#pouring his heart and soul into that single gesture of affection

[heliosundercover]

Oblivious dick Grayson

Dick, "Am I missing something?" Grayson. A great leader, brother, and friend. But he's horrible at picking up signals, even though he’s a flirt himself.

 

Dick had constantly fumbled the bag. He had a tendency to completely miss signals; it became a joke between his friends.

 

"Wait, you’re telling me she was giving me “fuck me eyes.” Ha, you’re hilarious,” Dick says in air quotes after being told some girl on the street was flirting with him, as if it were unbelievable that he gets female attention. 

 

But with you, he was suddenly hyper-aware, hoping that he wasn't missing something with you. 

 

"Was she flirting or being nice?" He sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Today he bumped into you at the supermarket, and you complimented his hair, saying that it looked soft. You even leaned in super close, like you wanted to touch it.

"Dick I don't know. How'd you get that from what do you want on your pizza, dude?" Jason replies, rubbing his temples. 

 

Everyone thought this crush on a random civilian was getting a bit ridiculous, especially since she was clearly interested. But in his mind, he couldn't fumble this one. You were different, like you were too good for Gotham when you first met; he knew almost instantly but somehow missed the blatant attraction you had for him.

Dick wasn't the type to believe in love at first sight. 

But that night, he started wondering if it was real. When he first saw you, you were sitting in a bar drinking with a group of friends when he walked in, and he couldn't take his eyes off of you, and neither could you. At some point, you said fuck it and went up to him, chatting it up; it was an instant connection. But of course he missed your signals, thinking you weren't interested at first. It wasn't until you wrote your number on his hand and hearts around it that he realized you were attracted to him, but somehow he still felt like the guest could be friendly. The simple gesture has him thinking the entire night.

 

It took so long for him to ask you out officially; he had been too afraid to ask you out, afraid that he had misinterpreted your feelings. But when you agreed, his face lit up. Weeks of torment were finally over. You agreed to go to a small cafe for something casual.

 

Dick was on mission today. He was on a mission to not miss a single thing about you. Over the past few weeks, he has been meticulously honing his observation skills, pouring over self-help books, and practicing mindfulness. He's been so deep in this self-imposed mission that he has ended up ironically missing the most important thing: your clear, no longer subtle, signals of affection. 

 

You look up from your phone, and your lips curl into a smile that could make any man's heart flutter uncontrollably. You tilt your head gently, and he swears your eyes shimmer with a playful glint. That's your signal. It's always been your signal. But Dick, bless his soul, misses it entirely. He's too engrossed in everything, down to the intricate details, missing the big picture in the process. 

It was driving you crazy. Weeks of flirting felt like it was going nowhere, then suddenly he asked you on a date. It was so confusing. It had you thinking you were the issue. 

"Do you want to order anything?" Dick asks, his eyes glued to the menu. You giggle softly. He was cute, all focused like that, like the menu was the most interesting thing in the world. Gently shaking your head, suddenly it clicked. He was just nervous, overthinking, or both. After you've been trying to get him to notice the signals for weeks now, Dick was just being a bit awkward.

 

"Hey, Dick," you murmur softly, extending her hand across the table to gently touch his, causing him to finally look up. You meet eyes; you can see him searching your face for anything, and you giggle again.

"Im going to be honest here, Dick," you squeeze his hand softly. 

"I've been flirting with you for weeks, and I can't tell if you're not interested or what, but it's driving me mad."

 

His eyes go wide, and the irony of the situation kicks in almost immediately. This whole time, he was so focused on not missing something that he missed weeks of flirting that he wanted to kick himself. 

"No, no, it's just," he laughs, like the weight of the world is off his shoulders. 

 

"I like you too; I like you a lot, actually, but I was so afraid of reading the situation wrong that I ended up doing just that."

 

He laughs again. His laugh sends relief down your spine, so you weren't crazy; he was just overthinking it. It was kind of cute knowing that you made him flustered. 

 

The date pretty much flies by after you get over that not-so-small hurdle. The connection had been there for weeks, so it was easy for you two to talk. And when the date ended, neither of you wanted it to end, so he walked you home.

 

"I really liked spending time with you. Do you want to see me again?" 

He asks when you get to your apartment door. The question makes you roll your eyes. 

 

"No, I don't want to see you again," you say jokingly, but you see the panic on his face.

"Of course I want to see you again, Dick. I really, really like you."

You step closer to him, and suddenly the hallway is fifty degrees hotter. Dick looks down at you, and his breath hitches.

You stand in the hallway for what feels like eternity, just looking at each other. 

 

"Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you right now?" Dick breaks the silence. 

 

"I thought you'd never ask."

His hand cups your cheek, and his eyes look so beautiful that even in the horrible lighting of your apartment building's hallway, they never leave yours. You suddenly realize how close you are standing—close enough to see your reflection in his gaze. You see anticipation, desire, mirrored in your own eyes, and something else. Something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter. It was a really intimate moment. 

 

But Dick just had to make a joke.

"Just making sure I'm not missing something, and you like me, right?"

You can't help but giggle, playfully pushing him away.

 

"Yeah, this means I like you."

Laughing softly, you place one more kiss on his cheek before going into your apartment.

 

Dick couldn't help but celebrate silently when your door was fully shut. When he got back to the manor, he had a noticeable smile on his face.

 

Damian looks at Jason with a raised eyebrow when they see him happily skipping by. 

“So do we think that girl is real? Orrr…”

 

“For his sake, yes.” 

Jason looks back at what he was doing, and the room is back in a comfortable silence. 

So i just wanted to say thank you sm for loving my Jason fic! I started on wattpad and stuff on wattpad takes forever to get noticed/ popular i look forward to writing more but i genuinely expected it to not take off how it did:)

Im working on a thank you piece with more dc characters called “how they talk about you”

[genshingarbage]

hi there mod diluc! can i request a drabble/oneshot with diluc x fem (or gn) reader where the reader is insecure about their looks and feels like they're not good enough for him? kinda like a fluffy hurt/comfort? :)

Awe! Hey there, lovelyluc! Ofc I can do this, it was a nice breather from all the angst and smut that I have just brewing away behind closed doors, lmao!!! I hope this was to your liking! Sorry for keeping you waiting just really busy with personal things right now!! - Mod Diluc

Time and Time Again.

Diluc x Reader / Fluff-Comfort

Why does he like you.

It wasn't a question anymore. It was a demand you really wished to have the answer to.

Your fingers tapped incessantly against the oak tabletop surface you stood beside, your hand tightly wrapped around a wine glass, the flavoured liquid swirling inside fervently as your wrist rolled in circular motions. Your actions oozed with clear impatience and frustration; to what, however, was something only you were privy to right now.

You squinted your eyes and flared your nostrils as you bought the glass to your lips, taking a hearty swig of the beverage before returning back to your prior actions. Your mind continued to race with the 'what ifs' and possible 'whys.' But it was all for nothing without concrete evidence, theorising and speculation was never your strong suit. So you sighed out in exasperation, wishing to admit defeat, but the gnawing voice of no reason in the back of your head wasn't going to allow it.

You audibly groaned out now and rolled your eyes, your hand leaving the tables surface to rub against the side of your face. Your stubbornness was certainly going to be your ruin, so many questions to ask him, but no courage to voice them. Him being, of course, Diluc Ragnvindr; Mondstadt's biggest tycoon of the wine industry, the most wealthy soul and most eligible bachelor, well all of them were true except the last one now.

But that was the problem right now, wasn't it? He is supposed to be no longer eligible to single women out there, no longer a bachelor. For he is with you, happily, of course... right?

You took another deep swig of your wine after the realisation that he may not actually be happy with you. Maybe he married you only for convenience? Oh, Archons... what if he didn't like you at all?! What if you were just an easy option because he already knew you, a familiar face that could solve his problems?

Your eyes widened as the heaviness of it all began to sink your mind and heart into a pitiful state of despair and worry. He did always seem distant, didn't he? ... somewhat aloof to your gestures of affection and tenderness. Your glass is now empty and so placed on the table while you traverse the short distance to the storage cabinet stowed at the corner of the spacious and luxurious living room.

As you subconsciously manoeuvre around and fetch yourself another bottle of high-priced wine, your thoughts continue to swirl inside; he only ever shows for dinner and special occasions that require his presence with you, as if it was all just another task... another tedious duty... as if you... was just another mundane necessity.

Pop!

You blink rapidly as the sound of uncorking the bottle brings you back, and you don't even remember grabbing the extra strong alcoholic beverage as you watch the deep red liquid pour into your emptied wine-glass-now full. The unsteady wavering of the smooth contents locking your gaze in a sudden hypnotic power, watching as it rises and sinks left and right, till finally settling once the liquid no longer pours inside, steady, still, unmoving.

Much like your romantic life.

You whined to yourself pathetically as you placed the bottle down and swiftly lifted the glass back up to meet your dried lips and suddenly dried throat, swallowing more of the numbing buzz that slowly clouds you more into intoxicated cushioning. This was childish and certainly unhelpful. You knew that much, but what else could you do?

Nervously, you bit at your nail on your free hand unoccupied with keeping a steady hold on your glass, a nasty habit you obtained as a child when the nerves of failing in your parents eyes plagued your every waking moment, when things seemed to look bleak and wasn't going your way or in anyway that had been intended. And much like back then, that same dreaded feeling began to overwhelm you now. What if you're unattractive? What if your ordinary self is too plain for that level of extraordinary that Master Diluc so clearly was?

You never made mighty or outstanding achievements in your past. You never conjured up to much of anything worthy of note, let alone history defining. Your biggest crowned achievement was this, right now, your life, married in unison with Diluc Ragnvindr. It was something that made you brim with pride and unbridled love and happiness, your faint smile was fleeting as you reminisced on those sweet memories, before the darkness swept back over and left you alone with the mere thought of; happiness for you, sorrow for him.

The grip on your glass grew increasingly tighter, your knuckles whitening under the pressure, and your eyes also began to shine with a glossiness to them, tears threatening to spill. Was your true love only true to your heart? And not a shared experience with the man you'd held so dearly? You meekly rubbed the spilling tears from your cheek as some managed to escape you and drop onto the wooden surface you stood beside.

Click.

The door...

"Y/N?"

That voice...

No, no, no, not right now, he can not see me right now, not like this... no!

It was the very man you'd spent the best part of an hour stressing and crying over, his voice laced with concern as you heard the footsteps grow nearer and louder as he approached you from behind. You hated this! How was he so skilled at being so silent, only knowing he's nearby when it's far too late.

"O-oh, hello dear, I didn't hear you approaching." You tried to feign softness in your voice to hide the wavering tone behind it. You dared not to glimpse behind either. You feared seeing him right now. Eye to eye will only unleash the gates you're desperately holding under lock an key. So you remained faced stiffly toward the table and away from his heavy stare; "Naturally," he replied in that suave voice he naturally holds, "how else am I to keep my beloved on her toes?" He finishes with a soft chuckle.

Your heart aches, a smile forming ever so slightly on your now reddened face, your eyes still glossy and your cheeks somewhat shiny from the few tears prior. He jokes with you... would a man who loves you really care to entertain you? Your hand placed absentmindedly against your chest as you pondered: Diluc would, regardless, because he's always been a charming gentleman. To any an all. It did little to soothe your worry as much as it instead led you to admire him more, which resulted in your self resentment to blossom hotter.

"Y/N, you seem troubled, speak to me." He pleaded, though it sounded more of a demand. You were used to his stoic voice in most cases, that's why those odd times he did crack a joke or shoot a flirty line to you it caught you off guard and never failed to fluster you.

Suddenly, you felt his warmth press against you from behind, his arms slowly snaking around your waist to pull you more into him. His forehead resting gently on the base of your neck where your hair lay neatly braided, his eyes closed unbeknownst to you, of course. His body shifting ever so slightly to press tighter against you.

There was a thick awkwardness of dead silence after his request however, your mouth parted, but no words left you. You were losing yourself in your self worry, your self-hatred, all of it, and you closed your eyes to still your nerves that bubbled under the surface, threatening to erupt. He held you so lovingly, caressed you with earnest intent, showed concern, these are all acts a lover would surely portray to their beloved, in yet... something in your mind wouldn't rest, wouldn't leave well enough alone, and unfortunately, it took hold of your reason entirely and began to control your words.

"Do you love me Master Diluc?" You questioned.

"Master?" He questioned back. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly in a quizzical expression as well as slight shock. You hadn't called him that title since the last day you served him or his family as a maid, since the day he proposed to you...

"Do you?" Your head instinctively began to turn, the itching desire to look the man in his eyes, in yet you froze, halted your actions and remained faced forward, eyes glaring down at your hands pressed against the tabletop, your focus locked onto the beautiful crystal smelted wedding ring the red head behind you had so gently slid onto your finger that faithful day.

"Y/N, of course I do. What is this?" His voice grew more stern now, stricter and laced with demanding expectancy. His grip on you began to loosen ever so slightly. The feeling of his grip softening only served to sting your heart harder. Could he not stand to you hold in an embrace for that long? Of course he couldn't, why would he want to? You're nothing.

You sniffed in sharply, a frail attempt to steady your racing heart that thumped aggressively in your chest, the blood rushing around and drowning your ears in white noise. You swallowed down the lump that had at some point lodged itself into your throat, a shaky breath exhaled past your lips.

