#live calligraphy presentation

[ak319]

Yan Regent Consort x fem reader

Headcanon

(Warnings: This story contains matriarchal themes, fem dom such as mpreg, fem dominated world, role reversal, and BXG pairing! Yes, it's a boy x girl, so don't interact if you are not comfortable!!)

Xu Junlai was a boy who held different roles in the eyes of others, son to some, friend to some, an object of admiration or envy to others. He was born into a family of five sons and two daughters. His mother, Xu Huang, served as a minister in the court, while his father, Xu... well, he wasn’t married into the Xu family, he was merely a concubine of Junlai’s mother. Because of this, Junlai never received familial love, not from his step-siblings and not even from his mother, who was always either too busy or uninterested in family matters. Her absence from his life gave his brothers free rein to treat him as they pleased.

His oldest sibling was his sister, Xu Tai, whom everyone feared. She didn’t particularly dote on him, but she maintained order in the household whenever she returned from her training and service in the army. Xu Tai had high ambitions for the country, aspiring one day to become a commander or much better a General. His other sister, Xu Ai, was studying to be a scholar; she was a year older than Junlai, who himself was the second youngest in the family.

Junlai had long learned that if he didn’t stand up for himself and speak for himself, he would live a life of misery and eventually die alone, perhaps with no one to mourn his passing. So, he did speak for himself when necessary. A hard life had forced him into this role. It wasn’t as if anyone liked him before, or that he had earned any respect, so what was there to lose?

He had passions that he quietly pursued, calligraphy, reading books, sneakily borrowing them from Tai’s library at the estate and, most importantly, dancing. Yet he was made fun of, and ridiculed for his interests.

“Your father was a prostitute, and you doing this seems to scream that you are on the same path. You disgrace,” his stepfather, Xu Fen, sneered. But his words never truly hurt Junlai.

“But your sons are learning such skills too. Are they on the same path?”

“THEY ARE NOT! They are doing that so that when the time arises, they will be presented to the court for the new Empress and her harem. That is where their skills will shine; being a Xu, that is inevitable. You, however…”

“Mother may not have married my father, but she openly acknowledged that I have been granted the name Xu.”

“So? What are you--oh--so you want to enter the court? That might be the funniest thing I’ve heard this week. Part of the reason your presence here is sometimes bearable. Have you seen yourself? There is nothing graceful about you, such venomous features, that blank face, eyes like a devil’s. You are someone any woman would avoid, not bed.” Fen’s cackles echoed in the distance as Junlai stood in the garden, his usual blank expression firmly in place.

The court? But he didn’t desire any of that. That was a life of hell. As if my life is better now... Harem or no harem, at least he could demonstrate his skills and take a jab at his useless brothers. Perhaps that was the most thrilling part of it all. There was absolutely no chance that an Empress or even the Emperor Dowager would allow the son of a prostitute to enter the harem.

So, Junlai practised night after night, in the empty hall that felt both sacred and suffocating. The flickering candles cast shadows that danced like ghosts on the walls, whispering secrets of long-forgotten elegance. The sound of anklets chimed like distant bells, while the rustle of silken fabric filled the air, wrapping around him like a lover’s embrace. In the dim light, his body became a fluid extension of art, each movement imbued with a haunting beauty that could draw anyone into his graceful orbit. And perhaps, just perhaps, the voice that emerged from his lips was powerful enough to ensnare even the coldest of hearts.

But one fateful night, when he miraculously received permission from his mother to join the ceremony, everything changed. Three of his brothers discovered him lost in his usual routine, an ethereal vision in the half-light. As always, he expected their laughter, their scorn, but no... that night, the hall, once a sanctuary, transformed into a chamber of horrors.

Instead of melodies, the air was filled with his screams as they pinned him down, the laughter of his brothers echoing like a dark symphony. They poured scalding water over his feet, the pain searing through him, brutal and unrelenting--just a week before the ceremony.

═════ ◈ ═════

The day of the ceremony arrived, and you, the new Empress, had only been on the throne for a year after successfully defeating your sisters for the throne. However you were overwhelmed by the throng of men entering your court, you sat in silence, your mind already planning the next day's work while subtly noting the movements and behaviours of your court members.

The musical festivities began, likely your father's favorite part, as it allowed him to exert his influence over the affairs of the men. You had little energy to deal with such trivialities, and the classification of men in this way unsettled you. Your mother was deeply involved in it all, and you loathed the thought of it.

"Those are the sons of the Xu family, good-looking, aren't they?" your father remarked, his voice dripping with expectation. Your head snapped to his direction, and for a fleeting moment, you glanced at the display before you.

“Um, yes,” you replied, your tone devoid of enthusiasm.

Your father internally rolled his eyes at your lacklustre response. You might have bedded a few men and have a son with one of the concubines, but it was clear you weren’t taking any of them seriously. 'This idiot daughter of mine, clearly not worried about not having an heir still. By now your mother would have had three-'

"They came for you, so at least enjoy it a bit. If you prefer any changes, the music, the dance-"

"It's fine, Father. It's fine."

You granted your approval to Xu Huang in the end, an honest minister in your eyes, someone even your mother trusted. Her daughter, Tai, was a formidable warrior, perhaps the first to impress you with her skills.

As dinner commenced, no one anticipated the doors to swing open once more. A lone figure stepped into the hall, drawing everyone's attention, including yours. He was slender, his long hair tousled—surprisingly beautiful even in such disarray. Those eyes of his, empty yet hauntingly deep, bore into yours with an intensity that both intrigued and unsettled you.

His walk was seductive yet exuded an aura of defeat and determination. Silence enveloped the hall, a palpable tension as he stood in the centre, commanding attention. That’s when you noticed his feet, bare and crimson. You were certain that if you looked closer, you would see the dark stains of blood marring his skin.

It felt as though the entire court was holding its breath, waiting for you to question him. Just then, you caught the whisper of Xu Huang, “Son…” from her seat a few feet away.

Her son?

"Are you... Xu’s son?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued.

He nodded.

“Um--your Majesty, he was sick, so he couldn't perform earlier, although his name was registered on the list by me…” Xu Huang explained, her voice steady yet tinged with concern. You responded with a curt nod, your mind racing.

“If you are sick, then you shouldn’t be here,” you asserted, a protective instinct rising within you. You were certain the sickness plagued his feet. There was no way you would allow him to dance under such conditions.

“I want to dance,” he replied, his voice challenging and unwavering.

The spark in his tone caught you off guard. What an odd boy...

“Very well. Then do. I would like to see you dance,” you commanded, a blend of intrigue fluttering in your chest

“Your Majes-” Xu Huang began, but your glare silenced her immediately.

“Begin.”

As the sounds of the pipa and hulusi filled the hall, an almost electric hush fell over the audience. Everyone shifted their attention from their meals to the boy dancing, his presence so captivating that even your father, Wang Hua, sat bewildered. A simmering anger brewed within him as he grappled with his own intrigue. Are you seriously interested in him?

Though Hua possessed some knowledge about the boy, witnessing the fluidity and artistry of his dance made those thoughts melt away. Junlai moved as if in a trance, each motion a hauntingly beautiful expression that stirred something deep within you. The performance was mesmerizing, drawing you into a world that felt both ethereal and painfully real.

The only glimmer of envy and fury came from Junlai’s own brother and step-father, their faces twisted in disdain as they seethed at the spectacle before them. Even the blood that dripped from Junlai’s feet onto the glass-like floor seemed to only heighten their ire. They couldn’t maintain your gaze for even a moment, while Junlai seemed to command the room effortlessly, as if reigning over it with merely a flick of his wrist.

As the final echoes of Junlai’s performance faded, your ears, now deprived of the boy’s beautiful voice, were met once again with a profound silence that enveloped the hall.

Junlai stood with his gaze cast down, a picture of humility, while you rose from the podium, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. A ripple of anticipation swept through the crowd, their eyes wide with curiosity about what would unfold next. To your surprise, the boy barely flinched as you stood before him, towering over his slight frame.

“Name?” you inquired, your voice steady.

“Junlai,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And who did this to you...?” You leaned closer, searching his eyes for the truth.

His neutral gaze met yours, and you sensed a flicker of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior.

“People... whom I would rather not talk about on such a glorious day... a day for you, my Majesty.” He lowered himself in a respectful bow, his head tilting downward, yet his posture remained defiantly graceful.

“Is that so...?” you mused, glancing at Naun, your attendant, who stood discreetly behind a pillar to your left. She nodded subtly, understanding the unspoken command in your gaze.

This boy not only is now part of your harem but...your choice for the night.

You were resolute, you would not entertain the other sons of the Xu family. What need had you for them? Junlai’s dance eclipsed all of theirs combined, a testament to his raw talent and spirit. You were not greedy, you simply sought the best. And he was not only the best but also intriguingly peculiar, a captivating boy you were eager to indulge in and explore further.

As you crawled on top of him, Junlai had been cleaned and prepared for your gaze, yet a small part of you missed his disheveled appearance, the wild, untamed beauty that spoke of his struggles. You soothed yourself with the reminder that he would soon return to that captivating state.

“When I asked you about the culprits, you didn’t name them. You don’t want me to punish them?” you murmured, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek, relishing the softness of his skin as he leaned into your rough hand.

“But you already have... by choosing me,” he replied, a hint of defiance in his voice. You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep and rich. “You are... something, you know. I have never encountered a boy like you... but I always wanted to.”

“I never wanted this... to be in the bed of an empress, in her harem, but here I am…” His words hung in the air, laced with a surprising confidence. Something about you made him bold enough to voice such thoughts. You didn’t seem as cold and cruel as the whispers suggested, those comparisons to your mother fading in the warmth of his gaze.

Your deep chuckle reverberated against his neck, sending shivers coursing through his body. “Oh, how lucky I am then. More fortunate than any empress, for having caught you.” You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes, searching for the flicker of fear, but finding only intrigue. “Being in a harem means being mine, and I take care of what I own.”

“Do you fear me, Junlai?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “You should...."

His heart raced at the challenge in your tone. “I don’t fear you, your Majesty. I only fear what I might become under your rule,” he replied, daring to meet your intense gaze.

“Ah, but isn’t that the thrill of it all?” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing tantalizingly against his ear as you spoke. A gasp left his plump lips as you nibbled on it.

Junlai’s breath quickened as your gaze pierced into him, as if you were seeing not just the boy he was but the depths of his soul. The air thickened with an intoxicating blend of fear and desire. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, enveloping him in a cocoon of both safety and peril.

Your fingers danced down his arm, tracing delicate patterns that ignited his skin, setting his nerves alight. Junlai's breath hitched as he felt the heat of your body press against him, a heady mix of power and vulnerability.

“Do you see how beautifully broken you are?” you continued, your voice low and mesmerizing.

Junlai felt the walls around his heart tremble, caught in the magnetic pull of your words. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the challenge now tinged with uncertainty.

“Everything.” Your lips curled into a wicked smile, a promise of the chaos to come. “I want your loyalty, your obedience, and most importantly, your heart. I will not only keep you in my harem, I will make you my most cherished treasure.”

As you leaned closer again, your lips tantalizingly brushing against his, he could feel the weight of your intentions, his robe being done deftly by your rough fingers. “Now, are you ready to dance for me?” you asked, your eyes glinting with mischief and hunger."

Junlai nodded, a flicker of excitement igniting within him. At that moment, he was no longer just a boy marked by pain, he was a dancer, ready to twirl and leap into the unknown, to be claimed by you.

═════ ◈ ═════

Junlai sat in the veranda, gazing out at the distant mountains with a forlorn expression, his slender fingers tapping absently on the polished wooden rail. Though the quarters designated for the favored concubine were lavish, adorned with silks and priceless porcelain, the space felt hollow without you. If only he could give you a daughter, the coveted title of consort would be his. The thought flitted through his mind like an unreachable dream. And yet, as the days stretched into months, it was your absence that gnawed at him, leaving him restless and aching.

God, when would you return from the campaign? Two months had passed, each day heavier than the last. He endured the whispers, and the scorn from the other concubines who mocked him for his damaged feet, but he bore it all without flinching. He knew you valued him for his skill, his grace, the things that went beyond mere perfection. You had appointed the empire's finest healers to tend to him, a silent reassurance that he still held a place in your heart.

Even the Emperor Dowager, shrewd and discerning, seemed to favour him, perhaps because he respected his daughter's choices or was mesmerized by his art. Either way, his endorsement granted him a measure of safety within the harem’s hostile world. And yet, safety was far from his mind. He spent sleepless nights worrying about you, imagining the dangers you might face, each possible harm a dagger in his chest. His own safety meant nothing if you were not there, by his side, safe and triumphant. He danced in the empty hall , every night, all night even. His gaze at the marble wall at the end, imagining you sitting in your throne watching his performance. Every word, every step a testimony for your longing. If anyone else saw him at night , they would be scared for their life.

A boy dancing as if he was possessed.

What had he become? Another lovesick boy, a fool just like his father, infatuated, aching, lost to his devotion. He had once vowed never to become so vulnerable, and yet here he was, the intensity of his love binding him more than duty or obligation ever could. He used to revel in this power, at first motivated by pride, even defiance, to show his brothers that he had won something they could never touch. But now, with every beat of his heart, every drop of his blood, he was wholly, helplessly, irrevocably yours.

Although not long ago, one significant shift rippled through the palace, Xu Tai, the skilled warrior whose loyalty you trusted, was now appointed as General. Junlai took comfort in this news. His sister's allegiance was unwavering, and her impressive abilities spoke for themselves. You chose her for her skill and integrity, qualities Junlai respected, and even admired from afar. He knew that with Tai at the helm, your interests, and your life, were in capable hands.

He hadn’t anticipated finding peace in such a development, yet knowing Tai held this position gave him a strange sense of relief. However when he just received a letter from Tai herself, that sense of relief seemed to diminish.

You had been poisoned by an arrow at the battlefield. Thankfully the physician present did their best to take it out but it was unknown if you would come back alive. The news was also sent to the Emperor and eventually spread over the harem and then the country.

The news struck the palace like a tempest. Word spread first as whispers in dimly lit corridors, then as gasps behind silken fans, until eventually, the rumours became cries of despair from every corner of the empire. The Empress has been poisoned, they said, her life teetering on the edge. The harem held its breath, the concubines offering quiet prayers. Yet amidst them all, Junlai felt as though his entire world had shattered.

Days passed in agonizing limbo, and Junlai clung to any scrap of information he could gather. The air in his chambers grew thick with dread, the whispers of the other concubines like needles against his skin. Would she return? Could she survive this? He tried to still his racing heart, to banish the wretched possibilities that plagued him day and night, but his mind clung stubbornly to images of your pale face, the way you looked as he’d last seen you, strong, assured, untouchable.

But now, you were mortal. Wounded. Vulnerable.

He’d never felt so powerless. Each night he would sit in the garden, his injured feet barely feeling the cold stone beneath them as he gazed at the stars, praying fervently for your safety. Let her come back to me, he whispered into the darkness. Take my health, my strength, take anything you want, but let her live.

The news of the looming threat reached the palace in the dead of night, casting a shadow over an already grief-stricken palace. The Chief Minister summoned her closest advisors including Xu Huang, the walls of the council chamber echoing with grave voices as they strategized. The Wei Dynasty had betrayed them, their forces striking not only on the battlefield but now threatening the heart of the empire, taking advantage of your absence. This insidious plot was spearheaded by the rebel leader Guo Wang, a lecherous woman of ruthless ambition and bloodthirsty intent. Her name alone sent ripples of fear through the court, her reputation for savagery preceding her.

The capital was left vulnerable in a way it hadn’t been for years. With Tai, your most loyal and capable General, at your side on the battlefield, and your position as Empress left temporarily vacant, the capital was guarded only by lesser warriors and the remaining commanders, a force barely sufficient for an ambush of this scale.

Junlai’s despair deepened. He had kept his composure in the wake of your injury, holding fast to the hope that you would return to him. But now the looming threat to the capital turned that sorrow into fear and fury. He knew what would come if Guo Wang breached the palace walls, the carnage that woman would wreak upon all in her path. The court, the innocents of the capital, and, he shuddered, the vulnerable harem.

He understood now what his sister had never fully articulated, the key to victory was not in repeating the old ways, but in disrupting the enemy's expectations. And Guo Wang’s forces? They would be expecting the standard defences. They would expect the palace to hide behind walls, women in armour standing guard at every gate. That was their mistake. Junlai knew better. But being a man and more so a mere consort was something that Junlai couldn't change. Nobody would listen to him. Two weeks left before the Guo reaches them even if Tai had sent for backup to the capital, it would have taken them a bit longer to get here.

No, he would not let this slide. The audacity to kill you , trying to take you AWAY FROM HIM!?. He will fucking lay corpses upon corpses of these disgusting pieces of filth. He will BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!

"I will not rest until I see you fall, Guo Wang..."

═════ ◈ ═════

"Mother, please. Trust me. You have to listen-"

"Your only job is to stay here, in the harem, and bear her children! Leave the military and court decisions to the court and the Empress."

Xu Huang froze, his chest tightening at the cold dismissal. His mother, ever so pragmatic, always intent on keeping him within the narrow boundaries of what was deemed acceptable for someone of his position. But tonight, he couldn’t bear it anymore. The years of suffocating silence, the weight of expectations that had been placed on him, all of it came crashing down in a wave of defiance.

