#its supposed to be moonlight and sunlight

[itaipava]

— little moments of f1 boys yearning for their best friend.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

it’s the middle of the night and you’re lying side by side in bed. you told a joke that he didn’t find that funny, but he can’t help but laugh next to you while you’re laughing so hard at your own humor. he stops laughing for a bit and looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen - because you are. moonlight enters the room, shining on your chin, lips, and cheeks, and a soft, joyful glow shines in your eyes. he feels this need to run his fingers along the contours of your face, in a light and gentle caress, but he resists. and yet he can’t help but think that maybe he loves you, with all his heart, even if you have a weird sense of humor sometimes.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

it’s a little too early in the afternoon to be drunk but here you both are. you’re sitting on the couch and he’s not certain when you got close but his breath hitches ever so slightly when you lean your head against his shoulder and he shifts a little so that he can place a hand on your back; an almost-hug. you’re saying something and your breath is warm on his skin and perhaps it’s the influence of the alcohol but he’s overcome by a burst of a certain something in his heart. he pulls you closer and when you start to move away, he doesn’t let you go and he says ‘stay.’ and you do. for a minute. then two. then time doesn’t matter anymore.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

it’s when you ask him to turn his face away so you can change your shirt; you already have a beautiful and trusting intimacy, so you trust him enough to do something like this around him. he turns around, but when he turns to you again, he takes a little of your body away while you lower your shirt, putting it on completely. his breath hitches in his throat as an insatiable desire surges within him; the desire to touch you. he wanted so much to be able to explore every little part of your body, know the story of every scar or spot, worship your body as if that were the last thing he would do in his life. he looks away quickly but that image will stay with him forever.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

it’s the middle of the night and you’re lying side by side in bed because the movie is too boring and each other’s features are so much more interesting. you talk about anything that comes to mind as you trace light patterns on the bed between the few inches between the two of you. he loves hearing you talk, he really does, but right now he can’t hear you. he is so hypnotized and obsessed with you; it’s like you’re holding the stars as he walks through the clouds. his eyes shine like never before and he feels lost when you smile as you continue talking, completely oblivious to the effect you have on him.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

sitting on the balcony, the two of you are talking. you ask him if he could go anywhere right now, where would he go? and he thinks, perhaps to a little cottage in the countryside where it’s peaceful and the days slow and sweet; or perhaps a bustling city that never sleeps, with its neon lights and people from all walks of life; or perhaps a picturesque town where culture comes alive and and every building whispers an ancient history. and he looks at you because you’re there with him everywhere he goes; lying on the grass next to him; going out for a dinner in a fancy restaurant together in the busy city; sitting in a little café in an old city… he wants to let you know but instead he jokes, his voice light, his face holding a ghost of a smirk, ‘anywhere away from you,’

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

the sun is about to set and he sits beside you on the floor. as the movie plays on his laptop, he watches it while listening to you talk about your day. at one point, he glances at you and it’s supposed to be a glance but the sunlight is on your skin and he can’t seem to look away. seeing your questioning face at him, he tears his eyes away from you, back to the screen. and the two of you watch the movie quietly while this feeling he isn’t brave enough to name swells in his heart.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

when others are superficially talking about people they find hot, he never joins in the conversation and if you’re there, he glances at you a little too often. if someone asks him to describe his ideal type, his mind goes to you immediately as he describes your qualities. in a room full of people, he always finds himself wondering where you are as his eyes look around, the smitten smile on his face when you lock eyes from across the room.

[faithfulren]

mr. loverman

izuku midoriya has always been the pillar of hope and courage. but even heroes have their moments of vulnerability.

based on the song 'mr. loverman by ricky montgomery'

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

the hero society had its golden boy, izuku midoriya, the symbol of peace in training. to the world, he was the epitome of bravery and selflessness. but to you, he was simply izuku, the boy who loved too hard and carried too many burdens.

the dormitory was unusually quiet that night. the moonlight cast a somber glow through the window as you walked down the hallway. you paused in front of Izuku’s door, hesitating.

you knocked softly. “izuku? can i come in?”

his voice, usually so full of life, sounded hollow. “yeah, come in.”

you pushed the door open to find him sitting on his bed, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. he clutched a photo frame, his fingers tracing the outline of the picture inside. it was a photo of him with his mother, back when things were simpler, back when he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“are you okay?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

izuku looked up at you, forcing a small, sad smile. “just…thinking.”

you sat beside him, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to give him space. “about what?”

he sighed, the sound heavy with unshed tears. “everything. being a hero, protecting everyone…sometimes it feels like too much. like I’m drowning.”

your heart ached for him. you reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “you don’t have to carry it all alone, izuku. we’re all here for you.”

he shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. “but i’m the one who has to be strong. i’m the one who’s supposed to save everyone. what if i can’t?”

“izuku, it’s okay to feel like this. it’s okay to not be okay all the time,” you whispered, your own voice breaking.

he looked at you, vulnerability etched in every line of his face. “i’m scared,” he admitted. “i’m scared of failing, of losing everyone i care about. of losing you.”

"what am i supposed to do without you?"

your breath hitched. you had always been close, but this was the first time he had voiced such deep fears. “you won’t lose me, izuku. i promise.”

he broke then, sobbing quietly as you pulled him into your arms. you held him tightly, offering silent comfort as he let out all the pain he had been holding in.

“it’s okay,” you murmured, stroking his hair. “i’m here. i’ll always be here.”

in that moment, you vowed to be his anchor, his support. because even heroes needed someone to lean on.

the dawn was breaking when izuku finally fell asleep, exhaustion overtaking his grief. you stayed by his side, watching over him, your heart heavy but determined. you knew the road ahead would be tough, but you were ready to face it with him.

as the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, you whispered a silent promise. “we’ll get through this together, izuku. i believe in you.”

the world might see him as a hero, but to you, he was more than that. he was izuku, the boy who loved deeply, who cared fiercely. and you would stand by him, no matter what.

[satvruu]

ೀ how they hug you

rewritten and reposted of my hc set from my old blog @/star-puff! thank you to all my old dedications as well as my new ones @kurooppi @wyllsravengard for making my return to this fandom possible <3

feedback is very appreciated!

ft. yuuji, megumi, gojo, getou, nanami

itadori yuuji embraces you warmly, fondly, sunlight streaming through the window and scattering over your bare skin. it's someplace safe and comforting, enveloped in his arms like he's taken it upon himself to protect you from everything horrible in the world; he is your knight, he is your shield, your safe haven to escape to, no matter how many wounds he will endure in the process. ("yuuji," you whisper, a hand coming up to rest gently on his arm. he bleeds desperation. "i'm okay, i promise." yuuji squeezes you tighter, trembling, and you wonder what you can do to make it true for him, too.) he holds you for far too long for it to be anything casual, but you can't really complain about it anyway—it's better this than to witness the alternative. after all, what is the sun without a place to hold its warmth; what becomes of a hero when they fail to protect the things that matter most?

fushigurou megumi comes to you slow, steady, a ripple of water in the pond. you coax him out gently, holding your arms out before wrapping them around him. his breath hitches (always, no matter how many times he tries to hide it) and his body stiffens, arms frozen at his sides. but slowly, surely, your head buried in his chest, megumi's arms begin to wrap around you in a manner you can only describe as tender—as if you could break if he held onto you too tight. (truthfully, megumi thinks he's just afraid. the jujutsu world is a dangerous one, after all, even to those who only know of it by name. megumi has lost too many people, and you're the one person he can't afford to lose.) he flinches at the thought, pulling away. you draw yourself closer in him, instead. moonlight behind the clouds, you'd gladly hold onto this night forever if it meant megumi was by your side.

gojo satoru is known as many things—a child prodigy, the strongest, a boy-god making his presence known on the lowly earth, but to you, he is simply just obnoxious. satoru makes it a spectacle each time he sees you: hollering, gallivanting, draping himself over you with his long limbs and impossible-to-miss frame. you huff and complain and uselessly try to drag yourself away from him each time, but satoru hooks onto you and refuses to let you go, nuzzling his face into yours. (they're mine, the action screams, a blaring warning to anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the collateral. you've been too caught up in your irritation of him to notice this, of course, and you're certainly not someone who would take the explicit meaning of it kindly, but satoru finds that he doesn't really care. not when he has more important things to attend to.) gojo satoru is many things, but the one thing he absolutely isn't is someone who can share.

getou suguru smells of sandalwood incense, a musky amber you think you could identify blind. sometimes, you think you remember a different suguru, a kinder suguru, one that had easier things to worry about, a brighter look in his eyes, an easier weight to his gait. if you think back far enough, you suppose it might have been because he had somebody else by his side to keep it that way, a brighter light shining next to him to keep the darkness at bay. (but that was a long time ago. now, suguru is the one left to be lit by the fire, stuck in the ashes of his own kin for a future little understand. you're not sure who is to blame for that anymore.) you're not the light that can save him—no one can be, not anymore. when suguru reaches out to you, rare vulnerability bubbling over in a way you can only describe as drowning—as crumbling—the only thing you can do is curl yourself next to him in the incense burner, smearing yourself in the ash.

nanami kento thinks you need this, especially after a long, hard day. the melting comes slow: his hands on your back, gentle pats and quiet whispers of comfort as he rests his chin on your head. and then comes everything else. his hands slot perfectly into the dip of your back, the small of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over the fabric of your clothes, and in the eyes of no one but yourselves, the two of you begin to sway back and forth to a quiet melody nanami begins to hum. you cling onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to memorie the smell of his cologne, the rumble of his voice, the warmth of his arms. (it's too much, to have a memory of a future that will inevitably happen. you almost want to cry. don't go, you want to say, a lump in your throat, wishing for the impossible. don't go.) and still, selfish as you are, nanami hugs you like you're slow dancing in the dark.

[rayroseu]

IM KINDA LATE TO THE PARTY NOW BUT SILVERRRRRR

help,,,,, he's making a career in making sure he has the best card art in this game i swearrrr 😭😭😭 first his platinum card AND THISSSS ok silver, I'LL YAP ABOUT YOUUUU 😭🙏💖

I know alot of people already described how beautiful this card in a thousand poetic ways AND i agree with all of themm BUT when i first saw this groovy,,,, I immediately thought what scene they were referencing here !!!! MAYBE im just reaching but I think Its the climax scene of Aurora finally succumbing to Maleficent's curse !! Specifically they combined elements from the initial build up where Aurora was crying in the vanity beside a candlelight then the eventual sleeping position !!!

Also overthinking the composition now, but I AM eating up at how the angle of the green candlelights makes it feel like its supposed to symbolized Lilia, Malleus, and Sebek and how they always watch over Silver,,,, there's always an instance of them taking care of him whenever he falls asleep 🥹💖

BUT THE THING IS,,,, there is SOMETHING with the way they drew his eyelashes here,,, ITS MOST SIMILAR to Malleus!!!

I am probably reaching further,,, but as far as I remember, no one up (until now) but Malleus whose eyelashes is drawn so meticulously, like EACH STRAND is prominent sharp, accentuated, and extra curly LIKE ADSKFJKLDFJ ITS SUCH A BIG GLOW UP FROM HIS INITIAL SLEEPING CARD (Silver Robes SR) JUST COMPARE

AND MORE IMPORTANTLYYYY It makes me so crazy how different these cards are....

At the beginning of Book 7, Silver is often at sunlight... but nowadays after his arc where he finally confronted the fact he's Dawn's son and that Lilia's love for him will not change even after that fact, we see him more in moonlight !! ITS LIKE THE BLESSING SCENE AGAINNN (how Baby Silver's hair went from gold like sunlight to silver like moonlight because of a night fae's blessing (acceptance that Lilia loves him)

I love how they slowly emphasize over time that Silver's home is Briar Valley, with the NIGHT faes (yk who they are), that they showcase that fact through initially releasing his arts associated with the sun then eventually the night and the moon 🥹🥹💗💗💖💖💖

[baeshijima]

its nearly 3 am and i should sleep but vampire neuvillette…. ourgh…….

vampire neuvillette who is not affected by the sunlight, yet still chooses to avoid contact with it, instead gazing at the light with a faraway look from his office window.

vampire neuvillette who basks in the moonlight when in his lonesome, a sombre yet hauntingly beautiful image painted for no one to bear witness to.

vampire neuvillette who is surrounded by many, humans and melusines and other beings alike, yet appears the loneliest in spite of that, his figure stark against the bustling crowds and empty rooms.

vampire neuvillette who somehow finds himself identifying you immediately when within the same vicinity, having blocked out every face, every disturbing scent which invaded his senses, just to see you and quietly watch from afar. (because that is what he does best. he maintains his distance and keeps to himself, avoiding any further implication than what is necessary.)

vampire neuvillette who, in spite of his long-held values, finds himself drifting towards you like a moth would to a flame. it’s inexplicable how drawn he is to you — how magnetising your mere presence is to him — and yet he cannot find it within himself to hate this feeling. rather, he finds himself chasing after it, hands grasping at what little you seem to give in a desperate attempt to close the gap he worked hard to create.

vampire neuvillette who finds he doesn’t need to bask in the overbearing sun, for your smile and eyes which glimmer like starlight are all he needs in this gloomy world he’s supposed to reside in. you are kind, a feat he sees in the way you treat the melusines, how you talk with the locals and can deal with their… less than favourable actions at times, in the way you help tourists in a patient manner, and by the way you laugh in a way which implies you enjoy his presence. (the notion has him more giddy than he would like to admit.)

vampire neuvillette who jolts the first time your skins touch, hands brushing as you hand him a pile of finished paperwork, as he stares at you aghast while cradling his burning hand close to his chest. it was an odd phenomena, one he had never experienced before (he seemed to be having a lot of those in recent times), yet the vivid tingles are etched into his skin and seep into his veins in a way that has him wanting to reach out and experience such sensations with you once more.

vampire neuvillette who discovers what it means to lose control for the first time in his extensive life when you’re suddenly beneath him, neck bare amidst a messily open collared shirt and a tantalising scent permeating from your skin. it wasn’t supposed to go like this, he thinks to himself through bleary eyes and a hazy mind. had he known his stock had run out, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer for dinner, battling through his long-forgotten starvation until you found him in such an embarrassing predicament. but your words of consent repeat in his conscience like a broken record, your voice clear against his jumbled thoughts as he zeroes in on your blood. it is a scent he has grown indifferent to over the years; well, until you stumbled into his life with a warm demeanor and sweet smile, effectively thawing his once frozen heart, that is.

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ DOUBLE DEALING - RUNRUNRUN (LS2)

What was supposed to be a fun free drive led by Oscar through the streets of Melbourne turns sinister. You quickly learn the true nature of the 'late night training' your boyfriend of nine months endures during race weekends, and why he's been hiding the truth from you.

drag racer!logan sargeant x reader // series masterlist!

warnings/notes: speeding, dangerous driving, mentions of drugs and violence, no one better be surprised i wrote for logan first. y'all remember this series? it's been a hot minute, this is short as a sort of introduction to the whole series, and I hope it's a good start to kick everything off!

"So, at the Grand Prix, why did that guy call you Bandit?"

It's late, the night breeze rolling off the the water and across the little hidden road behind the Melbourne pier. In the moonlight, you sit on the back of Logan's 2002 Pontiac Firebird. The car is an exact replica of the car from Smokey and The Bandit, save for a few updated bits and bobs he'd added along the time you'd known him.

"Well, Miss America," Logan sits next to you, handing you a soda from the vending machine he'd found inside a probably closed building that left their door unlocked, "Someone has taste."

"I'm so sorry my parents didn't raise me on hick movies like yours did." You hum, cracking open the soda as the rumble of another old engine makes you look over. Alex's Pontiac coming around the corner with a few other cars behind it.

"That was all Dalton and the Red Box at the Publix," Logan smirks with a shrug, waving over Alex and the other two cars to park behind him. A Supra rumbling to a stop next to Alex, and a Honda S2000 parking a bit back. You recognize both drivers once they've stopped, and the grinning faces of two McLaren drivers meet you.

"Well well well, drug Lando out for this one?" Logan calls and Alex shrugs, coming over to give Logan a fist bump as Oscar and Lando lumber out of their cars and come over to where you are to greet you both with fistbumps.

"I haven't done Oscar's Melbourne track yet!" Lando smirks as he nudges Oscar to the side and the group comes to hover around your group. They talk a bit and you look over your shoulder out to the water, watching birds dip down in the limited sunlight.

"Ready, darlin'?" Logan asks and you turn back to see him offering a hand to you. Smiling, you take it and let him help you off the car and to the passengers seat before he crosses to the drivers side. The car starts with its normal rumble and Oscar pulls ahead, the rest of you following in a slow pattern until you get out onto the highway.

Logan's hand rests on top of yours on the shifter, you recording the cars around you as they whip up and down the highway. Laughing softly when Lando weaves through the group and nearly hits Oscar who throws a middle finger out the window. After a long while of zipping through the empty highways, the group pulls off to a side road.

But someone is following.

“Yo, who’s on my six?” Logan says into the radio in his car, lifting his hand off the shifter only momentarily before resting it back on yours. With a quick glance out the window, you determine there is a car still behind you.

“Shouldn’t be anyone.” Oscar’s voice crackles through, “All you pull up, Bandit fall back with me?”

“Yeah, gotcha.” Logan says into the radio, lifting your hand off the shifter briefly to kiss your knuckles before he whispers, “it’s probably some dumb teen following us around, don’t worry.”

“Wasn’t worried,” you smile softly, even as the nickname makes your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. Logan drops to the shifter again. You look over as Oscar’s car comes besides yours and he gives Logan a little nod, opening the gap between the both of you and falling back to the car behind.

“Smokey, Bandit, stay close. He’s falling to a stop, can you two give us light?” Oscar’s voice rings through the radio, the cars ahead slow and Lando pulls around first—lights shining and revealing the sleek Porsche Spyder that’s crept on you. The car would be impressive if not for the worry that gnaws at your gut when Logan tenses in the passengers, no dumb teen would own a car like that, you both know something more serious lays ahead.

“Smokey, be on watch.” Oscar’s voice is tense, void, something dark in it you barely pick up on before Logan squeezes your thigh quickly as he gets out of the car and slams his door shut. The window is rolled down, like it always is, and you lean over the center console to listen.

“…No trouble, mate.” Logan’s voice carries across the expanse of highway and holds an underlying threatening tone that makes your stomach twist as he continues, “just wanna know why you’re tailing us.”

You can’t hear the reply over the rumble of Logan’s engine, before Oscar says something lost in the sound of a door slamming and a fight brewing. Lando is out of his car in seconds, and you crawl over the center console to peek through the drivers window with your head as far back against the seat as possible to hide. You can see the guy grab Oscar by the front of his shirt to shove him and Lando is quick to send a punch, knocking the guy aside. Logan’s shoving the guy back as soon as Lando clears his hit. Even straining your ears, you can't understand them over the overlapping shouting.