"Y/N." He sounded annoyed...

"Why?" Your voice meekly replied back.

"Why what?" He sighed out, annoyed you'd answered his question with another question, yet still continued to humour you.

"Why do you love me?... no... how can you?" You spoke softly, it sounded as if it was meant only for you to hear, but with him pressed against you, his chin now digging into your shoulder softly and nuzzling against you, he was sure to hear it as well, and hear it he did.

"Why do you speak like this? Has something happened?" He began to deflect your questions now, the lack of a true answer doing nothing to calm your impending outrage.

"Yes, something did happen." You spoke clearly now.

"What." He was no longer asking.

"I've come to realise the truth." You replied, he pressed against you harder, only to glance down to see the two empty bottles of wine, and the currently opened high percentage one, your wine glass beside your hand that was clenched and whitening moreso.

He let out a defeated sigh before pulling away from you, the cold surrounded you like an unforgiving villain.

"You've been drinking." He stated factually.

"And what of it?" You retorted with somewhat aggression.

"You don't realise the nonsense you're saying to me right now." He argued flatly. His distate toward alcohol was known well to you, but it never deterred you from enjoying it from time to time, or using it as a way to lessen the burden of realising you're in a loveless marriage with a man far too out of your league.

"It is not nonsense. And stop assuming I am drunk." You growled, still not daring to face him.

He crossed his arms now, the somewhat screech of his clothes echoing out while tightening on him as his arms flexed in his ruby red long coat.

"You'd be inhumane to not be drunk after consuming so much of that wine, Y/N, specially from my self made bottles." He groaned out like a disappointed father.

You breathed in deeply and decided fuck it, turning round to face him now, you wish you hadn't though...

His crimson eyes instantly captured you into a sudden lock you were too weak willed to break from, his anger mixing with concern clearly painted over his face also hurt you, maybe you had been acting irrationally... but... but no, you wasn't, you are not drunk, certainly not, and you know what you're saying is true.

"I am inhumane though aren't I, Master Diluc?" You narrowed your eyes to which he squinted back, his hand coming out open palmed in a gesture to explain, "and how in all of Teyvat did you summon this ridiculous statement?" He questioned.

"I am nothing more than a maid... it's all I've ever been... all I'll ever be..." Your lip trembled, your resolve dissappeared faster then your prior glasses of wine did when you was downing them oh so ungracious like.

You hadn't realised at that point the way Diluc's angered expression softened almost instantly, his strict demeanour breaking in record time and replaced with one of hurt and confusion, how could you have noticed? Your eyes were looking down at your hands, at your ring.

"I... I don't deserve a man like you, I was stupid to ever think I deserved more in life. I don't deserve to love you, a man so beautiful, so fierce and charming, so talented... a man... whom I was meant to only serve..." Your eyes began to fill with tears, this time the alcohol had numbed your senses of it all and so they fell freely, dropping into the delicately woven carpet beneath your heels, the very heels that Diluc gifted to you for your birthday only four weeks ago.

Your lip trembled harder, your voice lost to your grieving, "you should be married to a woman of higher stature, dignified purpose, like... like the acting grand master Jean, or Eula Lawrence, a woman of nobility to match yours... not a commoner with nothing to her name! N-not a shabby maid whose only purpose was to clean dishes and mop floo-!" You were suddenly silenced.

Your eyes widened, the tears halting in your glossy stare, blurred ever so slightly, but the feel of his lips were always decipherable, the tender movement of his guiding lips on yours well known, his gentle tongue caressing your own into a joint dance of the wet muscles inside both of yours mouths. He pressed against you softly, your hands flatly pressing against the table behind you now, the need to feel grounded to avoid falling.

Your eyes closed as you slipped into the blissful embrace of your lovers passionate and somewhat desperate kiss, he was a man of little words, he didn't know how to soothe a troubled person let alone his suffering lover, but he hated seeing you this way, detested hearing your words, those lies, all of it wrong. He didn't know how to make you see this except to embrace you, something he's now realised while engulfed in all that is your womanly beauty, he's done very little of, definitely not enough of.

Only when the burning need for air gripped you both in your lungs did he finally pull away.

Panting softly, his hands now pressing either side your smaller frame, keeping you trapped against the table, his red hair up in his signature high ponytail, yet a few strands now come loose and frame his beautifully sculpted face. His eyes deepening its glare into you.

"Y/N. Please stop." His voice sounded so frail now, so hurt and your flustered self suddenly felt ashamed.

"That isn't true... none of it, and you know it." His eyes trail down your body slowly, shamefully eyeing you, he made it clear he was attracted to you in the way his eyes hunger and lust along your frame, only to come back to a stand off with your own glossy ones.

"You may have been a maid before that much is true, but that doesn't define you, it never did. I love you, for you, I would not have gone through such hassle to learn from my broth..." his voice cut short suddenly and died in his throat, the pained expression on his face making you fully understand who he was suddenly remembering, "...Kaeya, when I was younger, how to win your hand in marriage and gain your love, now would I?" He questioned, his head tilting slightly as he did so.

He held valid reason there... even your cloudy and intoxicated brain couldn't rebute that fact...

"I..." Your voice couldn't come out, you was too overwhelmed.

"Eula is an astranged acquaintance, to whom I keep at friendly and polite distance, for the mere sake of nobility respect, and Jean is a very close friend of mine Y/N, and yes, I love her dearly." Your eyes began to drop down, the jealousy already threatening to consume you once more, but his strong finger and thumb grip your chin softly and guide your sights back onto him, his lips close to yours, his hot breath fanning across your face. "But she isn't the one I'm in love with Y,N,"

He drops your face now and suddenly engulfs you in his warmth, the embrace soft and welcoming, hugging you tightly into him and clouding your sight in darkness now as you close your eyes and nuzzle into him helplessly.

"You are." He gently places a kiss atop your head; his hands stroking your back and another locking your head into place to keep you pressed into him lovingly so.

You couldn't help the smile that broke onto your face now, as if a weight had been lifted from you, the darkness finally beginning to dissipate within your mind, inside your heart, nothing but your burning love for him remained now. He says he's a man of few words and doesn't understand how to woo a lady, but you find it increasingly hard to believe, he certainly is a master at reassuring your drunken hazy worries.

"I am sorry Diluc, I let my doubts consume me..." You apologised softly while still nuzzled into him, and his gentle strokes, soft caresses and pliant kisses on your head let you know he forgave you, and it made you feel that somehow, he always will... because it felt that bit more safe to believe him, in his words, that Diluc Ragnvindr, the charming winery tycoon and Mondstadt's Dark Knight Hero wouldn't let you suffer alone, now, or ever.

And then suddenly, you knew for sure that your comforting thoughts of this man, this strong and fierce man, your lover, your husband, your soul mate, were all correct when you heard him mutter against your head as you began to be lulled into a gentle soothing motion; "I will remind you how much I love you Y/N, Time and Time Again."

[homicidal-slvt]

"Kiss It Away"

-

MDNI

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Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x GN!Reader

Civilian|Y/N

-

Warnings: Body image issues, Self deprecation, hurt + comfort, mental issues mention, fluff.

-

Usually when he returned home it was the happiest occasion.

You couldn't ever get enough time with him, enough of his adoring words, his kisses, his silly antics... His occasional sarcastic comments.

That big heart of his was absolutely swollen with love for you.

Yet here you were- staring at yourself in the mirror, picking apart every little flaw you could find on yourself.

I'm not good enough.

Those words echoed so loud in the back of your head, like a knife searing into your flesh. You just wanted to carve away your own skin on days like this.

"Hey, where's my little, strawberry?"

You heard his voice call out, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he searched for you. Your gut wrenched at the thought of him seeing you like this.

You wanted to be held but you also didn't want him to know, to know how screwed up your mind really was.

"Honey..?"

The concern in his voice grew at the fact you didn't answer him, guilt flooding up into your lungs. You felt awful even though being like this wasn't your fault.

"I'm in here, Kyle..."

You croaked out, you tried to hide the shake in your tone but you couldn't. You could never get anything past this man.

His steps became quicker and he opened the bedroom door, freezing in place as he saw you there... Your broken eyes staring back at him from across the room, you wanted to curl up and die in that moment, stood in front of the full length mirror.

His expression was so soft and tender, he had a bouquet of beautiful sunflowers held in one hand, he wanted to surprise you. The last thing he thought he'd find was this...

He took slow and careful steps over to you, you didn't even have to say a word as he just pulled you into his arms.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I just... I just don't like..."

You couldn't finish your sentence, couldn't will yourself to choke out the words. However he was a very observant man, taking in the way he found you looking at yourself, and the few signs he had seen before... He knew.

He pulled back and placed the bouquet of sunflowers into your hands, he reached up tilting his hat back and that's when he leaned forward peppering your face with soft kisses. Every touch of his lips was feather light, a sweet gesture of pure reassurance.

"Sweetheart... I love every single part of you. From your head to your toes. I know you're struggling but if you'll let me..."

He took off his hat and set it on top of your head, a soft compassionate smile gracing his lips.

"I'd like to kiss it better. Please, let me show you how beautiful every part of you is."

And that's exactly what he did, he made sure you felt nothing but warmth in your very soul and that you knew how sincerely he loved every inch of you.

Just like the way you always pressed soft kisses to his scars and expressed gentle affection over his years worth of battle wounds, he poured out his heart and soul in return to you.

You are good enough in his eyes and he hopes with time he can help you see that.

-

{This is so self indulgent, been struggling a bit recently. Lmao}

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{More Content}

[coreakin-sakarat]

HEIZOU HEADCANONS

If u don't like it don't read it👌

♡Fluff ♡

Female...reader ..

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Cherry Blossom Haven:

Heizou takes you to a secluded cherry blossom grove, where the petals dance in the gentle breeze, creating a picturesque scene of serenity and romance.

Shared Silence:

In the peaceful ambiance, you and Heizou find solace in the quiet moments, where words are unnecessary as your presence speaks volumes.

Poetic Gestures:

Heizou recites ancient poetry, his voice soft and melodic, weaving tales of love and longing that resonate deeply with your soul.

Tender Touches:

His touch is tender, each brush of his fingertips against your skin igniting a trail of warmth and affection that leaves you yearning for more.

Gentle Affection:

Heizou's gaze is filled with unwavering devotion, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings as he cups your face in his hands, conveying love without uttering a single word.

Sakura Petal Kisses:

Heizou captures a cherry blossom petal between his fingers, gently placing it upon your lips before leaning in to steal a soft, delicate kiss that tastes of springtime and promises.

Whispers of Forever:

Under the canopy of blooming cherry blossoms, Heizou whispers promises of eternity, his words carrying the weight of commitment and devotion as he pledges his heart to you.

Shared Sake:

Heizou pours two cups of sake, raising his in a silent toast to your love, the warmth of the sake matching the warmth of his affectionate gaze.

Embrace of Comfort:

In his arms, you find comfort and solace, his embrace a sanctuary where worries fade and only the present moment matters.

Promise of Tomorrow:

As the sun sets behind the cherry blossom trees, Heizou pledges to stand by your side through every season, his love a steadfast beacon guiding you through life's journey.

[oathofpromises]

starter for; @diademreigned

Stella let out a weary sigh, her body gently pressing against the polished wooden bar. Her gaze fixated on the glass before her, its contents a deep crimson hue, only partially consumed. Typically, the woman abstained from imbibing, save for the occasional indulgence of a single glass on select moments. With a heavy heart, she found herself irresistibly drawn towards her room, seeking solace and respite from the tumultuous events that had unfolded within the Exarch chambers. Alas, the weight of the past weighed heavily upon her weary shoulders, rendering the mere thought of rest a distant and unattainable dream.

Her delicate fingers ascended, their journey culminating in a tender caress upon her lips. In that fleeting moment, a vivid recollection emerged, transporting her back to the ethereal encounter with the Exarch. The memory of their intimate connection, the way their lips intermingled, was etched upon her consciousness, forever imprinted in the depths of her being. His arms enveloped her with an intimate embrace, akin to the tender entwining of lovers. Her emotions were thrown into disarray, torn between her feelings for G'raha and the complex situation she found herself in, standing next to the mysterious Exarch.

As her gaze swept across the room, her attention was immediately captivated by the sight of individuals gracefully distributing crystal flowers. Intrigued, she recalled the bartender's earlier explanation which this was a day dedicated to the expression of profound affection, where lovers would tenderly offer these exquisite blooms to their cherished ones. It appeared to be some sort of Crystarium tradition.

'What's the problem, lass? You've been staring at your glass for at least 30 minutes. Isn't there someone special to whom you'd like to offer a crystal flower?' As he poured additional wine into Stella's glass, the bartender inquired.

"Yes, but it's complicated."

Stella's mind wandered back to the rendezvous with the Exarch, where her heart raced like a wild stallion. Against the wall, her delicate frame quivered as his tender touch released her gorgeous locks from their confining ponytail. His handsome visage drew near, his hooded eyes filled with longing, as he tenderly pressed his lips against her delicate shoulder.

'You cannot fathom the extent to which you entice me…the sheer allure that emanates from you,' he murmured, his words hanging in the air as he reluctantly released his grip on her. With a veil of darkness concealing his face, the fleeting moment came to its conclusion. In the midst of their current circumstances, focus was of the utmost importance, however it was undeniable that he reciprocated her affectionate gestures. That what had happened was not a mere figment of her imagination.