"BUT I AM DOING THIS FOR THE EMPRESS!" His voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving. Xu Huang recoiled as if struck, the shock of his outburst still fresh in the air. But his fury only seemed to fuel him further. "Her Majesty’s court, her harem... I will not let some barbarian come in and tear it all apart. And don’t forget it, Mother!" He took a step forward, his voice thick with venom, his eyes burning with a passion he hadn’t allowed himself to show before. The tears were a mask, barely held together by his pride.

"I WILL protect her, and I WILL protect this dynasty."

He let his words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of their implications. He stood taller now, a dangerous glint in his eye, as he moved closer, letting the venomous truth seep into every syllable. "As for bearing children, oh sure, I will. But I won’t do it for you. I’ll do it for ME. For MY future. I’ll be elevated, not you. You will always remain a slave to the system, while I may one day be a part of the Wang dynasty. And you know what that could mean." His voice dropped to a low, almost mocking tone. "How do you think Tai became the General? If I can place someone on the board, I can just as easily toss them out."

There was a flicker of uncertainty in Xu Huang’s eyes at the mention of Tai, but it was quickly masked. He knew the truth, he had no such influence, but the bluff was enough. It was enough to make his mother tremble. The stoic, unflinching woman who had held him back his entire life now looked unsure, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if seeking something to steady herself.

"What are you proposing?" Her voice, cold as ever, betrayed the slight quiver in her tone. She had heard his words, but was she truly willing to listen?

Junlai smirked, the edge of triumph curling at the corners of his lips. "Now, we are talking."

═════ ◈ ═════

Junlai had always been more than just a skilled dancer; his mind was a sharp, calculating instrument that never ceased its relentless pursuit of efficiency and innovation. While the others focused on traditional warfare, the old strategies, sieging, ambushing, and brute force, Junlai saw only limitations. What he needed was an advantage that would catch their enemies off guard, something that no one had considered. The answer, as it often was, lay in nature.

Birds.

The idea came to him one evening while he watched the flock of crows circling above the harem. Their wings cutting through the air with precision, their effortless movement, a pattern of chaos within perfect order. It wasn't just the birds that caught his attention, but the fact that they held the power to burn.

In the markets, there had been whispers of incendiary techniques used by distant lands, fire-starting mechanisms using birds trained to carry torches. The court dismissed this concept as superstition, yet to Junlai, it was a brilliant, unrecognised weapon.

Junlai would need to launch the birds at night when the enemy's defences were at their weakest. The element of surprise would be vital, he knew that as soon as the birds were released, they would need to fly directly to their targets, avoiding the natural predators and the dangers of interception. So he had the women train them, following his instructions.

He took advantage of the dark sky, the birds’ natural night-flying abilities, to send them directly into the heart of Guo Wang’s camp. The wind, as if in cooperation with his plan, would be at their backs, ensuring that the fires would spread faster.

The moment the birds were released, the chaos began.

As the trained crows took flight, their wings slicing through the air like silent messengers of destruction, the fire lit up, first softly, then raging. Guo Wang's forces had no warning, no time to react. They watched in horror as the embers from above ignited their tents, their supplies, and worst of all, their weapons.

The women who had been enlisted as fighters, strong in their defiance but unprepared for such an assault, panicked as the fire spread, consuming their weapons and armour. Their leaders scrambled, but the flames had already done the work. The camp was ablaze, confusion and terror rippling through the ranks. The birds had burned their half camp, crippled their supply chain, and taken away the one thing they held most precious, control.

Thus, it made it easier for the soldiers to attack Guo's forces and easily win. Junlai watched with pride as he saw Guo's head impaled and being paraded around inside the castle's walls. A perfect homecoming gift for you. A gift to prove that he was not just a man in your harem, but someone who would do anything to ensure your reign remained unchallenged. Which made him again fall into a pit of worry for your return.

"Her Majesty has returned!" one of the attendants announced, her voice echoing down the hall.

Junlai stood in the corridor of the harem, his heart pounding in his chest. He had not realized how much he had missed you until the news arrived, that you were finally returning from the battlefield, victorious, but at a terrible cost. The victory meant nothing if it came at the cost of your well-being.

He watched from the shadows with along with other concubines as you entered, your face a bit pale but overall with no less than a sturdy and imperial aura. Your steps echoed in the hall as you greeted your father, your son and for a fleeting moment, met his gaze.

His mind was torn between wanting to rush to you and knowing that you would hate such an open display. So, he waited, watching, every fibre of his being aching to be near you.

And you called him finally, after two painful days.

"I... Your Majesty," Junlai's voice cracked slightly, betraying his calm facade. He couldn't hide the flood of emotions that coursed through him, the concern, the longing, the worry. He took another step closer, his voice low, "You came back... but how long will it take until you're truly well again?"

You always held yourself in such high regard, and the idea of being seen as anything less than the Empress was a bitter pill to swallow.

"I am better," you said, your tone firm, but Junlai could see the exhaustion etched into your features. "The battle was won, and my soldiers did well. That's enough for me."

Junlai stood in front of you now, so close that he could reach out and touch you if he dared. His gaze softened even further, and for a moment, the two of you simply stood there, him staring into your eyes, his heart heavy with the thoughts he didn’t dare speak aloud. Then he was finally graced with your embrace causing him to breakdown.

"Whatever it takes. Just... don’t push yourself too hard. You need rest." He whispered getting his act together.

You gestured for him to sat beside you on the bed. "I heard from Father...about what you did." He gulped, his form of being just...a boy in love under your gaze.

"I... I just... couldn't-- I had to! I did it all in fear of what might... happen..." You raised his chin.

"You didn't do it for love, then?"

"Of course I did! I did it for you only!" He grasped your hand against his cheek, his eyes filling with tears, his voice breaking at every word. "You... have no idea... what... torture it was for me to live after knowing that happened to you... my Queen. It was worse than death itself."

A hint of a smile graced your lips. "I am proud of you. I am... proud of my choice too..." You gazed lovingly at his face and wiped his tears, pulling his frail body to your chest. "Tai told me you... always had an interest in warfare... sneaked in to read her books."

His heart stopped. His sister... knew? All this time... she did? Yet she...

"Um... I--- yes." His whole body shivered when your deep chuckle traveled to every cell in his body.

"I have made a... decision."

His hands fisted your tunic in anticipation. "You will be the Regent consort here when I am away. You will manage the harem, manage the safety of the capital, it's people. Charities and all."

Junlai’s heart skipped a beat. His initial instinct was to deny, to say that it was nothing, that he just did his duty and wanted nothing more than to be a mere slave to your love. But the way you spoke to him with a glint of respect, of something more than just duty, it made him pause.

You saw him. Truly saw him.

He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the trembling in his hands, the heat in his chest. Regent consort. The title echoed in his mind like a promise, like a dream he had never dared to imagine. No man had ever had it...it didn't even exist until now. He would be the first man in history to have that. He will be known by every generation to come..

"But--but I... I don't deserve it," he stammered, the weight of your approval sinking into him. "I am... only a concubine, someone who had no right to such a role. You shouldn't place such responsibility on me."

You leaned closer, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a tender gesture, lifting his gaze with a gentle but firm pressure. "You don’t need to deserve it, Junlai," you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of your conviction. "You have already proven your loyalty, your cunning, and your heart."

You emphasized with a small but significant shift in tone, "You are my mind in the harem. You will ensure that my absence does not shake the foundations of this dynasty. You will stand guard over the people, the capital... everything I’ve worked for."

Junlai’s hands clenched tighter around your tunic as he processed the weight of your words. The enormity of the role, the responsibility, it was almost too much. But the way you spoke, the way you believed in him, gave him a strength he didn’t know he had.

"Are you afraid?" you asked, your voice soft but direct, your eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his knees weak.

He paused, feeling a swirl of emotions churn in his chest. Fear. Desire. Ambition. Hope. They all mixed together until he couldn’t tell where one feeling ended and another began. But he was honest with you, always. "Yes," he said simply. "I am afraid. But if it means standing by your side... I will do whatever it takes."

You smiled at him, a slow, dangerous smile that made his breath catch in his throat. "Good," you said, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a low murmur and pulled him in for a gentle kiss.

He had never imagined that the harem would become more than just a gilded cage. He had never imagined that he would be the one trusted to hold the reins when you were away. But now, it felt like everything was changing.

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only a quiet confidence that he knew, deep down, was meant for him.

"I won’t let you down," he whispered, his voice steady with determination, even as the weight of his new role settled over him like a mantle. "I will protect everything you’ve built, Empress. And I will make sure that no one dares challenge your rule."

You let out a satisfied sigh, your fingers trailing down the length of his arm as you leaned back, taking in the sight of him, your trusted consort, your mind in the harem.

His eyes softened, and for the first time since the battle, since everything had changed, he felt a flicker of peace settle in his chest. There was no going back now. But for the first time, he didn’t want to. He had you. And that was all that mattered.

Junlai leaned into you then, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath steadying as he let himself savor the moment, the moment where everything shifted, where he was no longer just a boy in your harem but the one who would protect everything you held dear.

Though, he mustn't forget one last thing~~

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"Ju-nlai?" Xu Fen stammered, his face twisting into an expression of disbelief. The boy, no, the boy, who once knelt before him, who had suffered beneath his cruelty, now stood in front of him as a figure that exuded nothing but cold authority. The sight rattled Fen to his core.

Junlai’s gaze locked onto him, dead and distant, as though he were staring through him. “I came to meet my brothers,” he said, his voice as calm as the still waters of a lake, but carrying the weight of a storm hidden just beneath the surface.

“Oh really? Why is that?” Fen’s words dripped with thinly veiled disdain, though his insides were anything but calm. He took a cautious step backward, uncertain of what Junlai intended. The boy had always been an afterthought, a lesser player in the family’s schemes. But that had changed, and Fen knew it.

Junlai’s eyes flickered over the room, moving like cold knives, and finally settled on the women standing behind him. His gaze was hollow, merciless. “Are you going to bring them out, or...?" His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. He wasn’t asking, he was commanding. His tone had a chilling finality, as though the fate of everyone in that room rested solely in his hands now.

Fen felt the air constrict around him, the tension thickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, unable to hide his discomfort. With a reluctant sigh and a sour expression, he turned on his heel and went to summon the others, though it pained him to do so. He knew it was futile to resist. The man who stood in his mansion now was not the boy he had once controlled but something far more dangerous.

Minutes passed, each one dragging as Fen stood nervously, but when the Xu brothers arrived, they entered with a mixture of curiosity and defiance. They were offended, of course, by Junlai’s sudden appearance, but there was a deeper undercurrent of fear in their eyes

"Same as always..." Junlai murmured to himself, but his smile, if it could even be called that, was something else entirely. It was a sharp, knowing grin, filled with something dangerous. His voice rose, becoming almost melodic in its dark amusement. "Which is going to make it more fun!"

For the first time in the Xu household, the black sheep of the family, Junlai, let out a laugh, but it was no ordinary laugh. It was a hollow, manic laugh that seemed to echo off the walls. The sound was unsettling, almost inhuman, a reminder of the twisted journey that had led him to this moment.

Junlai’s eyes never left them as he spoke again, his voice low and chilling. “You see… I’ve come to remind you what happens when you think you can break me. You’ve burned me before… but now, I’m going to return the favour.”

Fen’s heart skipped a beat. He had always thought he could control Junlai, keep him beneath his bootheel. He had been wrong.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to understand what it feels like.”

It took one subtle gesture from Junlai and the guards moved quickly, and efficiently, grabbing the Xu brothers and laying them down on the floor. Their hands were bound, their legs spread wide, and Junlai’s eyes glinted with a dangerous gleam as he stepped closer, his boots making a soft but deliberate thud with each step. The room seemed to grow colder.

"No--p-please...forgive them...NO! I BEG YOU!" Fen's voice mixed with his son's pleas as well which earned him a slap from Junlai. That was all it took to reduce them to sobs and whimpers.

"Shut your fucking mouth, whore. And watch." He dug his hands into Fen's hair and steadied him beside himself. "Look, how cute they look." He giggled.

The guard poured more water onto the brothers' feet, the boiling liquid now bubbling and splashing as it engulfed their limbs. The screams grew louder, desperate. One of the brothers jerked against his restraints, his body writhing in pain, but there was nowhere to go. Fen could hear their flesh sizzling, the sound of raw skin peeling and blistering under the scalding heat. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He had put them through this once before. Now it was his turn to witness the consequences. God, he always loved fire and its power. In fact, he began to see himself in it. Agile, dangerous, unyielding and most importantly, passionate when it came to you.

Fen watched, trembling, as the heat of the water burned into the skin of his sons. Junlai stood tall, his form casting a long shadow over the brothers writhing in pain, and spoke in a voice that resonated with unrelenting authority: “Let this be a reminder, boys." As he turned to leave, his guards following behind him, the sound of his laughter lingered in the air, a dark, triumphant melody that filled the hearts of those who heard it with dread.

Now is the turn of some concubines who have been acting up recently in your absence. Surely, they won't mind a little visit, right?

"Everyone stresses out your father soo much, don't they?" He cooed , caressing his flat abdomen as he settled in the carriage.

Nevertheless, it's all entertainment for him.

[damnfeelings09]

Who'd have known? - Shadow's version

A.N: Hello! been in a little writters block and finally pulled myself out of it thanks to @dayoftearsandmourning lovely request so this one goes specially for her (I hope it's what u wanted)I hadn't heard this song before but it's so cute an fluffy so I hope I made justice. Also yes I know Rouge is not (yet) on the SMU (sonic movie universe) but I dont care.

Shadow felt comfortable, welcoming the warmth in his chest, his muscles relaxing allowing himself to drift away, something that only happened when he was with you, even while doing the most mundane things like sitting next to you watching your favorite show. Shadow had stopped paying attention to the TV, fixing his attention on you noticing every change in your expression, the little smile peeking out of your lips, the flutter of your eyelashes, the way you puckered your nose when the main character got into trouble. He noticed how you hugged your torso, the cold of the night becoming present, without thinking, without planning it, he placed his arm around your shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing between you.

“…Put your arm around my shoulder And it was as if the room got colder”

The gesture did not go unnoticed by you. The warmth flooding your cheeks painting them pink, you enjoyed his company and certainly enjoyed his touch making circles on your shoulder. From time to time you would turn around and explain something about the chapter you were watching, Shadow would listen to you attentively but prayed that you wouldn't ask him what he thought because he would have to admit that he was lost in the sound of your voice just like that first time he saw you.

“I didn't know where this was going…”

Months ago, when Shadow had just arrived to live in Green Hills, at the request of Sonic and his friends, in a quiet morning walk in town he found a small cafeteria, it looked cozy and the sweet vanilla scent mixed with coffee gave him the courage to open the door.

You were arranging the desserts on the sideboard, when you heard the bell announcing a new customer, returning to your place at the counter, finding dark spikes and red tips, you lowered your gaze a little, crimson eyes looking back at you.  “Hello! What can I get you started today?” your smile warm and gentle, something Shadow was not so used to since he had come to live with the wackausky.

“Coffe,” he says, placing his hands on the counter.

“Sure thing, what kind of-?”

“Beans.” he cut you off.

“Oh… that's new. Let me see what I can do.” you walked to the back opening a new bag of coffe beans for the machine and putting em on a small plastic bag adding a sticky note to it. “What's your name?”

“Shadow?” he said in a questioning tone, not really understanding why you wanted to know.

“Okay, here you go Shadow, enjoy” you handed him the bag. Shadow took it, leaving a five dollar bill on the counter as he turned to leave “Come back anytime!” you say enthusiastically.

On the way back to the Wackausky's Shadow found his name written in beautiful calligraphy along with a smiley face. At the time he didn't understand why, but his heart had been turned upside down.

“I haven't left you for days now And I'm becoming amazed how You're quite affectionate in public”

It wasn't the first time you had spent time together, much less the first time Shadow had stayed at your house, yet the buzzing of Shadows mind was not leaving him alone, has it always been like this? Being... so close? In his mind he went over all those dates was that what they were? That you had had, the moments you had shared, comparing them with what was happening, however to him it seemed... the same. Nothing had changed between you, so why did he feel that something was going on? Why did the scent of your shampoo feel sweeter than usual? Why did you look prettier than usual under the warm light?

Shadow was in a lot of trouble, he couldn't figure out what had happened to you, why something felt different when he was near you, why his hands were shaking when he was next to you, why he was staring at you so hard when you put balm on your lips? he didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could do given the situation. Go to Rouge.

“What could possibly be? Perhaps I'm sick” he said as he paced back and forth with his hand cupping his chin “Nonsense, I am the ultimate lifeform, I can't get sick.”

“In fact your friend said it made her feel sick And even though it's moving forward There's just the right amount of awkward”

“Oh gods” said Rouge smacking his forehead with her hand “You're a fool Shadow, but you're cute so I'll forgive you. You’re not sick but you might as well be blind. You’re in love.

“In… love?” he said in a questioning tone “No, I don't understand what you're talking about.”

“You like her Shadow and it's so obvious to everyone that I'm surprised she hasn't noticed yet. Especially with that little dance you do whenever she's around.” Dancing? No Shadow didn't dance, she barely knew how to move her arms “You know, when you circle around her while she's cooking?”

“But I... I don't-” he said trying to defend himself.

“Oh my... you are really oblivious.”