“Y/n! Sit back!” Alex shouts into his radio as he’s getting out of his car and you practically throw yourself back into your seat while Alex Dukes of Hazzard jumps over the hood of Logan’s car to assist them holding the guy to the side of his car.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with man, back up!” Lando’s voice is clearly irritated before there’s a bit more shouting and Lando’s voice rings, “you think we’d do a fuckin’ drug run? Who the hell even are you?!”

What the fuck is happening?

You look through the back windows, trying to stay pressed to the seat as best as possible. Before the guys are sprinting back to the cars and Logan doesn't even open his door, he just jumps through the fucking window and lands on top of you.

"What the fuck--!" You go to shout before Logan grabs your chin and makes you look at him,

“I love you. I need you to know that.” he whispers, kissing you as he jumps the throttle and uses an arm to gently lay you back against your seat as he peels off down the road.

“Logan!” you shriek, grabbing the door panel for stability. He doesn’t answer, shifting up and slamming down on the gas as Alex drops to let him overtake, Oscar comes to the side of you and Logan shouts into the radio,

“How far?”

“Gonna go about twenty kilometers, take that exit, black out. If we’re lucky we should lose him.” Oscar’s voice crackles across as he narrowly avoids slamming into the back of a semi truck. Logan clicks the radio twice in response and then downshifts to allow Lando around before he speeds up behind him. You don’t know if this is a moment where you try to ask, so you stay back against the seat like Logan had pushed you to.

“Need cover!” Alex’s voice comes through, “he might be in a Porsche but he’s being a dick!”

“Coming back!” Lando says and Logan moves out of the way, watching in his rearview before he curses.

“We’re not gonna lose him, he’s too close.” Oscar comes over the radio, “gonna have to drift it.”

“Pop a u-ey?” Logan says, adjusting his grip and Oscar agrees. There’s a few moments of stillness before you’re skidding off to an exit ramp. Alex comes up besides you and Logan lets him back around, falling into the order of Oscar, Alex, Logan, and then Lando in the back.

“He’s quite aggressive, the fucking muppet.” Lando complains, “Goss, it’s up to you.”

“If the u-ey doesn’t work, Smokey, you need to call Lion.”

“Got it.”

These nicknames are getting hard to follow, you'd realized Smokey was Alex and Bandit was Logan, and by denominator meant Lando was Hotshot and Oscar was Goss, but who the fuck was Lion?

“Who?” You ask, turning to look out the back of Logan’s car to see Lando dangerously close. Logan’s hand leaves the shifter to grab your chin and turn you back forward.

“Logan, what is going on?” You finally find the confidence to ask, which makes Logan feel a little sick. He doesn't answer again, eyes narrowing as he leans over to click off his headlights.

You have no idea how he knows where he's going as they drive blacked out. Eventually there's another off ramp, and you watch as Logan expertly navigate a turn that should cause him to skid off the road before he slows to a nice pace and the cars lights flicker back on.

"All clear, let's head back to the den. We gotta tell Lion what's going on."

Nothing is said until you all arrive to the side of the paddocks, Lando jumping out to open the gate before getting in his car once more. You all slowly pull to a side lot and park, everyone but you and Logan getting out. He's tense, and he leans his head against the steering wheel before sighing slowly.

"Listen. It's not that illegal." He sits back and you scoff, turning to face him.

"That's what you start with? Seriously?!" You scold, whacking his shoulder as he sits up.

"Well, it's--it's all, racing! Like, fuck... this is so hard to explain." He groans, "We do racing, illegally. But we don't do those drug runs, we don't do shit like that. We do racing. Just normal racing for fun. We host like high end races for big money, big bets, stuff like that."

"Just bets? You're telling me this is just bets?"

"Yo, Bandit." Oscar taps his knuckle on the window and you both turn as the Australian says, "We gotta go talk to Lion about it."

Logan sighs, and then leans over to kiss your knuckles before getting out of the car. You're shocked when Lando opens your door and offers a hand to help you out, before leading you over to Logan, who snags an arm around your waist and draws you to his side.

"We'll explain, okay?" He whispers, and you nod, sticking to his side as the group slowly moves through the crowd. You spot a few other drivers off to the side, even some who had long since retired, before you're ushered into Red Bull's hospitality.

"Ay, Lion," Lando calls and Max turns from where he's engrossed in conversation with Charles and Daniel. The whole paddock around you seems to fall hush as Max walks over slowly, setting a drink in his hand down on a table nearby as he nods in greeting.

"Alex told me you guys had a bit of an issue out on the roads." Max crosses his arms taught across his broad chest, eyes icy in their narrow at Logan and Oscar. It's not hurtful, the look more concerned than anything.

"Some guy claimed we were drug runners." Oscar explains softly, "we just ditched the guy. We didn't wanna deal with him. So we blacked out, popped a uey and came right back here."

Max nods, checking you all over silently with his eyes before nodding, "and he was gone?"

"Dusted 'em." Lando smirks with his trademark confidence, making Oscar laugh softly as he hit Lando's shoulder. The room untensed significantly, and Max called over a few of the drivers you didn't see as much -- Fernando being among them, and they spoke softly for a few moments before they dispersed.

"We'll take care of the guy, Alex, get me your camera feed. Any of you who have cams on the cars actually." Max says and the group behind you nods, and then finally Max turns his attention to you and raises a look to Logan. The arm around your waist tightens, Logan's other hand finding yours.

"Does she know?" Max asks softly and Logan shakes his head, making a small smile split across his lips.

"Well, I guess we've got our Carrie." Max hums, whacking Logan's arm, "You're not gonna just leave her outta this now, are you?"

"It's her decision, I haven't told her much." Logan steps out from behind you, keeping your hand tight in his, "I'm not gonna make her stay if she wants nothing to do with this."

"Well, Carrie, if it makes you feel any better," Max hums out your nickname, and you recognize it as the name of the girl in Smokey and the Bandit, making you match with Alex and Logan now. Max continues softly with, "we aren't doing illegal shit. We don't do drug runs, we don't do shit that'll get us in trouble. Between us all we have enough to stay out of most issues with the cops or any law, but I get it if you wanna go."

You look around the room at all the men. And in any usual circumstance you'd feel terrified to be around this many people you didn't know looking like they could easily overpower you. But something with Logan's hand in yours makes you feel safer.

"I'll stay." you hum, "but if I wanna leave at any point... I can, right?"

"As long as you're good at staying quiet about this, sure." Max smiles, looking up at Logan and then giving you a pat on the shoulder as he grins, "welcome to the world of underground racing, Carrie."

[meowzfordayz]

a hug (or, a thousand words too painful to say, but too precious to be left unspoken)

Author’s Note: this is a highly self indulgent fanfic, and is significantly coded to myself irl. 😅 Still enjoyable and readable for most anyone, but features a much more specific Reader than my usual writing. 🤗

a hug (or, a thousand words too painful to say, but too precious to be left unspoken)

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~4,100

CW: alcohol, death content, Fem!Reader, implied canonical violence, mild sexual content

~faqs~ 

Another day, another lonely night. Glimmering in moonlight, Giyuu lies tired and still in bed. His mattress dips familiar and gentle in the center; a quiet reminder of his lack of a partner. Usually, he falls asleep this way, with a faint clenching in his sternum as he trades longing for unconsciousness, but tonight, he reaches for his second pillow — a worn and tactile belonging, saved for an elusive heart. The pillow squishes cool and small into his ribcage, and when he closes his eyes, he swears he can feel the tendrils of another’s touch; the breath of a lingering lover, smooth and warm against his skin — an embrace as secure as it is fleeting. A willowy breeze makes its way through his window, swirling around his room as though to compensate for the lack of company, and he finds himself wishing for the scent of closeness. Wishing for the press of a cheek against his chest, lips curving into a smile, arms clinging tightly—greedy, even, as though they truly desire him—around his waist, a hand rubbing slow circles into his back, the other gripping his bare skin. Exhaustion weighs more insistent on his eyelids now, goosebumps raising on his forearms as sleep conquers his melancholy, pillow happy and unmoving in its nook beneath his shoulder.

“Tomioka-san,” she says quietly, steps light as she walks beside him, “Are you going to be alone tonight?”

“I suppose so,” he shrugs, not sparing her a glance, “I intend to eat and then sleep.”

With a soft chuckle, she murmurs, “How straightforward,” expression kind as she remarks, “Would you like any company?”

“Whose company?” Giyuu deadpans, pulse quickening as his pace falters, still resisting the gravity of her stare, “Nobody likes me.”

“Now that isn’t true,” she retorts, “Kocho-san addressed you at least once during the meeting, and Shinazugawa-san was as behaved as he can be.”

“Formality is a given,” he mutters Meetings don’t count.

“And where exactly are we going?” she asks politely, a hint of amusement brightening her tone.

We? he pauses mid stride, realization settling in as the shift in greenery registers, well pruned bushes and watered flower beds trailing off to ancient trees and shadowy forest aromas, maintained cobblestones soon to give way to dirt trodden paths, spindly and senseless in their form and direction Why is she following me? Does she believe me incapable of protecting myself?

“I’m going to eat,” he states plainly, hesitating when she offers no response, “Are you…” swallowing nervously, eyes fixated on the ends of his sleeves, “Going to join me?”

“Tomioka-san, was that an official invitation?!” she exclaims cheerfully, birds scattering as she claps cheerfully, “I humbly accept!”

“I-” he begins to say, finally daring to look at her I didn’t invite you caught in his throat at the sight of bronzed sunlight glistening warm and tender through her hair, her uniform—in the style of Shinobu’s—perfectly fitted, additional haori a deep maroon not unlike half of his own, “Alright then.”

He leads her in silence, sun lazily sinking from the treetops to their branches to their trunks to their roots, a hazy darkness clinging to their silhouettes with the onset of night, hunger hastening his footsteps, an unfamiliar heat filling his chest with every peek behind him, her determined smile anchoring itself further and further into his memory.

—

“Tomioka-san.”

Grunting, Giyuu tilts his head, refilling their sake cups with a soft, “Huh?”

“Hashira don’t do this often, do they?”

Part of him wants to play dumb, wary of her openness and honesty, wondering if he should perhaps, not share his sake with her, her cheeks far redder than when they first entered the tiny restaurant, but a larger part of him revels in her earnesty. She hasn’t experienced enough loss is his guilt laden impression, sorrow spiking through his veins as he watches her down her cup. This has to stop he decides, lead in his gut as he braces himself to push her joy from his proximity.

“We’re usually too busy training to stay alive, trying to stay alive, or mourning those who couldn’t stay alive.”

“I understand,” she replies simply, taking his bluntness in stride, “Rengoku-san makes similar statements, albeit with a bit more enthusiasm.”

“Would you like to finish the sake? I’m tired, and will be leaving shortly.”

She blinks once, twice, and he nearly grimaces at the underlying disappointment in her eyes, voice steady as ever when she answers, “I’ll finish it for you,” for us, “Would you like me to accompany you to your next stop?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Of course, have a good night, Tomioka-san.”

A chokehold of regret grips him as her demeanor changes, heady comfortability dissipating between them faster than it thickened, the clang and clatter of other patrons suddenly louder than he recalled, facade of intimacy popping.

“Will I see you again?” he ponders aloud, alcohol speaking life into his treacherous thoughts.

“Do you want to?” she counters, raising an eyebrow, “I was under the impression that I bothered you.”

Standing slowly, he reaches out to pour the rest of the sake into her cup, tremor in his elbow noticeable only to her keen eyes, “I am alone, and it would be selfish of me to live otherwise. I don’t do this often,” ever, “Because it toes the line between duty and survival. You want to survive, don’t you?”

“I want to live,” she responds gently, a light fingertip resting atop his elbow, her other hand raising the full cup to her mouth, “I want to make the world a place where everyone can live.”

“That is admirable,” he murmurs evenly, back already turned to her, anxious to disappear into the ache of the dark, “May I see you at the next meeting,” may you continue living till then.

Where is she? Giyuu wonders, taking in the profiles of his fellow Hashira Surely…

“Tomioka-san, whatever is on your mind?” Shinobu coos loudly, “Never have I known you to actually daydream about someone!”

How unfair he thinks petulantly, haori feeling tight around his shoulders as he breathes in deeply, “Kocho-san.”

“That is indeed my name! Good of you to remember, we’ve been colleagues for so long anyhow.”

Eyes flashing with irritation, his nostrils flare, noting the distinct lack of a scent—her scent, swirling of amber and lavender, of dusky woodland and sundrenched wildflowers—drowning instead in the strength of Tengen’s perfume. The line up of Hashira feels incomplete, her petite figure typically squished somewhere near Mitsuri, her hurriedly tied hair missing from his peripheral, palette of stares otherworldly without the grounding brownness of her eyes.

“Kocho-san,” he repeats, certainty in his tone now, “Someone cares about me.”

“Oh?” she gasps, delighted at his sudden bite, “How wonderful, Tomioka-san! I would be honored to meet whoever’s oblivious enough to befriend you!”

Teeth gritting, his expression blankens, shame prickling at his skin Using her as leverage when she isn’t even present… how low of you…

“Would you like to dine together?” Shinobu chimes, “After this meeting? Do you have any old haunts worth revisiting?”

“I would not like that.”

“I suppose nothing could shine brightly enough to keep your focus,” Shinobu laughs lightly, good natured glint in her eyes as she quips, “That’s Tomioka-san, as sullen and single minded as always.”

“Does it shock you?” he ventures, “That someone could care about me?”

Head tilting at his question, Shinobu eventually smiles, silently mouthing as Kagaya comes into view Not at all, but I’m shocked you could notice in the first place.

“You weren’t at the meeting,” a frustrated voice mutters, cool body slipping into the seat beside you, “Oyakata-sama didn’t mention you either.”

“I was recovering from a mission,” she explains, not bothering to greet him, enraptured by condensation sliding down her glass of water, “Congratulations on your success.”

“The loss of the living is never a success,” Giyuu snaps, muscles still fatigued, his heart even more threadbare, “Slaying demons is just the physical aspect of being a Hashira.”

“And existing in the shadows and shrugging off praise is the other aspect?” she snorts wryly, unperturbed by his harshness, “Certainly, you are my senior, Tomioka-san, but you seem to be missing out on the true nature of your position.”

“I do not care for material treasures,” he says sharply.

Laughing at his assumption, she rolls her eyes, carelessly nudging his bicep with her own, “I’m not a Hashira for the sake of a salary. You believe me to be so shallow and stupid?”

“I don’t know you.”

“And yet, this is the second time we find ourselves in the same place at the same time.”

“You followed me the first time,” he grumbles, “This is my spot.”

“You didn’t leave when you saw me here,” she hums, gesturing at the bartender for more sake, “In fact, you willingly sat beside me.”

“I will not be bullied away from my few comforts.”

She lapses into silence at his indignation, mouth twitching as she considers his subtle confession — the extent of his self inflicted punishment.

“Of course not, we’re both Hashira, we couldn’t bully each other if we tried,” she jokes lightly, warming her palms on the newly arrived bottle of sake.

I wonder how they would feel, if I could offer her the heat of my own skin Giyuu frowns, “I’m stronger than you.”

“Not in the heart.”

Immediately, her attention focuses on pouring the sake, tiny clay cups reflecting her embarrassment back at her, chest nearly bursting at the pressure of waiting for his reply — of waiting for him to simply up and leave, again.

“If I was any stronger in the heart, then I would be dead.”

Pinching one of the cups between his thumb and index finger, he sips slowly, then all at once, head pitching backward, messy hair blurring the redness of his face, the outline of his feelings.

“Our line of work is tragic, isn’t it?” she remarks, following suit as she drinks from her cup, tongue tingling at the bittersweet flow of sake, “There are the silver linings of gratitude and the sunrise, but it’s grueling on the soul.”

“Your soul radiates ease,” he admits.

“And you envy me for that?” she asks gently.

“No. I don’t understand.”

“Tomioka-san, I-”

“-Giyuu. Call me Giyuu,” he interrupts Before the chance to do so escapes us both.

“Giyuu,” she tests the word delicately, unaware of the pricking along his spine, the flimsy defense of his clenched fists, eyes distant and guarded as ever, “So you cared about my absence.”

“And you revisited my restaurant.”

“Your restaurant?” she grins teasingly, “I didn’t pin you as a business owner.”

“Kanroji-san missed you,” he ignores her banter, reaching across her vision to pour the next round, “Should I be concerned about your love for sake?”

“Should I be concerned that you seem incapable of conversation without the tactical distraction of sake?” she retorts, neglecting to inform him that I only drink with you.

Mustering his courage, Giyuu breathes in the flickering glow of late night stupor and lowered inhibitions, surrounding patrons oblivious to the gnawing turmoil in his toes, working its way up his calves, his knees, the bend in his hips as he leans over the countertop, granting her a sideways glance, “I’m afraid I’m beginning to enjoy these moments of normalcy.”

Eyes widening, she sits upright, voice tinged with gruff amusement, “Normal? There isn’t a normal bone in your body, Tomioka Giyuu.”

“And is that okay?” he dares to venture Or is that why everybody hates me?

“It’s wonderful,” she declares, meeting his solemn stare with an overwhelming smile, “I’m positive there’s more to you than you’re willing to entrust with me, but perhaps someday, gradually, I can earn your honesty.”

“Would you accompany me to my estate tonight?”

“Feeling more scared than usual?” she chuckles, tentative hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, unable to hear the I should’ve done that struggling through the din to the forefront of Giyuu’s thoughts, “What’s different?”

He can’t bring himself to tell her I’m terrified, can’t bring himself to tell her This tightness in my lungs, how could I survive if a demon hunted me now?, can’t bring himself to tell her I’ve been too engrossed in yearning for my ghosts to get closer to the living, too buried in self contempt to feel the heat of anyone’s patience.

“Nothing’s different,” he lies, “I’m striving to be a better mentor.”

“Mentor?” she giggles, rolling her eyes, “How old are you, Giyuu?”

“Twenty one,” he stifles a sigh, relieved she let his omission go — disappointed she didn’t press further.

“And I’m twenty two.”

“Your kills?” he pries carefully.

“Fewer than yours,” she murmurs, “But my rank isn’t simply a pretty gesture.”

“My estate isn’t far,” nor is it much to see he tacks on silently.

“We’re all lonely, you know? I wouldn’t abandon you, even if you demanded me to.”