As Stella observed the myriad of couples exchanging bouquets of flowers, a pang of longing reverberated within her chest. In the depths of her heart, she grappled with the anguish of separation from the one she held dear. The mere thought of their absence weighed heavily upon her soul, casting a shadow upon her every waking moment. But fate, in its capricious nature, had a peculiar way of weaving intricate threads of desire and attraction.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, she discovered herself inexplicably drawn towards another. It was a sensation that both bewildered and troubled her, for her heart remained steadfastly loyal to the one she loved. Yet, like a delicate flower swaying in the breeze, her emotions danced to a different tune. Conflicting emotions waged a silent battle within her, tearing at the very fabric of her being. She yearned for the comfort and familiarity of her beloved In the ebb and flow of their relationship, there were moments when he handled her with the utmost tenderness, as if she were the most fragile of porcelain. His touch was gentle, his words soothing, and his presence comforting. But then, without warning or explanation, he would withdraw, creating an invisible barrier between them. It was as if he had built a wall, keeping her at arm's length, leaving her to wonder what had caused this sudden change. The inconsistency of his actions left her feeling perplexed and uncertain.

"I find myself at a loss for words, struggling to articulate the thoughts swirling within me. Uncertainty clouds my perception, for I am unsure if his emotions mirror mine or if this connection we share is but a passing thing. In the depths of my heart, there exists an individual whom I hold dear, a soul whose presence was abruptly snatched away from my grasp, leaving me bereft and yearning for more time together. I am acutely aware that I bear the mantle of the Warrior of darkness. The figure that commands the admiration of all, I find myself presently preoccupied and unable to devote attention to such matters. There is a fiery passion that consumes me in his presence. My heart yearns for the gentle caress of his hand upon my skin…The resonant timbre of his voice lingering vividly in my memory. All that shaped his essence, defining the very core of his being. There exists an abundance of things here that stir within me a recollection of him."

Stella's body went rigid, a shiver coursing through her as she delicately grasped the ethereal crystal flower. Her eyes darted around the surrounding space, searching for any signs of movement or hidden dangers. The Exarch had yet to embark on his customary stroll through the city, leaving a glimmer of hope that she might still intercept him within the confines of the Ocular. With a graceful gesture, she delicately set the gil owed for the drink upon the counter. Her steps, purposeful and determined, carried her towards the towering structure that loomed in the distance.

"Our connection started with this tower, but no matter how far apart we are I still love you, Raha."

Ascending the grand staircase, Stella's delicate fingers cradled the flower, its petals brushing against her beating heart. In the realm of uncertainty, a haunting question lingers: what if the Exarch, were to once again turn her away? The mere thought sends a shiver down her spine. Her hand trembled, suspended in mid-air, hesitating before the threshold of his bedroom door. Uncertainty clouded her thoughts, casting doubt if the other was even inside.

Stella paused, inhaling deeply, her heart pounding in anticipation. She rapped gently on the door, her knuckles barely making a sound against the aged wood. She stood there, her senses heightened, eagerly awaiting the sound of his voice granting her permission to step inside. In the face of adversity, she summoned the courage to confront the inevitable. Regardless of his words, she knew deep within that she had to embrace her reality. In a moment of sheer bravery, she found herself at a crossroads, faced with a decision that would shape the course of her life. This was no ordinary choice; it was a pivotal moment, one that required her to summon every ounce of courage within her. With unwavering determination, she made the bold move of putting it all on the line.

[messygray]

14

comfortable love, Bang "Sawyer" Sang-Cheol

Comfortable love is sitting in your boyfriend's lap, chest to chest, nose brushing against nose, Sawyer Bang comes to realize one afternoon; when the sun was settling into it's golden glow and Eric never looked more beautiful with his sun-tanned skin and those sparkling orbs of melted gold he called eyes.

Comfortable love is mumbling soft sweet things into one another's ears as they rested against the softness of the couch cushions, the quietness of their home serene and safe.

Comfortable love is the gentleness in Eric's fingertip as he traces random patterns across Sawyer's shorts-covered thighs, the exchanges they made into the still air, and the feeling of Sawyer tucked away into his lover's chest; his soft hair just barely tickling the delicate skin at Eric's nape.

It's knowing that safety was not only within reach, but already present. That the worries they felt were miniscule in comparison to the overwhelming love, instead. That, despite having a long, tiring day, there would always be a someone waiting for their return. A home to return to─ and not the architectural kind.

Comfortable love is somehow knowing that having Eric present was all Sawyer needed to stay genuine and true. And through the challenges faced every day, he would always survive, if it meant coming home to warm arms and that familiar dark mop of hair─

"Hey, love?"

"Mhm?"

"My lips kinda hurt, can you kiss them better, please?"

[iliveiloveiwrite]

take me by the heart, take me by the hand // Elijah Mikaelson

A/N: An extension of the blurb I wrote on my blurb night a couple of weeks ago!! My taglists are open! If you would like to be added, drop me an ask and I’ll add you!! I hope you all like!

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x GN!Reader

Warnings: jealousy, soulmates, pining, mutual pining, mentions of food.

Word count: 2.1k

The sun was shining when Elijah Mikaelson began to understand jealousy in its unending torture. He wasn’t used to such an emotion. He wasn’t used to the blind rage that filtered through his body when he caught sight of you laughing with his brother. He wasn’t used to the want that would settle deep within his gut whenever he made you smile, laugh.

He supposed there was a sick juxtaposition in the fact that there he was, a creature of the night, sitting in the sunlight as he watched you laugh along to whatever story Klaus was currently telling.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t felt jealousy before, but Elijah had never experienced it to this extreme where he felt like the villain of a fairytale, desperate to steal the innocent love interest away and keep them for eternity.

“You wrestled a bear!” You gasp, bringing Elijah’s attention back to the room. Your eyes are  wide as you hang onto every word of Klaus’ story.

The narrator nods; a smug smile crossing his face as he begins to act out the crux of the story. “We had this newfound strength after we were turned by our mother,” Klaus explains, “And the bear was easily disgruntled, choosing me for its next meal.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, love,” Klaus croons; his smile turning to a smirk as he hears Elijah grit his teeth. “I chose to engage.”

“Why would you choose to do such a thing?” You demand; eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern for Klaus’ ability to make sane decisions. Elijah makes himself turn away; if he could, he would press away the furrow between your brows with a kiss, explaining that his brother was ever the exaggerator as he was an actor.

Klaus shrugs, lounging in his chair with a self-satisfied expression on his face. “Because I could and can,” He answers plainly, catching Elijah’s narrowed gaze from across the room and raising a single eyebrow in challenge.

Elijah doesn’t rise to the bait; doesn’t give himself the chance to. Instead, he leaves the room, feeling your frown on his back with every step he takes away from you.

“Have I done something to offend your brother?” You ask Klaus; your voice small as you stare at the doorway Elijah only walked through moments ago. Elijah had been off with you for weeks; staying in the room with you for limited amounts of time before stalking off to another room. He rarely spoke, but the soft timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine with every word uttered. You couldn’t bear the thought of having offended the man you found yourself attracted to.

“You’ve done nothing, love,” Klaus reassures in a rare moment of affection. “My older brother just has some issues he needs to work out.”

“Oh,” You reply, falling quiet and remaining so for the rest of your time spent with the supernatural family.

----------

“Are you going to explain what is wrong with you, or are you going to stew in your feelings all night?” Klaus demands of his brother as soon as he enters the room, having seen you off only moments ago. The decanter of whisky sits open on the coffee table; one glass out of the two already filled halfway. Klaus helps himself to the other glass, pouring a knuckle’s length of the amber liquid.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Elijah states airily, bringing his glass to his lips. He knew full well that he was jealous; he knew that was distancing himself from you and his sibling, unable to bear the rising envy clawing at his throat. What pains him most is that he can how his distance affects you, how hurt you look when he returns clipped conversations. The furrow between your brows deepens and he feels like a monster for being the cause of it.

“Your behaviour in front of (Y/N),” Klaus explains, doing his best to keep the anger aimed at his brother at bay. “They think they’ve offended you.”

“(Y/N) could never offend me,” Elijah states vehemently.

“You’re going to have to explain that to them.”

“I will eventually,” Elijah sighs, finishing off his drink and quickly refilling it.

“Whatever it is, brother, you can tell me,” Klaus promises in a rare moment of softness.

“That’s the thing, brother,” Elijah begins, “I don’t know what it is. All I know is that I see you two interacting and I lose my mind to jealousy.”

“Ah,” Klaus whispers, a knowing smile on his face as he places his glass on the table. The younger of the two men stands, clapping his brother on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Klaus finds it hard to keep the smile off his face as he wanders the halls of his New Orleans home. His brother had found his soulmate and hadn’t realised it. Their mother had warned them of such magic; the natural magic of the earth that created two souls to be intertwined perfectly. Outwardly, Klaus didn’t put much stock in the belief, but he had seen his mother turn his siblings into monsters cursed with having to walk the night for an eternity. It would make sense for soulmate magic to enter the Mikaelson home once and for all.

Elijah doesn’t stand from the chair; he remains seated for the night, resting his chin on his hand as he tries to get to grip with the feelings roused in your presence. He can no longer deny the attraction he feels for you; can no longer ignore the fact that he would give everything to wake up in a morning with you beside him, but what he cannot explain is the darkness of the jealousy holding him in its grip.

He only leaves the chair when he hears your voice chiming off the stone walls of the compound they call home. Your laughter lightens the atmosphere of the house; bringing joy to a home that was so used to the darkness of Klaus’ moods.  

The kitchen is bright with the morning light as Elijah settles at the table; his gaze already fixed on Klaus and yourself. The former grabbing a box of cereal from the cupboard as you help yourself to the fridge for the milk.

It’s as you sit down that he begins to feel it. The sunlight catches you perfectly; your hair practically soaking up its rays as if you were to become the celestial being itself – the brightness radiating out of you with every laugh, every smile, and every animated gesture of your hands as you tell off Klaus for the fifth time already today. Elijah tightens his hand into a fist in an effort to keep the growing possessiveness at bay.

He didn’t know where it began; this dark urge to possess you. All he knew was that the majority of the time, his thoughts revolved around you along with the word ‘mine’ on repeat. The façade of the gentleman, so carefully crafted after a millennia wandering the earth, began to crumble in your presence. Elijah could feel the green eyed monster clawing its way through his body, its claws sinking in deeper with every friendly glance at any man that wasn’t him.

“It comes with finding your soulmate,” Freya announces to her younger brother; the earthy scent of sage blooming around her as she takes a seat next to him. Elijah raises a single eyebrow in question; not in the mood for futile conversation today. Freya represses the urge to roll her eyes as she elaborates, “The jealousy. The irrational anger. The want. It comes with finding your soulmate.”

“Soulmates are a myth,” Elijah counters, finding his gaze drawn to you – watching you talk to Klaus, laughing at one of his calmer moments. The very action has Elijah clenching his fists to keep the anger at bay.

Freya fixes her younger brother with an unimpressed look. “Elijah, you’re one of the oldest vampires in the world, and I’m a witch. We are the myths whispered around campfires.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Elijah wonders in awe. “I never thought I would have one,” He continues in a softer voice, thinking of his past lovers – they had never made his mind race, or his breath stop in his chest, they were never his last thought at night and his first thought in the morning.

You were, however.

Elijah meets the gaze of his wiser, older sister to find her already watching him with a fond smile on her face. “Go speak to (Y/N),” She urges in a soft voice, “Explain everything.”

With the support of his sister, Elijah makes his way to where you sit with Klaus. His younger brother already regaling you with one of his many stories about his past; the darker parts of each tale hidden away this early in the morning. Klaus pauses his tale as Elijah clears his throat. “Could I have a moment of your time?” Elijah asks of you, glancing between Klaus and yourself. Klaus raises an eyebrow but wisely remains quiet.

“Of course,” You murmur, standing from your chair, following the older gentleman to an alcove just down the hall from the kitchen.

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour,” Elijah starts when he feels certain that his siblings aren’t listening in, “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way over the past couple of months. I’ve been coming to terms with some personal things and Freya, thankfully, explained the cause of such behaviour this morning.”

“Your apology is accepted, Elijah,” You laugh, smiling happily at the taller gentleman, taking note of how he seems closer to the Elijah you have come to know and love. “What did Freya explain if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind at all,” He answers, “You’re bound to find out eventually.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Elijah!”

Elijah chuckles, smiling down at you indulgently. “I was jealous,” He explains; his face turning thoughtful. “I couldn’t figure out why. Whenever I saw you speaking or laughing with another man like Klaus or Kol, or even Marcellus though I know he’s happy with Rebekah, I was overcome with such intense jealousy that it was hard for me to get control of.”

“You were jealous?” You splutter, “Of what?”

“Of the men you so easily formed friendships with. I wanted to be the one you smiled at, that you laughed with.”

“I thought you hated me,” You confess timidly. “I thought I had broken an ancient vampire protocol and I had offended you.”

“You could never offend me,” Elijah states, “And I could never hate you, it’s rather the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

Elijah nods. “Freya explained to me the existence of a magic I once believed to not exist. I had never seen it; thus I could never state its truth. It wasn’t until Freya explained that the reason behind my jealousy and dark moods was that you are, indeed, my soulmate did I even remember that such a powerful magic exists on this planet.”