Circling? What did Rouge mean by that? You and Shadow were... friends, yes, good friends. He liked spending time with you, listening to you talk about the new dessert recipes you would try in the cafeteria and what your childhood had been like in your grandmother's bakery and yes it was true that he constantly found himself walking in circles across the kitchen with you in the middle, but that was just his way of passing the time while you were concentrating on your work, wasn't it? You were just very nice, kind and always had a smile for him. Shadow loved your details like his bag of coffee beans every day waiting for him or the notes wishing him good morning, they made him feel special and he’d be lying if he said he hadn't noticed the recent appearance of hearts around his name on every note. But that's all it was, right?

“You told your friends, they all know We exist but we're taking it slow Let's just see how it goes”

Slow but steady you had fallen for him too. Too scared to accept your feelings, you didn't know if Shadow shared what you did and you didn't want to ruin his friendship over a simple crush. Except it wasn't just a crush, you constantly found yourself thinking about him, buying things just because they reminded you of him, longing for the clock to move faster to the number 9, for that was the time Shadow always arrived at the coffee shop.

The doorbell rang and as if your prayers had been answered there stood the hedgehog you so longed to see. Shadow had a frown on his face, as if he was worried about something, next to him Rouge was whispering in his ear.

“Hey guys!” you said coming out from the counter to greet them giving them a kiss on the cheek as was your custom. Shadow blushed as he felt your lips on his muzzle, averting his gaze to the new decorations you had added to the cafeteria. The painting of a reddish comet streaking across the sky among the stars hung high above their heads. Shadow admired the painting beside you.

“I like it”

“So do I, it made me think of you” you said without thinking. The curiosity present in Shadow “Cause... you were a star lighting up the sky, bringing your brightness to where it's needed.” Red cheeks on your face as you spoke “you okay?” you said as you noticed Shadow hiding his head in his hands, a soft click click click coming from him.

“Are you mine? Are you mine? 'Cause I stay here all the time”

“These two are going to need more help than I thought,” Rouge thought.

That's how we arrived at this moment, both of you sitting on the park bench watching the sunset. A bouquet of yellow and lavender flowers on your lap. He had done just what Rouge had advised “take her somewhere nice, buy some flowers and confess your feelings”, except he was having trouble with the last part. For the first time in his life he felt... unsure, what if it was all in his mind? What if Rouge was wrong? Shadow couldn't bear to lose someone special, not again.

“This feels so good” you said leaning into him, your head on his you felt his body stiffen against your touch, your little finger on his hand seeking to intertwine your fingers with his. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or the dizziness your scent gave him, maybe it was the lavender haze in his mind, but somehow he found the courage to speak.

“I... I like you.”

“I like you too Shadow.”

“No, I mean, I-I think I love you.”

“Who'd have known? Who'd have known? When you flash up on my phone I no longer feel alone Let's just stay, let's just stay”

You looked at him, your face tilted to one side and a slight blush starting to grow as the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine this would happen but as you tried to keep it cool you couldn't help but let a small smile creep across your face as Shadow confessed his feelings. “I think I love you too” you said intertwining your fingers with his as if a promise had been sealed between the two of you.

“Now let's just see how it goes Let's see how it goes”

[eunandonly]

contemplating : love, friendships and theories of time

୨୧ ; fate is a strange concept, isn’t it? because park sunghoon was the last person you had expected to see in your philosophy lecture in uni

pairing! philosophymajor!sunghoon x philosophymajor!reader | wc. 0.8k | warnings: wrong philosophy info, prob cringe EN-

🖇️ : philosophy major sunghoon SKDKDKSK. also, to the girly who asked for a uni fic for the science and maths girls, i hope you’re looking forward to my sunoo uni fic ~

you and sunghoon go WAYYYY back

he was your neighbour in that little picturesque town you both lived in, your mum's friend's annoying son who always seemed to be loitering around at your house

you thought your mum adopted him or smth bc why was he at your house more than his own?? — more under cut!!

you used to tease him about being homeless back in the days

but yk you two were best friends

but you and sunghoon kind of just drifted apart in high school after he moved during his freshman year at high school

you see his instagram posts sometimes, pictures of him out with his friends, jawline still jawlining

you sometimes even scroll down to his older posts where you are present in his photos, smiling next to him with a wide braces smile

but you never thought you would cross paths with park sunghoon again

that is, until university.

you walk into your first philosophy lecture and oh look there he is

park sunghoon sitting in one of the corners with his notebook looking like the exact definition of brooding intellectual

what is that guy doing here WHY IS HE HERE?

you two recognise each other instantly but there's this moment of awkwardness

like "oh, do you remember when we used to steal each other's snacks in 5th grade?"

except now he's all grown up, wearing wireframe glasses and quoting descartes during class discussions

you just try to focus on your lecture but you can't really forget about sunghoon being in your philosophy lecture

oh yeah, and he looks x100 hotter than you remember WHAT'S GOING ON

puberty hit him hard

after the lecture, you're about to pack your stuff and leave as soon as you can but he just strides up to you with his obnoxiously long legs

you always hated his stupid long legs you always had to run to catch up

you're certain he walked faster on purpose to leave you behind

ANYWAYS sunghoon just says long time no see in that smooth voice of his.

he's polite, maybe a bit shy, but there's a hint of a smile on his face and it's almost like the years of not seeing each other disappears

you two start hanging out more- grabbing coffee together before 8AM morning lectures designed to kill university students, studying together in the library

your mum is also really happy to hear that you've met sunghoon

you always knew she liked him better than you.

but you guys only get closer on a fateful thursday morning as you’re making your way to your morning lecture

because sunghoon is standing in the courtyard with a baby kitten in his arms whilst panicking

“y/n this cat keeps following me and she doesn’t have a mum.”

ofc you need to take it in SHE’S SO CUTE

you end up skipping lectures and spending the entire day with sunghoon to bring the cat to the vet and buy food

sunghoon wants to name the cat descartes but you veto that immediately

by the day is over, you have a kitten named mochi with sunghoon as a co-parent

now you’re seeing him all the time bc guess who has joint custody over mochi??

ok but spending time with sunghoon isn't as hard as you thought it would be

like yes he moved without a word and practically ghosted you in highschool

but it all feels really natural WHO CHEERED??

but between kitten playdates and philosophy study sessions stuff start feeling kinda different HMMM

which you didn’t think was possible btw sunghoon’s hobby is literally talking about existentialism and calligraphy

yeah and you knew him since he was five

ok but he looks really hot whilst talking about sartre NDJDKDKSKS

who knew you would start feeling all warm inside from sunghoon

not the 14 years old you in the past

but now everytime you touch in any way, you feel yourself flush pink

and you can’t ignore how sunghoon tries to act all nonchalant about it but his ears are turning red

how cute.

“you ever heard about hegel’s theory of love?”

“if you’re about to lecture me, i’m leaving.”

“no- listen, it’s about how love is this push and pull that makes you grow and stuff, and i don’t think i’m just studying it anymore. i think i’m feeling it, with you.”

ok that sounded a lot better in my head please don’t come for me

but yeah

aristotle believed everyone has a purpose they’re meant to fulfill. perhaps you didn’t know it back than, but losing touch with sunghoon and finding him again… it feels like you two were meant to meet in the future. perhaps it’s fate

✉️ : @icyy-hoon

[zorrasucia]

13. Hot Cocoa + Baking

from @carmenberzattosgf list

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Mature (2.3k)

Tags: Chocolat (2000) AU, Friends to Rivals to Lovers, Food, Curvy Reader, Fluff, Sexual Tension, Smut, Dry Humping, Dirty Talk, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Maybe it was corny and provincial, but you always welcomed your neighbors with a batch of cookies. It was good for business most of the time too - the insurance people next door bought pastries every other day for their breakfast after you gifted them some for their opening.

So, there you were, close to the counter of the new specialty chocolaterie, box of cookies in hand, captivated by the smell of chocolate... There was so much more though: caramel, vanilla, almonds, coffee, cardamom, berries, and was that pepper...?

"Welcome to The Bear, what can I do for you?" a tall man greeted you.

"Oh, hi!" you smiled politely. "I'm from the bakery down the street. Wanted to say hello and give you a little welcome present."

You handed him the box, delicate calligraphy marking the name of your shop.

The man beamed. "That's so sweet! Pun not intended," he chuckled to himself. "Now we definitely have to give you something on the house!"

You looked at his name tag. "Richie, that's not necessary at all..."

"Nonsense. Plus, you get to see the magic happen. Cousin!" he bellowed to the back, where you assumed the kitchen was.

"Magic?" you frowned.

A blond guy with blue eyes emerged from the door and gave you a polite nod.

"What is it?" he asked Richie, he seemed irritated.

"Cookies from our neighbor, cuz," Richie offered him the open box, he was already biting into his second one. "Say thanks and do your mind-reader thing."

"It's not... Never mind," he mumbled in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Carmy Berzatto," he said and offered you his hand to shake. "Thank you for the cookies."

"You're welcome," you smiled at the sight of him eating with gusto.

"Is that piloncillo sugar?" he asked after a moment of savoring.

"Yes!" you beamed.

"Tremendous," he said earnestly, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He walked closer to the counter and stared at you, intensely, for half a minute. "Mocha frappe, double espresso shot, whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top. That's your favorite."

You stared right back, mouth agape. That was your comfort drink, no matter the weather. How did he know?

"Do we still have the nice Mexican coffee? She'll appreciate it," he asked Richie.

"Yeah, third shelf. Neat trick, huh?" Richie grinned, enjoying the shocked look on your face as Carmy went to the back.

"How does he-?"

"Fucked if I know," he shrugged. "He says it's a family thing. He never misses."

"Did he guess your favorite too?" you asked, fascinated.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "It's hot cocoa with marshmallows. He says I have the palate of a six year old but if it ain't broke..."

While Carmy prepared your drink, you looked around the shop. There were beautiful confections with crazy flavors, covered in gold leaf, almost too beautiful to eat. But there were also dollops of milk chocolate with puffed rice, humble looking and ready for a kid to devour. Truly something for everyone.

When he handed you your coffee you asked: "What's your favorite?"

Carmy gave you a tense smile. "Hope you like it. Pleasure to meet you," he said and left.

"He says it's a secret," Richie handed you a napkin, then he added in a whisper: "I don't think he has one. He doesn't enjoy things that way."

"What way?"

"Uh, the normal way, I guess," Richie shrugged. "He barely eats the things he makes. Lives like a monk. It feels like he has to make chocolate 24/7 or some family curse is going to get him. Dunno if I'm making sense."

"Kind of," you said.

You took a sip of your drink and knew you were fucked forever. No chain coffeehouse would be able to compete with this.

~

It had been a couple of months since The Bear opened. They had a few loyal customers plus whatever weirdos wanted to see if Carmy was as spot on with his predictions as online reviews said he was - he never missed.

You had become friendly with the staff and had developed a routine of sorts with Carmy.

It probably wasn't healthy but you saw him as a mystery to solve. You didn't know about chocolate, not the way he did, but you knew baking, you understood how comfort and love could be encapsulated in a dessert. So you tried to find his favorite, the thing that would make his heart sing like he could do to you and every other person that walked into his chocolaterie. If nothing else, you got constructive criticism from a kindred spirit on a weekly basis.

Could use less cinnamon. 

Maybe with brown sugar instead? 

Oh, that's good. 

What about blackberry jam? 

Delicious... but not my favorite.

"Anyone told you you're a buzzkill?" you said with a dejected sigh.

"Many people. Often," he replied dryly.

"Richie doesn't count."

"Point still stands," he said, wiping crumbs from the flaky pastry you had brought. "People think I'm supposed to be having fun in there for the chocolate to be good when it's probably the opposite."

"It doesn't have to be like that, Carm," you said, exasperated. "You don't have to be fucking miserable for this to work."

He took a deep breath. You had never spelled it out so clearly and it clearly struck a nerve.

"I appreciate you," he said. "I do. But I'm fucked up. And you can't fix me with pies and cakes and-" he looked at the ceiling. "You're an incredible pastry chef. And you're so fucking nice but, uh, I think we should stop this."

"This?"

"You coming here and asking for feedback on your already perfect baked goods. I don't know what you're expecting from me but you look at me with those Bambi eyes and I always disappoint you," he ran a hand through his hair. "It fucks me up."

"Right." You picked up your stuff as quickly as you could, feeling heartbroken and humiliated. You knew you probably came off as needy but you hadn't realized just how much. You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Sorry to bother you. Won't happen again."

And you left.

~

Weeks passed, weeks that you devoted to yourself, to feeling better, dressing pretty, baking delicious treats for happy customers, standing in front of the mirror to say nice things about your curvy body.

You had tried and failed to make Carmy see how much better his life could be if he let himself enjoy things, actually savor his chocolate instead of finding four things that were wrong with it upon his first bite. Only now you realized how similar you two were, both wanting to fix things that were probably best left alone. Carmy wasn't a recipe you could perfect and he wasn't your anything really to worry about.

It wasn't lost on you, the metaphor for everything you had been doing - his lithe body and your slightly overweight one, and how much you wanted his toned biceps on either side of your head as he panted above you, letting himself lose control for once. As you indulged in these fantasies, your fingers deep inside your pussy, you wondered whether he ever desired stuff that way. You pictured him, eyes rolled back in bliss, while he held you, and you came with a cry.

~

You were closing up for the night, cold wind ruffling your hair and your skirt.

"Hey."

You turned to see Carmy, blue apron underneath his wool coat.

"Hey," you said curtly, avoiding his glance.

"I, uh, I've been wanting to talk to you..." he said.

"Okay? Can you make it quick? I have to get up at four in the morning," the prickly part of you woke up at the sight of him.

"Listen, you don't need to do it if you don't want to but-" he handed you a paper bag with The Bear's logo on it. "I was wondering if you could make pain au chocolat with this?"

You received the bag cautiously. "How many?"

"I only need two," he mumbled and you scoffed. He knew - he fucking knew how hard it was to make the dough and that you couldn't just make two. "You can keep the rest of the chocolate," he offered.

"I'm still gonna charge you full price," you warned him.

"Of course."

You eyed him suspiciously, his bright eyes and open hands, his overall apologetic manner...

"Fine. I'll come by tomorrow after I close."

~

Maybe it was pride but you didn't try the pain au chocolat with Carmy's chocolate. Not one bite out of the entire batch you had baked. It would, of course, be excellent and you didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

"Here you go," you handed him the box, all pretty with a ribbon and a blank card ready to be gifted.

"Thank you," he gave you a shy smile. "Wanna sit down? I'll make you hot chocolate."

His shop was empty - only half the lights were on, and the sign at the door read 'Closed'.

"Come on," he insisted, his blue eyes pleading and you sighed in defeat, sitting by the counter next to him.

He served two cups of hot chocolate and plated the pastries, one for you and one for him.

"What are you-?" you started.

"When we first met, you asked me about my favorite," he explained. "Then you started bringing cookies and pie and muffins and it was so nice. I'm not used to nice things. And you were getting close. So I pushed you away and I Iashed out. I was an asshole."

"Yes, you were," you took a sip of your chocolate. He would be so much easier to hate if the things he made weren't so tasty.

"I'm not asking to go back to the way things were if you don't want that. I just hated how things ended," he nudged the plate towards you. "This is my favorite."

The pastry you had baked with the chocolate he had made.

"You haven't even tried it," you challenged him.

He took a bite and chewed slowly, savoring, a moan stuck in the back of his throat. You squeezed your thighs at the low, delicious sound.

"Fuck. That's perfect," he declared. Your heart beat faster. "Try it."

You took a bite. It was cozy and delicate, the rich chocolate caressing your tongue.

You nodded. "What a way to put my chocolate supplier to shame."

Carmy smiled, taking another big bite. "I'll give it to you for free if you keep making these."

You blushed at the double meaning and turned away.

"Fuck, that sounded awful. Sorry," Carmy said after a beat.

"It's okay," you laughed. You turned to face him, he had a giddy smile on his face that made him look younger and prettier.

"You have a-" he pointed at your lip but then he reached over and rubbed at your lower lip, wiping some leftover chocolate. He brought that same finger up to his mouth and sucked it clean. Your stomach dropped and you could feel yourself getting wet.

Carmy stood up, you could see his pupils dilate the closer he got, see his eyes linger on the low cut of your shirt.

"I thought that if I stopped seeing you, I would be able to focus," he whispered, his breath tickling your face. "I have never been so fucking distracted. Just thinking..." he kissed the side of your face, open mouthed and hungry. "Kept thinking of things I'd say to you, recipes I could share and shit like that," he mumbled, his hands ghosting over your thighs, playing with the hem of your skirt. "Thinking about your hands, kneading, working, and how they'd feel," following his lead you placed your hands over his chest, caressing his sides. He groaned. "Thinking about your body. Every part of it..."

"Touch me," you practically begged, moaning in satisfaction when he squeezed your breasts over your clothes.

"Imagining how sweet you'd taste," he panted against your lips, letting you close the small distance left, tasting his own chocolate in your mouth as he devoured you. You pulled on his hair, desperate to return every bit of passion he was giving you.

"Carmy," you gasped and brought him closer, opening your legs and scooting to the edge of your seat. His hard cock rubbed against your center, his hands were everywhere.

"So soft," he said, kissing down your neck to your chest. He palmed your breast with one hand and squeezed your hip with the other, guiding you to grind against his erection.

"Fuck," you cursed. "Like that."