Her determination stirs a fierce emotion in his chest, maroon of her haori bleeding into his veins as he allows her promise to curl into the hollow of his throat, tone steely and splintered as he holds out his hand.

“Don’t utter such nonsense. Everyone departs eventually,” but maybe, just maybe, we could depart together.

She’s quiet as she reaches for his fingers, her callouses somehow familiar yet unexpected, warmth licking from her body toward his own coolness, unable to coax him any closer. I wonder how we appear to others Giyuu muses, an odd sensation spreading from the base of his spine up to his nape How her hand looks grasped in mine heart filling with nostalgia as he turns toward his estate Could we be…

—

“Oh…” her nose crinkles, eyes having long adjusted to the stillness of the night, “This is you.”

“This is me,” he affirms, grip still intertwined with hers, forgotten in the easy rhythm of their companionship, “Are you…”

“Willing to come inside? Judging your lodgings? Going to let go of your hand anytime soon?”

Blushing faintly—too faintly for even a Hashira to see under the foliage of midnight—Giyuu swallows thickly, no longer able to conceal his discomfort behind a sip of sake, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh?! And I didn’t even think to bring a housewarming gift,” she jokes softly, instinctively squeezing his hand, the flustered uptick of his pulse audible, “We can say goodbye here,” eyes closing against the dizzying rush of longing Sake, I’m sure it’s just the sake, “Until the next meeting.”

“What if I asked you to stay?” he whispers, unmoving, tired, sapphire eyes stuck, for once, on her face.

“Are you?” she smiles knowingly, releasing his hand with a gentle rub to his knuckles.

I wish I knew how to embrace you, how to ask… how to feel closeness without… “No, I guess not.”

“May I hug you, Giyuu?”

Her abrupt request cuts through the wayward spiral of their unvoiced desires, boldness propelled less by any sake, and more by the sorrowful gleam in his eyes, bodies drawn together by a shared craving to soothe each other’s listlessness, a haven of sweet, languid energy cocooning itself around his dampened, stoic posture. Barely able to nod, he swears he’s floating, slipping through her fingers as she melts into him, her head tucked precious and snug beneath his chin, mouth curving fondly at the scratch of his haori against her cheek. Her arms wrap slow and shy around his waist, forearms resting hesitant above his hips, light pressure of her sweaty palm touching the small of his back. Is this okay? she seems to say as her movements pause, waiting for the tension to seep from his shoulder blades. Are we alright? as she holds her breath, practiced and steady, allowing herself to gradually exhale as his eyes close, trembling fingertips grazing the hem of her haori, curling as if to tug her nearer, tighter, into the sloppily stitched patches of his heart.

“Tomioka-san!” she shouts excitedly, spotting his lithe figure slinking through the lower gardens, pointedly ignoring the amused snorts around her, “We’re going out for dinner, join us,” waving exasperatedly at Tengen’s dramatic groan, Kyojuro’s curious Oh?, Shinobu’s giddy laughter.

A slight shake of his head disappoints her, the sting of his rejection sharper than she anticipated, albeit the dimmest trace of a smile tells her where he’ll be instead.

“I don’t know why you bothered to invite him,” Tengen huffs, arms crossing, “He declines everyone and everything.”

“He is not the merriest individual,” Kyojuro nods thoughtfully, “Difficult to read.”

“I beg to differ,” Shinobu chimes in, “Tomioka-san isn’t difficult at all to read,” sly glint narrowing her eyes, “But why would anyone care to read him?”

“You’re all dear to me,” she murmurs softly, not striving to be heard, “Tomioka-san too.”

Brow furrowing with disapproval, Tengen chooses to disregard her remark in favor of questioning Kyojuro about his latest mission, Shinobu grabbing your arm to pull you along, the tug of Giyuu’s long gone presence halfheartedly resisting the Insect Hashira’s efforts for a fleeting second.

“Kocho-san…”

“Hm?” she hums quickly — too quickly to successfully feign oblivion.

“Never mind.”

“He’ll accept you, if you offer yourself,” she winks, dainty elbow jabbing at her side, “Few people accept him, he’s so aloof. You might even smile together.”

“I smile plenty!” she protests, face warming at the memory of Giyuu’s fingertips brushing feather light against the wrinkles of her uniform, “I always stop and smell the roses!”

And he needs someone as vibrant and upfront as you Shinobu titters, pinching her pink cheek with a smug grin, “Seems to me you’re quite enjoying the scent of a particular rose.”

“Kocho-san…”

“Hm?”

“I regret telling you anything!”

—

“How did you escape Kocho-san?” he asks, tall glass of juice nearly empty beside him.

“I simply explained I had someone important to see.”

Important? a dent forms between his brows, eyes shinier than she remembers.

“No sake tonight?” she smiles shyly, gesturing at his drink, “Saved a little for me?”

“If you’d like,” he offers smoothly, committed to unraveling his feelings—the odd sensation still nestled in his nape—after a much needed pep talk with himself (which would have continued through the entire night, had she not shown up).

“I think we should talk,” she says, not quite avoiding his display of intimacy, but anxious to unfurl the storm behind his gaze.

“You could sit?”

“Or we could walk,” she counters, “It’s a lovely temperature outside,” and I might run if I try to do this in here.

“You’re welcome to stay,” he declares softly, a warning haze of heat cupping his jaw, reddening his cheeks, not even sparing the tip of his nose, “At my estate. There isn’t much,” ... “But I’d feel…” I’d feel happy, “I’d feel better, knowing you’re somewhere…” dry? Safe? Within reach? “Somewhere less lonely.”

“You would share yourself with me, like that?”

“I have been, haven’t I?”

He moves swiftly, before she can respond, paying his tab, hand deftly finding hers as they head out the door, the feeling of her pulse in her wrist distinctly different—unbearably clearer—without the demanding buzz of alcohol in his bloodstream.

—

I have been, haven’t I? the sentence tumbles over and over in her head as they travel to his estate, its location vaguely familiar to her after only one visit, the plush of his hand so delicate yet firm as he guides her, almost too aware of every breath, every glance, every jump of his heartbeat, as though she might change her mind — as though she might forget their embrace, too painful and complicated to cherish.

“Giyuu-Oof,” she yelps as he suddenly stops, the front entrance shrouded from her view.

“I apologize,” he sounds so close, turning as she blinks, gripping both her forearms, “I fear I know what you seek from me, and I,” mouth shutting, his grip tightening, “I cannot be so selfish to indulge you.”

“Feelings are not an indulgence,” she whispers roughly, breast aching at his avoidance of her stare, unable to caress his jaw, unable to ask him to Look at me.

Knowing he might shatter if she did.

“My sister died. My best friend died. To protect me. Countless below me have died, those above me will die too. I will die. I can’t have it on my conscience, your faith in me, your… your pursuit, of me. I am as dedicated to the living as I am destined for an early death, and you-” speaking harshly now as she listens in silence, his body pleading for her to interrupt him, his heart clinging to the solace of her presence, “-You will die.”

Don’t ask me to mourn you, to trace the scars upon your skin as you leave me behind, to wallow in the numbness that used to be your scent, your laughter, your life against my chest.

“And what can I have?” she finally interjects, voice brittle with soured anger, “If I am marked for death, then why can’t I at least live? Why can’t I feel to the furthest extent of my limbs? Give to the deepest void of my soul? Hold you as close as you deserve to be held?”

“I don’t deserve to be held,” Giyuu hisses, still gripping her forearms, still teetering, “I deserve to kill for those who died in my place, to wander for those who couldn’t see the world, to die for those who deserve, much more than I do, to live.”

“Just shut up,” she snarls, shoving in closer to his glassy eyes, not wanting to shrug him off, but wanting him to, “Look at me, Tomioka Giyuu. Look at me. Tell me, Giyuu, what is living to me?”

“Certainly,” he seethes, “It isn’t me.”

“But it could be,” she persists, desperation clawing through her words, leaves crunching as she presses closer, closer, closer, the most tender of glares illuminated by the indefinite guard of the moon, haori sleeves falling slightly as her forearms lift upright, forehead nearly touching his collarbones, “I’m this close already, so what’s stopping us?”

“You said so yourself, I’m weak in the heart,” he mutters, releasing her arms, flinching when she promptly wraps them around him, frozen at the crossroads, “I’m stopping us.”

“Are you?” she whispers, gaze searching for his, stubborn brown burrowing into choppy seas, a wooden boat sinking, sinking, floating.

“Am I what?” he retorts, malice all but lost as a warm heaviness seeps through his cracks, “I am weak.”

“Are you going to stop us?” as she rises onto her toes, fingers tangled in the memories, the despair, the love, of his haori, “Are you going to live?” as her eyes close, that little wooden boat still floating, still slicing through the grief and deep of his vast blue, “Will you live with me?”

His lips part. A breath to say a thousand words. A breath to say nothing. A gentle snaking of his arms around her waist, palms cold and decided, cupping the back of her head, supporting the weight of her trust as she falls into his touch, throat bared for the barest graze of his teeth, the low groan of his broken desire caressing her skin, making its way to her jaw, nipping light and unsure at her earlobe, sucking soft and wet across warmth of her cheek, hesitating at her mouth.

“Giyuu,” she says, and he kisses her.

He kisses her smile, tasting of salt and relief, his eyelashes fluttering when she tugs on his haori, that odd sensation finally dissolving, devoured by the pressure of her closeness, body jolting as her eyes open, a life worth learning glowing before him, like molten starlight cradled against his heart.

“I will share all of myself with you, if you can tolerate my pace,” he rasps, feeling as though he’s gasping for breath, hurting at the emotional transaction of truth, “I am far from ready to live,” a poised, fateful edge lingering, even as he grasps her hands, guiding them to his neck, his jaw, his face, tracing the outline of his devotion, “But I…” a low sob erupting, posture crumpling, “I want to learn,” her haori dampening, his tears dripping one by one onto its stiff collar, “I want you to know how I feel, for how I feel to grow,” a sliver of his trust as clear as his pain etching itself into the walls of her heart.

“Giyuu,” she murmurs, “Giyuu, Giyuu, Giyuu,” hoping he understands.

As they walk the ten steps to his estate, hand in hand, he tells her, with a shaky, silent pause to tuck her hair behind her ear, that Someday, I swear I will.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Moonlight -x- Sunlight

ch.4 -- Senjuro (cw// banner has flashing text!)

r.kyojuro/f.reader

genre: modern!au, teacher!kyojuro by day/demonslayer by night, izakayaworker!reader, slowburn?, romance, angst

warning(s): slight mention of bullying :(

w.count: 5k

a/n: *blows so much dust off this thing after i shelved it for a year* Go ahead and revisit the other chapters via the INDEX for your refreshers if you'd like lol

It had been two weeks since you had seen Rengoku. Your ankle had healed, and you were once again fully mobile- much to your relief. You weren’t sure how much more limping around with a cane or crutch you could take. After your ankle healed and you got the all-clear from Kocho, you went through the hoops of making her your primary physician.

You hadn’t ever met a doctor you could be so comfortable around- though the whole bonding over being attacked by a demon probably had everything to do with that. Still, you were pleased with your new doctor, nonetheless. Not to mention, giving your money to a smaller business worked more for your morality than signing it all away to a huge corporation like a hospital that already had more than enough business on its side. 

Rengoku never went a day without sending you texts. You had a feeling he did this with all his friends and acquaintances; texting you a ‘very good morning!’ or asking when you’d be getting off work at night and to be careful on the way. You find it pretty cute. Finding a man as well rounded, optimistic and diligent in the ways of keeping in touch wasn’t exactly something you’d consider common; especially since he didn’t use any sort of abbreviations and spoke in fully formatted sentences like he was standing right in front of you.  

Apparently, with midterms and exams coming up, he’s been busy keeping his students occupied and prepping them for passing grades. That, alongside any extra tutoring lessons or occasional substitute gigs has his days packed. 

“Being a teacher must be tough,” you had thought to yourself during one of your many threads where he explained such things.  

You remember the second time Kaname showed up to your house unannounced. Luckily you were home when he landed on the branch outside your window. Though, that didn’t stop you from being startled at the big black mass that landed and pecked at the window to your living room. You were confused as he hopped right on inside when you opened the glass window before he flew to your couch and just sat himself on the arm of it. You didn’t see anything attached to his leg like before- which would’ve been odd since Rengoku had literally texted you earlier- so you were wondering why he was there in the first place. 

Then your phone dinged.

(Rengoku): Per chance, you haven’t seen Kaname flying around, have you? 

Clearly, Rengoku was also unaware that his crow was hanging around your place. The picture you sent him of the black bird leisurely resting in your living room had him calling you for the first time. It was comical, hearing his voice over speaker phone to reprimand Kaname as if the crow would actually understand what was being said to him and reflect on his actions. 

It obviously didn’t work since the next day Kaname was once again pecking at your window as you got ready to leave the house to run some errands. And you continued to allow him inside. Enabling this behavior is probably the opposite of what Rengoku wanted from his work crow, but were you just supposed to sit and stare at that poor, needy bird out your window? No. Of course you weren’t. 

You were sat on the ground by your door, pulling on your shoes when Kaname had cawed behind you. You made a small noise of surprise before you felt his talons land on the shoulder of your jacket. His added weight on your shoulder and his black avian body perched on you was something he hadn’t done before, but you smiled at the fact this bird was getting more and more comfortable with you. Of course, you would then remember that this was a working bird, and he wasn’t exactly yours. 

“You want to come out with me?” Kaname cawed with a small flap of his wings as if he truly understood your question and was giving you an answer. “Alright. You’ll have to stay outside when I’m in stores though, okay?” Another small flap of his wings. 

You stand and grab your bag, going through the checklist of what you’ll need leaving the house. Phone. Wallet. Keys. And whatever else your bag had hiding inside it. With an impulsion decision, you pull out your phone and take a picture of Kaname resting on your shoulder before sending it to Rengoku- who was probably still working since it was still early afternoon- and slipping your phone in your pocket. 

“Remember to behave, Kaname,” you tell the crow one more time before you leave the house with him remaining perched on your shoulder. 

You thought that having Kaname perched on your shoulder was a cute thing. It showed that he liked you and had- to some degree- grown to trusted you. Having a little friend around for Taco to chase was a bit of an annoying exercise sometimes since the feline must’ve felt jealous. Or that's how you justify the way Taco would crawl up your legs to try and get the same level of attention at the crow. Still, having a smart corvid hang around willingly made you feel… magical? For lack of better terms. If this is what witches in the woods in fairy tales felt like you were more than willing to commit to the bit. 

That is, it’s all comfortable in the comfort of your home. The moment you stepped outside, you could feel the eyes of all the people also on the street focused on you. People from across the street giving you looks like you wouldn’t notice. Kids on playgrounds in the park you had to cross definitely had your face growing warm with the cheers of “that ladies got a big bird on her!”. 

It's silly how you had completely forgotten that it wasn’t exactly a normal, everyday thing to witness.  Still, Kaname remained unbothered. Lucky him. 

It wasn’t like you could shoo him off now. That would’ve made you feel more guilty than embarrassed. No, you couldn’t do that to him. So, instead of acting like a bitter woman, you just lifted your hand and used the back of your fingers to lightly ruffle his feathers just under his beak. His nuzzle into your hand as you gave him attention sealed the deal. 

When you get to the first store you need to stop at- a department store- you point to a small, city planted tree that sat in its own little square of dirt surrounded by brick that really needed to be upkept a bit better. 

“Now, you remember our agreement?” You talk face to face with the bird in broad daylight, not acting like a loon in the least. Still, Kaname bellows back to you like he was agreeing. “Good. I won’t be long.” You turn your back on your trusted corvid pal before you’re walking through the automated glass doors of the store. 

True to your word, you were in and out as quick as you could be- or in this case, as quick as the newly trained cashier who was stressing out over their first real day could go. You made sure to give a quick “you’re doing great” on your way out. When the same automated doors- with a few new smudges from strangers who couldn’t resist touching the clean glass- reopen to let you back outside, you see a small gaggle of teenagers. They surround the same, wimpy looking city planted tree you had left Kaname in, and with their phones out were snapping photos and a video of the cawing bird. 

For a bird, he sure had a lot of personality. Though, you supposed that all birds did in one way or another and crows were already smart to begin with. Though, you felt irritated as they all hovered around him like some sort of attraction. 

Stepping off to the side, you get out of the way of the entrance before you’re calling him. You figured that the kids would probably keep filming and snapping photos, so you turned your back to them before calling him back. Kaname would know the back of your head anyways. 

“Kaname,” you speak clearly. It wasn’t loud, but just enough to be heard over the bustle of the afternoon traffic. The crow’s head twitched before his wings unfurled and he was gliding gracefully over to your shoulder that he favored. With another quick finger pet on the crown of his bowed head, you start off again. You ignore the teens who were hollering after you, feeling like an attraction just as Kaname had been treated as. 

When you finally don’t hear them anymore and make it to a section of street that isn’t so thick with people that you’re stepping on each other, you pat Kaname affectionately on his beak that he once again nuzzles into. 

“I’m sorry about them. Your picture is probably going to be floating around school campus’s now.” Maybe he understood, maybe he didn’t. You didn’t speak crow, so his cawing back to your linguistic woes didn’t spark much need to keep talking. 

You continue your errand running in much the same fashion. Window shopping here, stepping into a small shop there, always leaving Kaname somewhere to wait for you- although this time higher than eye level so he wouldn’t be as bothered by the public. It was when you had just finished your final store run when you felt Kaname tug at your hair after riding on your shoulder for a while. 

“Ow!” You whine when his beak snags some of your hair and tugs on it. You turn to him to try and him to quit it when you see a familiar combination of blond and red. Though, it was atop a much smaller body. 

A small boy, maybe high school aged, has that same flame styled hair that you recognize. He was stuck between two other boys, one with his arms slung around Rengoku’s(?) shoulder. The other was hovering around like he was herding him. The boy who resembled Rengoku looked so uncomfortable that when they rounded a corner, your body just took off after them. 

You were right to trust your instincts. 

The two were classic, low-grade bullies from the look of things. Taking the smaller Rengoku’s bag and shifting through it like they were looking for something. You didn’t even realize that now is the time that schools had released their students for the day. You wanted to help but had no idea how to start. Shouting maybe? A strong Hey! would surely get their attention and maybe little Rengoku, who may not even be related (somehow), could slip away in the distraction. 

Luckily, Kaname disrupted your brainstorming and created an opportunity for you. 