“Soulmate,” You breathe, peering up at Elijah through your lashes, “I’m your soulmate?”

“As I am yours,” Elijah swears, stepping that little bit closer to you.

“Vampires… witches… soulmates,” You whisper, unable to comprehend the change in your belief system.

“You’re not upset, are you?” Elijah asks, reaching for your hand. He need to know your feelings on this; should you not want the bond; he would take a step back. It would hurt, but he would do it for your happiness. Should you accept the bond, he would be a man in possession of the greatest living thing on earth – you.

“I’m not upset,” You promise, smiling at the original vampire, tangling your fingers together.

You place your free hand on Elijah’s chest, fully aware that you would not feel a heart beat under your palm. Even through the designer material of his perfectly tailored suit, you can feel the coolness of his skin and whilst many would be repulsed by the lack of warmth, you only feel further attraction for the man in front of you.

Elijah’s hand covers yours; the action speaking louder than any words could. He can feel the life thrumming through your veins; the vitality that punctuates the air with every breath you take. He feels drunk on his feelings for you; at a loss to understand how your paths crossing months ago could lead to a moment like this.

“I want a forever with you,” You whisper boldly, moving your hand to the back of Elijah’s neck.

“Forever and more,” Elijah promises; sealing the spoken vow with an unhurried kiss.

*****

The Originals taglist: @angelxnaa

Special fic tag: @elijahs-wife

[saphirered]

Hopefully, this is not too vague... I was wondering if you could do fluff with Molly; his nickname for the reader is 'princess'. (I have had a rough couple weeks, found out some bad news regarding my dad's health, and am just wanting a little pick-me-up. You are literally my favorite writer of the lavender tiefling trio.)

A load of fluff with some hinted spice coming right up. Sorry about your dad, sweetie and hope things take a more positive turn. Either way, I hope this is the pick-me-up you're looking for. 😘

-

You’re no stranger to waking up alone but never does it stop you from reaching out to the spot next to you. When you’re not met with a soft groan or arms wrapping around you, pulling you close begging for another five minutes of peace you know your lavender tiefling has begun his day before you. Rolling over onto your back you stretch taking in a deep breath. Time to get ready for the day, maybe find some breakfast? Breakfast sounds nice.

Mollymauk walks down the beaten path, a skip in his step and a small bouquet of wild roses clasped in his hand. He’s been up and about for a good hour now and like the good carney he is he’s working on quite the show in his mind; a show that requires the aid of a pretty face, charming smile and honeyed words he alone cannot provide. No he needs assistance and if he plans on getting this assistance he better work for it. Okay, maybe it’s not his plan. Maybe this is all just the result of a major fuck up on his end but still, it will make for some good fun… if all goes well… and you agree… The fact he gets to pamper you is a huge bonus. It’s been a while since he’s gotten the chance to show you just how much you mean to him.

Could Molly just ask for your help? Of course he could. And would you agree to join him on this endeavour? How could you refuse that devilishly handsome man? But where’s the fun in that. Let’s keep things interesting. Raise the stakes a little bit and see where his charm will get him. Or perhaps more, see how long it takes you to catch on tp the mess he made and pray to the Moonweaver you’ll be merciful. A test of his charm perhaps? Whatever excuse best justifies his actions and desires to spoil you rotten.

Stretching your arms with one final yawn you leave your tent. It’s too early to be up but you best keep an eye on your tiefling before he gets himself thrown into jail and you have to break him out… again. Wandering the camp the other members of the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival of Curiosities are waking up and going about their morning business at their own paces. You search for Molly but when you don’t find him you take to the road, following it towards the town. If he’s caused any trouble there you’d find out soon enough.

A lovely melody reaches Molly’s ears. He knows exactly who it belongs to and hears you before he sees you. All he needs to do is follow your song. Curving over the elevation of the path he spots you, lost in thought. Smile on his face he approaches you, flowers behind his back, and joins in whistling along to the melody. The way your eyes light up at the realisation of his presence are enough to make his heart melt knowing that one creature could look upon him with such unconditional love.

“Good morning, your royal highness.” Mollymauk takes a bow befitting of greeting royalty if not a little exaggerated and offers you the flowers. While he tries to keep his gaze on the ground you catch him peaking for your response as you take the flowers from his grasp breathing in their scent.

“Good morning to you too. And thank you, I should say? What’s the occasion?” You ask, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth but you can’t help feel a little suspicious at Molly’s very deliberate theatrics.

“Can a most loyal servant not present his beloved princess with flowers?” Molly rises and you get the slightest flash of fang from the smile he offers you.

“You know I am never one to deny your gifts and gestures of affection. What I’m referring to are your apparent needs for theatrics.” You speak with eloquence feeling yourself slipping into the same act he’s putting on. Dammit Mollymauk, for playing into your actor side and letting you slip up into the role he’s setting you up for. You know damn well he’s aware of what he’s doing.

“I am merely your humble servant. A humble servant with impeccable manners.” You snort as Molly offers you his arm. You lace yours through his and he begins leading you back the way you came.

“Impeccable manners you say? Because I recall not but two nights ago copious amounts of drinks, illegal gambling and theft were involved. And let’s not even mention the… desecration of the fountain within the gaze of the Platinum Dragon’s statue.”

“You say that as if those of noble birth do not partake in such activities, princess.” Molly counters. Touché. As you’re about to take a step to the right fork of the road Molly gently pulls you into the left direction instead. Confused you give him another suspicious look but he hushes you leading you down the path.

You find yourself retreating within your thoughts trying to pinpoint whatever shenanigans Molly is up to, planning or has been up to and why the need to be secretive instead of just telling you. Molly couldn’t hope for a better moment for you to stop your interrogation for he fears any more prodding around for answers and he will spill the beans and come clean. He can’t hide a single thing from you when you’re determined and he knows it.

The path slowly turns from trodden earth to more fine sand until it fades into the beach. The sound of waves and a seagull or two make for a pleasant setting. You see just far enough away from the shoreline as to not become victim to the tides, is a basket set on top of a blanket. Molly leads you over, guides you to sit upon the blanket gracefully before plopping down himself with much less show. Within the basket you spot several packed goods. Molly takes a few out and sets them down upon the blanket, unwrapping them as he goes. Some bread, a selection of fine jams, some cheese and delicious sugary sweet pastries.

“Okay, time to drop the act. While I appreciate all this, what did you do and how bad is it?” Molly takes out a bottle of what looks like expensive champagne along with two glasses and pours them, handing one to you.

“What makes you say that?” Molly takes a sip playing it cool and innocent.

“The top shelf bottle of champagne that is very much above our collective pay grades. Where did you even get this?” You take a sip. It’s not bad but not the greatest you’ve ever had either. A weird taste that can only be suitable for some upscale party or the nobility passes out to their guests to impress them simply because of the associated name and or price tag. What can you say? Rich people.

Molly hesitates but drops the innocent act. Best he comes clean now. You’ve caught on fully. Game over. But that definitely doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this delicious breakfast with him, can you? Mollymauk takes a slice of the fresh bread, adding a nice layer of strawberry jam and takes a bite. At least the expensive jam was worth the money. Then again, it wasn’t his money that paid for it. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t money well spent.

“Now, I need you to promise me one thing first, love. Promise me you’ll let me tell you the whole thing before you judge my poor decision making.”

“I can do that.” You lean back and relax taking one of the pastries and taking a bite. Bearclaws with cinnamon? Delicious. Let’s hope for Molly’s sake it will keep your judgement somewhat at bay.

“When we were doing our usual rounds and you were off on your own I may or may not have let it slip to someone who happens to be part of the local nobility, several someones to be more precise, that you may or may not be a princess in hiding. And I may or may not have played a little bit too deeply into the story…”

“Okay, that’s not actually that bad?” Just wait for the second part. It gets worse. On second thought. He may be regretting telling you and not just convincing you to hide away for the next few days in town until you’re back on the road.

“And these poor suckers may have fact checked it finding some evidence of a princess from another continent who supposedly is traveling in disguise. They came to see the show and I want you to remember they left a most generous donation along with an invitation for you to attend a ball held in your honour.” Molly awaits your response as you stop mid bite.

“So they left an invitation for a princess? What about it? Just don’t show up and done.”

“That would work if the local lord did not gently hinted at exposing said princess and sending the guards to return them to their family as they ran away and the good favour of either side of that royal family should greatly benefit this town. I’m sorry, princess but your presence has been demanded.”

Okay… This is bad. You do not feel like being hunted by the guards and it’s not like you can make an inconspicuous escape now people might look at you as royalty. You set down the pastry clasp your hands together closing your eyes. You inhale and exhale deeply as Molly briefly fears for his life.

“You… really need to learn to hold that tongue of yours, Molly. It’s getting you in all sorts of trouble.” He bites back a comment about using that tongue of his for plenty of other good things. He’s having trouble reading where you stand on this all and doesn’t know wether you’re upset with him or disappointed or if he has to be the one running for his life soon.

“Let’s talk to Orna and get some appropriate dress for the occasion ready and wearable even if that means she’ll have to sew us into our garments.” You sigh.

“Us?” He questions and he does not like the mischievous look on your face. Whatever you’re plotting, he hopes you have mercy on his soul.

“Oh, I will not be attending on my own. No, a princess does not go anywhere without their loyal servant. A princess needs their escort to attend to their every whim.” You hold your chin high as you move to sitting on your knees pushing your palm flush against his chest exercising a little pressure to push him to lean back onto his elbows.

“Every whim you say?” Molly asks with a devilish grin as you swing one leg over him gently keeping him in place with your body and wrapping your arms around his neck playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck. Maybe the turnout isn’t so bad.

“‘Every whim you say, princess’.” You correct mimicking his grin and leaning in closer. Molly goes to close the distance but you raise your index finger to his chin. “Ah-ah.”

“May I not kiss you now, ‘princess’?” He mocks and you give him a stern look.

“It’s unbecoming of a mere servant to make such a bold move.” You pull on his hair when Molly tries to land a kiss on your cheek rather enjoying the turn of events this morning.

“Yet you appear to be the one in full control.”

“He knows his place. Good boy.” You praise with a pat to his cheek and you guide his face to yours, your lips meeting in a deep kiss, the food forgotten. Molly’s hands dance over from your hips to your lower back pulling you closer to him. You earn an unsatisfied grumble when you pull away a moment too soon.

“Must you torture me so with your touch, princess?” Molly laughs fully aware what direction this is going, raising a hand to caress your cheek fondly.

“Will you finally learn how to behave?” You trace the peacock feathers curving up the side of his neck and jaw. You don’t get a verbal reply but instead Molly’s lips find their way to your neck leaving a trail of kisses and little bites as he goes enough to make you giggle and squeal in surprise whenever he finds just the right spot, taking your mind far away from the details of the fuck up that lead you here in the first place. Not that you mind anymore. If this is the treatment you get for being dragged into one of Mollymauk’s lies gone south you’ll gladly take it a thousand times over.

[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Luke Pearce - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

You may be the Watson to his Sherlock, but he knows you’re not a follower by nature. You stand firmly on your own two feet. And though it may scare him at times, particularly when your safety is on the line, he can’t deny the pride he feels watching you go above and beyond in all you do, especially when it involves others. That selflessness paired with your determination is what he truly admires about you, and he hopes that you’ll never change, no matter what trials you face.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your smile. Because if you’re smiling, he knows everything’s going to be okay. He also knows when that smile is forced and when it’s faltering, prompting him to take action of his own to protect or hold you. It’s a tell-all for him, and that brings him comfort.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

In any way he can. He loves holding you. However, he likes it best when you’re chest-to-chest with his arms around you holding you close, no matter if it’s a long hug, lounging on the couch, or snuggling in bed. It’s a versatile position, allowing for you to either meet each other’s gaze while still having close physical contact or for hiding your expressions, such as you snuggling against his chest or him resting his chin on top of your head. It fits for every scenario.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Ideal date? Well… a date… with you. He’s not picky. However, he definitely leans towards the more casual settings. Things where you two can be relaxed around each other, chatting and bantering all the way. Whether that’s strolling around town or a camping adventure or even relaxing at home with a familiar movie you’re not really watching in the background is up to you, but he’s down for any and all of them.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s… well, not quite an open book but rather a book you have to open. He frequently puts on a happy face, so sometimes, you have to break past that. Once you do, he’s not ashamed of being open and honest about his feelings. He wants first and foremost for everything to be okay and for you to be happy, but if you’re shutting that down and calling his bluff, he’ll surrender and be open to having heart-to-hearts so as to get on the same page as you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Yes… and no.