You tugged on his hair, getting a low groan in response. You took the opportunity to shove your tongue inside his mouth and kiss him with all the hunger you had for him. He bit your lower lip and you moaned.

"You even sound sweet," he said absently, a desperate rhythm building between you.

"I thought of you too," you said, looking into his blue eyes, squeezing his ass to bring him closer. "Thought how'd beautiful you'd look when you came - all sweaty, your eyes on me."

"Fuck," he growled, his thrusts becoming frantic. "Can't wait to take you home. Fuck you properly. Fucking taste you..."

You could feel fireworks inside you, your pussy clenching around nothing, grinding desperately against Carmy, biting on his bicep to muffle a cry of ecstasy.

"Oh, my God," you gasped for breath as he chased his release, you grew pliant in his embrace, carding your fingers through his hair, legs shaking around his waist, your underwear soaked.

"Fuck," he froze and exhaled hard, his nose tickling your neck. "If you feel this good with your clothes on..."

You giggled. "Come on," you kissed his temple. "Let's close up shop."

[xavissky]

The meaning of peace

Master of Fate AU | Zayne and his wife discuss their 3 year old daughter

1k, fluff

cw: none, while the child is present no mentions of pregnancy are discussed

Zayne knows he's blessed. He feels it in the fluttering of his heart when his wife walks in the room; when he hears the giggle of their toddler; when he feels the rustle of the sheets against his toes at the crack of dawn while their little girl tugs with all her might at the covers. He knows he's blessed. Yet, there were times he made the mistake of wishing for a little more quiet.

----

Their girl was about the developmental age of a three year old mortal. Deceptively small for a being so clever. For as shy and gentle as she was, especially with creatures like the Hua and Bai, she had exceptionally loud demands. Her fathers bamboo scrolls, his jade pendants, her mother's sashes, Bai's eyebrows. Many things fascinated her. Few things soothed her cries.

Both parents were hopeful when the first stages of her life were peaceful. She slept well, ate well, was quiet and curious. When they thought they'd made it relatively painlessly through that earliest stage of new life, this present stage had proven a challenge - even for a god.

Zayne rubbed his temple while his wife tended to another discipline. Ink splattered all over her face. A simple accident, just moments after a soft moment of family bonding - all practicing calligraphy at once. Even as they attempted to soothe her, she remained unhappy and moody for a while.

"I didn't know toddlers her age knew how to hold grudges." He commented as soon as she'd quieted down. It did pain him to see her go through it, knowing she didn't know better, knowing she didn't mean harm, knowing she didn't know how to handle those emotions she was feeling, knowing it was their job to teach her how. And yet, the only time he'd ever felt this helpless was when he was deciding how to manage his romantic feelings for his wife before they were together.

The woman laughed an exasperated laugh and kissed the girl who was blissfully ignorant now, coloring with handmade chalk.

"She's already forgotten. She'll grow out of it." Another laugh. "I give it five minutes before her next one. She has to get this from you."

Now she reached out to poke her husbands cheek, a cheeky expression on her face.

"Me?"

"Something tells me you were fussy as a child."

"I don't know where you get these delusions."

He sighed and continued to clean up the spill, saving a bit of the paper that she'd so brilliantly decorated with her ink spill. Something about it felt endearing after the frustration wore off.

"Why are you saving that?" his wife interrupted, curious.

Zayne gave her a smirk. "Toddlers aren't the only ones who can hold a grudge. I intend to show her this masterpiece when she's older, then maybe she'll be skilled enough to replace it. Restitution."

"You can't be serious. We have dozens of her actual drawings already."

"Exactly. This one's personal."

In response to his dry humor she only shook her head with a scoff and took out a fresh scroll to attempt to restart the work she'd been writing out before.

For a quiet moment, things were peaceful again.

"I'll try harder to keep her quiet," his wife started again, voice soft and soothing on his ears.

"My life hasn't been quiet ever since you stepped into my life. Tell me, you intend to keep your offspring quieter than you? Do tell."

She crumpled a bit of scrap and tossed it at him in retaliation before setting her calligraphy pen down and opening her mouth to speak again.

"I was thinking of a trip down the mountain. I could take her and show her where I used to live in the woods, we could collect things. You'll have a few days of peace."

Zayne stopped what he was doing. An unexpected pang struck his heart, making his brows furrow together. Had he complained too much? While he'd been mostly playful, mostly, and while it was true that he did wish -for his daughters sake, not just his- for things to be a little more peaceful, the last thing he wanted or needed was a plethora of it. The thought of them both alone traveling away from him made his heart ache, as if already longing for them when they hadn't even left.

Reaching out, he covered one of her hands with his own. Ever since the first time his bare hand had touched the skin on hers, he'd become addicted to her touch. This kind of small intimacy was his favorite no matter how much time had passed. A gentle hand on hand to guide the emotions, secure the heart, and steady the mind.

"You are my peace."

She rose her eyebrows as if in disbelief. He squeezed her hand tighter. "You and her together. Don't take it away from me."

Seeming to understand, she smiled and patted over his hand with her other.

"If you really want to go," He said quietly, thumb stroking over hers, "we'll make it a family trip."

At this her face lit up and she nodded a few times quickly in response. "There's some pretty flowers blooming at this time of year. I think it'll be entertaining to her. We can make a scrap book."

The tone of his bone softened in reply, "If you want to know what pressed flowers look like, we can attempt tonight. There's a beautiful one I'm more interested in lately."

At first there was confusion in her gaze, and then a baffled one accompanying a beautiful shade of red.

"If you mean I still have some training left for today, show me everything, shifu."

Now the red in his complexion made him look away. Perhaps he was too bold. This only drew a laugh from her that also made his heart flutter more, as if the song and sound of it was new each time.

Their girl was already beginning to be fussy again, but he didn't mind pulling her into his arms once more.

"Your mother has quite the imagination," he said, tapping her nose. The daughter sneezed in response drawing laughs from both of them.

He knew he was blessed. His life was louder than ever, but he wouldn't have changed a thing.

[meddeef]

MATCHABLOSSOM HEADCANONS

⟢ A mix of headcanons from present time and highschool matchablossom. (Some of these are headcanons about the relationship itself while some are about the characters interacting.)

▸ Kojiro started crushing on Kaoru in high school and was a YEARNER but they only got together after they were adults with their own lives.

▸ They both live together in an apartment close to both their work places. Kojiro usually drives to Sia la luce either way so he can use the car for errands later on in the day.

▸ Kaoru took out his piercings just after he graduated and it really hurt Kojiro that they were gone but he never said anything

▸ They cuddle at night and Kaoru always complains to be cold while Kojiro is a natural heater. It usually works out for them.

▸ During high school a huge rumour went around that Kaoru and Kojiro were dating, Kaoru was super against the rumour but Kojiro secretly enjoyed the idea of them being in a relationship.

▸ They have a meal schedule whiteboard somewhere in their kitchen and a shopping list underneath it. When Reki, Langa and Miya visit they always add stupid things onto it. (Kojiro usually ends up buying some of the more reasonable things.)

▸ Kojiro gets all the groceries for the household and makes all the meals.

▸ Kaoru is actually really good at house fixing, though he’s not good enough to make a job out of it.

▸ Carla basically everywhere in the household, she’s got like three Alexa type things just sitting around. She can also control the temperature, lights and pretty much anything that can be controlled by AI.

▸ In highschool, Kaoru and Kojiro would sometimes race to see who could learn a certain skateboarding trick quicker.

▸ When going to S, Cherry and Joe would appear at different times and take different cars, but later on they decided it would be easier for them both to just use the Carla-mobile so they wouldn’t have to organise the time to get there.

▸ Kaoru and Kojiro have just given up on kicking Reki, Langa and Miya out after they come over seeking snacks or lunch.

▸ Kaoru learned how to ride a motorbike just a bit after high school, using it as his main transportation before he started doing calligraphy as an actual job.

▸ Kojiro doesn’t mind cats vs dogs but if he had the choice he would get a cat. Though, for present day they decided that having a cat was a future plan, not one they could immediately start.

▸ They have thought about kids but the idea of travel and S was much more appealing to the both of them. (They have enough right now. Though, in the future they might have one.)

▸ Kaoru has a really big guilty pleasure of watching anime. To him, it’s one of those things you never share with anyone and would rather die than admit to anyone. Once Kojiro nearly caught him but he threw his phone across the room and threatened to tackle Kojiro if he tried to get it.

▸ When they got married, they had a really small ceremony and only took a few pictures. They both claim it was magical.

▸ Kojiro secretly tests Kaoru’s spice tolerance, giving him random foods with a bit of extra spice and seeing how he reacts. Every single time he never catches it. He sees those “hottest chip in the world” videos and wants to try it on Kaoru but knows he’d get caught.

▸ Some nights Karou knocks out pretty quickly and Kojiro just enjoys the lullabies that Carla plays. He’s grown a liking to them over the years.

▸ Karou, with no shame, grabs Kojiro’s ass at home. He realllyyyy gets that squeeze in and it always manages to catch Kojiro off guard.

(I posted this at 4 AM, if there are any spelling mistakes I’m not sorry. I am a free spirit. I’ll edit it in the morning when I can actually see.)

Hey guys! I saw one of my Matchablossom posts was getting some love and I thought this would be nice to add to the Matchablossom brainrot! I’ve been pretty free for this week and I’m literally just returning to school so I’ll try and get some renga headcanons out whenever I get the motivation. Love you matchablossom army and enjoy some text memes ♡

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Homepage Lines - Citron's Birthday (2025)

graphics and proofreading by myuntachis! text version under the cut!

Spring Troupe

Sakuya: I found a picture book I think you’ll like, Citron-san! I’ll read it to you.

Masumi: I made a costume for Citron Junior. Why an alpaca? … It just kinda looks like him.

Tsuzuru: Happy b-day, Citron-san. I came up with a manzai routine themed around “birthdays” for today.

Itaru: Happy bappy, Citron~ I am always grateful for you. … This is lowkey taking me back to a certain April Fool’s.

Citron: I am very happy right now. I will sushi that with everyone as well. I’m starting the hug festival!♪

Chikage: This year’s wish is a dance, huh. I’m not sure it’ll live up to Citron’s expectations, but I’ll give it a try.

Summer Troupe

Tenma: I’d like to do a manzai themed play with Citron one day. I guess we’ll need Tsuzuru-san for it too?

Yuki: Citron, let me know when you need a new costume for your manzai. I’ll give you an even better one than what you have now.

Muku: Now, may I have this dance? One, two, three… Dancing the waltz with you is a lot of fun, Citron-sama.

Misumi: I’ll give Citron a triangle dance! I’m starting now, so keep your eyes peeled~

Kazunari: I’ve stocked up on RonRon’s fave sushi candy! I made sure there’s sweet shrimp too☆

Kumon: They’ll be making a movie adaptation of Yankee Star! Let’s go see it together, Citron-san!

Autumn Troupe

Banri: All your wishes sound like stuff high schoolers would ask for. Hahaha, well, it’s cool if that makes ya happy.

Juza: Citron-san told me he wants to do calligraphy with me. Seems he likes my handwriting.

Taichi: I’ve got a karaoke tambourine for you! I got us matching ones, so let’s use ‘em together!

Omi: You want me to record your manzai routine? Of course I don’t mind. You’re getting better and better, you know.

Sakyo: Happy birthday, Citron. You want a trip as your present? That’s fine… You’re goin’ now!? You’re rushin’ way too much.

Azami: Citron-san’s wish is written in this weird code again! It’s always a damn pain to decipher.

Winter Troupe

Tsumugi: Citron-kun, the bulbs you gave me sprouted today. Do you want to come look at them with me?

Tasuku: You wanna go for karaoke? … Citron, you’re better off asking someone who’s not me.

Hisoka: I tried dipping marshmallows in jasmine tea since it’s Citron’s birthday. … Looks yummy.

Homare: The plan for this year is for Citron-kun’s poetry to come together in harmony with my dancing. I shall dance ever so beautifully!

Azuma: I prepared this because I’d like to wear a hakama with you again, Prince. I hope you like it.

Guy: Happy birthday, Citronia. I’m late? … That is because I was waiting for the celebrations to end.

NOTES:

(1) not very obvious in the english translation, but itaru is imitating citron's speech!

[scarletwritesshit]

🦕 Anaxa x Aglaea 🦕 Wire Monkey Theorem

Aglaea always thought that Anaxa’s obsession with the dromases was rather frivolous. In fact, it was almost comical to her. Dromas figures, dromas plushies, dromas pajamas…dromas nicknames, even.

Despite a scoff here and there from Aglaea, it never bothered her, truthfully. A love for such creatures, though common and utilitarian, inflicted no harm. There were far more pressing matters for her to pick fights with him over, such as, literally everything. Everything, they conflicted over, until the very end.

A short-lasting resolution, only for her beloved Anaxagoras to be the next to fall victim to the hands of fate. Though she was the one to set the stones in place on Anaxa’s path to the final destination, it was not done so without hesitation. So many words were left unsaid, and though they had managed to find a common ground and stand upon it together, lingering grudges cannot be settled as fast as one may wish.

Anaxa had not even a gravesite for Aglaea to visit in memoriam. Only one of many constellations in the Amphoreus sky was reminiscent of his legacy, and her only present option was to speak to these very stars and pray that he could hear.

“Anaxa, my dear Anaxa, your silence pains me so. Your sharp tongue has grown dull; humor me with one final witty remark, won’t you please?”

No response.

It was to be expected, as stars don’t have a voice of their own. Nevertheless, Aglaea felt uneasy with the lack of retribution. Never would her threads tremor at the jab of an insult under his breath, or catch a glimpse of him walking amongst the streets of Okhema.

The illuminated constellation would still be there to gaze upon her from the sky.

Aglaea wouldn’t be able to see his guiding light.

Remnants of his studies still lay scattered about the Grove of Epiphany.

Aglaea could not read the calligraphy for how it was written by him.

All she had left to cling onto were the memories of his voice slowly fading from what remained of her mind and the sensation of when their hands would accidentally brush amidst their scuffles. The one man who had managed to make her feel almost human again would be there to prod her no longer. If she claimed to have felt empty before, then at the present moment, she was nothing more than a shell of a former human being.

Anaxa was the only person Aglaea felt as if she could cling onto, regardless of her willingness to admit such. What little that was left of him was just enough to patch up the void within her heart. She forced herself to turn away from the stars that she could neither see nor embrace in her arms.

What living love of Anaxa’s that did remain, however, were the dromases. The creatures very much served their purpose of transportation, and thus Aglaea thought positively of them alone, but she had never bothered to interact with them much for herself.

On the contrary, Anaxa was obsessed with them. She had seen his obsession as childish, and a complete waste of time, though now the dromases were perhaps her only way of connecting with him at least one final time.

The dromases were not an uncommon occurrence within the city walls, a partial factor as to why she could not understand his fascination with them. Or perhaps, their commonness was indeed a factor as to why he was so obsessed with them.

Aglaea wished that she had asked him why. Just once.

Too late.

She had nothing left.

Just what he had left.

⋆｡°✩

She ran the palm of her hand down the side of the dromas's thick leg. Its scales were smooth and radiated a warmth existent only due to the ever-present sun.

In a way, it reminded her of Anaxa.

Everything was reminding her of Anaxa.

The massive creature kept its leg still, careful as to not accidentally crush her. Aglaea was prepared to duck out of the way in the event of a sudden movement, but the beast was surprisingly mindful of her smaller size. As she was gently stroking its leg, she felt the creature sniff her gently, then groaned out of curiosity.

"You still smell remnants of your beloved Anaxagoras on me, don’t you?"

The dromas growled gently and quietly. She had never bothered to communicate with them so closely, but already she could feel the sense of a mutual understanding. It nudged her very gently with its nose, as if to say yes to her question.

"You’re such an adorable thing. I would almost hate to say these words to you myself, though it’s not like you can understand me."

The dromas shook its head as if to say, Of course I can understand you, my lady! Aglaea smiled, then rested her head against its leg.

"Oh, you poor beast. Anaxa has regretfully departed from this world. He couldn’t even say his final farewell to any of you.”

The dromas growled, lifted up its head, and shook it no in disbelief. Aglaea could feel through her golden threads that the dromas was quite upset. It clearly did not want to believe her, but it was hard to dispute the integrity of her words when her body held such strong traces of his scent. She hadn’t enough experience with the dromases to be able to personally comfort them, let alone the single one she was leaned against.

The ones in the pen cried out once the realizations had struck them. Those who were strolling by stalled their travels in equal disbelief. Aglaea was being deafened by their grief vibrating throughout her strings. And she had no way of knowing how to silence it, thanks to her negligence.

It really seemed as if the dromases were more than just a strange fascination to Anaxa. The creatures viewed him as one of their own, and the love he held for them was all the equal.

Aglaea felt alive, but only alive with guilt.

Though unable to communicate in the same tongue, the dromas that Aglaea had clung onto had offered its condolences.

"I should be offering you my apologizes," she said, "for I was ignorant of just how much he cared for your kind."

The dromas seemed to understand that there was no harm nor foul intended by her actions. It nudged her as if to say it accepted and understood her apology. The threads that bound their communication together remained motionless. Could they even serve as a reliable indicator of a creature’s thoughts? She hadn’t bothered to question such prior. Aglaea would have to hope that the treads that bound the city were as reliable as always, upholding the same values of truth between Chrysos Heir and dromas alike.