With a loud and crass and angry sounding caw, his wings opened, and he flew towards the two bullies like a graceful, winged bullet. His talon’s had landed in the nest of hair of the boy who had the little Rengoku’s bag, effectively making him drop it. With another warning caw, jumps off his head- taking a few stray hairs with him, and flew up and swooped back down to attack the other boy’s skull with small pecks of his beak. You were in awe. Kaname didn’t even need your help defending the bullied victim! Still-

“Hey!” Your original plan of just shouting was definitely more effective when you had an aggressive black bird on your side. Kaname stopped his pecking and flew back up into the air, circling around before he was landing on your shoulder. His eyes that were gentle and relaxed before were now narrowed and attentive. “Leave that boy alone and get out of here,” you command with your stance wide, and arms crossed with your errand shopping bags hanging in the crux of your elbow. You knew that it wasn’t your demeanor that sent the brats packing, but the aura of the angry corvid that added a boost to your intimidation. 

When they were out of sight, you let out a sigh and you felt Kaname relax too. Uncrossing your ams, you jog over to the boy who was now gathering the things that had fallen out of his backpack. Kneeling on the ground with him, you place your bags down and put your hand gently on his shoulder to get his attention. 

“Hey,” you say again, much softer this time than before when you bellowed it. “Are you alright?” You ask. 

The boy nods and his completely tied back hair, aside from the front strands, bounce as he does. You hear him hum in affirmation too. He did a bad job of convincing you that he was really okay. Still, you give him a moment to collect himself. 

“You’re name,” you start as you pick up a stray pencil that had rolled away from him, “it’s Rengoku, isn’t it?” You were near positive. After all, who else could look so closely related to the Rengoku that you know? When he lifts his head and the eyes that also resemble the ones you know was proof enough. 

“Yes?” He sounded nervous. Rightfully so. You’re quick to defend yourself. 

“Oh! I just- well, you look a lot like someone I know, so I just took a wild guess.” Rengoku had mentioned before that he had a little brother in high school. “He mentioned he had a kid brother once too.” The more you tried to save face, the more awkward the whole thing felt. 

Still, the little boy’s face seemed to relax at the mention of familiar individual. 

“You know my older brother?” 

“Sure do,” you reassure. Helping him pack away the rest of his fallen items into his bag, you pick up your own bags and walk with him back out onto the main street. “Where are you heading? Do you want me to walk you?” Your sudden offer must’ve flustered him since his cheeks went pink. You were still a stranger, so yeah, it was kind of weird. 

“I’m okay!” It sounded like he meant it that time, more so because he was embarrassed and blurted it out in such flustered conviction. “I’m just going home. I’m not far now.” 

You hum worriedly but give in anyway. Then, the familiar weight you had gotten used to on your shoulder departed. Kaname and swapped from you to rest on the head of the smaller Rengoku, using his blonde roots as a nest. You chuckle. Looks like he’d have a well-trained escort home, so you weren’t needed after all. 

“Alright, then. Be careful going home.” He bashfully nods before he’s walking away from you. With a small huff of anxiety for his safety, you check the time on your phone. “Oh, damn!” You curse to yourself before rushing back the way you had come. It had gotten so late that if you didn’t get home soon, you wouldn’t have time to feed and play with Taco before it got dark. He’d pout about that for days if you missed his usual ‘me time’! 

Senjuro walks into the apartment he lives in with his older brother and let out a deep breath as he dropped his bag and sat to remove his shoes. Kyojuro, who had managed to come home earlier than usual by deciding to take the short, 15 question quizzes he had to grade back home with him instead of doing it on school premises, heard the familiar sounds of the front door opening, closing then locking. He didn’t need to go out tonight for demon slaying, so he had already changed into more comfortable clothes by the time Senjuro returned. 

Hair pulled off his neck with a hair tie that was fighting for its life and his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. The sweater he wore was light in color with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows as his lazy, black pants kept his legs warm. The air conditioning was almost always running in the apartment since both boys always seemed to run a bit warming than others.

“You are back early today,” Senjuro greets when the older sibling stood behind him and helped him off the floor when he slipped into his house shoes. Senjuro often wore slippers inside since his feet were always so cold- his older brother was the opposite walking around the apartment barefoot. 

“It isn’t often I can spend so much free time at home,” Kyojuro answers. The two walk deeper into the house when Kaname flies inside and to the wooden perch Kyojuro had set up months ago for him to rest on in the living room. 

The apartment was small, but just enough for the two boys. When Kyojuro had moved out of his family home, he was insistent that Senjuro come with him. Their father wasn’t fit to raise the youngest right now and everyone knew it. 

The main space was open and spacious. A single three cushion couch was in the middle of the open area with a tv mounted on the wall. The small coffee table in front of the couch is scattered with items and random odds and ends that never made it back to their proper place. Behind the couch was a small table that could seat four and was currently covered in the quizzes Kyojuro was previously grading. Beyond the living room was a small kitchen that Senjuro was in charge of since his older brother could not cook to save his life. Just down the short hall were their respective bedrooms, an extra room Kyojuro uses for an office space and the bathroom. 

Just quaint enough for the Rengoku boys. 

Kyojuro took to gathering his graded and ungraded papers into piles so he could make room for the homework of Senjuro’s that would soon be replacing his own mess. He could finish in the office later- his little brother’s studies are more important and this way he could ask questions if he needed help instead of holing up in his room at his own desk. 

Hearing Kaname honk softly for a dried treat, Senjuro is quick to oblige. Kyojuro stops his gathering as he takes his glasses off to have them hang off the v-neck of his sweater instead and crosses his arms. He sets his sights on his faithful crow.

“Where have you been all day?” Kyojuro knew Kaname understood him, and he also knew he could get an answer if the bird felt like he wanted to. Senjuro, who had fed him his treat, ran his hands along his back with the flow of his feathers. Then, the mysterious woman he met today came to his mind. 

“Ani ue,” Senjuro calls out the formality of his brother even though he’s been told time and time again that he doesn’t need to. Still, Kyojuro answers with an acknowledged hum, pushing his slight annoyance at his crow aside. “Have you met a girl recently?” 

The question stuns Kyojuro for a second. Longer than a second actually. Really, the bout of silence that followed the innocent question was long enough to make the air awkward. 

“Could you be more specific?” Kyojuro asked in return. His mind went to a space that his little brother didn’t need to be meddling in. Meeting a woman like… romantically? Or was he just over thinking? 

“In terms of meeting someone new.” 

He was over thinking. 

“Ah,” moron. He curses to himself. “I see.” He racks his brain with a hand at his chin. He often meets all sorts of people at work. New substitute teachers come and go all the time. Maybe he meant one of them? Or maybe… 

Kyojuro’s eyes widen in epiphany as he looks back at Kaname. Senjuro had been in classes all day, as had he been. When he wasn’t busy with his job as messenger bird, Kaname often lazed here at home. There was only one place Kaname had been frequently disappearing to instead of staying in the comfort of his home recently. His arms dropped back down to his sides as he walked closer to his crow and brother. 

“Is there a reason you want to know?” Kyojuro sits on the couch and offers the cushion next to him as Senjuro takes it easily. Slightly facing each other, they carried on their conversation. 

“I dropped my bag on the street today,” Senjuro starts. Kyojuro knew that wasn’t the full truth. As much as he hated it, Senjuro was timid enough to be picked on by other kids and Kyojuro wasn’t always around to help him. “When I was picking up my stuff, this woman came to help me. She knew my name; said I looked like someone she knew.” Senjuro’s habit of picking at his nail beds started up and Kyojuro quietly pulled his hands away from each other. “Kaname was with her too. I was just curious.” 

Kyojuro looked into the wide, curious eyes of his little brother and smiled. He called for his crow, and Kaname easily made a home on the back of the couch between the two siblings. Kyojuro pet Kaname’s back and under his beak, alternating. 

“You were with y/n-san all day weren’t you?” 

“Yes!” The crow loudly cawed. 

“Don’t you go and forget where it is you actually live,” Kyojuro lightly reprimands. “And don’t go speaking around her either. You’ll scare the wits out of her cat.” He returns his attention back to his brother. “To answer your question from earlier now, yes. I do believe I’m familiar with the woman you ran into today." Senjuro took notice to the change in his brother's face. Did he know he was making such a softened expression? "She and I met recently.” 

Something in Senjuro’s eyes shined at the mention of you from Kyojuro’s mouth directly. Maybe it was because he didn’t need to worry about a stranger knowing who he was. Or maybe it was something else Kyojuro just wasn’t picking up on. Senjuro spent a little bit longer talking about you, how you had shopping bags, how Kaname was so comfortably hanging around you, and how you seemed like a nice person. 

Soon, the brother-on-brother chit-chat had to come to a stop. The sun would be setting soon and Senjuro still had homework to do and dinner to make. Kyojuro took his papers to his office and shut the door. Dropping his work on his desk, he flipped on the desk lamp before he sat himself in his chair. The leather creaked at his added weight and the chair reclined when he leaned back against it. 

Digging his phone from his pocket of his slacks, he stared at his reflection in the black screen. Kyojuro really wanted to thank you for helping Senjuro, but for some reason he couldn’t even tap on the screen of his smartphone to wake it up.

Kyojuro wasn’t a religious man, but he did thank whatever god had been watching him when the screen lit itself up with an incoming text. 

(y/n-san): Did Kaname make it back home? 

Kyojuro laughs out loud at your message. Senjuro hears it echo from the kitchen. Kyojuro would get his grading done first, then he'd set aside time for you.

You jump out of your skin when, as you’re mindlessly browsing through your socials, an unexpected call jumps your phone to life in both vibrations and a loud ringtone you had always seem to forget the sound of. Fumbling your phone in your hands, you snatch it up before it could give way to gravity and hit the ground... or Taco who was resting on your lap. 

Seeing Rengoku’s name printed on your screen had you mentally lagging before you’re answering the call. Any later and it would’ve been dropped, then you’d be forced with the dilemma of if you call him back or just pretend it never happened. 

The sound of light white noise greets you for a moment as you bring the phone up to your ear. Then, you start off the call first. 

“Hello?” 

“Ah! You picked up!” He sounded excited. You mindlessly start petting through Taco’s fur as he still lay peacefully on your lap. “I’m glad. I was worried you may be busy given the time.” 

“That makes sense,” you agree. Any other night you’d be just about ready for work. “I have the night off tonight, so your timing works out.” 

“How fortunate!” You’ve never heard someone say those words without it being sarcastic before. He really sounded like he was relieved he wasn’t taking up your time. You smile as you lean back against the cushions of your couch and turn the tv you had on for background noise down. It was turned onto some random celebrity reality show or something, you weren't really paying attention to it. 

“Kaname did make it back safely to answer your earlier question. I apologize I couldn’t reply immediately. I was finishing up some work that I had already stopped in the middle of once.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You shift your legs. Taco mewls in annoyance. “Was it for…?” You didn’t know how to ask if he was talking about his work in education or his demon slaying gig. 

“It was for my classes! Grading quizzes can take up a significant amount of my time. I was also helping my brother with some homework when he needed it!” 

You perk up at the mention of his brother.

“That reminds me,” you start, “I ran into him on the road today. I was out running errands when we met.” 

“Yes,” Rengoku's voice took on a softer tone, “that is one reason I wanted to call you.” You stay quiet. Unsure on what to say next. “Senjuro is a gentle child, so he is easily the target of people who feel the need to push other's around. I feel guilty that he doesn’t express to me all the things that happens, but you helped him out today, yes?” 

“Well, sort of. Kaname did most of the work if I’m being honest.” You stop and think about what happened right before you noticed the little Rengoku- who’s name you now know to be Senjuro. Kaname was tugging at your hair, almost like he was trying to get your attention to shift somewhere else. “Without him, I don’t know if I would’ve been able to chase off those brats myself. So, really the credit is all his.” 

You hear Rengoku chuckle on the other end of the line. It was easy to tell just by his voice and concerned tone alone that Rengoku really cared about his little brother. 

“Does your brother do any after school clubs?” 

“Pardon?” The question caught the flame-head off guard. 

“I just- and stop me if this is totally invasive- but I thought that maybe if he needed, I could check on him from time to time after school. Just to make sure he’s not being bullied?” Saying it out loud made you realize just how crazy you sounded.  It sounded like you were trying to butt into their lives! “I’m sorry. It’s just I’m usually free in the afternoons and all so-” 

“I’d appreciate that.” 

“Oh,” you breathe. You half expected him to kindly reject you as you shoved your foot further into your big mouth. “Really?” 

“Senjuro sometimes spends time in the school’s library until I’m ready to go home with him. On the days where he or I cannot go back home together, I do worry about him. I know he'll need to defend himself one day, but he’s still young.” 

There’s a bout of silence between you both for an uncomfortable amount of time. You wonder if the call disconnected at one point because it was so quiet. Still, the time recording the length of the call kept ticking up, so Rengoku was definitely still on the other line. 

“So,” you clear your throat. “Senjuro-kun likes to read?” 

“He does!” The pep is thrust back into his voice and you feel relieved. 

The call lasts for much longer than you anticipated. So long that Taco had gotten off your lap, paced around the couch twice, ran up and down the halls and whined for food all the span of it. You don’t remember the last time you had a long phone call that wasn’t work or business related. Even the few previous calls you've recieved from Rengoku weren't this drawn out. It was enjoyable.

You notice the numbers glaring at you from the clock of your living room and gasp. It was getting late. Really late. And Rengoku- even if he wasn’t working tonight- had classes tomorrow. 

“It’s getting late,” you find the next best gap in conversation and throw in the beginning of the end of the call. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? It wouldn’t be good for a teacher to be dead tired all day because he was up so late.” 

“Believe it or not, I’m not a morning person at all! Senjuro brews me coffee every morning since I tend to be grumpy from the long nights I should be used to by now.” 

You laugh at the image. You don’t think you’ve seen him frown once since you met him- even if it hasn’t been that long. 

“Even more reason to let you go.” You get up off the couch and stretch. As if predicting your moves, Taco races towards your room ahead of you. Of course, you’d wash up properly before joining your feline son. “I enjoyed talking to you, Rengoku-san.” 

“You don’t need to be so polite,” he insists. “Referring to me by name alone is just fine.” 

“You’ll need to drop the formalities with me too then. It’d be weird if I spoke casually with you, just for you to not.” 

“Deal.” 

“Good night, Rengoku.” 

“Sweet dreams, y/n.” 

The call ends. Even though you wash your face with cold water, your skin still feels warm in your palms. 

a/n: wow i can't wait for next year when i get around to writing another chapter (is this satire? who knows)

[cloudseeker14]

Late Spring (Scaramouche x GN!Reader)

Pairing : Scaramouche x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: The Balladeer's heart had always been a closed door but you'd managed to throw it open. Your love, though he never knew how to return it, was like warm sunlight kissing his skin. Yet, good things never last, do they?

Love. 

A word that shook the heart of every creature with tumultuous yearning, the subject of bards in every drinking den across Teyvat. 

Scaramouche could only scoff at the ridiculous notion. Love could never be true, not within the boundaries of a wretched, heartless world where emotions were a source of disdain. 

Not in a realm where his tears meant being cast aside, a creature as noble as him was supposed to be as steadfast as the mountains that slumbered in stone. 

Especially not in a world where you couldn’t exist. 

Scaramouche downed a bottle of whiskey, leaning against the headrest of his velvet armchair as he relished the burning sensation of the drink running down his throat. 

The stinging tethered him to this pathetic plane of existence, fastening the strings of his limbs to the earth as he attempted to fly away to the heavens. 

He could still remember that night, the wind had felt frigid on his porcelain skin as bonfires reached up to the sky. 

The fatui had been rejoicing, their hoarse cries of victory at the thought of another pesky obstacle in their path being tossed into oblivion. 

Yet, all he could see was you, all thoughts of merrymaking cast aside at the sight of your bright laughter. The sound of your joy had been a gentle breeze, blowing the cobwebs and opening the windows to sunlight in his heart. 

You’d drunk yourself to a slobbering mess, stumbling around as you jested with your peers. Scaramouche swirled his cup of cherry red wine, positively relishing the blush that coloured your face when you met his eyes.

After a couple of hours of painstaking formalities with the other harbingers, The Balladeer couldn’t help the groan that escaped from his throat as the gathering cleared,leaving him all alone with the stars and his mind.

His accursed mind, tormented with the sights of eras long gone.

He could practically see those cruel violet eyes in front of him, mercilessly casting him down from the heavens as he writhed in the air.

Scaramouche shuddered, breathing shakily, the silence penetrating the nooks of his heart.

Just as he was about to return to his quarters, he’d felt a tap on his shoulder.

The harbinger whirled around, only to be greeted by your charming face.

“I wouldn’t have come for this banquet if you were only going to keep staring at me.” You smiled, clasping his hands

If any other soul had done that simple action, it would have warranted instant death but what could Scaramouche say, in your hands he’d always been putty.

You stared at Scaramouche, eyes raking over the way the moonlight lit his porcelain features.

The way his clear blue eyes seemed to hold the depth of all the oceans of Teyvat itself.

The way that soft smile making its way into the corners of his lips had your heart bursting into flames.

“I missed you.” He muttered

“Hmm, what was that again?” You smirked, snaking your arm around his waist

“Don’t test me.” Scaramouche gritted, but the growing grin on his face said otherwise.

The two of you sat between the tall blades of grass, the birds chirped softy as a shooting star whizzed past.

“Did you see that!? Scaramouche, please tell me you saw it!” You cheered, your eyes practically about to fall from their sockets.

You were radiant, a source of such pure vividness that even someone as vile as him couldn’t shun away from.

“Yeah.” Scaramouche said, staring at you as he traced the lines of your palm. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Deep inside you both knew he didn’t mean the star.

“Y/N.” The harbinger called, gently laying his head on your shoulder.

You stiffened, your heartbeat echoing in your ears as his cold breaths fanned your neck.

“You’ll stay with me, right? Always?”

“Always.”

“Once I get that gnosis, you’ll have to be the one by my side,” He confessed, biting the inside of his cheek “It can never be anyone other than you.”

“Whether you have the gnosis or not makes no difference to me, but if it makes you happy, I’ll stay by your side as long as you want me to be there.”

Scaramouche could swear that a strange warmth seemed to blossom in his chest, but that would remain a thought for him to ponder during a freezing, lonely night.

You placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. “I love you.” You whispered

Scaramouche nodded, closing his eyes. What else could he say? How could a creature like him, a broken puppet with neither a heart nor strong will, be able to understand the intensity of your words?

You knew you would never hear it back but that was fine, it would just be a silent prayer you’d utter to him each day. You didn’t need that simple sentence to understand how he felt, as long as you could still see that gleam in his eyes when he looked at you, you knew you had nothing to worry about.

It was love, Scaramouche just hadn’t understood it yet.

—

With you in his life, Scaramouche knew he was invincible, nothing could stop him anymore. 

He was no longer that fragile creature, sobbing and wailing, he was going to be a god.

