some deity come to bless or speak with him. Turned out even better, you were sent to be with him, and he is thankful each and every day.

He claims that whenever he looks into your eye, he sees the forest and suddenly calmness washes over him. It’s as though you bring to forest with you, wherever you go, and Beleg is eternally grateful your gift.

Doesn’t like to disagree with you, so even if you were to agree, those eyes were enough to end the dispute. He crumbles so easily while clinging to you and pouting about not liking the look your beautiful eyes are giving him.

You’ll be speaking to him, and his eyes are just like ←↑→↓ because he doesn’t know which one to focus on. He finds it difficult to focus on one eye when both deserves equal attention at the same time, yet with all the hunter skills he has, he can barely focus on both.

He believes that with eyes like yours, you probably see the world differently, hence why he enjoys listening to your stories of adventures. There is a level of privilege he feels when he is told off the world through your eyes.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @hermaeuswhora @eunoiaastralwings

If you which to be tagged, click on the Taglist link to join.

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sashi-ya · 2 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT ⚠️

BROKEN PROMISE 💦 SOSHIRO HOSHINA X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 19: ONSEN SEX

🐙 requested by: Anonymous. Hello! I saw your event request i was wondering if could i have a request for Hoshina Soshiro from Kaiju no 8 with fem reader in day 19? ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. soshiro is your ex, imagine why he asked reader why they should split up (is up to you). sex at an onsen. fingering. biting. smut and angst and fluff. 🐙 wc: 1.1k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

When everybody is gone, and just the two of you stay… When the onsen waters are relaxing, but the imagery of your wet bodies isn’t… When the promise not to touch each other, no more, gets broken…

“Soshiro, don’t look at me with those eyes” you spit, trying to look anywhere but his abs.

“I am not looking at you with these eyes…” he jokes, getting comfortable, laying his back on the rocky side of the natural pool. His muscular arms straightened along the side, allowing the world to enjoy the perfection of his biceps.

You click your tongue; he thinks you don’t know him… he thinks you don’t know he is watching at you even when it looks he is closing his eyes.

“Soshiro, you are my ex. We decided this. YOU, wanted this” you spit; it is, indeed, the truth. Soshiro has requested you a time off while he is gone to train Kafka. Why would he want to do that? Does he have someone special waiting back at his hometown? Fuck this!

“I am your ex, yes… you are right. I’m sorry, I can’t help it when you appear in front of me, wearing such a tiny bikini… I’ll go; I should sleep. Long trip tomorrow” he sighs; sad. Soshiro clearly hates the fact he can’t touch you, enjoy your body and soul like every night.

You take your eyes off him in such a cold way; it feels cold, like ice. It hurts; but you still have a pride to preserve. You don’t really need to lose anymore valuable things…

However, what are you proud of? Of looking away and not fight for your man? For Soshiro?

“Soshiro… don’t- don’t go…” you stutter, swimming up to where he was sitting.

The kitsune fighter stops right on his tracks; he slowly turns around to look at you. You were expecting a mocking smirk; perhaps even a rejection façade. But Soshiro couldn’t look at you with eyes different from pain…

“If I get back into the water I won’t be able to stop; and I’m telling you this because I know I was the one who asked you to end our relationship” he says, holding the white towel around his hips with a single finger.

You take a deep breath; this time your eyes can’t look anywhere else but his eyes. Your insides are a mess, your heart, ablaze.

“Come back, please…” you decide your faith; instinct won, lust prevailed.

“Very well, then…” he answers back, letting the towel to fall down the floor.

You gasp; thankfully it is a pretty private onsen. Haruichi’s family allowed the squad to relax on one of their private onsen and spa.

Soshiro walks like a cat the very few steps that separates the side of the natural pool and him; slowly, maybe like a god entering sacred waters, he lets his body be engulfed by the wet warmth.

Even slower, is the way in which he comes closer to you. Soshiro has never been gentle, but this time feels painfully sexy, waiting for him to finally surround your body with his arms, for his kisses to finally be left upon your flesh.

With the back of his index tracing your facial features, Soshiro lets you know how much he still loves them. With his free hand, he unties the little knot that holds your bikini top around your neck…

“You are too beautiful to let a cheap piece of fabric cover your body” he whispers… ah, Soshiro, how can you be such a deadly poet?