It seemed to have accepted her rather quickly. Perhaps knowing of Anaxa’s scent helped her gain its trust. Aglaea let go of the dromas, and it protested by nudging its leg towards her. It seemed to be wanting her to act as a stand in for Anaxa.

She couldn’t do it. She didn’t even have a fraction of the knowledge as he did.

She had nothing left.

Not even her own humanity left.

Aglaea wasn’t even sure how much longer she was going to be physically around herself.

"I must leave now," she said, gently nudging the dromas away with the palm of her hand, "my duty calls, and the prophecy waits for no one.”

Unable to look back, Aglaea left the dromas pen. The dromas stomped its foot and bellowed for her return, but ultimately gave up and turned away.

During a rare moment of downtime, Aglaea once more paid a visit to the dromases. The gentle roar from the creature signified that it was delighted for her return.

"I know nothing, yet you are still delighted to see me?"

The dromas groaned in agreement.

"You are most aware that I cannot substitute as him, correct?" she said, lifting her hand up.

The dromas nudged her hand gently with its nose. It had grown quite fond of her touch rather quickly. A most curious behavior as her hands hardly felt the same as his, her body hardly had the same chill as his, and her body would no longer carry remnants of that scent of his.

It must be terribly lonely, Aglaea thought.

The others were eyeing her up with longing as well, and she could sense a void within their hearts that felt all too familiar. Sliding her hand off of the dromas’s nose, she walked over to the other ones within the enclosure, who looked at her with immense curiosity. They took turns investigating her, and all it took was a single sniff for them to accept her.

Anaxa’s presence must have provided them with a man and beast friendship that only he could bring, and they must have been under the assumption that Aglaea was capable of doing the same.

They were quiet.

They were gentle.

It wouldn’t wear away at her to spend even just a little extra time with the dromases.

"...I can at least come and visit you, should time allot to it."

The dromases stared at her in anticipation.

"Though, do be aware that I cannot serve as a true replacement for our beloved Anaxagoras."

Despite the dromases not being satisfied with her answer, they still retained a mellow tone. No true protests, nothing. Aglaea was starting to understand why he was so greatly fond of those creatures.

Though there was a mutual respect between Chrysos Heir and creature, something still felt...missing from their bond. The scales of the dromases naturally felt cool and smooth like Anaxa’s shell of a body, but they didn’t quite feel like him. Remnants of Anaxa were still present on Aglaea, but even the dromases weren’t blind to the fact that she wasn’t him.

All in all, it was a temporary solution. A bandaid laid upon shattered pottery. Even when such a realization fell upon Aglaea, she still continued to selfishly dedicate her time to the dromases, as a stand in for the comfort of Anaxa’s presence. As time carried on, despite Aglaea and the dromases having each other, it only seemed as if they all grew lonelier and emptier. She didn’t allow herself consciously to acknowledge that.

"It’s just as how Anaxa would have carried on," Aglaea claimed.

The strings in Okhema vibrated.

[theconstellationprincess]

Whumptober Day 14: Blackmail

Elrond is not shy about his heritage, though some believe he should be. When forced to choose between inconveniencing Celebrimbor or doing some extra work, he chooses the extra work.

-

It was during his first week in Eregion that the whole event began. He took a trip to the markets, picking up a few new calligraphy pens that seem to be exceptionally well crafted. On his way back, he has the unsettling feeling of being watched, so quickens his pace. Unfortunately, that only seems to spur whoever it is on, and Elrond rounds a corner to find himself face to face with a group of elves.

"Oh hello," He greets, giving them a hesitant smile. Fingers curl around his cloak as he looks around, but there is not another way around them, and he has the terrible feeling that they would chase him if he were to run.

"You are Elrond Peredhel correct?" One of them sneers, taking a few steps towards him. Elrond wishes that he had bought one of the intricately etched daggers from the place he had instead purchased the pens from. He carries no weapons presently, and though he knows how to fight without one, his chances are not good.

"Yes, I am he. May I ask for your name?" His voice is strong, despite the rising stress he feels. He clutches the paper bag carrying the pens tightly, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying something foolish. First he needs information, than he can decide how to deal with this.

"No, but you may listen to my words and obey, lest you want Celebrimbor to learn that you are responsible for the loss of his uncles." Elrond blanks, mouth opening slightly and eyes squinting as he tries to understand what they are implying. Elrond had nothing to do with the oath, and while he regrets being a burden on Maedhros and Maglor as a child, he knows that he, and Elros, were responsible for joy in their lives during those dark years, instead of pain or sorrow.

"... Right." Elrond replies, because it seems as though the elf is waiting on his response to continue. He is still confused, but perhaps further elaboration would help. Celebrimbor knows that Elrond was raised by Maglor and Maedhros, most everyone does, and the good memories they both have of the two Feanorians is something they have bonded over.

"If you do not wish for us to tell Celebrimbor about how you contributed to their demise," The elf takes a dramatic pause, during which Elrond tries to consolidate what he knows and finds himself lacking any sort of comprehensible way to decipher this situation, "Then you will take up our duties in Celebrimbor's staff so that we may focus our attentions on far more important projects, that actually serve our lord."

Ah, so they wanted to skive off work but not get caught. Elrond is still utterly puzzled as to why they have approached him about this, but it seems that this situation may lead to a mess for Celebrimbor to sort out, and the elf is already stressed as it is. After a moments of deliberation, Elrond nods slowly, because while he is very busy, he would rather not add to Celebrimbor's work load.

-

Looking back, the agreement was foolish. He should have marched them to the guards so that they could be told off for threatening a guest in their city and then move on with his life. But he did not, and the following morning he finds that his to-do list has grown to a near unmanageable size.

He had been having breakfast with Celebrimbor during the week he had stayed here, and he was quite upset to have to miss it on this day. He still stopped by Celebrimbors office, where he was already settled and sipping tea, to explain why he could not join him, and then abruptly realized that he could not speak the true reason.

"I am invested in a project," Elrond claims instead, putting on a sheepish smile that grows a little more real when Celebrimbor laughs- and what a wonderful sound his laugh is, the sound of it makes Elrond's soul feel lighter- and makes him promise not to miss lunch.

Feeling guilty, but not enough to risk stressing his lord, Elrond scurries off to complete as many tasks as possible before his meeting with Celebrimbor that afternoon. Most of the tasks are manual in nature, involving cleaning or moving objects here and there, and he finds that he is exhausted after only two hours of rushing around the city. His stomach aches with hunger and his hands shake with fatigue, but is not done yet.

He has completed the extra tasks, now left with only his own, by the time he meets with Celebrimbor. He accepts the tea offered, quickly setting it down before Celebrimbor could notice how it trembles in his grasp. Elrond discusses his project at Celebrimbors prompting, and it is true he is working on one, he just has been unable to do much of anything on it today. He talks around the subject, mentioning small things that he knows will get done but haven't yet.

Then it is into business, the construction of the tower and forge, working with the dwarves, Elrond's clear exhaustion- Wait.

"Pardon me?" Elrond gasps out, a pink blush rising high on his cheeks as he gapes at Celebrimbor, who is wearing an evil grin. A delighted laugh spills out of Celebrimbor, silenced only when the elf stops to take a sip of his tea.

"You need a break, you look tired. You did eat lunch as you promised, did you not Elrond?" Elrond tries not to avert his gaze, knowing it would be a dead giveaway, but Celebrimbor looks so earnest and caring, he simply cannot look at that face and lie. He looks down at his tea, shrinking in on himself when Celebrimbor clicks his tongue and sighs.

"Come along, we can fetch you some food and I will escort you to your room and, if I have too, lock you inside so that you rest." Elrond huffs a laugh, but quickly stops when Celebrimbor gives him a stern look, "I mean it Elrond, I will."

-

Celebrimbor talks about a book he's been reading while Elrond eats, and Elrond can admit that it's soothing to hear about after being so stressed all day. He stays quiet, enjoying the simple meal and listening to Celebrimbors voice.

Afterwards, Celebrimbor makes true on his word and escorted Elrond to his rooms, keeping up a soft conversation during the short trip. Elrond flusters when they enter his room, tidying up while Celebrimbor takes a look around, having not seen the space since Elrond had unpacked. Eventually, Elrond takes a seat on his bed. Celebrimbor stands in front of him for a moment, before sitting beside him and pressing their shoulders together for a moment.

"Take a nap, read a book, I care not for the activity but you must rest Elrond." Celebrimbor speaks gently, but there is a seriousness in his voice that has Elrond nodding swiftly. Celebrimbor gives him a small smile before exiting the room, and Elrond is half-surprised when there is not the sound of a clicking lock.

He sighs and pulls out his to-do list, all his tasks that he needed to take care of today outside of the extra ones he has taken on for those strange elves he met yesterday. Most of them could be completed in his room, as the majority of it was continuing his duties as Gil-galads herald and writing correspondences and letters to be sent back to Lindon or to various other elven settlements.

The rest of his day was spent working, and he took dinner in his rooms. He was not looking forward to missing breakfast again tomorrow, he would need to find a better excuse because he doubts Celebrimbor will accept his absence after Elrond's fatigue yesterday.

And he was correct, Celebrimbor insisted that Elrond eat with him that next morning, and during their slightly stilted conversation, Elrond found himself suddenly overwhelmed with the idea of having to repeat yesterday. He was exhausted by the end of it all, he hardly slept, and his body still ached. Tears pooled in his eyes as he picked at his breakfast, clinging to his lashes when he tried to blink them away.

"... Elrond?" He sets down his fork and drags in a slow, shaking breath. He had been intending to relieve Celebrimbor of stress, and instead he has caused it. Stuck in his own thoughts, Elrond misses it when Celebrimbor stands and flinches when he feels the hand placed on his shoulder. It retracts for a moment, but then settles, grounded. Elrond takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

"I'm sorry," Elrond whimpers out, holding his head in his hand. "I'm sorry, I do not mean to burden you I just- I have much to do today and I dread doing it." The confession falls from his lip and the moment Elrond realizes what he says, he regrets it. He had been an idiot to agree to in the first place, he was confused during that encounter but that is not an excuse. He was ruining Celebrimbors day because he was a fool.

"Do not apologize for being upset," Celebrimbor scolds, pulling Elrond into a standing position and hugging him tightly. "I will help you, Elrond. What is it that you need?" And between one breath and the next, from feeling alone to feeling so utterly loved that he cannot express into words the joy he feels, Elrond makes a decision.

His explanation about the event feels incomprehensible and rambling when he makes it, but Celebrimbor nods along, and when Elrond is done and emptied of tears, the Lord of Eregion kisses the top of his head and promises to return soon. Elrond stays in Celebrimbor's office because it feels like the safest place to be, and every part of it reminds him of his cousin.

It is quite some time before Celebrimbor returns. but when he does, there is a clear fire in his eyes that only slightly dissipates when he turns his attention to Elrond. "You are a complete fool, and should have come to me straight away." Celebrimbor tells him, voice quiet but firm. Elrond nods, he would not argue this point even if he disagreed, Celebrimbor is scary when he's mad. And then Celebrimbor melts and pulls him into another hug. "You are not leaving my sight for the rest of your time here."

And why would Elrond have any qualms with that?

[randomf2p]

~ Now, next to you: Koga edition ~

⚠️ Please note that this is a fan translation and may contain inaccuracies ⚠️

Please enjoy~!

@shonenkun309

Part l

—A gentle May breeze carried the scent of fresh greenery through the lively streets of Asakusa’s Rokku district.

Amid the bustling crowds, I made my way to a familiar liquor store.

Futaba: "Good afternoon."

Shopkeeper: "Well, if it isn’t the young lady. On your own today?"

Futaba: "Yes. I’m having dinner at home with Koga-san tonight..."

Futaba: "Could you recommend a sake he might like?"

Shopkeeper: "Haha, leave it to me. I know that gentleman’s taste like the back of my hand."

Shopkeeper: "For him... let me think."

Shopkeeper: "Ah, we just got in a fresh barrel of sake from Kansai. How about that?"

Shopkeeper: "It’s got a crisp taste and a great aroma—real sake lovers won’t be able to resist it. I think it’ll suit the gentleman’s palate perfectly."

Futaba: "In that case, I’ll take it, please."

Shopkeeper: "You got it."

(I hope Koga-san likes it.)

Shopkeeper: "...Careful now, it’s a bit heavy."

Futaba: "Thank you so much!"

I carefully cradled the sake bottle, wrapped neatly in a furoshiki cloth.

(Alright, I’ll make a meal that goes perfectly with this sake.)

(Better pick up the ingredients on the way home.)

Just as I started walking, thinking about what to cook—

Masanobu: "No, big bro, not like that..."

Koga: "What? It’s not that bad, is it?"

When I looked over, I saw Koga-san and Masanobu standing in front of a small trinket shop.

Futaba: "Koga-san, Masanobu—good afternoon."

Koga: "Hey, Futaba."

Masanobu: "Sis! You’ve got to hear this!"

Masanobu looked up at me with a troubled expression, as if silently asking for help.

Futaba: "What’s wrong?"

Masanobu: "There's this girl… a friend of mine. I want to give her a present, and I’ve been asking big bro Koga for advice, but..."

Masanobu: "He keeps suggesting all these weird things..."

Koga: "Weird? What are you talking about? A folding fan, a scented sachet, a calligraphy brush—those aren’t bad gifts."

Masanobu: "Ehhh… they’re kind of plain..."

Koga: "All you've done is complain since we got here."

Koga: "If you can’t make up your mind, let’s just roll the dice and bet on even or odd."

Masanobu: "Leave it to chance!? No way!"

(They really do get along well.)

Watching the two bicker like that was just too amusing—I couldn’t help but chuckle before chiming in.

Futaba: "So this friend… is she someone from your school, Masanobu-kun?"

Masanobu: "Yeah. She’s in the same class as me."

(So that means she’s the same age as him, huh.)

Futaba: "Then yeah… maybe your ideas were a bit too grown-up for her?"

Masanobu: "Right!? See? Sis, help me pick something too!"

Futaba: "Sure, I’d be happy to."

When I nodded, Masanobu beamed and turned to Koga-san.

Masanobu: "You can go now, big bro! We’re good here!"

Koga: "So I’m being dismissed now, huh?"

Koga: "Alright, alright."

Masanobu: "Her family runs a lumber business. She have lots of siblings, and she’s the youngest..."

Masanobu: "We always play together. She’s really good at catching freshwater crabs."

Futaba: "I see, you two are really close."

Masanobu: "Y-yeah. We’ve known each other since forever..."

Futaba: "Then maybe something you can play with together would be a good gift?"

Masanobu: "......"

Masanobu: "Hey, sis."

Futaba: "Yeah?"

Masanobu: "I’ve been thinking… I want to give her something cute..."

Masanobu: "She always treasures this small hand mirror with a rabbit pattern."

Masanobu: "So... I think she really likes things like that."

Masanobu: "Lately, she hasn’t been feeling very well, so I want to give her something that can cheer her up."

Futaba: "I see... That’s really kind of you, Masanobu-kun."

Futaba: "Then let’s find something cute that she would like, and make her happy."

Masanobu: "Yeah...!"

(What would be good...)

(A figurine, a drawstring pouch, a hair tie...)

Masanobu: "......"

Masanobu: "Hey, sis."

Futaba: "Yeah?"

Futaba: "Oh, what about something like these paper balloons—?"

Masanobu: "Sis, why don’t you marry big bro Koga?"

Futaba: "Marry...?!"

Startled, I glanced over and saw Masanobu looking straight at me with honest, unhesitant eyes.

Futaba: "W-why would you say that all of a sudden...?"

Masanobu: "Well, you’re both adults, so I wondered if that kind of thing might happen."

Futaba: "W-well, that’s..."

Futaba: "It’s still too soon, or rather... I’m still going to school, and Koga-san is busy with work..."

Masanobu: "Hmm... I see..."

Masanobu: "But I want you to marry big bro Koga."

Futaba: "Why’s that?"

Masanobu: "Because otherwise, it’d be sad for big bro Koga."

Masanobu: "He loves you so much."

Futaba: "W-why do you think that?"

Masanobu: "It’s totally obvious. The way his face looks when he talks to you is different from when he talks to others."

Futaba: "Different?"

Masanobu: "Yeah. When he talks to you, sis, he’s much kinder."

(...So that’s how he looks when he’s with me.)

I couldn’t help but smile happily.

Futaba: "I-is that really so...?"

Masanobu: "So, maybe... I look that way too."

Masanobu: "With big bro Koga, it’s so obvious."

(...Ah...)

Futaba: "You like that friend of yours, don’t you?"

Masanobu: "......Yeah."

Masanobu whispered softly, then gave a shy little smile.

Masanobu: "So when she’s feeling down or sad, I want to cheer her up."

Masanobu: "But... I’m not as cool as big bro Koga."

Masanobu: "I don’t even know what to give her, and that’s why I’ve been worrying about it for so long."

(Masanobu-kun...)

Futaba: "I think that’s really admirable."

Masanobu: "…Really?"

Futaba: "Yeah. Wanting to cheer up someone you love, and caring enough to worry about it—that’s really cool, Masanobu."

Futaba: "It means you really care about your friend."

Masanobu: "……"

Masanobu: "I see."

Masanobu: "Alright, I’ll do my best…! I’ll work hard and pick something!"

Futaba: "Yeah!"

Just as Masanobu spoke enthusiastically, Koga, who had been browsing nearby shops, came back.