The gnosis was so close to falling within his grasp that Scaramouche could practically taste victory on the tip of his tongue. 

Yet, all those thoughts fell apart into dust fluttering in the wind at the sight of you on the ground, your skin devoid of it’s warmth. 

Hair clung to forehead, drenched in blood as you pitifully covered the gaping hole in your stomach. 

“S-scaramouche,“ You called, feebly reaching for the man you were bound to leave 

“Who did this to you!?“ Scaramouche bellowed, cupping your face

A whimper escaped his lips at the coldness of your body and with every second that passed, Scaramouche swore he could see the light fading from your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t make it through.“ You felt warm tears falling upon your arm and you forced yourself to look at Scaramouche, the bottom of your lip trembling as the harbinger stifled his sobs. 

“I won’t let you die!“ He bellowed, tightening his grip on you. You weakly shook your head as your vision blurred. 

“I love you, Scaramouche. D-don’t forget me.“

No. 

No. 

It couldn’t be you. 

Another betrayal, another mar upon his frivolous existence. 

You grasped his arm tightly, hopelessly trying to hold on to the last embers of life within you just to not leave the man before you ablaze in rage. 

But alas, the archons had other plans, and you shut your eyes; blissfulness washing over you. 

Scaramouche would have followed you to the ends of the world but at that moment, you’d slipped away to a paradise he’d never be able to reach. 

“I love you too."

Those were the words that escaped Scaramouche’s lips, only to be heard by the stars. 

He knew what love meant now. 

It was you. 

It was your touch, the comfort you'd ushered him into.

It was the web of passion he had allowed himself to be foolishly woven into.

You, the one who’d made him have a heart by giving yours even though he’d done nothing to deserve such a boon. 

Scaramouche couldn’t help but bawl your name, the wind carrying the puppet’s rage across Teyvat and to the archons. 

The world shouldn't be the same without you, it should have been torn apart in flames that should tower the mightiest pantheon, stifling every creature with smoke.

A world without you had no right to have even a glimmer of beauty.

Scaramouche remained rooted in place, the facade of the ruthless harbinger shattering into pieces, leaving only a wailing child stuck in the body of a man crying for the loss of his only salvation.

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

Could you write Nod nsfw hcs??

MUCH LOVE ❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Nod NSFW Headcannons

Reader: female

Warnings: not too detailed in nsfw area, I mean it's there and well implied,

Note: GIRLY POPS, DID WE KNOW NOD WAS VOICED BY OUR BELOVED JOSH HUTCHERSON !??! BECAUSE I SURE DID THE FUCK NOT,

Ex. Note: also I almost didn't write this bc when I first watched Epic I was really young and I knew Nod was around my now current age; 18-19 and I was like "hes alot older than me" but then remembered that me and Nod are actually around the same age rn then I remembered alot of characters I crushed on as a kid are like...my age now and now its putting me in a crisis

This man is vanilia with a dash of spice. He enjoys comforting sex

Straight up: sets you down for dinner he attempted to make and burnt a little and candle light and everything.

One-night stands? Nah, he tried once, bro was like "I gotta go" not even a minute into it.

Though he's very vanilla, he enjoys messing around in other places *cough* unground ponds and pools.

He doesn't know why there's something so beautifully and calm about it.

He also really likes the way any light from above comes down to hit your skin.

Moonlight over sunlight 100%

His first time is definitely with you,

Also, you on top of him?

Mind blown,

Turns out he enjoys light neck grabbing; like start with your hands on his chest as you're riding him: they going up to his shoulder and onto his neck, just for you to lay down ontop of him while riding him and run your hands to the back of his head and into his hair.

He's respectable enough to not sneak into your parents' house,

Brings your mom flowers always, especially before he takes you out on a date.

Just to go and bang you in his room after the date.

Let's take a moment to thank ronin for working so much.

Thank you, Ronin.

Well except for that one time.

You know. That one time that he caught you both

It was early on in the relationship, a quickie finished as you had told Nod. Adamantly, you had to go to this family dinner.

And he was all for it, but you both wanted to bang so. Thats what you did

Ronin caught you walking the walk of shame out of Nod's room. Nod trying to convince you to stay or at least let him walk you home as he was still halfway undressed.

"Baby let me just walk you home-" "Nod please. It's okay. I appreciate it but I know you're supposed to go do things today too-" "Oh? With Ronin?" He chuckled, "He can wait- I'll make anyone wait for you-" "Well Ronin doesn't want to wait." Ronin cut in. "Ronin?!" Nod spoke, nerves laced his voice as he was quick to push Y/n behind him, "hey! Ronin, how's your day!" Nod finished putting on his shirt, "Hey- Didn't know you were-" "Good afternoon, Y/n." Y/n looked out behind Nod, the embarrassed expression told it all to Ronin "...good afternoon commander, sir..." "Nod walk her home. We'll have a talk about it after." Nod only agreed with silence and along they went.

For sure got in trouble after by Ronin,

Birds and the bees talk, from Ronin? Nod rather die.

but of course Ronin's gotta be a hard ass and ground him for a week; Nod could care less

"You can't see her for a week," "What!?" Nod argued, following Ronin's walking away form, "T-That's not fair!" "Wanna make it two?" "You know I wanted to make her a gift anyways-"

[asimplearchivist]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍, 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ] [ AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST ] summary ✨ ⤏ eliana gets a special case of whiplash. the future isn't what she remembered. pairing(s) ✨ [tba] word count ✨ 3.6k a/n ✨ [header credit] | [divider credit] ⤏ this is another filler chapter, and there might be a couple more while I slowly hedge eliana and dusknoir together without her throwing a tantrum. gotta take it slow, y'know? ✨ MASTERPOST ✨ ✨ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ✨ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER [TBA] ✨

Eliana woke out of habit rather than by the sounds of Lu shifting in his bed or by the warm morning sunlight streaming in through the bluff’s gaping maw. The lack of windows in the guest room didn’t allow any indication of the time, and she couldn’t hear any of the local bird Pokémon from so far down, but her body was accustomed to rising with Lu (since he was, unfortunately for her night-Noctowl tendencies an early-bird). She cracked her eyes open to look for him, frowning. When her groggy mind processed the cozy burrow, she remembered that she was by herself.

That’s right. She was in the future. Her true home, she supposed idly, stretching her limbs and arching her crackling spine with a gaping yawn. How could she have forgotten?

Her eyelids and legs felt unbearably heavy as she padded silently across the mat to drink from the basin in hopes it would rouse herself better. The fire in the hearth had burned down to coals at some point during the night, so the air was a bit chilly. It was almost unbearably quiet, save the trickle of the water and the rasp of her own breathing.

Eliana sat back on her haunches to wash her face. Although she never would’ve imagined it as a human, grooming was unexplainably soothing. She’d found the concept alien, at first, even without her memories, upon first being transformed into an Eevee. Lu had long-sufferingly shown her the highlights since she hadn’t been born with the innate knowledge of how to keep herself clean—because they lived on the coast and traveled almost every day, they often had sand or dust work its way into their pelts. It became a nightly routine soon after they became apprentices, and Lu often helped her—once she had gotten the hang of it, she’d returned the favor. It was a comfort she couldn’t describe, having him close and knowing she was safest even when he fussed at her for fidgeting.

She missed showering, sure, even if she could visit the hot springs outside of Treasure Town—and she still thought it a bit strange to have someone else tongue-bathe her (and Lu would likely remain the only person whom she would allow to perform such a personal, if slightly embarrassing, task upon her)…but, in some ways, maintaining her pelt was far easier than having to futz around with soaps or the plethora of products that had comprised her hair and skin care regimine—a lot cheaper, too.

Once finished, a cursory glance at her reflection in the glassy surface of the basin showed that she’d managed to smooth down her fur to look halfway presentable. The leafs adorning her forehead and framing the ends of her ears had wilted just slightly during the night, which wasn’t unusual. Perhaps not even having ambient moonlight available to photosynthesize made it a tad worse, but it wasn’t anything that wouldn’t rectify itself after a bit of time outside.

Eliana left her things where Lu had placed them, uncertain of whether she’d need them. The Treasure Bag was ill-suited for her to carry, regardless, since Lu usually had with his better stature. She nudged the door open and picked her way through the narrow corridor, brushing past the vines that grew from the eeks of sunlight that spilled in from the grate at the Guild’s entrance. She passed the open doorway that led to the Guild’s library and paused, peering into its darkened depths. Even without the sconces lit, she knew where the bookshelves were, as well as the massive table against the wall that served as a desk.

“…You needn’t stay so late for my sake, you know. I am more predisposed to remain awake during the night than you are.”

“Yeah, but then who would keep you company? Lu certainly can’t handle being up past his bedtime, but I have a hard time falling asleep most of the time. He says I’m allergic to it.”

A low chuckle, resounding like distant thunder. A glowing glance towards the slumbering pup curled up in the crook of a bulky, cradling arm. “Certainly…but he is working hard, just as you are. I greatly appreciate your assistance. Your attention to detail makes seeking out answers regarding the Time Gears’ potential locations far easier than it would be if I were researching alone.” A pause. “And…your company makes the process far less tedious.”

“I’m glad that my excessive ramblings can be of service.”

“I dislike working in silence, anyway—I find that I prefer companionship over solitude. But it is refreshing to hear knowledge over that which I am unfamiliar, so, please…do not stop on account of anyone in the past telling you to refrain from it.”

“So my musings on the hypothetical reasons for the utilization of Unown runes as apposed to Footprint runes in the texts weren’t boring you?”

“Quite the opposite, actually—I was enthralled.”

“Would you like for me to continue?”

“Please do.”

Eliana’s tail lashed sharply against the side of the wall, accidentally slicing one of the leaves off of the vine and sending it fluttering to the ground. The fur lining her spine rose as she went stiff, lowering her head with a scoff and shook it sharply to dislodge the lingering, insistent memory (even if it still brought undeniable senses of comfort, affection, and assuredness from stolen moments before everything fell apart, despite her best efforts to suppress any recollections from that time—and no, the irony did not escape her). 

She climbed up the steep incline to the next floor up, ears perking forward as the familiar sound of the daily address filtered in through the mouth of the tunnel.

“…One! Don’t shirk work! Two! Run away and pay! Three! Smiles go for miles!”

“Okay, Pokémon! Get to work!”

“Hoo—”

“Hold on for a moment, everyone—there’s one more matter I’d like to discuss before the lot of you get started for the day.”

The crowd of curious eyes rounded as Lu spoke up from behind Chatot. The music note Pokémon hopped aside with an enthusiastic flutter of his wings to allow him to stand before them directly.

“As I’m certain you’ve all overheard from the commotion yesterday,” Lu began, glancing towards the warren from which Eliana had tentatively emerged, “we have a very special visitor who will be staying with us until further notice. I want each one of you to treat her with as much respect and charity as you would myself or anyone else in the Guild, seeing as she’s a graduate herself—as well as my old exploration team leader.”

A soft gasp preluded the swell of interested murmurs, and Eliana’s fur prickled as their collective gaze locked onto her. At Lu’s beckoning, she apprehensively picked her way across the scuffed floor and stood, reticent, at his side.

“Eliana is one of our brightest pupils—as well as a remarkably successful graduate—just like the Guildmaster, and she’s spread the pride of the Guild’s name far and wide!” Chatot boasted, plumage fluffing out along his chest as he rocked from side to side.

“Please,” she said, ears twisting back, “I consider myself adequate at best. I just try to complete my job to the best of my ability.”

Lu cleared his throat to smother a knowing chuckle. “Nevertheless, the stories of your accomplishments precede you, so please forgive their enthusiasm. These are all of our apprentices: Kirlia and Togetic of Team Serenity, Magby and Elekid of Team Spark, Vibrava and Shelgon of Team Freefall, and Eevee and Shinx of Team Hailstorm.”

Her eyes passed over the group with intrigue, lingering on her near kinsman in the same spot where she used to stand behind Lu every morning—except that the younger girl was a shiny Pokémon, which greatly surprised Eliana because she couldn’t recall ever seeing any before. All of their eyes were shining with varying degrees of awe or fascination.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Eliana offered, flashing her teeth in a smile. “You seem like very pleasant Pokémon to be around, and promising explorers to boot with all that boundless energy. Make sure to always work really hard, and you’ll accomplish anything you set your minds to.”

“Can we get your autograph?” Magby piped up.

Elekid nodded enthusiastically. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so much younger than the Guildmaster.”

“Oh, don’t be a nuisance, boys!” Chatot scolded, feathers ruffling. “How embarrassing!”

“It’s not every day that we get to meet a world-famous explorer, though,” murmured Shelgon bashfully, tucking her face further within her carapace. Vibrava rested atop her back, patting her shell with his feet reassuringly.

“A real-life celebrity!” breathed Kirlia, her hands clasped together as her eyes sparkled. “And it’s the great Eliana, to boot! I never would have thought I’d get to see one up close!”

Eliana cast a wry smile towards Chatot, even while her stomach sank as inexplicable discomfort—a sort of deja vu thankfully unrelated to the Dimensional Scream—coiled cold and curdled there. “I don’t mind at all. I don’t think I’ve done anything noteworthy to garner that much attention, but…if anyone wants advice, I can try my best to be helpful.”

“Guildmaster Lucario said that you’re just as knowledgeable as Mister Dusknoir from Team Sunrise, and that you all worked together before!” remarked Eevee, her tail wagging fiercely with the effort it took to remain still. “Is that true?”

“…Oh.” Eliana glanced at Lu, watching his expression tighten with an apology plainly written in his eyes. “I…don’t know if I would say that, but…I have studied for quite some time. And I am…familiar with him, yes, but…I, uh…I know Grovyle far better.”

“I’ve heard a lot of stories about you all saving the world,” added Shinx excitedly, “can you tell us what it was like? Did you two really fight Dialga all by yourselves as first-forms?”

“And did Mister Grovyle and Mister Dusknoir really used to hate each other?” inquired Togetic. “They get along so well, even if they bicker a whole lot!”

“Miss Celebi told me once that you were the one that decided to fix the planet’s paralysis—how did you know that there was something wrong to start with if it was all you’d ever known?” pointed out Vibrava, evidently trying to be respectful despite the somewhat invasive nature of his question.

Eliana swallowed roughly, her skin prickling beneath her fur as she fought the sudden urge to flee. She hadn’t exactly anticipated getting interrogated by a bunch of children, even if they only meant well. (It didn’t help that she realized, in that moment, why she was feeling deja vu so strongly.)

“I don’t even know how you lot know half of those things,” Lu spoke up, projecting his voice over their cacophony and effectively silencing them, “but any questions regarding our career can be directed towards me. If you want general advice, I am certain that Eliana would be more than happy to entertain you. Please respect her decision if she elects not to answer any personal questions you may have for her, however—is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!” they chorused. Most of them had the decency to appear contrite for letting their curiosity get the better of them.

“Good. Now—” Lu gave them a shooing gesture. “—get to work!”

“Hooray!”

Eliana shrank back into Lu’s flank as Chatot flapped his wings at them to get their attention so he could divvy out their duties for the day. Lu placed a paw between her shoulder blades and stepped back out of earshot, closer to the door of his office.

“I am sorry, El,” he murmured, frowning. “I didn’t have enough time to warn them before you arrived. I didn’t mean for them to overwhelm you—they’re a little blunt at times and I may have shared some stories about you in the past.”

Eliana sat and patted his hip. “It’s alright, Lu. I’m just not used to being…looked up to like that, I guess. Or being considered old.” She tilted her head with a small smirk in an attempt to disguise her lingering discomfort—even if he could see right through her, she could at least pretend for her own sake. “Am I really that famous?”

Lu gave her a flat look. “Never mind the fact that you played a key hand in shaping their world as they know it, hmm?”

“I may have dabbled in it, sure.” She glanced towards the group as Chatot dismissed them and they all filed for the stairwell, chattering amongst themselves all the while. “They seem like good kids.”

“Some of the best. I’m rather fond of them.” He chuckled. “They remind me of the good old days.”

“What exactly do they know about…you know,” Eliana queried, looking back up to him. “They seem to hold…Team Sunrise in high regard.”

“The three of them arrived before most of them were old enough to conduct their own business, and they moved into town once they established themselves as an exploration team. I offered them the bluff to stay in since I had moved back into the Guild—for good, this time—and hated to see the space go to waste. The children grew up around them. And, since those three don’t seem to know how to rest, they’ve done something for most of them personally by now. They’ve gotten quite popular with the rest of the townspeople.” Lu hesitated, then folded his arms over his chest as his mouth pursed. “Particularly Dusknoir.”

Eliana gritted her teeth, but tried to speak clearly so that she might sound halfway sincere. She wasn’t certain how she felt about Lu forfeiting the home that they’d made their own for so many years, but…c’est la vie, she supposed. At least it gave Grovyle and Celebi somewhere to shield their heads. “Why is that?”

Lu’s brow rose and she knew that he’d picked up on that, too. “He’s developed a soft spot for children, and he nurtures them when he can—even if it’s just in passing since he keeps himself so busy. I think he and the others have even ended up babysitting a couple of times when the kids’ parents have been in dire straits. He’s a menace when it comes to giving them candy while their parents aren’t looking—or so I’ve heard.”

Eliana frowned. “Does no one remember…?”

“Those that were around during that time do, of course, but many of them have retired and traveled elsewhere or have experienced Dusknoir’s change of heart firsthand and have allowed bygones to be bygones since his past actions didn’t particularly have a direct impact on them.” Upon Eliana’s grunt of disbelief, Lu huffed wryly. “I know. The planet’s paralysis would have effected everyone, but…they didn’t fully realize that since they didn’t see it like we did. He’s redeemed himself in everyone’s eyes by now—and it certainly helps that most of them only know the new him. He’s respected, and I’d venture to say that it’s well-earned.”

“That’s…good,” she offered lamely. She’d have to see it to believe it—and, even then, she suspected that it would be extremely difficult to accept it still. “Good for him.”

Lu studied her for a moment in that unsettlingly soul-searching way that never failed to make Eliana fidget. He was an open book to her, certainly, and couldn’t lie to save his life—but that was a two-way street when he could literally read her emotions (in color).

“Let me show you around town,” he said finally, carefully neutral in his invitation. “I’m sure you’d like to see how everything’s changed.”

Eliana let out a tight breath and tried to give him a smile. “Lead the way, Guildmaster.”

Fortunately, the fame-induced kerfuffle for the day seemed to have been done, as no one bothered either of them while Lu gave her a tour of the ever-growing Treasure Town. 