No, he doesn’t want a family because the lingering fear and guilt of leaving them behind would weigh heavily on his soul. But, if he was being honest with himself and the fear of his life being cut short wasn’t hanging over his head, his answer would be “how many kids are you willing to give him?” None? Okay, he gets you to himself. Five? Fantastic, he’d love a busy house. Adopt? He’s already got all the forms downloaded. Mix of both? Perfect. Family is what you make it, and he’s more than happy to make one with you, no matter what form that takes.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He loves things from you and accepts them all as a treasure. But he places the most value in things that are made. A solid ninety percent of the gifts he gives you are ones he made himself. He doesn’t see the value in giving gifts just to give them; they should either mean something or bring some sort of use to you. To him, gifts mean the most when time and effort was poured into it.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

All. The. Time. He wants contact with you, and hand holding can be both perfectly innocent and sweetly intimate. And little squeezes here and there can communicate without words. He loves it.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Instantly blames himself. He’s there to protect you, and if you get hurt, that means he failed miserably, so you’ll likely have to coax him out of his self-abusive state. Doesn’t matter if it’s anything from a papercut to a large accident, he’ll think it’s his fault, and he will be by your side as much as humanly possible during your recovery. And if it has something to do with NXX? I pity the person who caused you harm. He’d devote far too much time and resources to hunting them down as quickly as humanly possible and making their life a living hell.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

You’re childhood friends. There’s plenty of teasing and inside jokes to go around. It might just be impossible for you to go a single day without one inside joke or playful reference to the past being pulled up.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Luke’s kisses come in one of two varieties: Reverent and Passionate. Reverent kisses cover most kisses, consisting of everything from good morning to good night to general pecks on the forehead, cheek, nose, you name it. The ability and privilege to kiss you means a lot to him, so no kiss is ever taken for granted. Passionate kisses, on the other hand, are less about the way he pulls you close or presses his lips against yours and more about him emotionally baring his soul in those moments. However tangled or feverish that kiss ends up being is only a byproduct of him wanting to express just how much he genuinely adores you.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

You will have to drag it out of this man. Not so much the confession but the confidence to admit he wants to be with you, in sickness and in health, for as much time as he has left. So really, it’s far more likely that you confess first and he’ll admit he feels the same while telling you all the reasons you can’t be in a relationship. Only once you get over that will he pour out all his secrets of how long he’s loved you and how deeply he loves you… And potentially propose right then and there.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He could elope with you and be perfectly happy. And honestly… he might be the happiest with that. If you wanted an actual wedding, he really would have no problem letting you have what you wanted, but the beauty of an elopement is that it can be done sooner rather than later, and he thinks he’s running on borrowed time. If he’s gonna marry you, he’d want to do that, like… yesterday. So if you’re up for an elopement, you basically have twenty-four hours to find a dress because he’s gonna take you down to the courthouse ASAP.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

That he’s going to die soon and leave you behind. The biggest stressor for him is letting you get more attached to him because then his death will be even harder on you. And then what if you end up getting very close to him and marrying him like he wanted, only for him to leave you a widow at a young age? Or worst of all, what if he leaves you a single mom? He already hates the thought of leaving you, but leaving his kids behind…

He tries really hard not to think too deeply on this but it feels like a waking nightmare he’s not going to wake from any time soon.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man cannot go forty-eight hours without making at least one Sherlock Holmes reference. And he occasionally has the knack of saying them… at the worst time.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I don’t think he’d be into cutesy, couple pet names all the time. Instead, I feel like he’d probably use “Watson” or any other childhood nickname he had for you on the regular basis. “Baby” and “Sweetheart” are probably in use, too, but he would tend to save those for quiet or tender moments. And “love” is reserved for the private, more intimate moments.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

In any way he can; you just have to be present. Quality time for Luke can be anything from you two sitting in the same room while doing different things to going on an adventure together to an intimate date night. As long as he’s with you, time is not wasted.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

Yes, yes, there’s grand gestures, but his love is shown in the little things. It’s the way he always is looking out for you, like offering you a moment to sit if you’d been walking a while or water if it’s hot. It’s in the way he squeezes your hand in the middle of a conversation. It’s the way he texts you reminding you not to over work yourself before ending it with an XO. Every day to him is precious, and he’s not going to bother with large, elaborate gestures of love if he can smother you in little, affectionate ones all day every day.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s pretty open with you, but the few secrets he has? Those he keeps locked away in the deepest part of himself. He will not let on that he has those secrets unless you get an inkling of their existence and go fishing to pull those secrets out of him. Keep at it; he won’t last long because he’s weak for you.

And of course, there’s state secrets he literally can’t tell you, but that’s a different matter all together.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Freaking years.

This boy has been in love with you forever and could have asked you out as early as high school, but he didn’t. Then you were apart for eight long years, and he could have started something up with you soon after you two reunited, but he didn’t.Instead, he plays the “beat myself up with regrets” game and wastes even moretime trying to logically distance himself from you before you eventually have to forcibly break him down. Only then does he cave. But the “beat himself up game”? Yeah, that never quits. Because eventually, he’ll beat himself up for wasting so much time to make a move.

You really have to help this boy out of those habits.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Will do anything to make you smile again. If you’re sad, he’ll try to pick you up with either a smile and some light banter or a hug and soothing words. If your mad, he’ll try to redirect or release your anger in any way he can. If you’re mad at him, que the kicked puppy look as he practically falls to his knees and begs for forgiveness.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He will show off when he can, usually about his detective skills or ability to fix things, and he will look like a five-year-old boy trying to impress a girl on the playground while doing it. Be sure to praise him for those moments. You will be rewarded with a grinning blushy boy.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

No. No. No.

…

Until you put your foot down and insist you’re gonna be by his side in a fight no matter what. He literally cannot win against you. And he hates it.

However, he is 110% your warrior and will be until he draws his dying breath. Nothing is going to change that. So if he can fight first and keep you from fighting in the first place, then he’ll do that.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Like a book. He’s known you waytoo long to not be able to. Even those eight years didn’t change you too much, and he was able to relearn everything that felt new to him fairly quickly.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

One of two ways. In scenario L, after the love confession, he would propose marriage in the heat of the moment. You’d probably already both be crying and a total wreck, but your hearts would already be out on the line, and he’d just take that moment to drop the bomb of “please be by my side for the rest of my life”.

OR if that didn’t happen, (or maybe it did BUT he didn’t consider it a proper proposal and wants a redo) the proposal would be nothing big or fancy. Rather, it’s in a quiet moment between the two of you, either hanging out at your place or his. He’s sure to get down on one knee, holding your hand reverently as he pours out his heart to you. You’ll be in tears and his eyes will probably be glassy too by the time you say yes. At which point, he’ll put the ring on your finger and then hug you tight. And probably not let you go until absolutely necessary.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

You.

No, really. You’re basically his world, so as long as he’s able to see you and know you’re okay, he’s okay. And if you want to settle him with sweet words and gentle touches, go right ahead.

You will also put him to sleep if you massage his head with your nails, so be sure to pet the Golden Retriever Puppy. Let him have a moment where he isn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Part 17

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

A/N: It is here! So sorry for the late update lovelies! I’ve been having really bad writers block lately and my job keeps switching my hours up so now my sleep schedule is all fucked up. And after writing this part I want to go stargazing so bad but the light pollution kind of sucks where I live. 🥲 Also this is my first time writing a steamy scene so I’m sorry if it’s awkward. Feedback is much appreciated and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. 😊

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appears at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, angst, some foreplay and making out

You had still been wrapped in Zemo’s arms, the two of you indulging in each other’s presence in a silence, which combined with the faint beating of his heart, you only found to be comforting. The meteors still swept by the earth’s atmosphere above you in flashes that lit up the sky, leaving behind trails of white that resembled the strokes of a brush, as if your mother Asteria had painted the celestial bodies using diamonds onto a canvas that was the night sky. You could only make out the few stars and constellations that were scarcely scattered across the vastness above you, caused by the light pollution that unfortunately managed to mantle the wonders and beauty that settled just beyond, separating humanity from the marvels of the universe. The stars flickered like the diminishing of the flame of a candle, a farewell to the billions of years lived by the remnants of those enormous spheres of hot plasma, thus leaving behind the birth of other stars to fulfill their legacy. However, there was a certain star that did not flicker like the ones around it, a certain spectacle distant in time and space that still managed to burn bright despite the innumerable amount of light-years that separated Earth from it. The remaining light of your planet Olympus. You stared at that particular star, your brows knit together and your face etched with this certain melancholy that one could not explain. How could one thing be so near, within the reach of your fingertips, and yet be entirely outside the capacity of reach.

“Draga.” You heard Zemo softly speak, his chest slightly wavering beneath your cheek from his words.

“Hm?”

“Something troubles you.”

“What makes you say that?” You stared off, your eyes still fixated to the fading existence of your world.

“Your eyes draga.” Zemo looked down at you, his eyes scanning over the troubled creases that masked your features. “I have seen this shadow in your eyes that has seemed to occupy them as of recently. What troubles you?”

“…………You see that star there, right between those two constellations?” You pointed above you.

“Mhm.” Zemo nodded as he followed the line of your finger, his eyes now focused on the same exact star yours have not yet left.

“That’s my planet………Olympus.”

“You’re welcome to tell me about it if you’d like.”

“Well, when I was little, I used to live with my mother in this quaint cottage by the sea, similar to the one I live in now with my daughter. She used to bring me out most nights for stargazing. She had built this outdoor platform with bedding and blankets and we would have a small fire going to keep us warm as we watched the stars and constellations while she told me different tales and epic poetries. As silly as it sounds, she would make shooting stars appear in the sky for me knowing how much I loved them. Gods, I wish you could’ve seen my home back in its days, back when everything still remained. Everything was so…..beautiful, and the skies, gods the skies, you could see the different planets and galaxies as if they were only miles away. To this day, I have yet to see anything in my travels that compares.”

“I would have loved to seen it Schatzi. Your mother sounded like a wonderful person.”

“She was the kindest soul I knew.” You turned your body so that you could look up at him, resting your chin on your hand.

“You miss her.”

“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss my family and planet.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to them Schatzi. I wish you never went through what you did.”

“If only I could bring them back. I’d do anything to be able to just see them again.”

Zemo was silent, believing that no amount of words could have provided you comfort, no matter how deep the meaning or how significant. He could not imagine what you went through. He had lost his country and his family, and you had lost your family as well, but you lost your world, your entire race, leaving you to be the last remaining entity of your people, the last Olympian and the last Chthonian. Words could not bring your family back, just as they could not with his. So he only did what he was able, making a silent unspoken promise within the abyss of his damaged heart to be there for you as he held you closer to him and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

A sudden feeling of guilt crawled up your spine like a venomous scorpion ready to sink its stinger in your skin with means to cause nothing but pain and suffering. You felt guilty for being here, lying next to Zemo wrapped in his arms like a pair of star-crossed lovers from the pages of a novel. A part of you felt selfish for what you did, undeserving of the affection that was bestowed upon you from a man who had suffered enough from the loss of his family. How much longer did you think you could give in to your mindless emotions without a single thought of the consequences it might bring about. Did you really think you could go on as if nothing is happening? As if you can conceal your true form from him forever. No. You could not. You did not have the heart to keep such knowledge from him. If you wanted to pursue what you had with him, you would have to tell him the truth when the time came.

“We should probably get back before Sam and Bucky notice.” You mumbled, blinking back the tears, your heart aching to go back to the way things used to be, wishing you could leave all of this and just be able to go back home. You didn’t belong here on earth, an immortal amongst mortals. At least on Olympus, if your titaness form had been revealed, many would not have bat an eye. They had already seen the likes of Titans before and the locals had become accustomed to you. But here on earth, you were nothing but a stranger, a drifter.

The two of you walked back to his place in silence, the only sounds being the whistling of the wind, the chirping of crickets, the voices of the few pedestrians and the humming of the cars that drove by. Your hands brushed against each other, craving to intertwine your fingers with his as you walked down the stone paved streets lit by the lamps that lined it, the two of you still withdrawn despite what occurred between you both. You felt it would have been silly, holding his hand like a couple of teenagers, though a century ago, you wouldn’t have gave it a second thought.

You arrived at his place, standing at the bottom of the steps in front of the double doors with Zemo opposite you, illuminated by the street lamp that stood just behind. Feelings of conflict washed over you, drowning you in waves of despair. As much as you wanted to be with him, a small part in the back of your mind kept telling you that it was wrong. Neither of you wanted to go through those doors just yet, wishing you could have spent the night under the stars. But life seems to have a way of working against your favor. The Wakandans would be here to collect him possibly tomorrow, and you would have to bid him farewell, separated from each other for what could be forever. As much as you did not look forward to that moment in having to turn him in and never see him again, you wouldn’t stop the Wakandans from what they were promised. And though you hadn’t said a word, Zemo had already knew what your decisions were regarding it, and he could not blame you for it. You were a woman of justice and you followed a code, and he respected that.

“Zemo.” A frown appeared on your face.

“Please,” Zemo whispered to you as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, “Call me Helmut.”

You looked at Zemo once more, a look of longing hidden behind your eyes as you unconsciously swiped your tongue across your mouth, watching how his eyes followed the movement before lingering on the wetness of your lips that resembled the petals of a rose after the pouring of cold rain in the midst of spring. Oh how he wished to be the drops of rain that were gifted the pleasure of grazing upon the velvety petals that belonged to such beauty of a flower, a symbol of union between the two domains in which the heavens came down to declare its love for the earth. A pulling sensation filled within your core, drawing yourself to Zemo as if he were the sweet berries of deadly nightshade that have lured many unfortunate souls. Banishing the thoughts of doubt that clouded your mind, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to you, crashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Zemo was initially shocked by your bold gesture and stiffened from the way your mouth moved against his, surprised you would pull something like this when just a wall away Sam and Bucky were awaiting your arrival, before loosing himself into your embrace.