Koga: "Have you decided yet?"

Koga: "Or are you still struggling?"

Masanobu: "You’re so annoying."

Futaba: "Ah… how about a netsuke?"

Masanobu: "A netsuke?"

Futaba: "Yeah. It’s practical, and you could pick a design that would suit her."

Futaba: "I’m sure she’d be even happier with something you chose yourself."

Masanobu: "……"

Masanobu: "A-alright."

After thinking it over for a while, nodding to himself, Masanobu finally picked a netsuke with a glass bead painted with a goldfish design.

Masanobu: "…I’ll go with this!"

Masanobu: "Last summer, I bought and have been raising goldfish from a goldfish vendor."

Masanobu: "This netsuke looks like one of those goldfish."

Futaba: "It's cute. Summer is coming soon, so it feels refreshing and lovely."

Masanobu: "Thanks, sis!"

Masanobu: "Your help was much better than big bro's advice!"

Koga: "Hey. You were the one who told him to ask me."

Masanobu paid, then happily looked at the netsuke.

Masanobu: "Alright... I'll go give this to her right away!"

Futaba: "Yeah, good luck!"

Masanobu: "See you later, sis, big bro Koga."

Masanobu: "Big bro, you better get along well with sis."

Koga: "None of your business."

Koga and I watched Masanobu walk away, laughing.

Futaba: "Masanobu has really grown up, hasn’t he?"

Koga: "Yeah, and he's gotten pretty sharp-tongued too."

Koga smiled, then suddenly looked closely at my face.

Koga: "So, what were you two talking about just now?"

Futaba: "Huh?"

Koga: "You two were pretty deep in conversation, weren’t you?"

Futaba: "………"

Masanobu: "Sis, aren’t you going to marry big bro Koga?"

Futaba: "………"

Futaba: "I-it’s a secret."

Koga: "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Koga: "By the way, let me carry that for you. It’s heavy, right?"

Futaba: "Ah… thank you."

Futaba: "I was thinking of using this for tonight’s dinner."

Koga: "Oh, Nada, huh? That’s good sake."

Futaba: "I’m just about to buy ingredients for dinner and head home, but Koga-san, what will you do?"

Koga: "I’ll come along too. At least I should help carry the bags."

Futaba: "Hehe, thank you."

As the sky slowly began to turn crimson, we started walking side by side.

Tonight, since Father was out working, it was just Koga-san, Nagichi, and me for dinner.

…but then―――

Nachi: grumble "Guu…"

Futaba: "Nachi, Nachi."

Nachi: "Mmm… I can’t drink anymore…"

Nachi was asleep, resting his head on the low table.

And in his hand was an empty sake cup.

Koga: "You’re still as weak with alcohol as ever."

Futaba: "Geez… you just keep trying to compete with Koga-san."

Futaba: "At least you should go sleep in your futon…"

Koga: "I’ll carry him."

Koga: "Come on, let’s go. Nekokichi."

Koga picked up Nachi over his shoulder and carried him to his room.

While that was happening, I started clearing the dishes���and then glanced outside.

(The moon… it’s really beautiful.)

I couldn’t help but pause and gaze for a moment, completely captivated.

The garden, bathed in moonlight, wore a calmness different from the daytime.

Then—

Koga: "What a beautiful moon."

Koga-san, who had just returned, was also looking up at the night sky.

He lifted the sake bottle left on the dining table.

Koga: "Still up for some more?"

Futaba: "Of course."

We sat side by side on the veranda, gazing up at the moon.

A quiet night meant just for the two of us quietly began—

Part ll

— The moon shone brightly in the clear, cloudless night sky.

The faint sound of pouring sake into the cup was the only thing echoing on the veranda.

Koga: "…It’s a good night."

Futaba: "Yes. Spring nights are peaceful and nice, aren’t they?"

A spring breeze carrying a sweet fragrance gently brushed against my cheek.

In that softness, I could feel Koga-san’s presence beside me even closer.

Koga: "………"

Koga: "When I sit here drinking like this… it reminds me of that day."

(That day…)

I understood what Koga-san was trying to say.

It was probably about the night when Koga-san transformed into a carnage form.

Futaba: "I was really surprised that time."

Futaba: "I had lost consciousness just before, but when I came to, you were drinking sake."

Koga: "Sake is the best medicine..."

Koga: "…I feel like I said that that night too."

Futaba: "Yes, you did say that."

(How nostalgic.)

Together, step by step, we have been moving forward since that night.

And now, here we are.

Futaba: "A lot has happened since then...

But even now, I’m happy to be by Koga-san’s side like this."

Koga, suddenly turning his gaze to me, hesitated a little before speaking.

Koga: "Actually... there’s one thing from that night I regret."

Futaba: "Huh?"

Koga: "No, it’s not really something as serious as regret. I was just... scared, that’s all."

Koga quietly gazed at the night sky, as if tracing his memories, and continued speaking.

Koga: "You pulled me back from the depths of madness, brought me back to this world."

Koga: "Back to my comrades—and to the world where you exist."

Futaba: "…………"

Koga: "Honestly, I felt relief. That was my strongest feeling."

Koga: "More than just being alive myself, I was relieved that you were alive."

Koga: "I wanted to hold you tightly, with all my heart."

Futaba: "…………"

Koga: "But back then, all I could do was just touch you."

Koga: "I was still afraid... afraid of myself, that I might break you."

Futaba: "…I’m not so fragile that I’d break from something like that."

Koga: "Yeah... you’re right."

Koga: "But for me—just the thought of holding you back then felt too much, because that’s how much you meant to me."

Futaba: "…………"

(...Maybe it’s the sake talking.)

Koga-san seems more talkative than usual tonight.

Futaba: "…Is it different now?"

Koga: "Now?"

Koga: "Now... if I’ve got time to hesitate, I’d rather just hold you."

Koga: "You’ve gotten pretty good at making me feel that way too."

Futaba: "Eh—"

Koga: "It’s true, isn’t it?"

Koga: "Even the other day..."

Futaba: "W-What are you talking about?! Please stop!"

I didn’t expect the conversation to turn toward me so suddenly, and I ended up raising my voice in surprise.

Koga: "Don’t get mad."

Koga: "I'm happy, you know—when you come to me for comfort like that."

Futaba: "Ugh…"

(I mean… it’s true that lately I’ve been wanting to reach out to him more than before,

but still, when he says it like that… it’s just too embarrassing…!)

Futaba: "When you say things like that… it makes it harder to be affectionate…"

Koga: "Oops, guess I dug my own grave there."

Koga chuckled, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Futaba: "Because… maybe you’re okay now, Koga-san, but…"

Futaba: "Even now, when I touch you, Koga-san... my heart races, and it hurts a little..."

Koga: "………"

Koga: "…See? That’s exactly it."

Futaba: "Huh?"

Koga: "How am I supposed to hold myself back when you say things like that?"

Letting out a small sigh, Koga looked at me with a resigned expression.

Koga: "Don’t worry. I feel the same way."

Koga: "…If you want, we could test it out."

He gently took my hand and placed it against his chest.

A gentle, slightly quickened heartbeat could be heard.

Koga: "…See?"

Futaba: "…Yes."

It was a little embarrassing—but also heartwarming.

When our eyes met, we couldn’t help but smile.

Futaba: "Oh, by the way… Masanobu-kun said something to me today."

Futaba: "He said your feelings for me are obvious to everyone around us."

Koga: "Masanobu said that?"

Futaba: "Yes."

Koga: "Well, it’s not like I’m trying to hide it."

Koga: "It’s better this way—keeps the pests away from you."

Koga: "With things like this, it’s best to make them clear. Avoids trouble later."

Futaba: "…Um, I’m really happy to hear that, but…"

Futaba: "You don’t have to worry. You’re the only one who sees me that way, Koga-san."

(If anyone should be worried about that, it’s me…)

I’m not someone who draws attention like Koga-san does, nor am I particularly beautiful—

Aside from having spiritual power, I’m just an ordinary schoolgirl.

Koga: "Then what, does that mean I’m weird for being this in love with you?"

Futaba: "Yes."

Koga: "Haha, that was quick."

Koga lowered his eyes slightly, then slowly began to speak.

Koga: "…Hey, Futaba."

Futaba: "Yes?"

Koga: "I… probably like you far more than you think I do."

(I… Koga-san…)

A gentle warmth spread deep within my chest, slowly filling my heart with comfort.

Futaba: “I love you too, Koga-san.”

Koga: “……”

(Just like this—smiling together, looking into each other’s eyes…)

(If we can keep doing this from now on, I think… that alone would be enough to make me happy.)

Koga: “……”

Koga: “…Come closer.”

Futaba: “Okay.”

Pulled gently into Koga-san’s arms, I leaned against him and let myself melt into his embrace.

Only the moonlight gently cast the shadows of the two of us onto the veranda.

My heart quietly beat faster—

(Yes… this is where I truly belong—right by Koga-san’s side.)

It was a night that made me feel that way, so naturally.

~ The End ~ ✨️

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Anniversary Gifts: Gothic Edition

Ever since Aleister Crowley wrote the definitive list of wedding anniversary gifts in 1899, the tradition has carried on with presents of Paper for the first anniversary, Gold for the 50th, Diamond for the 60th, and many fun ventures in between.

But what can the discerning goth give a loved one or polycule for their anniversary while avoiding the common Victorian tradition?

Here is the official list by the most famous goth of all, Orval Madden:

1- Spider-Themed Jewelry 2- Black Leather Or PVC 3- One (1) Vincent Price Movie On VHS 4- Barnes & Noble’s Leatherbound “Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe” 5- Cloth Cut From A Condemned Clergyman, Or A Nice Hourglass With A Little Silver Skull On It 10- Darkness, Sadness, And Pain (Written In Calligraphy On Framed Parchment) 20- Bloodborne for PS4, Or One (1) Tear From Your Cheek In A Glass Vial 30- Complete Skeleton Of A Small Animal, Or One (1) Human Bone 40- All Siouxsie “MixTape” On A Wax Phonograph Cylinder 50- Live Bats 60- Your First Childhood Toy, Damaged By Time And Neglect, Which Once Unveiled Reminds You Of The Last Time You Felt Hope And Grew Painfully Beyond it, Declaring That You Would No Longer Feel, Only Days Later Meeting Your True Love, Tragically Forever Unable To Embrace Them With Anything More Than A Sad Memory Of What You Once Believed Love Could Be. 66- Bela Lugosi’s Corpse

[scariusaquarius]

crude.

CHRISTMAS ADVENT BONANZA 2K24 Day 13: Christmas Cards, Geralt of Rivia

Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader Summary: Geralt isn't one to really accept gifts in any other form accept for coin. You respect this, and so you give him something a little more easier for him to keep.

-

A/n: So I don't think Christmas is really a thing in The Witcher (lol) so I'm gonna do something a bit more on a family tradition side of things. I hope that you enjoy this!

-

Genre: Friendship Rated: Everyone Warning: Suggestive Themes, Crude Humor

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

Winters at Kaer Morhen were nothing short but relaxing. Winter fell heavily upon the land, the land blanketed in white for miles. The hot air that escaped your lips became visible for a moment, the nipping wind blowing the air away and into the morning.

The sun was just starting to rise, orange rays reflecting off of the snow and creating glistening light before it disappeared behind thick and grey clouds, and you hummed to yourself as you clutched the letter within your hand tightly.

"Looks as though it's going to storm soon."

"Might be best if you stay here for the night then. Looks like it'll be while before you can head out."

Geralt's voice made you jump with fright, whipping your gaze over your shoulder to see him stepping out onto the icy balcony. Geralt shook his shoulders slightly to stave the cold away for a moment, and you made a face at him as his gold eyes lit up with amusement.

"Must you always sneak about like a damn cat? About spooked my soul right out of me."

Geralt chuckled gently, his raspy voice amused as he retorted.

"Don't think that'd be the weirdest thing I've seen as a witcher."

You nodded quietly, murmuring as you turned back to look out at the snowy mountains below.

"You're probably right. As a witcher, you see all kinds of things...seen the world through blood and gore...is it strange that I feel sad that you haven't truly enjoyed living?"

Geralt wasn't sure what had brought your melancholic state up, and truthfully, it made him slightly uncomfortable. Shifting from foot to foot slightly, Geralt took a deep breath and crossed his arms. Choosing not to reply, he instead darted away from the question, asking you.

"What's that you got there? A letter?"

You clutched the paper close to you for a moment before you turned to him, explaining as you held it out for him; Geralt's eyes widening in interest at the neat calligraphy of his name drawn upon the top.

"Around this time of year, my family had a sort of tradition...when winter would be at its peak and we weren't certain if the cold would take us or not, we began to exchange gifts to each other...almost like a memento mori. Winter is so unforgiving..."

Your voice trailed off, and Geralt asked you, his gloved fingers carefully breaking the wax seal that concealed the contents within.

"You're giving me a gift?"

"Well, sort of. I know you don't really care for material items since you're always on the Path, but I figured that perhaps this would be more plausible."

Geralt glanced down, and he could smell your scent wafting from the pages. There also seemed to be perfume lacing the pages, strong but not uncomfortable like the working girls around the cities wore.

When Geralt opened the letter, there was a dried flower that was glued to the paper with beeswax; giving the page a nice floral scent that mixed well with the perfume and your natural aura.

To Geralt of Rivia,

When the Path becomes unsteady, and you are unsure of your purpose: look to the skies as the swallow dives to greet your hand. Though the sun will not always shine, it is ever-present; waiting for your eyes to feast upon the light.

Though your purpose may become obscure during times of strife and hardship, it does not mean that it is meaningless. Though the way that you travel might not always be with good company; know that good company will always await you.

You are a valued friend; and we eagerly await your return when the Path calls to you again.

Geralt could see Ciri's familiar handwriting at the bottom of the page, a slight smile twitching the corner of his lips.

Wash your armor often, you smelly old man.

"I see Ciri didn't want to hold her thoughts back."

Geralt said, and you became embarrassed, wringing your hands together.

"Ah, yes, she asked me if she could add something, but wouldn't let me see what it was before it was already finished. Ciri was very adamant about making sure I didn't throw this draft away and gave it to you."

Geralt chuckled before he closed the letter and placed it within his armor, asking you as he came to stand beside you.

"Is that why your heart was beating so fast? Why you were so nervous? I thought you'd done something wrong...or I had."

"It's cheesy."

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck as Geralt listened.

"Had you been a person that valued material items, this would have been a lot easier...I'm not poetic like Dandelion, though he did have a bit to do with the wording."

"I could tell. You never struck me as the poetic type."

Geralt couldn't refrain from chuckling as you ducked your head and you groaned, looking up at the sky as it began to snow.

"Gods, I know! I just wanted to do something nice for you and give you something that you'd be able to take with you on the Path...Ciri told me that something to put on Roach's saddle or even a charm for your sheath would suffice, but then I had a dilemma of what I would even give to you then."

Geralt raised his brow, asking you as he turned and leaned against the railing of the balcony.

"Truly? I thought this was a tradition of your family's."

Your eyes became wide, and you glanced away from him, mumbling.

"It is, I just also wanted to do something nice. It's basically the same thing."

Geralt decided to stop torturing you, saying as he placed a hand in the air to make you pause and pay attention.

"It's alright, truly. I...really do appreciate this, and you're right: I don't really have much use for anything on the Path besides things that would help me with monster hunting, but that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate them. A letter is just as important to me as an actual gift."

You looked surprised, and you asked him almost earnestly.

"You mean that? You don't think it's...idiotic or anything?"

"Why would I think that?"

You shrugged, and Geralt sighed slightly, shaking his head and rolling his eyes slightly.

"You worry too much."

"You don't worry enough."

You stuck your tongue out at him, and Geralt smirked, leaning down to you and whispering in your ear.

"I'm not the one whose heart is racing and desire is soaking their scent like an animal in heat."

He patted your shoulder teasingly, leaving you to gawk in horror on the balcony as he walked back into the bedroom, calling over his shoulder.

"If you wanted something in return, all you had to do was say something."

END DAY 13

[createwithintent]

Journaling ideas for beginners

From a person who's been doing it for over 5 years 🤍

What you hope Your day will look like , and then an eventual reflection on what went well/or could improve

Lists: wishlists, desires, hopes, whatever you can think off

You could keep random trinkets, wrappers, tickets in a separate pouch

You can't really go wrong with stickers and pressed flowers

tiny comics about funny encounters you had

Specific songs and what they mean to you

Write in your target language! (Mine is French)

You could practice calligraphy if you're wanting to improve your handwriting

Scripting: write your future as if it's the present to manifest it into your reality

Swatches of your fave makeup (might do this with my lipstick collection sometime 🎀)

Countdowns, progress checkers, calendars to track certain things (maybe like a sober counter?)

Research fun essays about whatever (e.g. philosophy, crocheting, psychologyplsnts, crystals, etc.)

Nice quotes and/or compliments you heard or received throughout the day

Things you're grateful for

Recipes

Bad poetry you wrote

Conversation starters

Love letters

Ur current interests

Write haikus

Acrylic paintings on random pages

Tarot readings

Tea tabs

Make up your own aesthetic

Plan out your dream home!