More tents dotted the available spaces, crowded amongst the biggest trees for shelter against the capricious whims of coastal weather. Like she had already seen, Toxicroak and Chimecho had moved their businesses to the corners adjacent to the steppe that led up to the Guild. Lu told her that Spinda had expanded the café to accommodate the increased clientele, and the traveling bazaar had set up permanent shops within it, as well. Some of the familiar faces around town had changed—gotten older, evolved, gotten jobs or joined teams or made their own—and it was the slowest sort of whiplash she’d ever experienced.

The Keckleon brothers had moved elsewhere, so they’d placed their twin nieces there instead. Kangaskhan’s child was significantly older; Xatu had an apprentice, Natu, who would replace him; Marowak had his son Cubone helping out with the Dojo; the Elekid who was Lu’s apprentice was Electivire’s grandson; Chansey had evolved into Blissey and had a Happiny assistant, and Duskull had evolved into Dusclops.

…That was a bit of a readjustment. The teller had greeted her as warmly and as ominously as ever, but the sight of his hands had put Eliana a bit on edge. Despite his pleasure in informing her that her account had accrued quite a bit of interest in her absence, she’d only been able to offer him a thin smile and quiet thanks in return.

Lu stayed close, keeping his voice low. They didn’t move past the town square, and even though she actively tried to avoid the thought while they conversed with some passers by, she glanced along the path that led towards the bluff.

“They’ll likely be gone for a day or two,” Lu told her as the Ursaring couple bade them good day and moved on with a giggling Teddiursa in tow between them. “They told me they’re going north of Amp Plains to the ravines there. The terrain will slow their progress.”

Eliana frowned. Dusknoir would have no trouble, given his inborn ability to levitate, plus Celebi’s ability to fly (although she would have to rest at some point) would help her, but Grovyle wasn’t necessarily built for that. He could climb trees all day long, sure, but mountains? He’d surely get tired, and quickly at that.

“They’ll be fine,” Lu told her, no doubt sensing her worry. “They’re professionals at this by now, and they work well together…when they don’t bicker, anyway, but I think that’s mostly for show. Or maybe Celebi finds it funny, so she starts arguments to sit back and watch. I haven’t really figured that out yet.” Lu placed a palm between her shoulder blades and turns to guide her back towards the Guild. “They’re a tight-knit team, and they’ve never come back empty-handed. You don’t have to fret about them.”

“That’s…good to know,” Eliana responded quietly, following his lead. Her tail and ears drooped slightly in spite of herself. “I’m…glad they’re so proficient at this.”

“You ought to be proud of them.” Lu flashed her a grin—or at least his closest approximation to one, since he’d never seen one. It was always a little too toothy, but Eliana found it sweet and arguably more sincere than the carefully maintained smiles others used. “I know I am. They stay just as busy as we used to.”

Used to. You don’t have to fret over them. Eliana swallowed and tried to return the gesture, as superfluous as it was. “Is there anything I can help you with back at the Guild?”

Lu blinked, expression tightening at her change in tone, but he dropped the subject. “Quite a bit, actually. Those kids keep Chatot and me on our toes all the time, so some of the general maintenance slips away from us. Let’s eat some lunch and I’ll go over it in more detail.”

The list contained mostly monotonous work. The tunnel needed to be weeded (to which she could attest). Although the stands for Chimecho and Toxicroak’s businesses had been taken down and replaced with furniture, they needed to order some rugs from Keckleons’ to keep the dust down. The library’s collection needed to be recategorised.

“I know it all seems a bit silly, and I hate to ask you to do things so tedious,” Lu began, rubbing the back of his neck while his claws worried the skin of a pecha berry in his free paw, “but I don’t really have anyone else I can ask since the graduates are generally preoccupied with their own jobs—”

“Lu, it’s fine,” Eliana told him gently, digging through the basket to find a pinap—her favorite, after Spinda had introduced her to their tangy, sweet flavor in a smoothie once shortly after their expedition. “You know I enjoy mindless chores. It gets my brain to stop running all the time. Gives me the chance to catch back up.”

He relaxed, watched her for a long moment, then let out a soft chuckle and shook his had. “I do know. It’s still just…a readjustment. I sure could’ve used your help through all of this, but…I’m sure glad to have you back now.” He smiled again, ears twisting back. “I hope you slept all right.”

She hadn’t, but that wouldn’t change anything. “Yeah. The bed was very comfortable.”

“Good. I had some down added in so you might be a little warmer down there.” Lu leaned back where he sat, finally biting into the weeping berry. “I have some things I need to do after this, so are you okay for me to leave for a while?”

“Yeah.” Eliana bit the inside of her cheek as she failed to find a pinap in the heap. She settled for a sitrus; it wasn’t quite the same, but it would do. “I’ll be fine holding down the fort.”

[burning-academia-if]

1k Follower Celebration: ???'s short story

Word count: 4k

Summary: Snapshots from the life of a child who was never supposed to survive.

CW: lots of discussion around death, brief mention of animal death, violence, blood

A/N: Once more, sorry this is late! I hope you enjoy the final story!

Once, an infant died. In an old manor, secluded from the rest of the world, a mother couldn’t weep for a child lost. It was a miracle, really, it had lasted through the week. Torn and sickly from birth, the mother cradled its small body. Maybe a hospital might have saved them, had they been allowed such a grace.

            There was nothing in her eyes. She stared, vacant, out towards the window. Her lips mouthed the words of a lullaby and her husband guarded the door. Knuckles white against the frame, he kept his head bowed and did his best not to weep. If he fell apart, then so would she.

            Outside, shadows curled around the windows. It wasn’t like them, to be so curious. The sensation made memories come back in spades, a collection of what they once were. A death of a newborn, unnatural in more ways then they could grasp, attracted them under the moonlight.

            ‘Ask us,’ they sang, ‘And we’ll bring back the child.’

            ‘Save us and we’ll save them.’

            Their voices crept forward, and the woman paused. Her grip tightened around the infant, fingers digging into the cloth. Her husband stepped forward, a warning on his lips. She ignored him and rose, stumbling towards the window. An invitation. They became a swarm.

            “Don’t—!” Her husband’s voice was lost as the darkness in cased her. There were so many, but one took a step forward. A body with a vague human form, hands reaching out. She clutched tighter at the child still.

            ‘Return to us what we desire, and thus we will return back what you desire.’

            “What…what do you want?”

            ‘Our memory. Our humanity. Our souls.’

            It was taboo, for one to return a wraith to their original selves. But truly, playing by the rules had done nothing in their favor. They were both casted out and cursed, and their newborn child had paid the price. Even if the wraiths lied, it did not matter. She couldn’t imagine living, not any longer.

            She held the child out. An offering for the first sin.

            The shadows rushed forward, all at once. The woman cried out, ice running down her spine and spreading through her body. As weak as she was, she sank to her knees, vaguely aware of her husband’s arms wrapping around her. The windows rattled, the darkness became one, and her child cried once again.

//

            They grew fast, both in size and understanding. Their father taught them reading, history, arithmetic. Their mother the sciences and magic theory. Neither her nor their father had magic in their veins, but their mother had said there were other ways to be able to use it.

            It was the wraiths who taught them about life and death.

            Although they were never supposed to go out at night, they snuck out often. They’d go past their parents’ garden and out towards the trees that laid beyond and call for them.

            Every time, the wraiths would chastise them, ‘Never call for wraiths.’

            ‘What if they answer next time?’

            ‘They’ll hurt you, they’ll hurt you.’

            And they would tilt their head and glance between their various forms, “But you’re all wraiths and you’d never hurt me.”

            ‘Not wraiths, ghosts! Ghosts.’

            ‘We are wraiths but we are special.’

            ‘Ghosts!’

            The little ones, as small as them, would argue with the bigger ones. Then they’d grow bored and ask them to play and so they’d run through the woods until they were tired. Arms would wrap around them and when they opened their eyes next, they were in bed and sunlight poured through the window.

            Those were peaceful days. Yes, they were trapped in a world very small, but there was comfort and friends and family. Days the same as a favorite blanket, the only place they would ever want to exist if they could make the choice again.

            Time, however, can only ever press forward.

//

            The first time they found a dead thing, they wept. It was a small bird, likely attacked by another, resting at the edge of the garden and the forest. They sank to their knees, hands shaking as it hovered over its small little body. It was hard to see anything, so blinded by their tears.

            “Oh, little one, what’s wrong?” Their mother wiped her hands on her apron, coated heavily in dirt and grime.

            “I found a bird. A dead bird.”

            Their mother’s arms wrapped around them and they turned and buried themselves against her. She cuddled them close, tucking them under her chin, “It’s alright, dear. All living things will eventually die.”

            “The wraiths say it’s the end for most things. And when it’s not, it’s…it’s…they’re wrong.” They tried to think of what they were told but the words were lost on them and they didn’t want to think, they wanted to cry. They thought they might cry forever, as they hiccupped over their words.

            Their mother stroked her hands through their hair, long and past their shoulders now, “Yes, death is an ending. It does not mean we can’t honor them. Come, let’s bury it and wish it well onto the next life.”

            As their mother gave them gloves and a place to bury the bird, they found themselves asking, “Why do some dead things stay and others vanish forever?”

            “They’re not gone forever.” She placed the body in the ground, hands moving the dirt over to cover it. “They’re merely gone in a place we ourselves can’t reach.”

            “But they’re gone forever from us…” Their voice wobbled, seconds away from tears again and their mother reached an arm out. They let themselves collapse into it, eyes squeezing shut as they took comfort in her.

            She carefully took off her gloves, and ran a hand through their hair, “Not forever. Never forever.”

            She let them stay there, in the midst of a garden. A child learning grief, and a mother only ever steeped in it.

//

            The father paced in his room, the never-ending confinement and the stubborn march of time sinking into his arteries. The mother watched, perched on the edge of bed as though ready to flee at a moment’s notice. How long has it been since this place became the only thing they knew?

            “We can’t let them know about the child.” He started, coming to a halt. “We’ll have to hide them.”

            “But…” she hesitated, eyes downcast as she folded her hands in her lap. “This place bears the marks of my actions. Even if we hide the child, we can’t hide what we’ve done or what we’ve become.”

            He turned his eyes towards her, a thickness in his throat, “How do you suppose this will end?”

            “It was never going to end well.” She met his gaze. “It’s why I don’t regret the choice I’ve made.”

            “I don’t either. Watching our child grow is the only thing that’s managed to keep me going. If they lay a on hand on—”

            “I’ll kill them.” The mother raised to her feet. The light of the full moon spilled over her form, casting a glow to her hair. She looked more specter than woman. He knew she was serious, because he’d do the same. It’d been a promise from the beginning. Whatever life they had, had ceased to be theirs. It did not mean their child needed to live out the same fate.

            He took a deep breath, “We have much to do in the coming days. For now, we’ll rest.”

            They guided each other to bed, body folding over body. One racing heart wrapped around the other, easing it into tranquility. Sleep came, and washed away the unease for one more night.

//

            “Wait Mira, where are we going?” It was strange, for any of the wraiths to be out during the day. Mira was the smallest one, something once a child and now forever doomed to be one. They were older than her now, a skip away from their tenth birthday tomorrow.

            They’d been in the garden, though the winter laid many plants to rest. The sight of the wraith crouched by the tree had drawn their attention, and they’d got the feeling she’d wanted them to follow.

            Now, they were farther into the woods then they had ever been. Their eyes skipped over the trees, breath puffing the air. In their ill-fitting clothes, the cold was biting into every part of their skin. The exertion was the only thing keeping it at bay.

            “Mira—” They started again, and felt the whole fabric of the earth shift. A gasp fell through their throat, hand bracing hard against the trunk of a tree. Bark dug into calloused palms, the pain hardly registering. Something was wrong. It made their stomach turn to the point of nearly being sick.

            With all their strength, they shoved themselves back to their feet. They spun, facing back to the place they called home. They needed to get back. Felt the desperation in their bones.

            ‘Sorry.’

            ‘We’re sorry.’

            ‘So so sorry.’

            Wraiths rushed around their feet, emerging from the shadows casted by the branches. They clung to their legs and held onto their arms. Everything felt even colder, the world bleeding color into something gray.

            “What…what are you doing?” Their limbs felt week. They weren’t sure when they came to be on the ground, but they felt the dirt and the twigs and frost press into their clothes, turning it damp.

            A figure came to loom over them. One they’d come to know well, ‘You cannot go, little one.’

            The world was gone, all at once.

//

            When they woke up it was night and there were graves. The moon stared down at them, and shivers clawed into their body. It took all their strength to push themselves up, and when they did all the shadows scattered. Their breathe created a fine mist in the air in front of them, a constant thrum as they struggled to keep their breath even.

            Despite the shakes, they called, “W-why? Why am I here, what did you do…?”

            ‘It was by your parents’ request.’ The largest shadow rose in front of them, and in the full moon light, they could almost see its face. Middle aged, dark eyes, a gaping wound of darkness in their side. The sight stilled even the chatter of their teeth. ‘There are things you don’t know about them, which they will never tell.’

            They wrapped their arms around their body, as though such thins limbs cold protect them against the night’s chill, “Like how they never answer when I ask why we can’t leave the confines of these woods?”

            ‘Yes. It’s for your own protection.’ It motioned towards the place around them. ‘This is outside their confines. When you’re older and steadier, we could finally set you free. For now, this place is the only place you’d survive.’

            “I…I could. Survive out there.” They had never met another living soul besides their parents. Now, their eyes searched past the graves and old wrought iron gates as though they could find a hint of life waiting for them somewhere. It was as dark and empty as ever.

            ‘Child, you weep for all things. There’s only a cruel world waiting beyond this cage. When I return you, you’ll understand everything I’ve told you about violence.’ A chill zipped down their spine, and this time not from the temperature.

            “…What do you mean?”

            ‘You’ll see. Take hold, and I’ll lead you back home.’ And so they let it take their hand and lead them back through the trees.

//

            They didn’t want to go through the doors, left open and creaking back and forth in the wind. There were no lights on inside, nor was there a sound. When they peered through the door, the house peered back. Wounded, cracked. The entrance they knew well was contaminated with the markings of intruders.

            It was in the air. They could feel it on their skin, skittering across their veins. It wasn’t the same kind of feeling they felt from the wraiths, it was something different. New. Bitter. The shadow beside them waited, sensing their brief hesitation.

            They took a deep breath and walked through the door. The feeling was stronger inside, choking their lungs. It made it impossible to call out, and so they stumbled forward. As long as they followed the trail, they’d be able to find their parents. Wherever the cursed path led.

            While all the wraiths crowded at the door, the one remained by their side. With it, even with their sudden clumsiness, their movements didn’t make a sound. It felt like years of walking, longer than the trek through the woods, before they came upon the old study. Cracks shot through the wall around the door like lightening. It seeped color, a bright bright red. Bright enough to hurt their eyes.

            Their companion shielded away, ‘This is as far as I can go.’

            Despite their desire to ask, they couldn’t. So they swallowed the sick in their throat and stopped in front of the door. It hung, kept on by a single bolt. Even with the awkward angle they could see inside. The room was a mess, books scattered and torn and pages in various directions. They could just make out their parents’ form. They were covered in red.

            Without a second thought, they ducked through the door, feet almost tripping over themselves as it landed on the pages. The light of the room was still on, flickering in it’s attempt to hold on. The red on their parents was not just blood but whatever the strange essence at the entrance was. It wrapped around them like webs, and they collapsed on their knees.

            “M…mom? Dad…?” It hurt to talk, their hands hovered the two’s bodies, unsure what to do or where to touch.

            Their mother groaned, her eyes fluttering open, “Oh…you’re not…supposed to be here.”

            “What happened? Why is there…all this?” The word came a second later. Magic. “What can I do?”

            Before they could do anything, their mother jerked away from them. Her hands dug into it and tore it away. It burned bright, searing at her hands as she did so. More blood spilled, running as free as a river as it cascaded from her body.

            Her voice was stern, “Don’t touch me. This will only hurt you.”

            “There must be something I can do—The first aid kit. I’ll bring it to you. I’ll be back, I promise.” They scrambled to their feet, still off kilter and ran out. They heard their mother call their name but it was so far from them. They just needed the first aid kit, they needed to help. They needed to not think about their father not waking up.

            It took too long to get everything and to make it back. When they returned their mother was tearing the magic netting off their father. Tears wet her face, the pain obvious in each of her movements, but it didn’t stop her. Each red thread dissolved to nothing as it was taken off his skin.

            They placed everything on the floor, desperate to help but deterred by the harsh look their mother sent their way, “Thank you, dear. Now there is one more thing I need you to do for me. In our room, tucked away in one of the floorboards, is a box. The wraiths will show you were. Inside there, is your gift.”

            “My gift, but—”

            “It’s after midnight, is it not? This is both for your birthday and your protection. Now go.” Protection from what? They wanted to know what had happened and if it was for the same reason they were trapped here. They wanted to know if their father was still alive. They wanted to know why they could cry whenever they stumbled upon a dead animal, but didn’t feel even moisture in their eyes at the sight of their parents.

            Their eyebrows pinched together and they stared at her, “Mom…”

            “I’ll tell you everything, I promise. For now, will you do this for me?” They nodded, numb, and her lips twitched into a smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry for all of this. I thought we’d have more time.”

            They rose, head still spinning. Worse than before. Every moment that passed made them worse. They were sure their mother, so steeped in it all for so much longer, must be suffering. But if there was nothing they could do, then they could only do what she asked.

            The wraith was waiting for them this time, as though sensing their mother’s words. It pulled them forward, the only thing keeping them upright now. The two ascended the flight of stairs and here they could see endless damage. Doors open, furniture tossed. Whoever had been here had been looking for something. What if they’d found whatever their mother had told them about?

            ‘Focus.’ The wraith instructed and they did. They made their way down the hall and into their parents’ room. It was the worst place of all. The indoor plants, the paintings on the walls, the mattress on the bed. Everything in pieces.

            There were marks here too, although they didn’t glow with red light as the ones from downstairs. They stepped over shattered glass and broken bits, following the wraith as it indicated a spot on the ground.

            ‘Careful.’ It whispered, as they dug their hands between the cracks. Even with all the strength slipping away from them, they used their whole weight to pry it up. It stuck and they pulled, and the wooden splinters bit into their skin. The pain rushed to their brain and cleared the dam.

            Tears fell. It burned out and blurred the world around them. Still, they kept going, until the floorboard finally heaved. Until their raw hands were pulling out a box. It was a deep blue, trimmed with silver. The latch glittered at them in low light, scattered further by how they cried.

            It took a moment to fumble at the latch to get it open. When they did, it was a sudden light. So bright it hurt their eyes. Despite its blinding radiance, the wraith did not shield away. It stayed by them as it poured out. Burrowed into their skin and wrapped around their heart.