Your fingers clenched the collar of his sweater and your fingers grazed across the exposed skin of his neck while his hands went to your waist in a desperate attempt, fumbling to grab at anything and bunching up the bottom fabric of your sweater as he pulled you against him. The tips of his fingers brushed against the skin of your waist that was exposed below the hem of your sweater, leaving behind goosebumps in its trail. You smiled into the kiss from the way he completely melted under your touch, a part of you amused from the affect you held over him as you managed to elicit a moan from deep within his throat. Zemo’s brows were furrowed in the passionate moment, something you have noticed when you first kissed him, a small crease in the muscles of his face that showed just how lost he was when encased in this moment with you, and it absolutely melted you. He was addicted from the warm numbness, the ecstasy he felt from kissing you. Your lips were like heroin to him, leaving him yearning for more, and it didn’t ameliorate the fact that his years spent in a German prison had left him somewhat inexperienced and filled with a chasmic longing for touch and intimacy from the lack thereof. Deep within him, masked by his ideas and objectives, Zemo wanted to be able to love someone again, a chance at a new life and a family, and perhaps, he saw that possibility with you. But, behind the passion of the kiss you shared with him, there was something else, a poison that laced your lips with feelings of despair and forbidding that consumed you as if you had tasted those sweet berries of nightshade, slowly loosing yourself to its malice. His lips which were at first warm to the touch, now felt cold like ice and sent shivers of dread through your veins, as if this would be the last kiss you shared with him.

You pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, your teeth softly grazing against his bottom lip as you did so. Both of you were left breathless as you rested your foreheads against each other, panting as your breaths fanned each other’s face as if you had just been trapped in the depths of the ocean before breaking through the surface to allow oxygen to fill your lungs.

“If you keep doing that Draga.” Zemo rasped between breaths, “I won’t be able to compose myself.”

“Good. Maybe I don’t want you too.” You smirked before placing a playful kiss on the tip of his nose. “But I really should go back inside, and you should do the same. Just make sure you go unnoticed.” You slipped his coat off your shoulders, his cologne that lingered on his fur collar leaving your senses with discontent as you returned his coat to him before going over to the doors, stopping to turn back to him with a smile before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. Gods, what the hell did you do that for???? You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you wanted to slap yourself for pulling a move like that.

“Gods I’m stupid.” You muttered to yourself.

“Hey.” Bucky smiled once he spotted you, his voice soft as if he were afraid you would shatter at any moment from the discussion that took place earlier. “How was your walk?”

“It was nice, relaxing. I went to the park to stargaze.”

“That’s good. As long as you feel better.”

“I do, actually. Thanks Bucky.”

“You look flushed. You okay?” Sam noted as he stepped over to you.

“Huh?” You stopped short. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just had to kind of uh power walk back here so you guys wouldn’t get worried. But I’m fine, yeah. Anyways, I’m going to hit the sack since I’m feeling a bit tired. Goodnight you guys.” You waved them off before going to your assigned room, making Sam and Bucky give each other questioning looks before they both shrugged it off.

You shut the door behind you, letting out a breath of relief that they had not caught on to anything and praying that Zemo had managed to sneak in. You had just gotten off the phone with Maze and your daughter, catching up on their activities after cleaning yourself up and changing into your nightgown. You had pulled up a chair next to the window that was in your room, your feet tucked underneath you and a warm cup of rose and blackberry tea in your hands. Your robe hung loosely off your shoulders as your index finger twirled above the small silver spoon that swirled in your cup, mists of violet wrapping around the handle of the spoon as you used your powers to stir the contents of the tea. You stared out the window onto the old streets of Latvia before glancing down at the teacup that was nestled in your hands, the glow of your eyes reflected off the window pane along with the tiny stars that swirled through the small globe of your necklace your mother gave you. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the moments that passed and the ones that have yet to come.

There was a knock on your door, interrupting you from the thoughts that had resided in your mind. “Come in.” You spoke as you looked through the reflection of the window and saw a figure step in. “Zemo?” You stopped using your powers, the clinking of the spoon scraping against the sides of the porcelain cup coming to a stop. “You know, you gotta stop sneaking into my room.” You teased before frowning, seeing the expression that sat on his face. “What’s wrong?” You got up from the chair, setting your cup down on the table before walking over to him.

“The Wakandans will…….be here for me tomorrow.” His eyes were lowered to the floor, the browns of his irises which reminded you of the dunes of the Sahara desert were whirling in thought, resembling the dunes caught in the midst of the fury of a sandstorm, as if searching for an answer to his troubles.

“Ze-Helmut, I………” You sighed, your tongue and mind lacking the ability to compose any words that might have provided some solace. “I’m sorry………..I don’t know what to say.”

“Y/n, schatzi” Zemo grabbed your hand, tracing his thumb over the bumps of your knuckles. “You don’t have to say a word. My actions………must be accounted for.”

You were silent, your brows knit together and your lips sealed as if your voice was ripped from your throat. Your heart wanted to tear itself from your chest, begging to be released from its cage so that it could be free to lament, so that it may be able to express the words that held it captive. But your tongue was tied, held back between the prison that was your teeth as you clenched your jaw. Zemo’s hand still held yours, stroking the soft skin on the back of your hand which were a contrast to the small rough patches on your palm, before you heard him speak again. “Can I kiss you?”

You blinked at him, lips parted in surprise that he would even ask such a question when you were honestly willing to kiss him any time of the day. The Zemo you had come to know was far different than the one you had heard about, his cold demeanor seemed to completely fade when he was around you, like a fog that dissipated with the coming of daylight. A part of you pondered whether this was how he used to be, before the events that happened. Though he hadn’t had a chance to share such affection with anyone and lost practice, you still found him to be great kisser and it always managed to leave you breathless. “Yes, please.” You whispered, your voice barely audible before you felt his lips brush against yours. What was sweet at first became more feverish and filled with hunger as an unfamiliar spirit seemed to possess your body, darkening the amethysts and golds of your eyes that resembled the galaxies, into the blackness of the abyss that swallowed the outer edges of space where not even the slightest bit of light could reach, almost as if you were sinking your claws into your prey.

A heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, filling your body with an electrifying warmth as his mouth moved against yours more confidently this time, catching you utterly by surprise and leaving your knees weak, a feeling similar to the stillness in the air a mere second before lightning strikes the ground beneath your feet. His hands slipped down to grab the flesh of your waist, dehydrated, and filled with an intense thirst that could only be quenched by your body that was the ocean, your skin separated by the silk fabric of your nightgown. Your hands went up to grip his shoulders as a gasp escaped your lips upon feeling him move down to your jaw and neck. Gods, since when was the last time you were touched like that?

“Helmut.” You rasped, struggling to hold back a moan as his lips sucked on the skin where your collarbone met your neck, making you lean your head back to allow him better access. Your robe had fell to the floor, leaving your arms completely bare while Zemo’s hands caressed the skin that lined them before resting on the dorsal part of your upper arms, the combination of the frigid air and his fingertips that felt like the touch of fire sending shivers through your body. “What if they hear?”

“Let them.”

“No……….I’m…….serious.”

“Well if you’re that worried Draga.” Zemo stopped to look at you. “The walls are thick enough.”

Gods that completely sent you over the edge. It felt as if you were on a high, your mind was not even within this dimension as Zemo met your lips again. You had to throw your arms around his neck to keep yourself from collapsing as the two of you shifted in the room, Zemo guiding your body before the back of your knees came in contact with the side of your bed. You let yourself fall back into the soft mattress, bringing Zemo down with you. You both were a mess, your hair disarray, the thin straps of your nightgown fallen past your shoulders had almost left your breasts exposed, and the skirt of your nightgown had ridden up to your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Zemo squeezed at the soft flesh of your thigh before attacking your neck again. He didn’t know how to describe it but you tasted absolutely divine. Perhaps being a goddess made you taste of ambrosia; the golden, honey-flavored fruit that grew on the trees of Olympus. You were in absolute bliss and thanked the gods he wouldn’t be able to leave a mark, at least you hoped not.

“Helmut.” You moaned, your nails digging into his biceps as his warm lips made a trail down your collarbone and lower to where the lace trim of your nightgown met just above the curve of your breasts, lingering on the space between, filling your mind with thoughts of a certain region you desired those lips to be. “Fuck.” You hissed from the contact, your hand moving its way to his head as you ran your fingers through his soft hair, your nails raking across the back of his scalp as the heat between your thighs only grew. You unconsciously pressed your heel to the lower part of his back, beckoning him closer to that heat between your thighs as you bucked your hips up. Zemo growled at the movement, slightly nipping at the skin where your breast had started to form, causing you to gasp and your eyes to fly open from the sensation.

“Apologies draga.” You heard him mutter before tenderly kissing the spot where his teeth had been.

Seeing Zemo in a close proximity above you in such a position had you dazed, wanting him to take you right then and there and not caring if the others heard you or not. And as your eyes wandered lazily over the sight of him, they widened in horror once they glimpsed at the image of your hands. Your nails became sharp, claw-like, and that deathly color had returned once again, slowly making its way up your arm like the tendrils of a shadow belonging to a demonic spirit.

“Helmut.” You whispered, your voice becoming panicked as you loosened your grip on his arms, being careful not to pierce his skin. “Helmut wait.”

Zemo stopped, pushing himself up to meet your eyes as his concern grew from seeing the frightened look that filled them. “Schatzi, what’s wrong?” He brought his hand up to your face, brushing away the strands of your hair. “If you’re uncomfortable let me know.”

“No, gods no. If anything I don’t want you to stop.” You breathed out, trying to catch your breath. “It’s just that………….”

“What is it schatzi?” His voice was soft as his fingers caressed your cheek, afraid that he might have offended you in some way, afraid that he might have been too forward.

“I’m sorry Helmut. I want to, I really do, but not like this.” You shook your head as you got up, shifting over to where the dark shadows of the room fell on the bed to hide your arms, afraid to meet his eyes as if you had made a fool of yourself. “Not like this.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me y/n.” Zemo smiled at you. “If you’re not ready, than I’m not ready.”

“Thank you Helmut.” You smiled back before giving him a delicate kiss. “I’d………uh like to think some things through.” You prayed that he didn’t see your hands, hoping that the darkness of the room managed to disguise it.

“Of course draga.” Zemo placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before leaving your room, stopping at the door to give you a comforting smile as he carefully shut it behind him.

Your eyes still lingered on the door, waiting to make sure he didn’t come back before turning on the bedside lamp and staring down at your hands. You had managed to stop the color from spreading up your arm, yet it strangely still remained, stopping halfway up your forearm. This wasn’t good.

“What the hell?” You scrunched your nose, trying to use your powers once again to remove it but to no avail. Fear coursed through your veins as you attempted to remove the color, spell after spell, hoping those vine like tendrils would crawl back down your hands and disappear. You cursed under your breath as each attempt proved to be as futile as the one before. What the hell was going on? Why were your spells not working? It vanished before from your magic, why wasn’t it doing so now? You were struck with a sudden realization that perhaps this change would become permanent, that maybe suppressing your true form for all those years had caused it to spiral out of control and in turn try to overpower you as if it had a mind of its own. You growled through gritted teeth, the furniture around you shaking as your fists were clenched in frustration, the violet mists of your powers encompassing your hands and sparking with small bolts that corresponded with the vexation that overwhelmed you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the mist around your hands disappearing and the shaking of the furniture coming to a stop. You had to work something out. You were left no choice but to keep your hands covered from now on until you found a solution. If any of them questioned it, you had to have a damn good lie. Getting up from the bed, you walked over to the double doors that led to the small balcony and opened them, your hands gripping the cold iron rail as you stared out at the view of the Latvian streets and buildings before you. Oh how you wished your sister Athena were here. She knew everything.

“Oh Athena.” You stifled a sob as you stared up at the stars, focusing on the light of your planet as if she could have heard you, a tear cascading down your cheek and dropping to the streets below. “Gods I wish you were here. I really need your help.”

Despite your pleas, you knew she wasn’t there, her existence only an artifact of the past. You were praying to nothing but a memory. It was extremely urgent that you got information on this matter of your form and the words of the prophecy that still threatened and echoed within the depths of your mind. And since you couldn’t obtain such knowledge from another Olympian, you would have to gather it from the old texts. Muttering a few words in Ancient Greek, you waited, searching, until a small white moth came into view, fluttering in your direction. You held out your finger, letting the tiny creature come to rest upon it.

“Hello little one.” You smiled at the moth as you gently stroked it in greeting, bringing it closer to your face so that you could speak to it in your language. “Please send word to my familiar and tell him to gather as much information he can on Titans and the prophecy. And tell him to come find me when he is done. Thank you.” The moth looked at you with understanding behind his tiny black eyes, it’s antennaes twitching before fluttering away into the moon. You sighed, watching it disappear into the night before giving your distant planet one last glance before shutting the doors and going back over to the bed. You laid down under the covers, your hands rested on your stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, dreading the day to come. How could you face Zemo? And however were you going to keep your hands a secret? Surely the three are bound to find out sooner or later? You just prayed that the message you sent would be returned in a short time. You needed to fix this before it would be considered too late. And the sooner you found Karli the better. Your mind was racing with thoughts, but you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest and forcing those thoughts away. Gods help you from this moment on.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thehornyles @awhorewithissues @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @Gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail @pollynx @aziraslowlylosestheirshit @roundbrownlover @awesomeowlbook @bookloverfilmoholic @hargreevesd @death-is-beautiful @ilovespideyyy @peakyrogers

[caesthetix]

SAY A LITTLE PRAYER — Pt. 2 Devoted Worshipper

↪Eren Yeager mini-series

↪content; major character death, canon universe, heavy angst, established relationship, spoiler for season 4

You hummed softly as your feet dragged you towards the Commander's office. The hallway was quiet, yellow hue from the candles illuminated your pathway. Some of the rooms were occupied, you knew from the laughter that could be heard here and there. Soldiers cheering and sharing drinks without any weight on their shoulders.