You shiver to his words; that’s him… he hasn’t change.

He shows off his prominent fangs that shine to the orangey lights of lanterns garnishing the place. You know exactly what he will do next; bite, bite, bite…

Probably on its own, your head moves slightly to the side to let your neck exposed. Soshiro is pleased, he has trained you well.

He proceeds, then, to carve his teeth on your flesh; just right where your pulse feels stronger, as if he wanted to drew blood from your carotids.

And while he bites and kisses, his fingers swim down the water and into your sex. It is enough for him to slide your bikini bottom to the side, after all that little triangle was barely covering your heated core.

“Even though the water is hot, your insides are always hotter” he purrs into your ear while he begins fingering you with increasing rhythm; with merciless beckoning motions that make the water around you become turbulent due to your spasming muscles.

Your nails carve on his shoulders; your breasts squeeze against his well trained -and pretty scarred due to that Kaiju no. 10 fight- chest. One of your legs begins to float and he snatches it with his free hand for you to surround his waist.

You press your forehead against his; the tip of your noses touching, your lips begging for his.

“Should I go further? Wont you get mad at me?”

“I can’t ask you to stop… I need you, Soshiro. Don’t leave me, don’t – make love to me one last time if you are leaving…” you whine those words into his mouth, pleading, sad and still completely given to his fingering delight.

Soshiro sighs, a mix of pain and lust in the air… what to do?

allow his body to take over? His heart? But if both want the exact same thing, and that’s just you…

He doesn’t hesitate no more, and Soshiro quickly takes his fingers from your insides and grabs his hardness to line it up with your entrance.

A few pumps go smoother underwater; the penetration pushes a little bit of water into you, making you feel even fuller.

Your legs hug his waist when he is completely deep into you. Your arms surround his shoulders; his hands gripping you tightly from the back of your thighs and ass.

Water helps you float, but it is him who is moving his and your body. Soshiro’s hips start to pump in and out of you, this time turning calm waters into violent tsunami. The sexy calm has been left behind, now it is his feral, passionate, lustful self who is desperate to fuck you with no peace.

You jump on his dick; his fangs carve into your lips. Pulling them, kissing you nonstop. Air is scarce, the humid ambience makes it even difficult.

“I told you… I told you… ngh… fuck… I told you I wasn’t gonna be able to stop” “I never, ever, wished for you to stop… don’t stop… Soshiro ~”

Taglist of amazing babes: @adaizel @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 💕🌻

#kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kaiju no. 8 smut #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soushirou #hoshina soshirou x reader #kinktober 24 #kinktober 2024

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mncxbe · 1 year ago

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What looking in their eyes feels like♡

𝒇𝒕 𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓, 𝑷𝒐𝒆, 𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

°☆○

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

like looking at a reflection of all your sins and finding absolution

Your boyfriend has always been a people watcher and you knew that. Wherever you went, his cold gaze scanned the setting; analysing, weighing possibilities, reading people like open books. He understood human nature better than anyone; with just one look he could determine the true nature of one's heart, one fleeting look was all it took for him to know everything.

And yet here you were, legs loosely draped over the armrests of your blue velvet couch as you flipped through the pages of your book. On the other side of the room Fyodor idly plays the cello; bow sliding swiftly across the strings, coaxing mellow octaves. This was a song reserved for you only, the melody of his soul.

When you rose your head from the yellowing pages you met his violet eyes, petals of hydrageas piercing your soul like shards of glass. But there's something comforting and warm about this feeling, a knowing that he sees you for who you are and doesn't judge. No, he never judged you, he always loved you~ and if you looked close enough you could even see that adoration pooling into his eyes like honey in honeycomb.

𝑷𝒐𝒆

like the soft glow of the moon cast over a wisteria tree on a foggy night

You tossed around among the crumpled sheets, relishing the warmth of the morning sun on your skin; like a lover's embrace.

"Good morning sweetheart" mumbled your boyfriend in that sleepy morning voice you so adored. A mellow smile made its way to your lips as you turned to face him, shifting your body closer.