            It stopped. All of it stopped.

//

            Their father had always called them a bleeding heart. They weren’t sure if it was true. Sometimes, they were drowning in emotions, unable to claw their way out. Other times, they felt like it all burned away.

            In every memory they held, was warmth. But the older they got, the more the questions spilled forth. They asked about everything, and when their parents refused to answer they went to the wraiths. Sometimes even they held their tongue. It made the reflection warp. What had they missed, in the cage of their childhood? And would knowing have changed anything at all?

            The years after the attack shifted everything. The wraiths vanished without a trace. Their mother had dropped all kindness.

            “You need to survive.” She’d said. “Even if it’s without us.”

            Once, they’d snuck out on a summer night. There was only one thing they wanted, and it was to find the graveyard the wraiths had taken them to the night everything changed. Despite their best efforts, they never found it. All they succeeded in was knowing the woods better than even the animals.

            The bigger they got, the smaller the world felt. In instances they’d usually accept their mother’s answers, they’d push back. They needed to know everything in the world. If they did, then maybe they could find a way to free all of them.

            “Why can’t you leave?” They asked once, letting their mother braid their long hair. It was one of the few displays of love left in her.

            Her fingers carefully threaded the braid together, “It’s because of the same magic that nearly killed us. It binds us here, and they hoped it would cause us to die. From starvation or dehydration or illness.”

            “It doesn’t bind me though, does it?” Their eyes traced the scars on the walls. The damage from the house could never fully be repaired. “I could leave, and find a way to free you both—”

            They felt her tension, the involuntary clenching of her hands. It did not hurt but it made them flinch, “They would kill you. When you finally leave, you are never to come back.”

            It was an impossible idea. To let their parents go. They were the start and ending of their world. A fear wormed its way into their brain and made residence there. They would lay awake in bed, listening for anything wrong, wondering if tonight was the night the intruders would come back and finish the job.

            If they did, they would have to be ready.

            But there was no magic in them, they were just a child. They’d take a spare knife and practice throwing. Once, when their aim was nonexistent, it caught the wing of a stray bird. It squawked and fell and they rushed forward as a ringing echoed in their ear.

            They collapsed over it, cradling it in their hands, forgetting their mother’s warning of disease.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they sobbed, cradling it to their chest. When they saw blood, they saw their parents. When they thought of violence, it made them sick. How would they ever protect anything, when all it did was make them ill?

            Their mother had found them, later. The bird was content in their hands, despite its own blood marring them. She brushed a hand through their hair, and they stirred from an endless half sleep.

            “You are too kind for such violence.” She whispered, and it was the first time they had ever seen her close to tears.

            As they shifted, the bird hopped away and they looked at their hands, stained with its blood. They thought they might be sick. They thought they’d cry again.

            Instead, they swallowed it all back, “This violence is born from my kindness.”

            Their mother threw her hands around them, and squeezed them in a tight hug. For a moment, they were suspended. She did not cry, and neither did they. Instead, they sat there in the fading light. A mother forced to be cursed with her doom, and a child whose path only led to such an ending.

//

            It was always going to be a futile fight. Even still, they fought it. Even as their parents’ bodies hit the ground. Even as hands grabbed them, hard enough to bruise. They fought and screamed, and the wraiths answered.

            The intruders yelled, and they wrenched themselves away. They weren’t sure where they were going as they ran. Into the woods, as they always did. To a place where they would never be found. Their feet hit the ground hard, lungs burning, and an endless panic coursing through them.

            If they finally made it past the woods then—

            A pain chocked them. They felt themselves collapse, staring down at their body. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red—

            “Got ‘em.” A voice called.

            “Jesus, did you really have to do that to a kid?”

            “It’s fine. It’s not like anyone knew the bastards had a kid anyway, right? What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

            The intruders’ footsteps crunched in the snow. They'd been left to die. As their eyes squeezed shut, trying to drown out the pain, they wondered. Would they become a wraith? Would their parents? Or would they simply move on to whatever was waiting for them in the unknown? Their thoughts echoed.

            The snow wasn’t cold. Their body wasn’t warm. It hung, suspended, outside of time itself. Their mind was a blur of white and shadows. A voice sung a lullaby somewhere, far away from their reach. They were alone. Suddenly and violently alone. A fragment of a forgotten memory now, instead of a real person. Arms sank under their body and lifted them up.

            “It’s time to rest, now.”

            They felt their consciousness slip away to nothing.

[sweetrevxnge]

Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Five

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3k

Chapter-specific CW: compulsion, light emotional manipulation (but it's ok bc he's a hot vampire)

A/N: "how am I supposed to live laugh love under these conditions?" -y/n to kylo probably

───────── ❅ 🦇 ❅ ─────────

“After you, my dear.”

The threshold of the doorway was all that stood between you and the prospect of freedom. Or at least, so you thought.

Moonlight peaked through the dark clouds above, flooding the spacious courtyard Ren had brought you to with silver light. Disappointment sank through you like a stone—not that you were expecting him to loosen your invisible lead enough to allow you to roam an open area of the castle’s property. All things considered, this was generous.

Tentatively, you stepped out into the night, disregarding your lack of footwear as you followed the ivory tiles lining the path. Short, frostbitten hedges surrounded you, perfectly manicured despite their leaves being brittle and sparse. Snowflakes dusted the earth, falling like tiny, frozen kisses on your skin.

Woven throughout the foliage were dozens of rosebushes, their thorns now all that remained of their beauty. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the garden in bloom, with rays of sunlight bathing the roses until their petals unfurled, inviting bees to collect pollen from each colorful bundle. But spring had long since passed. The stems had morphed into skeletons, their wilted petals cracking under the blanket of frost. It was oddly beautiful; something that was once so vibrant, now faded and cold, preserved by winter’s embrace.

Around you stood the high walls of the castle, with elegant archways and stained windows. Everything felt venerable, even down to the footsteps immortalized in the tile from centuries of tread, aging the fortress well beyond the Empire’s rule. Judging by the weathered state of the walls encasing you, the castle was likely constructed during the Grand Republic’s reign, dating it beyond the past three hundred years. To think that there was a time when its halls had been occupied by diplomats—ones who placed the interests of the people above their own aspirations. Much like the garden, their memory had faded in the presence of the First Order.

You stopped in front of two black iron benches arranged in the center of the court. They accented the focal piece of the garden: a pond, sheathed by a layer of glistening ice. You pictured a family of ducks paddling through it in the summer, creating tiny ripples as they splashed the cool water onto their feathers. The irony of peace existing in a place of such violence.

“What do you think?” Ren asked behind you, joining you in observation of the frozen water.

Releasing a long breath, you answered bluntly, “It’s hard to say. Everything’s dead.”

He chuckled at your honesty. “Yes. But even now, there is a certain beauty to it, wouldn’t you agree?” He stepped closer, pressing his chest flush against your back, offering you no heat. There was nothing warm or soft about him. For all you knew, he was made of marble beneath the layer of black fabric—his body temperature suggesting as much.

You instinctively pulled away, turning to face him. Quick breaths passed through your lips, the wisps of vapor lingering in the air like ghosts. Ren was frightening and beautiful, making him the most dangerous kind of monster. Not the kind that mothers warned their children of through tales, hoping to deter them from venturing too far into the woods, but the kind that the ladies at court would gossip about. The handsome devil.

“From a certain point of view, I suppose,” you finally said, turning your back on him once again. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of agreeing—even if he had heard your inner dialogue earlier.

Ren walked alongside you as you continued to meander through the garden. Even the slightest brush of his arm made the hair on the back of your neck stand. Although, in fairness, the culprit could very well have been the winter air, too.

You considered making conversation with him, less because you were interested in what he had to say, but rather as a pleasantry in return for the change of scenery. When you opened your mouth to speak, you found that the words were lodged in your throat, impossible to push out. Perhaps it was the icy air burning your airway, or another force entirely. Regardless, you continued to walk in silence, sorting through your thoughts—as you suspected he was, too.

It seemed as if the tile path had transformed into shards of glass by the way your feet ached, each step sending a wave of pain through your nerves. Determined to stay outside as long as possible, you ignored it, slowing your pace to accommodate.

“You’re shivering,” Ren stated, as if you were somehow unaware of your chattering teeth.

“Yes, I know.”

“Would you like to go inside?”

You froze in place, but unlike in the forest, this was not his doing. He came to stand in front of you, tracing your face with eyes as black as obsidian.

“I doubt that decision is mine to make,” you countered. The illusion of free will—as if you weren’t trapped in this castle because of him.

“You would be dead if it weren’t for me.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, yes, how could I forget? The man who slaughtered my entire squadron—my savior.”

His jaw tensed. “It’s not as if I was acting of my volition. I was merely protecting my men, keeping my oath. Surely that is something you can understand.”

Of course it was. But you had failed to do that, and now you would spend a lifetime being haunted by it.

“Enough,” you said, tearing your eyes away from him as you turned to face the withering garden. The frayed threads holding you together snapped, allowing the flood of emotions to pour in. As it did, you wondered if it would always be like this. Reminded of the carnage every time you laid eyes on him. Sentenced to a miserable existence with the man responsible for your nightmares.

A hand came to rest on your shoulder. You shuddered at the touch. “For what it’s worth, their deaths were wholly unnecessary.” There was a trace of remorse in his words, quickly replaced by his usual tone. “But such is the nature of war, my dear.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting your tongue before you could say anything else. When you opened them again, Ren was standing in front of you, close enough to hide the moonlight behind him. 

“Why did you do it?” Your voice cracked as you spoke, fighting desperately to hold back your frustration.

He furrowed his brows, confused by your question. “The Supreme Leader’s orders were clear–”

“No,” you snapped, a harsh edge replacing the weakness in your voice. “I mean, why did you capture me? How is it fair that I should be the only survivor, condemned to live out the rest of my days under your thumb?”

As soon as the words had left your mouth, you wished you could reach out and shove them back into the depths of your mind. He didn’t deserve to see you like this, brimming with raw emotion. It was a state you reserved only for those closest to you, those who you would likely never see again.

Ren was silent, stoic. In a moment like this, you wished you possessed his ability to probe minds. Instead of offering you an answer, he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone and jaw, tracing a line as light as a whisper over your skin.

Immediately, the tension in your shoulders dissolved, washed away along with every concern occupying your mind. Despite his cool touch, warmth rose to your cheeks.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that this arrangement could liberate you in ways you’ve never imagined?” His voice was silky, falling on your ears like a symphony of angels. A soft cloud settled over you, eliciting a strange feeling within your chest as you gazed up at him, searching his black eyes for an answer to his question.

“I have not, my lord,” you whispered, the words leaving your tongue like a prayer.

Ren’s lips parted, revealing brilliant white teeth as he grinned, amused by your response. “Of course not. And why should you have? Such thoughts have no place in a mind as troubled as yours.” He swept his fingers over your cheek again, soothing you.

You nodded into his hand. The cold that gnawed at your fingers and toes was nothing more than a distant sensation, an ache quelled by his touch. He glanced down at your figure, frowning at the sight of your dress. In the time that the two of you had been standing outside, a light layer of snow had melted into the thin fabric of your gown, clinging to your skin. With deft fingers, he tied the strings of your cloak into a small knot and smoothed the fabric over your shoulders.

“Now, let’s go inside. I can’t have my bride freezing to death,” he said in a low tone, leaning closer to your lips. “Next time, I advise you to wear more fitting attire.”

Next time. Intoxicated by his words, you nodded in agreement, your eyes still fixed on his.

As if you were a sack of feathers, he hoisted you off the ground, holding you as he did in the forest. Only this time, there was no fear in your heart, no panic closing off your throat. With your hands clasped behind his neck, he carried you back into the castle, moving swiftly through the courtyard. Although the taste of freedom was dwindling with every step he took, you were content—almost pleased—to be returning to the safety of your chambers.

Your head felt as light as the cushions of the chaise lounge as Ren set you down upon it. The memory of where his hands had gripped you remained after he released you, leaving your skin tingling at each spot. In the darkness, it was nearly impossible to see him moving through your chambers, an issue remedied by a fire roaring to life in the hearth.

Satisfied with his work, Ren stood behind the sofa, peering down at you laying across it. Golden flames flickered in his eyes, softening his strong features. Your cloak had shifted, exposing more of your nightwear than you would’ve preferred. But you didn’t mind. In fact, you liked it—how the sleeves had fallen past your shoulders and the hem of the dress had gathered above your knees. You felt ethereal, basking in the glow radiating from the hearth. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been this relaxed.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you relished the warmth spreading through your toes. “Who should I thank for starting this fire—you or your magic?” You made a vague gesture with your hands, wiggling your fingers as if you were casting a spell.

He chuckled quietly, moving to sit in the chair across from yours. “Neither. Thank the tinderbox that was left on the mantle.”

Propping yourself up with your elbow, you turned to face him, letting your dress drape over your hips. The knot at your neck loosened with every movement you made until you finally grew tired and pulled it free, shedding your cloak onto the sofa. Under any other circumstance, you would be scrambling to cover yourself. This was completely unlike you—to allow anyone other than your handmaid to see you like this. Harlot, your mother would say in her scolding tone, coupled with a scowl. But she wasn’t here—only Commander Ren.

“I find it hard to believe that you’re incapable of starting a fire, given everything else you can do.”

“Unfortunately, I was never any good at it,” he said, his eyes wandering to the golden flames. “Pyromancy, however, has always been one of my strongest suits.”

The conversation stalled for a moment as you watched his fingers glide over the armrest, hypnotized by the patterns he traced in the black velvet. His veins mingled with tendons as he moved—an intricate dance beneath his ivory skin. Somewhere deep within you, an ember flickered to life, its warmth spreading throughout your being. It was unusual, but not unwelcome.

“How can you do these things?” you asked, your voice floating through the air like the wisps of a dandelion.

He sighed, rolling his tongue over his teeth in thought. Finally, he said, “I was raised by witches.”

Your eyes widened—not in shock at his answer, but because he had answered at all. Rey’s words echoed in your mind. Commander Ren is a very private man.

“Witches? As in, multiple?”

He snickered softly. “Just two.”

“I see,” you whispered, watching him intently. There was something inherently alluring about him, an appeal that had drawn you in the instant you laid eyes on his portrait. An indescribable—yet persisting—quality. A charm.

After the success of your first question, you found the courage to pose another. “What were they like?”

A beat passed before he spoke, unease filling your stomach as you waited. The look in his eyes told you that your valiant effort was in vain. “What else did the handmaid tell you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his seat.

His words hit your chest like a thousand stones, shattering your confidence. Rey had warned you—begged you—to not discuss the matter of the Commander, fearing the consequences awaiting her if she did. Guilt crashed into you.

“Nothing. She said nothing else,” you stammered, pushing yourself up to a sitting position. With pleading eyes, you turned to him. “I swear it by all the gods.”

Ren stood to his feet, shushing you as he strode toward you. “There’s no need to call upon the gods, dear. I believe you.” His long fingers caressed your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his intense gaze. “I also believe that the girl is sensible enough to want to keep her head attached to her body. You asked her about me, didn’t you?”

Your heart slammed into your ribs, as if it were attempting to leap out and crawl into Ren’s hands. There was no use in arguing—he already knew the truth. The outcome of your fate depended on any ounce of respect you could earn from him. Lying now would be a disservice to everyone involved.

“Yes, I admit, I asked her to tell me what she knew of you, but she refused. It was only after I continued pressing the matter that she finally answered. Please, have mercy on her, she is innocent–”

He silenced you by pressing a finger against your lips. “If I beheaded every servant who spoke ill of me, the castle would be swept by ghosts.”

You said nothing, an unspoken understanding passing between you. While you believed him, there was also validity in Rey’s fear. Even the servant boy cowered in his presence. If one thing were true in this life, it was that rumors carried weight, and at times, merit.

“Why do they fear you so much?” you asked as his thumb brushed over your chin.

Ren let out a long sigh as he ran his fingers down your neck, pausing at your pulse point. “People fear what they do not understand.”

The air grew thick in the silence. A familiar sensation embraced you, igniting every fiber of your being under his touch. Much like the fire in front of you, the ember in your belly became an inferno. Your gaze fell to his pillowy lips, imagining what they would feel like against yours—what they would feel like on every inch of your skin. As soft as sin, probably. His eyes were coals, twinkling in the amber light, a tell that your thoughts were not as quiet as you had hoped.

“What do you fear most, darling?” he asked, his voice low and inviting. “I imagine that a woman like yourself doesn’t fear much, but everyone has their weakness.” He tilted your head slightly to the side, eyes wandering down your neck. “What is yours?”

Blood rushed in your ears, making you dizzy. Through the haze in your mind, a tiny voice broke through, begging you to resist him—resist the urge to bend to his will. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to barricade your thoughts, and as his eyes bore into yours, irises now a deep shade of red, his devilry won.

“Purpose.” The word passed through your lips like a specter, carrying a cadence that was foreign to your ears. “I fear a life without purpose.”

Satisfaction radiated off of Ren. “I see. And that is exactly why you were the only survivor.” He stretched his hand over your throat, applying gentle pressure to either side of your neck. The rhythmic drumming of your heart pulsed through his fingertips. “Because your purpose is so much greater than serving the Resistance.”

“What do you believe my purpose is, Commander?”

The backlight of the hearth cast a halo around him, deifying him. Ignoring your inquiry, he said, “The night is almost over. I suggest you get some rest.”

With that, he left you, somehow more cold and alone than you had been before. As the latch clicked shut, the haze lifted, quickly replaced by dread. Your vision tunneled on the fire in front of you, the black edges snuffing out your surroundings, narrowing your view to only the flames dancing over the logs.

As you stood from the lounge, your knees buckled, forcing you to summon all your strength to reach the bed before collapsing. Chest heaving, you stared up at the canopy, hoping to find anything but flecks of light dancing across your eyes. The voice in your head was shouting now, building to a deafening pitch, its message clear.

In the wake of his presence, two things remained: your distrust of Commander Ren and the strange warmth that had settled in your stomach.

[roguelov]

Hey 😃i was thinking , what about a reader who walks in the dreaming while morpheus is doing his kingly business ect... let's say she sees a kind of river and that the night being quite hot in the dreaming that evening she felt like to swim a little, so she undresses etc 🤡without knowing that she is under the watchful eye of a certain king.... 🙊🙊🙊

Oooooo yessssssss I love it!!!

The air was awfully humid tonight. You supposed the Dreaming had its array of seasonal changes, but it was rather unfortunate for you. Your clothes clung to your body like a gross second skin. Sweat dripped down your forehead and chest.

You felt disgusting, to put it bluntly.