And it made you feel a little bit melancholic as you thought about it.

When you dragged your friends to lounge around together, you wanted to feel the same warmth and comfort that was usually there when everyone huddled together. Even though you knew that it would never be the same anymore with one of you being taken on the battlefield, you still hoped that they would have each other to rely on.

Yet the atmosphere was tense. Sometimes overlapping the sorrow that coated their hearts. Maybe that was the coping mechanism, to forget about the pain, they all used anger, trying to point their finger to where it all went wrong, searching for the root of this havoc.

You knew that Sasha's death hit Connie harder than anyone. Yes, everyone had their individual bonds with the gluttonous woman, but there was something that differentiated his relationship with her. There were only two kinds of bonds that could emit such emotional turmoil; twins, and romantic love.

And they were like family, no, twins — and to lose a part of your soul would make anyone else gone mad.

Letting out a sigh, you tried to focus on your breathing. The door that led to Hange's office was within your eyesight already, you had your own job right now, your own mission. And that was to meet with your lover who, right now, people wouldn't dare to spend some time alone with him.

You remembered the day it all changed, where the most expressive person you ever knew suddenly closed his heart from the world. It was just a simple touch, lips grazing the back of her hand, and suddenly, the look on his face that day was the last fiery emotion which you ever saw coming from him.

He was distant, no, detached. It was as if he had his own world, as if he knew something that no one else could ever understand. You tried to ask him, to share whatever inside his mind, to share his burden. But every time you asked, he would just stare at you, with emerald eyes filled with one emotion that you could never understand.

It was not love, not some affection. There was no sadness indeed, no tears glistening in those beautiful orbs. He just looked at you with something that you could not fathom. Though, amidst all the cold shoulder that you got from him, you were still standing right by his side.

Like a devoted worshipper, following him to anywhere he goes, without even questioning where and why.

You were Eren's shield, some even said more faithful than Mikasa herself. There was no doubt in your eyes, whatever happened, no matter how many innocent souls were now in his hands, there wasn't a single time you ever asked the universe why he did all of that. Not even for a second, you didn't need a reason to believe him.

Everyone always questioned your feelings for said titan shifter since the beginning, when all of you were just wannabe soldiers in the training corps. There was no way you saw him as only a friend with how you always had this smile on your face when his name was mentioned.

Then one day when they saw his lips lingering on your forehead before they were all dispersed to defend Trost, they knew you would bind yourself to that man.

And they were right.

It was no secret already that you might be the most neutral in between all of them, but they knew who had you crawling to at the end of the day. Eren Yeager, no one else but him. He was your ultimate reason, the love of your life, the man who owned all of your heart; you didn't leave anything for yourself.

But you didn't even care about that, knowing your heart was placed on the right man.

"(Y/n)?"

You jolted when you saw the door opened, gaze trailed up to find your Commander staring at you with questioned eyes. Lost in your thoughts, you did not realise that you had been standing in front of Hange's office for perhaps a few minutes now.

"Commander Hange!" A perfect salute coming from you, making them chuckle at how enthusiastic you acted even in this darkest hour. You could see the bag under their eyes, brown locks dishevelled as some of the strands were all over the place. This fact alone made you frown. "You should get some rest, Hange."

Your voice changed completely, there was no smile etched on your face, and they knew how serious you were as you blurted out the words. "I mean it, as a friend."

They bit their lips, eyes closing shut as they tried to control the storm in their head. After a few seconds, they moved away slightly from the door to give you space, hands retracted to the side as they told you to come in, stopping whatever they were supposed to do right now.

Your lips curled into a small smile as you knew that Hange would take your advice. Even though it was just temporary, perhaps a little rest was better than nothing at all.

Nodding your head, you walked inside the office and stopped not too far from the door. Waiting for their instruction to where to sit, your gaze fleeting around the space that was more modern than their old office in the previous Headquarters.

It used to be so dim, only one light illuminating the whole room. You remembered how many times you stumbled over the items that were cluttering around the lab that they forgot to pick up. Now the lights were clearer, positioned on each side of the wall, resulting in all the corners shining with the yellow hue.

Of course, there was a massive bookshelf near the desk, not even one book was missing, everything was filled as you took it as a sign that the commander had been working on papers nonstop, not once loosening up to enjoy the victory over the attack on Marley.

"You could sit on the couch, or the chair, it's up to you, really."

Hange's voice sounded calmer now as they closed the door and walked back behind their desk before they plopped themselves on the big cushioned chair. You followed the gesture and sat across from them, deciding that it was better to be eye to eye if you were going to talk with them later on.

Their fingers running down their messy strands before pulling the hair tie to free it from the upcoming headache that already threatened to come. "Damn it, I am so tired."

That made you chuckle.

"I understand, Hange. And it's alright to feel tired, you are human after all." Not a normal human like the rest of the world, but the needs and stamina were still the same, whether you were an Eldian or people outside Paradis. The brunette smiled a little at your words and stood up to prepare a drink, grabbing two porcelain cups as they poured two teaspoons of dark powder on each cup.

"I take it you are okay with coffee, am I wrong?" They smirked a little as they turned to see you with a smile beamed on your face. "Awh, you are welcome, my dear~"

"Oh, Hange, you know how much I love that drink."

It didn't take long for them to prepare the drink. They had this big bottle that could hold hot water to stay boiled after a few hours. God, you thanked Niccolo for introducing that item to all of you. Speaking of the blonde man, you frowned a little as you wondered if he received the news about Sasha's death.

You wanted to go and deliver the information itself, but you knew with your condition right now that everyone would want you to rest until you get better. Connie, Niccolo, Sasha's family, you couldn't imagine the pain that they felt to lose someone that you loved so much with all of your heart.

And you couldn't help but think how much it would hurt if Eren was gone from this world.

"Here you go, (Y/n)," Hange spoke softly as they pushed the coffee cup in your line of vision. "Careful, it's still hot." They came at the right time, you didn't even realise the sweat on your forehead started to form due to the panic inside your head. You really did not want to think about that, it was too much.

You retrieved the coffee gently before settling it on your lap, palms feeling the warmth from the hot liquid as you rest one of your hands at the side of the cup. The air was cold, and for you, the porcelain worked wonders to make it to be touchable enough.

The two of you were engulfed by comfortable silence. Your nose crinkled softly when the scent of the coffee lingered in the room. Ah, coffee, that magical drink from Marley. You cursed a little at your ancestor when you first tasted the new beverage, saying how it's not fair that it took you a dozen years to know such a thing.

"You can drink it anytime you want now."

Eren smiled softly at your reaction and whispered that to you after a few seconds of watching your reaction. You didn't know what was inside his mind at that time, but his words were enough to make your heart flutter.

It was rare for him to show any interest or excitement, so you cherished all the fragments of his old self and carved it deep inside your mind. You loved the smell of coffee, because it reminded you of the world outside the wall, and it reminded you of a promise that once made.

Eren would lead you to your freedom, not with you as a follower, but with you to walk alongside him as he retrieved the rights that were taken away from all humans in Paradis.

Yes, Eren, the reminiscent was enough to snap you back. You were here for a reason, and that was to meet him, to spend time with him. No. You were there to dig some information from your lover's mind. It was for the sake of your friends, to make them feel better and feel more at peace rather than just standing in the dark.

After all, you didn't need to know his reason. You were satisfied enough to fight and walk alongside him.

Right?

"Now, what is it that you wanted to ask me?"

You jolted when you heard Hange throw the question as if you were just having a conversation about the weather, making the cup in front of your lips falter a little as you looked at them with shock. Catching you off guard like that was amusing to them. "What? You don't think I couldn't read you like an open book?"

Hange was harmless, at least to you. They said that not because they wanted to intimidate you, but more into wanting to prove to themselves how much they knew you. Everything was shown in their face, from the glint in their eyes to a snicker that slipped from their lips.

You let out a sigh before slipping down the cup of coffee back to your lap. They waited, understanding that you were slightly embarrassed with how much they could read you. Maybe you forgot, but they were the ones who asked Erwin to make you a part of their squad.

There was no one else that could tolerate Eren Yeager without him tolerating them enough. Eren actually listened to you, thoughtful of your decision and thinking about all of your scolds. Eren didn't listen to anyone, not even the Commander sometimes. If he didn't want to listen then he wouldn't.

But you were the only creature that, whatever you said, he would always take consideration of.

Starting from that benefit, Hange was now attached to you. They adored your strong will, how you would put your life over anyone (especially Eren) but yet still had a clear mind over it. You were fast, not as powerful as Mikasa, but you could think straight and strategize.

And they were hooked, they were proud to be the superior who knew you. Not even the Commander could understand the way you were thinking sometimes, but it was his loss anyway. Since he saw you as an asset for Eren instead of seeing you as a sole soldier who stood for herself.

"I need to speak with Eren." You were not done yet. "Alone."

The room was silent once again as they mulled over your words. They were sure it was not a request, but more as a demand. They chuckled internally to see you like this, intimidating, trying to get to your goal with a simple command.

"And what makes you think that I would let you?" They didn't want to prolong this, but they needed to know further why you wanted to see him. Truthfully, Hange was going to go to check on Eren before. But you came and told them to rest, funny how now you were the one who asked to talk to him.

They were afraid for you, that man was not the same as he was a few years ago. Everything changed after they reclaimed Shiganshina. And to let you talk with him without no one else guarding you, that tasted like a recipe for disaster.

"You would let me." Ha, cocky as ever when the time needed. "You know I could take down a lot of men and titan single-handedly, you know Eren would never lay a finger on me with the purpose to hurt me." Your voice was loud and clear, completely turning you into a soldier. "There is no downside to it. And if you think I would let him escape, you should know that I could do it anytime I want."

You had a point, that was what they knew. There was no malicious intent on your voice, just a need to talk to an old friend, to your lover. Even if you were sitting there in front of them with a serious facade, desperation was shown inside your eyes with how much you longed to have some alone time with the man.

They put down the cup of coffee on their table, sighing as they thought about what was the right thing. It was their call after all. You were someone who would do anything for Eren, but at the same time, you were a soldier, a good one that always followed the rules.

But to what extent would you stay to be a good soldier? If one day a condition caused the Survey Corps to be on the opposite side from Eren, where would you stand?

No, you were loyal — to either the Survey Corps or Eren. At least right now it was like that, and they just had to believe you in this.

"Alright." Your lips twitched at their answer, you must be so excited, and that made them softened a little. "You can just take down this soldier's side of yours, (Y/n). Just be a friend now, I hear your request loud and clear."

You nodded a little, still having your stoic, serious expression on your face. It wouldn't be long though, they were sure of that. One, two, three—

"Oh, Hange!" You wailed, setting the cup on the wooden table before you stood up and walked behind the desk, wanting to embrace them. "You don't know how much I miss him, I wanted to tackle him and just wrap my hands around him in the airship before."

The brunette chuckled when you finally fell to their chest, hugging them so tightly as you were clutching their uniform. "It's been months, Hange, thank you. Thank you so much."

"Oh, dear." They awkwardly patted your back, chuckling at your reaction. "I know, you are craving for him, I know." Everyone could see it, your love for Eren was something that couldn't be hidden from the world. Even Yelena and the others knew from one look at you.

You stayed there for a few seconds, calming yourself down from the enthusiasm that was bubbling up. You didn't want to scare off your lover with your sudden embrace or nonstop kisses. So you had to compose yourself by pouring some of the affection to someone that you trusted was enough.

"I mean it, thank you, Hange." You pulled away, though still had your hands on their arms as you squeezed it gently. The way you looked at them was so ethereal, comforting, and shone with what they believed as love. "Can I go now, then?"

"Yes, of course."

Hange gave you one last smile before pulling themselves away from you too. "I actually just pulled something that wouldn't be approved by Zackly. So, is half an hour enough for you?" They actually did not want to give you a time limit, but it would be bad if someone else found you in the cell with a criminal.

"Ah, of course." They let out a sigh of relief when they heard your answer. "I understand, Hange. As much as I love to spend time with Eren, I know that this meeting alone could jeopardize your position." Goodness, always so understanding, Eren sure is lucky.

"Alright, here." A dangling sound filled the room as they fetched the keys from their pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of the silver metal, palms up as they dropped the key on your hands. "Make sure you didn't forget to lock—"

"Y-You'll let me go inside?" If you looked so delighted before, now you looked like you could burst as you tried to process the meaning behind the given keys.

One solid nod from the commander, and that's all it took for your tears to slip down your cheek.

You took a few steps back before giving them a salute, one that they answered back because of how much respect they had for you too. It had been years since they knew you, and it made them tear up a little with how much you had grown, yet still the same naive girl they saw that day in the training corps.

As you walked away to the door, they looked at you with fondness in their eyes. The brunette saw you as a close friend, like a sister they never had.