Beauty tips you wanna pass on one day

Study tips (on another note: I'll make another post with my tips for exam prep)

Make a map with your favorite locations in your area

I'd be a fool if i didn't add Shadow work to this list, it's a way to access your deepest and confront yourself with your past. I totally recommend this for anyone (fair warning: it'll get intense)

Collages with random stuff or pics (or with a specific intention)

Lyrics that you hold dear

Cute notes for yourself to rediscover again

Dreams you've had

Signs from the universe (numerology, animals, angel numbers...)

Letters you won't ever send

Extensive book reviews (or fanfics, i wont judge)

Money (seriously, it always improves my mood to find a random bill of 20 in my old journals but just be careful!!!)

Write your own stories! (Make an oc that lives your dream life or something 🩷)

Mantras, affirmations, etc..

Your daily routines

Pictures: magazine cutouts or Polaroids

Happy journaling!

Also my asks are open!

So feel free to submit a question 🤍🤍🤍🫶🏾

With love,

Elle 🤍

[pinkandgoldensoul]

MV#1 || Domestic Silence || tape a

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: ̗̀➛ tape a of the 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 series If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader genre: established relationship, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, mention of s*x without any description of it word count: 6.6k plot: drinking your disconnection from the world away, you forget your diary next to your glass of wine. Max can't help but read: what have you been hiding behind those lost and distant stares?

«I’m home!» Max locked the front door and sighed, tiredness nestling inside his bones, shoulders finally falling in relaxation. He had attended a dinner downtown with Horner, Marko and some representatives of a new sponsor willing to ride the wave of success at Red Bull. Because of the business-driven and extremely formal setting, Max had thought it would be better if you didn’t come along with him, since he knew how boring dinners like these could turn and how much you had grown to despise them, through your father’s work. Plus, throughout the night, he would be able to hold onto your thought, wondering what you were doing instead, and anticipating the moment he would reach you.

He turned around and followed the dim light of the living room, unconsciously switching on the light when he halted at the door frame. You were sat down on the floor, hands slowly brushing the rug until you would lose sensitivity and a soft burn would cover your skin. You clung onto that feeling as an anchor to the world, as a sign you were physically present, licking your lips drenched in wine. It had started like every other night: you had come home, opened the cabinet where you would usually store bottles and grabbed a glass, drinking to unplug, to disconnect from yourself and let the alcohol flow until a pleasant numbness would enclose your senses. Still, now you desperately wanted to escape your thoughts and embrace feeling once again. You weakly smiled when you noticed his standing figure. «Welcome home.» you said, looking around you. Leaning onto the glass coffee table of the living room, you clumsily placed your wet fingers on your spread-open diary, wrinkling the once smooth, yellowish paper soaked in with ink and words. There was no sweeter pleasure than jotting down a flow of consciousness without fully being yourself: you may cry, twist your face in pain, laugh and whine in frustration, but always perceiving the warm buzz of alcohol softening feelings’ sharp edges and blossoming on your cheeks. Any time you decided to use wine as your socially acceptable but private emotional outlet, your diary was always beside you.

Max stirred a smile, quickly eyeing all the cues of the room and piecing them together. «Seems like I’ve missed a fun party.» he joked, raising the bottle of wine you had opened. «You can join now!» you brought up your glass as an invitation. «Don’t tempt me, it’s time to go to sleep.» He crouched down, studying the lost look your eyes threw at him. Max found your drunk ways teasingly cute, too much for him to bear without smiling and feeling the most endearing swell in the middle of his chest. «Let’s get up.» He took your hands and quickly lifted you up, with such a force you bumped inside his arms, holding onto him, scared you could fall back down. «I’m tired…» you slurred. Max wiped your cheek while checking whether you were wearing makeup he would remove, happy to see your skin was bare. «We’re going to bed, don’t worry.»

Going back to the living room, he got near the coffee table and reached out to the bottle to put it away, but his eyes inevitably fell on your diary: he then let the glass bump against glass, enamored with your calligraphy. He stared at it long enough to acknowledge his curiosity and be taken over by it; he grabbed it and sat down on the couch in religious silence, afraid to break the spell of violation. He took in hand the glass of wine you had left still full and got comfortable, in search of peace after a consuming night spent condescending sponsors.

In the dark lit room, your eyes got used to the long gray shadows forming onto the rug beneath your thighs. You felt nothing but loneliness. With the lights off, it almost seemed like you were utterly alone on earth. The diary spread open, you were only able to write the same old shit every entry, because nothing has really changed: you still poured wine down your throat in search of disconnection, in search of peace, hoping it would help, knowing it wouldn’t. You didn’t know anything anymore. Every time you had tried to talk to Max about your feelings, words disappeared or got lost between your teeth, like you had never experienced or felt those things, so nothing was meant to be said. Max had shared anything with you, and you had too, for a while: but then something had inevitably shifted. Something had turned off, inside of you. Inside a bubble, you could only witness Max’s happiness without feeling included, him thinking he was living the same fairytale with you. How fucking miserable did you have to be? Getting drunk on the floor all by yourself, waiting for your boyfriend in the darkness, not able to be honest with him? What kind of future would your relationship have if you had completely lost the ability to connect with him, if you wouldn’t trust him?

Max’s brain shut off, slowly internalizing those words. He flipped some of the previous pages, reading the entries’ dates, surprised to find that many, completely unaware of your secret emotional life.

Throughout the dinner, gazing down his feet, he had anticipated the sweet scent of your shampoo he so dearly loved whenever he would press his lips onto your nape, the pearly white of your teeth blinding him with a smile, the velvet caress of your fingertips upon his skin. He felt a particular type of comfort in coming back home, in your apartment, and dismissing his front to embrace his full range of emotions, exploring them with you and being intimate. After years of gray, turning off the volume of his soul not to feel hurt, not to feel fear, not to feel anger, not to feel regret, after falling in love with you he had begun acknowledging his own feelings more, carefully unveiling them, allowing himself to experience them, in a safe environment. What had made it safe in the first place was you being honest and vulnerable as well. Max had perceived a subtle shift, which he considered effect of time, of habit. You seemed more closed off, but he had always known you were more onto the introverted side of the spectrum: he would have never imagined something deeper would be at the route. But now he needed to dig deeper; he needed to know.

He quickly reached the first page, written in a hurry, full of whirls and small spots of ink.

You hadn’t paid attention to the dress you had chosen for the night; you had been in a rush, since you had completely forgotten about the dinner your father was having, though he had profusely talked it out to you.

«It’s an important occasion, so I’d like you to be there with me.» «What is it? Boring investors?». «No, this time I am the investor. We’re hosting Christian Horner, do you remember him?» «Oh, yeah, I do. The energy drinkers.» Your dad deeply inhaled. «They’re… not, I’ve told you, they are running one of the most successful teams in motorsport.» «So… Are you trying to get on board and get a slice of success too? Bet they’re already packed with sponsors, if that’s the case.» «My investments and my plans for the future were compelling enough to persuade Red Bull’s team principal to hear about them even more as my guest, so I earned my slice with hard work. That’s real success, y/n.»

You had welcomed Horner and the small group of people accompanying him at the door; you had guided them through the glamourous hall of your family’s villa and reached the dining room with indifference; it was usual for you, an oiled ritual of circumstance smiles and premeditated words, calibrated. All predictable, except for the man who entered the room for last. A blue blazer, the shiniest white shirt and the most polished, neat and fine features you had ever seen in a human being. Ethereal, unreal, he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, hypnotizing your poor and lost eyes with such an insignificant gesture. «Y/n, I’m glad to introduce you to the best driver of the sport and the current world champion, Max Verstappen.» You completely neglected Horner’s words being directed towards you, as your attention was completely drawn to the enchanting eyes of that silent and unreadable creature, visibly contracted in attending such a formal event, yet relaxed and laid down. «Nice to meet you.» In a single second, your entire insensitive and confident façade had broken in pieces and let the sea of doubt water your thoughts: his polite manners made you feel inadequate and out of place, made you question everything about the way you looked, the way the dress fit, your choice of words, the judgement he had already formed about you. You had stopped being a lonely planet; you had entered his orb and started gravitating around him. «The dining room is this way.» you quietly breathed out, turning around and guiding them.

Anytime you were about to stuff a bite in your mouth or filled your glass, anytime you moved from your unfazed stillness, you felt a burning stare upon you, an unconditioned reflex of Max tracking you, scared to lose sight of you, curious about your gestures, and the burning would soon turn into ice blue whenever you crossed eyes. Studying each other from across the table, it was easy to stumble by chance on Max in the majestic balcony reserved for the guests to admire the garden your father had designed; it was easy to start a conversation, champagne in hand, and offer him a tour of your life wandering in the silent nature; it was easy to listen to his anecdotes and stories, hanging off his smiling lips, and it was definitely impossible not to rapidly fall in love with his charm, his unique humor, his both delicate and sharp ways, as he asked you to join him for a ride on his sportive car. Running away from business and obligations, on board with a stranger, you had never felt freer and safer in your whole life.

Sardinia’s sun was just about to rise, a deep red disc painting the clouds orange, rippling the slow waves with gold. Enchanted by the view, taking in the heavenly peace of the moment, you leaned your head against Max’s shoulder, who was sitting next to you. He had invited you on his yacht, giving you the chance to live an Italian summer in his company, and he had demanded you’d see the sunrise with him. Getting up early had definitely been worth it. Wrapped by the same beach towel, you had whispered a conversation waiting for the sky show, enamored with the calm setting: nobody was around when you arrived at the dock and had sailed unseen. Your cheek still pressed on his warm skin, you wondered how you had managed to be so lucky and get to spend precious time with such a precious person. You and Max weren’t official yet, but you both knew you weren’t simply engaging in a platonic relationship, and that had been clear since the beginning. Though, you were walking one step at a time, without rushing into things, taking time to savor every milestone, as if you both had a limitless amount of time ahead of you which you were sure to spend together.

#

The sun now burned bright and the sea had acquired its naturally bluish tint, speckled with white, luminous splinters of light. Coming back to your deck chair with a tube of sunscreen, you sat down and squeezed the plastic envelope to put some on and avoid a sunburn. «Do you want me to put it on your back?» «Oh, no, thanks! I can manage!» you said, patting a handful of cream behind your neck. Max looked at you, exhilarated, as you tried to reach with your fingertips your upper back, without great results. «Uhm… Maybe I could use some help…» Max shook his head in fake disapproval and sat behind you, carefully taking the tube away from your grab. «You gave up pretty fast.» he chuckled. «Just admit you wanted me to put suncream on you as soon as you walked on the deck.» Enjoying his gentle hands massaging and distributing the cream, you stuttered at his words. «What? No way. You were the one who was dying to and immediately offered help. You’re down for me so bad…» Max stopped his motions, leaving you hanging while he grabbed new cream upon his fingers, and surprised you both with the cold texture hitting your back and his reply. «You don’t need any more suncream, but you still haven’t stopped me and neither have you complained about it, so you must be down bad for me as well.» You both smiled without letting the other see it. That type of teasing had been going on for a few weeks already, and the small banters always ended with a silent, omitted, shared conclusion: you were in love with each other. It lingered in the air, but none of you had said it out loud yet. Letting Max’s arms encircle your shoulders while he leaned back into the deck chair taking you down onto his chest, softness dug into your heart: lost in the middle of the sea, cuddling together, kissed by the sun, nothing seemed as perfect. «I think I love you.» you whispered, hiding your flushed face against his arm. Max’s joyful giggle, paired with the quick peck he left on your cheek, made your heart flip around. «I love you too, silly! Thank God you said it, I couldn’t go on much more with this urge.» «Urge?» you asked. «Yes. The urge to say it. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.» he gazed in the distance. «Why did you wait then?» «Because I wanted to hear it from you first.» «You’re such a tease…» «And that’s why you love me, right?» You wished you could say he was wrong without shamelessly lying. After all, his carefree-self had brought a peace and gust of youth you would never give up on; the way Max was able to hit every soft spot amazed you, scared you, charmed you.

It never felt right. Every time you heard your father speaking through the phone, addressing you with confidence and composure, perfectly measured, you were never able to understand where his voice came from. You knew it wasn’t him. You knew it couldn’t be. Maybe you had only imagined the words he had reserved for you in the past; they weren’t actually directed at you, they were never spitted out between your dad’s teeth in the outraged tone you remembered, they were never accompanied by his accusing pointer finger. Maybe it had always been a dream, an illusion. He had asked you once again to attend a gala, sure you would eventually give in to his persistence, and counting on the fact you would follow in his businessman footsteps. You had turned down the invitation without hesitation, to his dismay and surprise. He had tried to talk it out with you on the phone, only aggravating the situation, insensitive to your choice, until you had mentioned you weren’t feeling quite good physically. Who would ever want a pale, bored out daughter sitting at the table next to prestigious colleagues? He had dropped the topic right as you excused yourself and demanded you to rest and recover.

A foot pushing down the cushions of the couch, one cheek resting onto your brought-up knee, you heard the shuffling noise of metal clashing against metal, a distant signal Max had come back home. «Thanks for helping me with the bags, y/n, always so attentive.» he joked, speaking from the kitchen. «Y/n?» His steps were inaudible, but his presence was clear to you the second he approached the door. There was no need to talk or prompt any more questions: Max acknowledged your silence with patience, carefully taking a seat next to you. He stared at you with softness, and you wished you could dare to look at him, but your eyes were lost in a point ahead of you. As soon as his fingers brushed your skin to put a strand of hair behind your hair, tender, in an uncontrolled reaction, you felt the need to justify your behavior. «Dad.» you whispered. «It’s okay.» he kept brushing locks of hair upon the first one. «We don’t have to talk about it.» Lulled by the repetitive movements, you were, though, totally unresponsive to them, both physically and emotionally. You could see your hair lightly dancing on your shoulder as he put it in place, but you felt trapped inside a glass bell. «…be alright. You know that?» Max’s question dropped in silence. It was rhetorical, but he expected some sort of reaction from you. Your eyes dodged him, none of your muscles moved under his fingertips. He had never seen you so distant. He carefully placed his hand on the side of your head and pulled you close to his chest, getting comfortable on the couch. If he couldn’t get you to talk, at least he would cuddle you until you fell asleep inside his arms, amongst small kisses to your temple and caresses. And it worked. He felt your cheeks gradually warming, blossoming in red life, your body slightly shifting in the embrace. A lump of words was stuck in your throat, but you wanted to say something to Max. You wanted to at least try describing the veil that had you trapped in numbness. «Max…» you groaned. He simply hummed, listening. Every word faltered as you began summoning them and you were left with the only comfortable ones, residues of your intentions. «I love you.» Max’s arms couldn’t help but tighten the grab in affection, while his lips sealed the gesture on the top of your head. «I love you too, y/n.»

Your dad never really understood that you hadn’t become Max’s girlfriend as an excellent entrepreneur choice, tying your surname to his and therefore strengthening a contract the two of you had no interest in. He would never understand what love felt like.

Max had anticipated a couple of scenarios as he entered the house party with his arm draped around your waist: he had imagined the two of you dancing together until dawn, drunk of joy for yet another race win; colorful shadows adorning your face in the dark of the floor, sure you would stand out and shine of light to his eyes; giggling as idiots while coming back home holding each other. He hadn’t anticipated the one he was in. Head buzzing, Max searched for your scent, for your clothes, for your hair, for your eyes through the packed venue, incapable of relief as you seemed to have disappeared without warning. He had already asked everybody about you, to no avail; he had checked the restroom at the ground floor, he had even waited for people to come out to see if you had simply gone to the bathroom, but you were nowhere to be found. Max’s head was starting to spin. Flinging his head in every direction to search for you clearly wasn’t helping.

He adventured upstairs and, annoyingly enough, it was quite easy to find you: one of the guestroom’s doors was open enough for him to recognize your shoes hanging off the bed. Max immediately pushed the knob and was inevitably left confused by what he saw. You were laying down on the white duvet, staring at the ceiling, without moving a muscle. «Y/n, what are you doing?» Max asked, swallowing as his head pulsed in pain. Instead of answering, a faint breath escaped your lips, and the shadow of a smile appeared on them. «Am I floating?» «Sorry?» Max kneeled down near the bed, in order to hear your mumbles. «Am I floating?» He got lost in the silence that followed, digging in your enlarged pupils, incapable of making sense of the soft words you muttered between unexplainable giggles. «I’m floating alone, Max. Look at me.» «Y/n, you’re…» On a bed, that’s what Max wanted to say; but his words died as soon as tears were springing from the corner of your eyes, crossing your temple. His eyebrows clashed in confusion and alarm, but your deaf laugh, concealing your sobs, worried him even more. «Are you okay? Y/n, what’s wrong?» The lightweight of his thumb swiping your tears came softened to your senses. «I can’t feel it…» «What are you talking about?» Max said, massaging his aching forehead in order to soothe his headache. «I can’t feel it, Max.» «What’s the matter? What aren’t you feeling?» The surrendered and pleading tone he addressed you with broke every wall. «I can’t feel anything.» It was a whisper, but Max didn’t let it slide easily: it played in his mind non-stop, incessant, oppressive, so hard to process it ran him mad. And the only reaction offered after an unmanageable and incomprehensible statement was frustration. «C’mon, let’s go home.» Your teary eyes looked at him for the first time since he had stepped into the room, left confused by the collected order. «Let’s go home, y/n.» he tried to persuade you with a calmer tone this time, gently helping you up into a sitting position. To be honest, you were too shit faced to even properly stand on your own, let alone walk out the house on your feet without Max’s help. His arms felt so warm and secure around you to the point you couldn’t help but scoff a smile while sniffing, going downstairs. And when his hands abandoned your body, you felt lost, like a kid at the store who can’t see her parents anymore around the countless shelves, scared of the unknown faces. «Give me a second and we’ll leave, okay? One second, I’ll be back.»