You groaned loudly as you trudged along. You thought a late night walk would be nice. Dream was busy with usual business so you thought it could occupy your time.

Instead, you were miserable.

Sighing, you stepped out of the edge of the forest. You were greeted with the sight of the river and moat which surrounded the castle. In the sunlight, boats would sail and mermaids would slash out. Yet, tonight under the moon it was quiet and still. The water nearly resembling glass with how still it was.

Not a soul, but yourself.

You didn’t give it a second thought, you were already tearing off your clothes ready for any sort of relief.

However, you were mistaken. There was another soul, Dream. Dream who had finished early and set out to find you. Your name was on his lips ready to jump off until you removed your shirt.

He slunk back into the shadows, behind a tree, captivated by you and your body.

You tossed aside your shirt into the grass without a care. You shimmed out your pants and added it to the pile. You removed every article of clothing simply happy to get rid of your sweat soaked clothes.

Dream’s throat dried.

The moonlight danced over your bare skin. It glistened. His eyes greedily drank up all your curves.

He stepped forward, almost needing a better look.

A twig snapped.

You whipped your head around, peering over your shoulder for a second. Your eyes seemed to lock with his.

Dream’s heart pounded. Did you notice him? What would you do? What would you say? What should he say? But, your eyes fell to a squirrel skittering across. You chuckled, shaking your head.

So, you hadn’t noticed him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Smiling, you sprinted towards the water. Your laughter rang in the air. You reminded Dream of the nymphs and fae he once knew.

You dove into the water.

He continued to watch. A trail of bubbles showed him exactly where you were underwater. You broke to the surface and let out a loud satisfied moan.

The water was truly heavenly.

Dream braced himself against the tree. Before he knew it, he already began to remove his coat. He didn’t dare let this opportunity go to waste.

[vennilavee]

i. Poseidon's Cove

blood & pearls masterlist

summary: the warmth of the sun on your bare skin is a treasure.

word count: 1.2k

It’s unfamiliar to you, the way the shores of this lake speak to the creatures of the sea. Usually, you can understand the push and pull, the give and take of the currents. No matter how calm or angry they are.

But here, it is stagnant. Stagnant and steady, as if nothing moves. As if nothing grows- time passes, but nothing comes of it. The moon never gives way to the sun here, but you would never be able to tell. Green is painted in broad strokes beyond the borders of the lake, framed with flowers in colors that you’ve never seen before. Not in the sea at least.

In the sea. You aren’t supposed to be here, anyway. In this foreign land where you’ve been forbidden to venture to. You are meant to be a shining, shimmering pearl, a beacon, in the ocean. Only stationed to be a gate between fickle waters. The visage of salvation. An oasis to anyone who might pass.

Or a curse.

The push and pull of the water is your home, but you wish to get lost in the clouds.

It wasn’t like you intended to stay out here, where the sky seems to touch the water, for almost four full days. Your lungs fill up with fresh air, expelling any ounce of water from your body as you breathe.

The sun is too warm on your skin to let go of it. You feel as though you might perish if you don’t feel its warmth glazed over your bare arms and chest. Just five more minutes, and you’ll head back into the water. Where you belong.

Just five more minutes…

But time doesn’t pass here, and five minutes becomes hours, days, perhaps a week or two.

A giant boulder the size of two ships sits in the middle of this pond that is deep enough to be a lake. What else are you meant to do besides make a home of it? Water brushes up against the jagged edges of your rock with each breath you take. The water sparkles in the sun, a stark contrast to the murky blue that you were born into.

But its depth whispers menacingly to you, like an unwanted friend. You shouldn’t be here, but you twist your fingers sharply to shut out the noise.

It is quiet again, only the sound of the sun and the whistle of the wind to keep you company. You make a tiny home for yourself at the pond as well, bringing some of your favorite glittery spiraled and coned shells with you to the grassy shoreline. Some even sit on the boulder in the middle of the pond- it’s very clear that someone has been living here. Even if it’s not supposed to be you.

The sun dips into the horizon, painting the sky in purples and oranges, in hues that have never existed before your tender eyes. Nighttime is hazy from underwater and you never want to forget the sight of the stars for as long as you live. You lay in the grass and point upwards, as if you could simply just catch one with the wave of your wrist. 

It glistens and glows above the water and you finally see clearly.

A pirate once told you that she caught a piece of stardust with her own two hands. You wonder if this is what she meant. The stars burn brightly, tiny flames lighting up the expanse of the universe. Of the darkness.

But nothing is as dark as the deep, blue sea.

Moonlight drips over your arms and your legs as you glide around the pond, ensuring that you have no trespassers in your newly found but temporary home. It’s warm, but in a different way than the sunlight. You are a child of the moon, it is home. But your heart yearns for the sun.

You’ve lost track for how long you’ve been at this pond. Time doesn’t exist here, but you’ve witnessed exactly one full moon cycle. Staying here sounds more and more tempting by the day- you are in no rush to return back to the depths of the cold, blue sea. Into the arms of those who do not cherish your existence.

So you stay, with your feet buried deep into the dewy grass with the moon hanging high above your head. Your eyes are closed as you inhale and exhale with the rise and fall of the water.

Electricity crackles in the air.

The fairies tittering around your head suddenly zip away into hiding with no warning. You look around, asking them where they are going. Despite you laying claim to this enchanted pond, it was not yours to claim. 

A colossal shadow stands in between you and your view of the moon. Is it your vision? Are you seeing things? 

But the shadow moves closer and closer to you. You have never encountered a shadow which walks on the green Earth. Perhaps you should be afraid, and take off like the fairies did. Instead, you remain anchored in the grass. This is your sea, anyway.

The slight tremble in your hands gives nothing away.

Shadows do not have eyes, but this one stares back at you with four of them. Deep shades of red, blinking at you warily. There is no anger in this shadow’s gaze. Only mild irritation. You are a minor inconvenience to the shadow. It cuts through the night, somehow illuminating the stillness of the darkness with nothing but a simple movement.

You crane your head to look up. This is a man. No, perhaps a god.

An aggravated scoff leaves your lips.

“Do not roll your eyes at me, girl,” the shadow says with displeasure clear in his voice.  There is a hint of a roar in his tone, but his voice is quiet. You get the feeling that this is a thing that does not raise his voice very often. Because he is used to being listened to.

You’ve encountered many men, many creatures who do not listen enough.

“This water is mine,” you say with disdain, your fangs glinting in the moonlight, “You will not take it from me.”

“Do you know where you are, girl?” he says, coming out of the shadows. He is tall, perhaps taller than any creature you have come across. Resisting the urge to take a step back, you hold your ground and sink into the earth beneath you. You can feel the blooming of the seeds beneath the soil as you glare back at what can only be described as a red-eyed, pink haired demon.

Burgundy eyes meet yours, flashing black for a moment. “I’ve allowed you to stay in my domain for over a full month now-”

“Your domain?”

“I should kill you where you stand and pry your beating heart from your chest,” he hisses at you, fangs bared. Your hair glimmers and your dark eyes are hazy, as if you are underwater. 

“That’s rather grotesque,” you state plainly, “The entire ocean would come for you if you dared to even touch me.”

“Your pathetic father is no match for Ryomen Sukuna,” he says and that is when you notice the fresh blood smeared on his expansive chest.

“Oh? Is that a name that I am meant to know? To revere?” you tilt your head to the side curiously, lips curling in a mocking smile.

“You will come to fear me, you foolish girl,” Ryomen Sukuna murmurs, “You will.”

He vanishes into the darkness as quickly as he came, and you are left with nothing but thoughts of the four-armed creature who visited your lake in the middle of the night.

tags: @kentobean @misslovingpearl @aeanya @mystikalini @helenas-revenge

[hazellovesnuts]

Waltzing under the twinkling lights Part 2

Milady de Winter x Princess!Reader 🗡️

Part 1

Eva Green & Characters One shot Collection

⚠️ TW: cursing and smut

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Third Person POV

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Once a clandestine romance, the love between Milady de Winter and Princess Y/N had deepened and strengthened over their secret rendezvous and stolen moments. They cherished each second they spent together, their entwined lives a respite from the treacherous world of court politics.

As the glittery night sky appeared, Milady and Princess Y/N were supposed to meet up in the garden, more specifically the spot where they had kissed one another for the very first time, in front of the fountain. How majestic that fountain is, made with the finest of materials only the richest of the rich can afford. The exterior of the fountain is crafted with pure white marble, gleaming in the sunlight and catching the eye of anyone who passes by. The intricate carvings on the marble are a testament to the skilled craftsmanship that went into its creation.

As Milady approaches the fountain, she can hear the gentle trickle of water cascading down the tiers, a soothing sound that adds to the fountain's grandeur. She can feel the cool mist that rises from the fountain, refreshing your skin on a hot summer's day.

The interior of the fountain is just as impressive as its exterior. The water flows through a series of intricate channels and spouts, each designed to maximize the beauty and elegance of the fountain. The water sparkles in the sunlight, reflecting the colors of the surrounding gardens and trees.

At the base of the fountain, though under the moonlight with not only its glowing beauty but with also the lantern that she holds with her hands. Milady can still see the schools of fish swimming gracefully in the crystal-clear water. The fish add a touch of life and movement to the fountain, making it seem like a living, breathing work of art.

As she stands there, waiting for her lover and taking in the beauty and majesty of the fountain, she can't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder. It's a testament to the boundless creativity and imagination of the human spirit, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we can still create something beautiful and enduring.

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Milady's POV

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After standing in front of the fountain for a while now, I felt a presence behind me, I could feel piercing eyes staring at me, but I was not threatened. Not one bit, as I know who that stare belongs to. How it always sends shivers to me whenever I feel it.

Moving my head to the side but not quite looking at the person, I smiled as I felt her delicate hands snake around my waist.

"Bonne soirée mon amour. I have missed you deeply," I said to her highness. "Bonne soirée aussi mon amour. I'm sorry I didn't get to meet you sooner, my mother wanted me to assist her with some "royal" shit," "Language! Sweetheart how many times do I have to tell you that," I sternly said telling her highness off but I know she can hear the playful tone in my voice.

"I know my love but I can't help it, you know that. Plus don't blame me, I got that from my parents they cuss a lot, though not in front of audiences," she says while laughing a bit.

I chuckled " I know my love I'm only joking, but seriously I have missed you," I turned around as she carefully puts her hands around my neck, while mine snakes around her waist. Looking into each other's eyes, we leaned up closer to each other, meeting each other's lips half way.

Princess Y/N pulled away from the kiss and smiled up at me, her beautiful eyes sparkling. "I missed you too, my love. But we mustn't linger here too long, lest we get caught by the guards."

I smiled at Princess Y/N's words, my heart swelling with affection for my dearly beloved. I gently intertwined my hands with the princess's and began to walk towards the library, our footsteps falling in sync.

"You're right, my love," Milady replied softly, my voice filled with tenderness which I only use when I'm with her highness. "We must be cautious. It only takes a moment for everything to unravel, and I cannot bear the thought of losing you."

Princess Y/N leaned her head against my shoulders, finding comfort in my embrace. "I feel the same, my dearest. The world can be cruel, but when we're together, I find solace and strength in your love."

I pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the princess's head, cherishing the warmth of our connection. "We have faced countless challenges already, my love, and each time we have emerged stronger. I will do everything in my power to protect our love, even if it means facing danger head-on."

Princess Y/N looked up at me with a mix of admiration and concern in her eyes. "I know your bravery knows no bounds, but I worry for your safety. What if one day there is a threat that becomes more than we can handle?"

My grip tightened reassuringly around the princess's hand. "Fear not, my princess. I have honed my skills as a spy for years, and I will outsmart and outwit anyone who dares to stand in our way. But I also promise you this-we will face any danger together. I will never leave your side."

A sense of determination filled the air as we walked through the empty hallway of the castle. Being careful and being quiet so that we won't alert anyone. As we made our way, we kept up a conversation. The princess was telling me about a book that she has recently read. I can see the passion she has for reading with the way she described the characters, the plot, and even her favorite lines.

"I'm very neutral about it. I mean Solenne did have a point in saying that since what Azalea did was so rushed and wasn't thought out, but at least she could have approached it in a better way," she told me as I looked at her and contemplated what to say of the book.

"That's true, Solenne could have approached it better but if she didn't say that then there wouldn't be more drama happening just like most stories," "I mean that's true, that makes up for it I guess," she chuckled.

We continued walking hand in hand until we heard something. It's footsteps," Someone's here, I think it's the guards doing their rounds. We need to hide," Princess Y/N quickly pulled me to the nearest room and closed the door.

I released a sigh of relief when I looked around and found that there isn't anyone else in, I was almost sure we went into an occupied room.

"We still need to hide what if the guard comes in here. I'm sure we made some noise when we ran," "Quick the closet."

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Third Person POV

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Milady's hands are around the Princess's waist. Bodies pressed against the other, both breathing heavily from their adrenaline. The princess can feel Milady's breath on her neck and her chest on her back. The princess wouldn't admit it but if they were in other circumstances she would definitely be turned on.

"This is such an awful and common place to hide princess," "Well I'm sorry I didn't take us to the Bahamas of hiding places," the princess sarcastically replied with an eye roll.

"Don't roll your eyes at me princess or I will give you a reason for you to actually roll them." Princess Y/N let out a shaky breath at that imagining what Milady could do to her.

Not being able to take the sexual tension anymore, she looks over at Milady who is looking down at her. The princess reaches up and cups Milady's face with her hand. Milady turns her head and kisses the princess.

Their lips press together as their tongues dance around each other. Milady pulls away, "I want you so bad right now Y/N/N." The princess smiles, "Me too my love." She leans forward and kisses Milady again.

This time Milady doesn't pull away. They kiss for a few minutes before Milady breaks the kiss. Milady's face is flushed red. The princess looks into her eyes, "Are you okay?" Milady nods, "Yeah I'm fine."

"Good," they proceeded to snog each other until Milady pushed Y/N on the wall only for the said "wall" to be pushed open. Gasping both the princess and Milady forgot that they were in a closet.

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Princess Y/N's POV

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I can feel Milady's hands fiddle with my dress and unbutton it. I helped her pull it off. She took off her dress as well. I'm wearing a white lace bra and thong and she's wearing a plain black lace bra and thong. Milady removes hers also. 'Hod she's so beautiful,' I think to myself.

Milady pushes me to lay down on the bed and Milady lays down beside me since we were already out of the closet. She kisses my neck and gently bites my earlobe. I moan and run my hands through her hair. "Mmmm, Milady that feels so good," I moan.

Milady begins to kiss down my neck and my chest. She kisses the top of my breasts, teasing me. I almost feel like I'm going to explode. She makes her way to my breasts and begins to suck on my nipple. Milady is teasing me to the point of me losing control.

"Milady please," I groan

.

"Please what princess?" "Pleas-ahhh!" I moan loudly as Milady begins to suck harder and flick my nipple with her tongue. I'm on the brink of cumming so hard I don't know if I can handle it.

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Third Person's POV

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Milady switches sides with Y/N's other breast. Her left hand has glided down to Y/N's pussy, rubbing it at a decent speed. "Oh Milady!" Y/N moans out. Milady smirks at that.

Milady moves down to Y/N's thong. She runs her finger up and down Y/N's pussy before hooking her fingers in the underwear. Milady pulls the underwear down. "Ah Milady!" Y/N moans out in pleasure.

When the underwear is off, Milady gets on her knees between Y/N's legs and spreads them. She licks up the side of Y/N's pussy and when she reaches her clit she sucked hard while her middle finger enters Y/N's core.

Y/N's head fell back in the bed as two more digits entered her and as the pleasure Milady was giving her increases.

"Ah! Milady!" Y/N moans out and she arches her back.

Milady's tongue continues to fuck Y/N's pussy as her fingers pumps in and out of Y/N's pussy.

Y/N's breathing became uneven and her walls began to tighten around Milady's fingers. Milady begins to attack Y/N's clit even harder while using her other hand to toy with Y/N's nipple.

"OHHHH!" Y/N screams out as she squirts onto Milady.

"Holy shit," Milady whispers while looking up at Y/N. Her eyes look dazed and filled with lust. "That was amazing, Milady."

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Milady's POV

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I could feel Y/N's cum on my face but I could care less. Y/N's squirt is so addicting making me want to drink more.

"You're so sexy when you squirt princess," I say as I climb up Y/N's body, slowly kissing her.

Y/N grabs my head and kisses me back. Our tongues dance around each other once more. She swipes her tongue across my bottom lip and sucked my bottom lip into her mouth. I shiver at the sudden action she took.

I crawl on top of Y/N, but I don't move any further. We both stared at each other before Y/N wiggled her legs and wrapped them around my waist. I position myself right above her, my pussy above her pussy.

I grab one of her legs in my hand and set it on my shoulder. I bring my other hand to Y/N's face and rub her cheek. She looks at me with trust filled eyes. I slowly lower myself onto Y/N and I can feel my pussy get filled with the warmth of her pussy.

I begin to grind against Y/N, both of us are moaning at the amazing feeling. Y/N grabs both my breasts and begins to rub them. I can feel Y/N suck and lick my nipples. "Mmmm Milady fuck me please!" Y/N begs.

I begin to thrust into Y/N and I can feel her juices dripping down my thighs. I can also feel Y/N's juices drip onto my thigh. Both of us are so wet our sounds are loud against the quilt.

"Ah! Milady!" Y/N moans out. I can feel Y/N's walls tighten around my fingers. "Fuck!"

"Oh Y/N!" I moan out as I pull my fingers out and I come all over Y/N's stomach and chest. I collapse onto Y/N's and I kiss her. Y/N kisses back with so much passion.

"That was amazing, I never knew you

could have such a dirty mouth princess," Y/N said.

"I learned from the best," she says, her face a shade of red.

"Hmmm, well if you insist," I say with a smirk.

We burst out laughing as we lay there in sweaty, cum soaked sheets for a few minutes before I turned around to look at Y/N, "I love you princess."

"I love you too, Milady," she replies. I kiss her on the lips before getting up. I pull her out of the bed. "W-what are you doing?" Y/N asks.

"Come on, we have to get you cleaned up before one of your ladies in waiting and/or the guards notice your absence and send someone to come looking for you," I say as I grab her hand and carry her to the bathroom.

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Heyyy Lovelies! So that is all I have written so far. I was going to publish this a while back but wattpad has been bugging and won't let me update it so that's why it took a while apologies. I hope you liked it though. If you have any one shot suggestions please comment down below. Also just saw the movie 2 weeks ago and I've been rewatching since then. It's really good, Eva did such a good job at playing Milady. Can't wait for the second part of the movie. Anyways, thanks for reading and don't forget to drink your water and stay hydrated lovelies!