"Good morning to you too. How did you sleep?" you asked merrily and he nodded, sighing gently.

"As usual. But it's good to wake up next to you."

Reaching a hand to brush away his disheveled bangs you met his gaze- those pretty eyes of his, glazed in adoration- and your heart skipped a beat.

For a moment you watched as the soft rays of sunshine shifted the hues of his irises: silvery grey, foggy blue-violet, flakes of liliac; like a Garden of Eden bathed in moonglow.

"You're so beautiful you know" you whispered as you moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his forehead, causing the man to blush.

"I uh- thank you dear. You are too, my treasure"

Sweet. It was sweet how his face turned a rosy shade and his eyes sparkled. No matter how long it passed since you got together you were still not used to how expressive they were; conjuring up all the love he held for you.

They say there's no deeper love than that of a poet and looking into his soulful eyes you can't help but agree.

𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊

like watching the waves roll onto the shoes of the Mediterranean Sea~ blue and green

"Y/N" whined your partner from across the bathroom "Hurry up dove I wanna see how I look"

While still searching through the plush makeup bag, you turned your head to face a pouting Nikolai; perched on the edge of the marble bathtub- arms crossed over his chest.

"Just a second love I'm trying to find the liner" you reassured him before procuring a black stick from the bag.

Walking back to your boyfriend you nesteled yourself between his thick thighs and seized his chin, slightly tilting his head backwards.

"Now hold still. If I mess this up I'll have to do the whole look again"

A faint giggle rolled past his lips as he took in your concentrated expression; brows slighty furrowed and lips pursed as you drew sharp wings at the corners of his eyes. It was routine already, you doing his makeup on Halloween.

Once you were done you took a step back to admire your work, nodding contently. The black eyeshadow contrasted with his silvery hair, making his eyes pop; the emerald green of one and icy blue of the other were like the surface of the sea on a hot summer day: always warm and kind as he gazed at you yet still showing a shadow of a wild sparkle.

"So? How do I look" asked your boyfriend, interrupting your train of thought.

"You look like an emo snowflake" you replied nonchalantly, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose; but before you got a chance to do it Nikolai rose to his feet and slid his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

A mellow smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning over your lips.

"Perfect dove. That's all I wanted" he chuckled, gently pressing his lips against yours.

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 (for the anon that requested Tecchou content♡ I got a bit emotional with it)

like crisp yellowing autumn leaves filtering the afternoon or morning sun

Friday morning. Mid October. You watched the little white marshmellows slowly melting into the cup of hot chocolate. Outside, golden leafed trees lined the sides of the boulevard where you studio apartment complex was, the home you shared with your boyfriend.

As you rose the cup to your lips to take a sip, the faint sound of footsteps echoed behind you. A strong pair of arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

"What are doing angel?" asked your partner in a mellow voice.

You couldn't help but smile when you felt him resting his chin on your shoulder, warm lips peppering a string of chaste kisses on your neck. You reached a hand to ruffle his hair, soft locks sliding through your fingers like cashmere.

"Good babe. By the way I made you breakfast" you smiled, pointing at a plate on the counter where a simmering omelette lay folded. Your partner languidly moved his gaze to the plate and nodded before spinning you around and pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Thank you dear. You truly are an angel"

His sweet words and beaming smile had you weak in the knees. There was nothing you loved more than seeing Tecchou happy, because despite his gentle personality he always wore a stoic expression, as if he viewed the world from a faraway place. But not now, not when he was with you in the comfort of your shared apartment.

His gentle, amber eyes glimmered with adoration like pearls. They somehow reminded you of the yellowing leaves hanging from branches outside your condo, bathing in the morning sun and you felt your chest swelling with love.

You wanted to tell him how much you adored him, how happy and whole you felt beside him; as if he were the missing piece of the puzzle that was your soul, how he changed you in ways you never imagined were possible, how he mended all the parts of you that have been broken by others and that you knew he was the one for you- now and for all eternity.

But the langour brought on by your slumber was still there, fogging your brain and you pushed those thoughts somewhere in the back of your mind, saved them for another time. So you resolved to simply handing him your cup of hot chocolate with a smile.

"Go and eat your breakfast, love. It'll get cold"

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