Max stormed into the large kitchen, now almost emptied due to the intense dancing happening in the living room: that only made his objective easier to accomplish. In a few strides, Max reached the counters and rummaged through the bottles, opened and closed the cabinets in furious motions, quickly scattering glass left and right, before turning towards the poor barman called for the evening and spitting out word of fire against him. «What the fuck did you give to my girlfriend?» He was desperately trying not to leash out on that young boy, visibly terrified at his accusation, but the trail of gin tonics he had downed throughout the night wouldn’t offer much help. «I-I don’t even know who she is…» the bartender answered, shaking. «Don’t fuck with me, you saw us here before the party even started.» Max got closer, boring his eyes into the man’s frightened ones. «She… She came here once and- and she asked if we had red wine, but I told her there wasn’t any.» «You didn’t pour for her any fancy high alcohol content shit you motherfuckers always hide, right?» «No, no, I swear! You can check anywhere, if you want!» «I’ve got no time to waste with you, dude.» Max snorted and shook his head as he walked off the kitchen and frantically searched for you; luckily, he immediately spotted you right where he had left you, lost, by the stairs. Only approaching you and feeling your tender hands gripping his forearms tight, glancing at him with glistening eyes, Max felt his heart cave and hurt for your state. «Can we please go home?» you asked with trembling voice. Max engulfed you in a hug and left a kiss on the side of your head, caressing your back while you quietly sobbed against his chest. «Yes. We’re going home.»

Max loved being invited to your father’s dinner nights. It wasn’t for his presence, of course: he actually quite despised the annoyed and avoidant look in your eyes, attributable to him. Max didn’t even fall in love with the spectacular mansion your dad would flaunt in front of his clients and partners, finely adorned with the most kitsch style he had witnessed in his life. Your dad’s cars could be appealing to him, though, but the collection definitely wasn’t what he enjoyed the most. If there was anything that those nights could provide the both of you with and that no other circumstance would ever top, it was the intense and inevitable sensual attraction building up throughout the evening between the two of you. The rapid glances thrown at each other, him knowing you couldn’t wait to run away from the set table, you buying into his unnoticeable smirks were the first signals of on-going teasing; then you would both unconsciously filling your glasses a bit more often, drinking smiles and desires away, before the two of you would excuses yourselves early and rush down the hall, under the disappointed but not surprised glance of your father, not leaving the house until you had released a bit of yearning with a sloppy kiss against the car door.

There was an unexplainable thrill coursing through Max’s fingers gripping the steering wheel in speeding back home, anticipating the sweetest ending to the night, breaths overlaying and filling up the car with tension, interrupted by your faint requests of slowing down. He knew none of you wanted the ride to last any second longer. And every time he would receive confirmation by the way you both assaulted each other’s lips as soon as the door clicked open, shutting down any other thought or worry. It was only you and him.

#

The teasing had grown unbearable for you that night. Not even being able to savor Max’s touch inside the walls of your cozy apartment could relieve your desire, always begging him to lean closer, to kiss deeper, to give you more of his undivided attention. «Please, Max…» you pleaded in-between the messy kiss. «I need you so bad.» Max was quick to reach behind your back and pull down the zip of your dress, covering every centimeter of the bare skin just exposed with the gesture right as it was displayed before his eager eyes. Fingers running through the locks of his hair, you had never seen him so passionate and utterly dedicated to pleasuring you as much as he could, never stopping the trail of open-mouthed kisses under your collarbone, slowly shifting down to your chest, tantalizing, taking his time. Quiet whines escaped your lips, fruit of dissatisfaction, obliging Max to lift his eyes up and address your unexpected behavior. «Am I doing something wrong?» The uncertainty in his words pained you enough to close the gap and warm his chest with a passionate kiss, while you desperately tried to shake off the feeling of restlessness tingling your body. You could see Max was doing everything just right; his hands were all over you, as much as his plump lips, as much as his eyes searching for your reaction to his touch. You were his only worry, his only care. But you couldn’t feel it. It was too late when you felt yourself slip away and look at the scene from above, over your head, in a timeless space, as an outsider, not in charge of your limbs anymore. You knew your hands were touching him, and that you were supposed to brush his fine strands of hair, the ones you’d get lost staring at while cuddling, but you were met with a stone-cold insensitivity. And every time Max whispered some sort of reassurance – “Do you like it, baby?” – or boldly murmured under his breath an “I’m going to make you feel good”, you gripped him tighter, you held him closer, without getting to be awarded by the warmth of his embrace which you were desperately seeking for. «Max…» There was no way you could prevent your voice from pleading, almost veiled with fear, since the idea of not feeling close to you the person you loved the most made you bare and naked, a shivering mess before the terrifying thought of loneliness. He slowly halted his movements, hovering his head upon yours, sweetly looking down at your furrowed brows. «I’m here.» His hot breath fanned on the crook of your neck, on which he left peppering kisses all over, trailing back down where he was, and you were left with a boiling lake of feelings both blooming in your stomach and in the middle of your chest, overwhelming.

Making love to him, you cried for the first time in front of him after months; he cradled you so softly, wiping tears away from your face pressed against his arm, as you plastered a kiss on it. He didn’t ask you anything, even though he had tried to stop as soon as he had noticed. Your hands pressing him back onto you, your lips whimpering and begging him to carry on had nurtured a caretaking love for you, tender, fragile, vulnerable, but uniquely crafted. It was only natural for the both of you to breathe out “I love you”s against each other’s skin right as you got off, resting tangled up, tired but satisfied, incapable of depriving yourselves of the warm touch. Finding peace staring at his flushed cheeks and at the blondish curve of his eyelashes, you bittersweetly came to terms with the fact that Max was the only one able to drag you out of numbness, lulling you into consciousness, wishing you would feel instead of wanting to drown out the world. And you had never been more scared in your life. There was no such a risk as not being able to perceive his touch, his painfully gentle caresses, his delightful kisses. His undying love. Cupping his cheek, you let another tear cross yours. He was tired, and you had neglected his feelings for a while. You wondered how he was capable of handling everything so well, perfectly dealing with being a Formula One world champion, an amazing partner, a beautiful human being. Compared to him, you felt miserable. Yet, you couldn’t help but wish he’d never notice, so that you could share that love a couple minutes more, nestled against him, completely safe within his hug.

The water was lukewarm. You wished it still emanated the boiling heat which comforted your soul and distended all your muscles, but you had been sitting still inside the bathtub for long enough to let it cool down. The soap had stopped plopping in bubbles, merged down the water, tinting it whitish. You had run the bath to relax, but tiredness weighed your limbs, resting on the ceramic as if rocks tied them down. Your eyes felt heavy. Nothing in your headspace. Nothing. Peace. «Nah, sorry, I’m not coming.» Max. You heard him talking on the phone. «… No, I’m not a child, you know?» You slowly stirred your fingers in the water, you shifted in your sitting position. «We talked about this already, I told you I’m busy.» Your knees buckled up, pressed against one another, with your palms resting upon them. «So what? If you have a problem with it, it’s your business, not mine.» Listening carefully to the conversation, you began running your soapery hands up and down your arms, rubbing your legs, your nape, your shoulders, ‘til a veil of pink showed through, beneath the bubbles. «I really don’t get what’s the point of this. What’s your problem?» Intensive rubbing needs rinsing: you dived down the water, hiding from chaos, refusing to listen to those words wakening rivulets of unwelcome memories. Lulled by the water, you tried to ignore the knot in your throat, the pressure of your father’s voice pulsing in your head like a drill, your lungs longing for air.

I wish you were a better daughter

A small slip of your brain, and water was crawling inside your nose, falling down your throat. Your hands frantically searched for the edge of the bathtub, gripping it as best as the wet skin could allow, propping you up with an abrupt motion which rocked the water in a violent wave. You coughed uncontrollably, immediately spitting the hate, the sorrow, the fear with the water you had inhaled. But how could you get rid of the fear at the bottom of your lungs, of the disgust at the pit of your stomach? «You okay?» Max knocked at the door. Trying to answer him, you kept coughing.

I didn’t have a kid to have her living at my expenses until I die

You dug your nails in your skin, leaned your forehead between your joined knees. Would you ever grow out of that nightmare? Would you ever live your life with your father completely out of the picture? «I’m coming in.» Why did he warn you? Why did he have to be so sickly respectful of you in any given circumstance? Why hadn’t you met him earlier? «Did you breathe water in?» He ran a hand on your wet hair, caressing it with care as you finally stopped coughing. You simply nodded, head still buried down. «Did you get scared?» You then finally looked at him. How on earth such a lovely and tender human being could blossom from such a traumatic upbringing? A little voice inside of you urged to answer “Yes, I did”: every time your dad had raised his voice against you, every time you had seen disapproval in his stare, every time you had hidden behind the wooden door of your room. You had lived in fear. And it was so difficult to experience such a pure and delicate love after hurt. «Do you want me to rinse your hair with the shower head? It’s still full of soap.» No parts of you opposed his hands moving your shoulders towards his side of the bathtub, so that he could properly see your scalp, while he rinsed off the white dust of memories from your head.

You had seen the day spiraling right as you had started it. Missed the flight, almost lost your luggage, failed to find the address of the hotel and had to ask Max, busy with media duties, to pick you up. Seeing him drop 16th in qualifying for mechanical issues caused during free practice was the last straw of a bad day. «I told them to check everything and still we had the same fucking issue! I fucking knew it! They were all joking and laughing when I entered the box at the beginning of Q1 and nobody did what they’re paid to do!» Max furiously paced up and down the preparation room, in which he had locked the two of you, trying to calm down. «Maybe they didn’t expect the damage to be that serious, since they haven’t had a lot of time to verify…» He dead stopped, looking at you with mad eyes. «I DON’T GIVE A FUCK, y/n! It’s their damn job! Why the fuck are you defending them?!» You swallowed hard, fingers opening and closing uncontrolled. It was the first time you had seen him getting furious and taking it out on you, something you clearly weren’t ready to face yet. A fire trail of words grew in your chest, fueled by an unknown rage, combined to the uncontrollable twitching of your chin. «Don’t ever talk to me like that again.» you whispered. Max, who had got back to walking back and forth passing a hand through his hair in frustration, turned towards you, taken by surprise. «Don’t ever yell at me again, understood?! I-I’m not someone who’s going to tolerate being screamed at! I’m not that type of person!» Coming down from his adrenaline high, Max’s brows clashed in a soft and regretful expression, slowly getting closer to you. «I would never withstand this kind of treatment, okay?!» His arms engulfed you in a hug full of sorry’s and exasperation, which you held on to. «I’m not weak!» you cried out. Max looked at you, eyes brimming in sadness, and carefully dried tears you didn’t know had been running down your skin. «You’ve been nice to me all day and I disrespected you in return… That was shitty of me. I’m sorry, I’m just- You didn’t deserve this. Nobody does.» Vanished. Your bravery was thrown to the wind by those simple words. Your fears, your anxiety all torn apart like scrap paper: Max transmuted every demon into a beautiful origami, solved, nicely crafted, snatched from chaos. Max pressed a kiss on your cheek and stared at you. «I’m cancelling any plan tonight so that we can stay together, if you’d like to, of course.» An involuntary smile bloomed on your lips. «As if I’d ever decline.»

Max, despite the effort, couldn’t stray his eyes away from the page. A myriad of questions, doubts and sad truths had invested him and dragged his body down towards the couch, paralyzing him. You didn’t like talking about your dad and he had always respected your choice, since the same went for him; but he had never imagined something deeper, something he both didn’t and did want to know more about was boiling beneath the surface. The thought you had been treated poorly as a daughter made him sick. «Max, can you come cuddle? I can’t sleep without-» He tilted his head towards your sleepy self, who had just walked in on him reading your diary comfortably sat in the living room, undisturbed. Clarity of mind lost in the drinking session of the evening, you bursted crying as soon as Max got up from the sofa and approached you with sorrow painted in his eyes. You didn’t know what he had read, but it was almost as if you did. His reaction was the biggest clue you could be ever given. «You no longer need to deal with him alone.» he planted a kiss on the side of your head. «We’ll face him together.» «I don’t want to face him…» you sobbed, grabbing his shirt tighter. «I’d like to never see him again.» «You don’t owe him a single thing, y/n. Financially providing for you was a duty, not something he can blackmail you with and make you feel guilty about.» Max said, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear. «I promise we’ll have a beautiful life and I’ll help you forget about him. You deserve so much better…» You leaned your wet cheek on his hand cupping your face, carved up by the love you felt for him. «I thought I couldn’t love you more.» you managed to say. Max captured your lips in a quick kiss, born from a raptus of affection he didn’t stop. «Let me love you like you do, then.»

Finally hereeeeeeee! Thanks for waiting with patience, as always! Huge props and a love shower (?) to whoever will leave a note of feedback ♥ You have no idea how much I appreciate those who do! ♥

If you haven't already, you can check tape b of this series here! Otherwise...

✧ ˚ · . Wish you a blissful day . · ˚✧

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[vaelsnipe]

Appointment, Donation & Delivery

Upon the Shielded Mind's lobby area on the main desk sat a large wicker Noblegarden basket. Within it was an assortment of noblegarden themed chocolates, treats and even some coffee grounds and teas.

Vaelsnipe had earned a few looks when he brought it to the clinic for his appointment today, as this was not typically something he'd do for anyone. But it seemed yesterday's adventures had proved fruitful after their talk the night before on the stoop with the few gathered there. Lukel and the shop owner had more or less cornered Vaelsnipe with big eyes begging him to go along with this picking of items to give to others , he somehow caved in the end. It wouldn't kill him to do something nice for the clinic afterall, especially with how much he came there.

Within the basket were some chocolate roses for Laeynna specifically. A very well written note done in calligraphy was left with the roses to ensure only she ate them. Even if not staff from the clinic itself, it was hoped that they might return to its stoop one day to collect the gift as it wasn't like they knew where they lived.

There was also some Coffee freshly roasted, some coffee bites in the shape of beans and some chocolate expresso bars. When he'd met with Veilos, he'd made sure he knew those were in there just for him and which Lukel had been insistent that Veil tried as Vael's idea of just getting the elf coffee alone wasn't enough.

There was also several little chocolate turtles, chocolate mice and a few other animals. But there wasn't only chocolate. Some other candies were added too including extra chocolate mack-a-roons as Lukel called them. They'd mailed some to Fiorenze already along with the letter Vaelsnipe had sent her after they'd gone shopping. Lukel was adamant she receive those.

By the end of his healing session, Veilos discovered the void taint in his arm was no longer present, though the damage was still there, so at least today's appointment was less painful than the last but he had continued to show up for every therapy session every other day. Before he left after todays appointment, he gave him a pouch with a good amount of gold within it. A generous donation to the Children's event they were hosting this weekend as he sadly would be away for something personal. But he made certain the Dr. was given the heavy coin pouch. He warned him too that there may be a few chocolate coins in there he missed… courtesy of Lukel as well. Children needed chocolate too.

Direct Mentions: @veilosdaigoa @theshieldedmind @lilyofporcelain @lukel-sunshadow @fio-renze

Soft Mentions: @zenithnightbane @gloamingdawn @nahisummerhold @kharrisdawndancer

[blushcoloreddreams]

What are the benefits of writing by hand

Do you still practice writing by hand? The practicality of technology has moved us away from paper and pen a little. But did you know that there are a series of benefits for those who write by hand? I'll mention some of them and, at the end of the post, give you a handwriting tip.

1- slowing down

Writing by hand forces you to slow down. You will be able to develop more solid arguments and more elaborate connections. By thinking slowly, you will think better.

2- identity

When you write by hand, you imprint traces of your personality in your writing. The content (what you say) will have in form (the handwriting) an affective and profound means of expression.

3- memory

Writing by hand exercises your memory. What you write by hand is more likely to stick in your memory than something you type.

4- Creativity

When you write by hand, it's not just the words that can express your creativity, but also the form they take. Calligraphy itself is an art form and an outlet for creative expression.

5- Examination of Conscience

Handwriting, without distractions, can organize your thoughts. You can do your soul-searching in writing.

How to practice writing by hand?

I want to recommend you a special exercise. You can dedicate yourself to writing the Morning Pages. Morning pages are three handwritten pages of free association thoughts - a kind of brain drainage. They are the simple act of moving your hand over the paper and writing anything that comes to mind. Just keep your hand filling the paper. Writing morning pages is a valid form of meditation. This gives us new perspectives and helps us make changes in our lives. Writing contributes to the contemplation of the mystery of life, to powerful associations that lead us to see the poetry of everyday life.

The convenience of cell phones and computers ended up making us put aside this practice that, not long ago, was the most common among people, at least during the school years.

Fortunately, some scholars decided to look into the benefits of handwritting. And there are many. In this post, I only present the main ones. If you haven't written by hand in a while, the idea is that these benefits catch your attention so that you remember some of them; some that you have already tried when you had the opportunity to write by hand. Annotating by hand is a personal exercise in many ways. It is a craft in the classic sense: a technique that has an end in mind and that, precisely because of the goodness of the end, must be carefully perfected. By trying to write by hand, and write better, we make an effort to improve ourselves as well.