It was their call, they knew this was the best. For you to meet the love that you longed for, you deserved to feel such comfort in this hellish world. And to know that they could make you feel this happy, they felt like the best sibling in the world for giving such joy in your life.

Even when they heard a click from the door, a sign that you were on your way down the cell, their smiles never faltered. Shaking their head softly at the puppy love that showed as you bounced around with giddiness, they immersed themselves on the papers once again.

Little did they know that this decision would haunt them until they took their last breath.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ༶•┈┈⛧┈〄┈⛧┈┈•༶ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"This is tiresome."

Hange yawned and stretched their limbs as they tossed down the last report that they had to finish. They really needed to take your advice and get more rest. Ah, you, now they just realised how much time had passed after the last time they saw you from before.

Their eyes fleeting to the clock on the wall, raising one of their eyebrows when they realised it was already forty-five minutes since you left.

I need to check on her, they thought. Even if they believed that you would not let anyone harm you in any way, they still needed to get you to rest. After all, you were still wounded, and they didn't want one of their best soldiers to tire herself more.

Stretching their limbs to the side, cracking their neck and hearing the pop here and there, now they were satisfied. Standing up to embark on their little journey, their eyes flickered to the empty cup of coffee that belonged to you. It was so clean, you even drank the harsh powder that lingered at the bottom.

You did really love coffee, they couldn't help but wanted to surprise you that they had a new type from Yelena tomorrow morning. Hange could imagine you screaming already and drinking a lot with them. A little piece of heaven indeed, talking with a friend without thinking of their burden, maybe it was enough for them right now.

Chuckling softly, the brunette locked the door to their office before strolling down the empty hallway, wanting to have a chat with you before closing the day.

It was late at night, the rest of the scouts were mostly asleep or drinking their hearts out, celebrating the first win of the Island of Paradis. Thinking about war made their shoulders slump, they were already tired and just wanted everything to end. But they just had to suck it up, holding onto the hope that it would end soon.

There was no one else in sight as they walked, the one who accompanied them was just the yellow flame and their own mind. Now they wondered what kind of talk that you had with your lover. Even if Eren was now just an emotionless human being, they thought that he would still be the same around you. Still as loving, even though more careful with the amount of affection that he gave.

Everyone who had eyes could see how devoted you were to the man, no matter how many times he was always preoccupied with himself, falling deep into his own spiraling mind, no more acknowledging your existence who was always by his side.

Armin and Jean would often call you up to join the rest of them to town or just to have fun. But you always stayed seated, resting your head on his shoulder as you try to give comfort to the man that you gave your heart to. Typical you, prioritizing his needs over your own.

The air changed all of a sudden as their feet finally reached the first rung that would lead them to the basement. It was so humid, and they really think you were such a saint by staying here for almost an hour without complaining.

Love really made people do something crazy, to the extent that their own comfort did not matter.

There was no sound of arguing that could be heard, which was good. It was so silent, and somehow they wanted to just turn back around. Inside their mind, they could see you curled up on the hard bed with Eren's arms draped around your figure.

Just by thinking of that, they couldn't hide the smile that emerged on their face at this point. What a youth, filled with love and comfort, something that not everyone could find inside a life of a soldier. Yet there you were, making the love that you had to be a reason to stay strong, to keep on living.

Hange made a decision, that if you were indeed safe and sound on your lover's embrace, then they would let you two be.

But when their feet stopped right in front of the cell, their light brown pupils dilated in horror.

The air was humid, suffocating, and their chest felt so constricted within these walls. They were not even inside, yet by just standing there right now, they couldn't help but want to puke.

Inside, they could see how Eren faced the mirror on the wall, his hands gripping tight to the silver sink that filled with water. There was nothing that could be emitted from his expression, not even a single emotion could be seen inside his emerald eyes that was always praised by you.

And as their gaze finally dared to look at the shadow in their peripheral vision, they could feel their heart stop.

In the back of the room, your body slumped on the dirty wall — idle, lifeless. Hange gasped, hands stumbled as they opened the cell and rushed to your side. Their fingers immediately went to your bruised neck to check on your pulse on instinct.

And nothing.

They found nothing.

Not even a beat.

"Eren, what did you do?" Their eyes never left your figure, gaze fleeting toward your orbs that were now empty. They choked, swallowing a huge lump before resting their ear on your torso, hoping that they could hear your heartbeat. But they were met with the same void. "Eren, what did you do?!"

Hange bit their lips, fetching the keys in your palm, they carefully hoisting your body as they managed to not cry, but they couldn't hold their sob as they realised they lost yet another good soldier, a good friend. If Eren could not give them an answer, they were the ones who were going to find it.

If only, God, if only they didn't let you meet up with Eren.

You would probably go back to your friends, easing their pain with your comforting words. You would wake up tomorrow morning and walk to their office, sharing a cup of coffee together before they gave you a briefing for what the scouts would do for the whole day.

But it was not possible, it was no longer possible. They should have known it.

No, they refused to give up now. Gritting their teeth, they still didn't want to believe that you were gone for real. They didn't care anymore if they were out of their mind, their free hand immediately closed and locked the cell harshly, needing to see the doctor, a paramedic that was around. Holding on to a hopeless dream that maybe you could be saved.

What could they say to your friends? That you died because of how they let you meet a deadly criminal, the same person that also had your heart on his palms? Hange was not sure that the man was the one who was responsible for your death, but there was no one else around.

And those bruises, red hue smearing your neck like a vice-grip.

They shook their head, not wanting to think about it for now as they tried to lift you up. They needed to get you upstairs, calling out the paramedic that was probably sleeping right now, needing them to save you.

When their feet made contact with the first stairs, they could hear a mutter from the cell which belonged to your lover. It was only a few words, and yet with how low his voice was, lingered with nothing but a glimpse of despair — it sent a shiver down their spine.

"I gave her freedom."

↪Back to Wall Maria

↪Send an ask if you want to be a citizen of Paradis (taglist)!

[amistytown]

Hi Noelle! I'm gonna participate in the matchup (✿◡‿◡)

Name: Han

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Astrological sign: Honestly, I'm not so familiar with this, but I do know that I'm Aries

MBTI: INFJ-T

Ideal relationship: There are two things that I look for in my partner, respect and trust. I don't need to be spoiled or coddled all the time, and I too won't do the same with my partner. As long as we trust and respect each other, it's enough. There will be times when I might need attention, but there will also be times when I need some space to think and reboot myself. I don't need expensive gifts, just showing me that he's there for me is enough gesture of affection. My love language is also quality time and the act of service, and I really enjoy spending time not doing anything. Just watching movies in silence, playing games together, or just cuddling quietly is enough to help me calm down.

About: About myself? I love cute things! Animals, cute stationeries, sparkly things and pastel colours :3 I also love anything that relates to food. I love agriculture, cooking and nutrition stuff. I also love to watch anime and read mangas/manhwas. If I have enough money to buy my own gaming console, I may have been playing games during my free time. Oh, but the gaming genre that I like is the chill kind of game? Like Animal Crossing? Yeah XD I love to plan my days and I'm very organised. I don't mind messy stuff, but there will be one point where I just can't take it anymore and will clean every single thing and not leave a speck of dust. I also don't like spontaneous things that ruin my plan because it can give me anxiety, as if I'm not in control of my life... I think I'm a people pleaser? Because as much as I don't like whoever is bothering me, I can't get myself to speak up about it. I hate confrontations too. I'd rather sit in silence and endure it all rather than saying no.

Others: Nope! Nothing to add~ Thank you for doing this! I love your writing so much and I hope you enjoy them too! Take a break anytime you want and I wish you good luck!

Thank you for participating, Han! I hope this matchup does you justice because someone as amazing as you deserves the best ♥

I match you with Barbatos ♥

First and foremost, Barbatos serves Lord Diavolo, a loyal butler to the young prince. However, he finds himself thinking about you more often than not, intrigued by the human exchange student and slowly falling to temptation the longer you spend time together, unable to resist the draw of your soul—beautiful and kind, shining brilliantly in the eternal night of the Devildom. His feelings for you are unexpected, turning his world upside down, yet he cannot bring himself to ignore how his heart sings when you’re around, afraid of change but captivated by all you are and what the future holds for the both of you. It’s not often he’s taken by surprise, his life predictable until you appeared, showing him there’s more to him than his role and duties—with you he lives.

Your relationship is one of love, understanding, and respect. The two of you enjoy each other’s company, at peace when you’re together even if it’s in silence. Barbatos is happy to serve you, not as your butler but your partner, wanting to be the demon you can trust and rely on after you allowed him into your heart—your heart meant to be protected and cherished at all costs. He shows his love for you by pouring you tea and baking your favorite sweets, ensuring your safe and sound, and putting your mind at ease; simple gestures that speak volumes. Those moments you’re busy or overwhelmed, Barbatos will shoulder your burdens without hesitance, assisting you with your studies, holding you at your most vulnerable, and giving you words of encouragement.

Similarly, Barbatos prefers to have the day planned from start to finish and appreciates how prepared and organized you are, a quality of yours he took note of during your first days in the Devildom. The butler typically adheres to a strict schedule, and you plan your time together around his royal duties as well as your studies to make sure there are no interruptions. If your plans fall through, he’ll be mindful of you and hold your hand as you pick up the pieces, satisfied only when he’s certain you’re okay. He’s calm and collected, offering you a shoulder to lean on when needed; come what may, he’ll stay by your side, not leaving you to face life’s uncertainties on your own. Your wellbeing is important to him, and he’ll keep a watchful eye on his favorite human, doing what he can to make things easier on you—including the creation of a special blend of tea to relieve you of your stress and anxieties.

Barbatos respects your privacy, your love strong enough to endure time apart. He’s grateful you understand the importance of his duties, and he understands your need for space, the distance between you nothing to fear—your bond steadfast and ever-growing. Otherwise, you’re connecting over your love of cooking, baking your worries away while his arms wrap around you from behind, and he places a loving kiss on your cheek, warmed by your innocent smile and the blush of your cheeks; you’re as sweet as the cake he makes and as soothing as the tea he brews. The intimacy of simply being together fills you both with a joy no one else can bring, whether it’s accompanying Barbatos on his days off, the demon wishing to learn more about you and what you are passionate about, or enjoying a nice walk in the royal garden hand-in-hand; he will not decline a night in your room watching you play videogames as you cuddle, the delightful smell of the freshly baked pastries he made enveloping you. A butler is not all he’s meant to be, and he considers himself fortunate to have someone as wonderful as you to share his life with.

[apprentice-maliya]

soft and wounded and the night

pairing: asra/mali’ya cw: nightmares, amnesia word count: 3.4k song: solovey by go_a

In his dreams she’s always singing, though Mali’ya only hums.

I gathered the flowers, braided them into a wreath

She was facing him with her back in that memory, her attention to the sink while honey curls swayed gently under the green kerchief at every tilt of her head. 

She’d let hair down, he noticed. That was rare. Once, she’d told him it would always get in the way when she was working.

Her hands washed the dishes in circular motions, slow and careful not to let one slip. Alone in her thoughts, Mali’ya breathes out the songs of her childhood in soft whispers and Asra wonders, each time they meet there, in the empty boundary between memory and reality, how could he ever forget that silvery sound?

He had heard her talk in her native language before, when she wasn’t yet fluent in Vesuvian and the confusion in her mind came out of her lips with frustration and embarrassment; he remembered the words being harsh and intricate and mysterious when she spoke to her aunt, words that crashed one against the other and merged together in a way so foreign to him that Asra could never completely understand.

But when Mali’ya sang, nothing else mattered anymore. All things faded out, all worries and thoughts, all shapes and colours; washed away by songs she knew by heart. It was then, only then, that Venterrean forgot all about its hardness, maybe lost to the water running down the sink or still lingering in her mouth in words of unspoken terrors. 

Braided them into a wreath, the rue and the periwinkle flowers

Even after all that time, Asra could never really give a name to the feeling. He was sure, though, that there was nothing more enticing than the way Mali’ya’s voice would die out like candlelight.

After securing the last plate in the cupboard, Mali’ya turned to him with that indulgent smile of hers he so much loved. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” she asked with curiosity, thinking about the days he would overhear her from his booth on the other side of the backroom’s wall, her own bedroom at the time. “It’s not the loveliest song. Or language, even.”

Nightingale, nightingale, do not sing so early

Shaking his head no, Asra mirrored her smile from the kitchen table where he was sitting. “Actually,” he replied, lips up in a playful smirk, “It’s very, very lovely, if you ask me.”

Happiness was bright in the curve of her mouth as Mali’ya approached him, jade eyes dissolving for a moment into a line of thin golden lashes, pressed down in disagreement under her furrowed brows. He couldn’t help it. Instinctively, perhaps a bit too eagerly (but who was he to deny her?), the moment she made way between his parted legs to get closer and her hands ran up to cup his face, Asra leaned in to meet her touch.

Oh, how he’d missed this. The gentle palms, and the smallest hint of calluses on her fingertips; her thighs, too, which he held on to steadily, still so soft and welcoming as he remembered them. The scent of her freckled skin, something faintly floral, embracing him from every angle like a protection charm.

Carding her fingers through his hair in a way that it would give her free access, Mali’ya bent down to lay a kiss on his forehead. Her lips lingered there for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, and Asra tilted his head up to welcome what would come next.

So Mali’ya kissed him with no hesitation, her lips on his and his heart on a sleeve, the beats loud and attuned to hers, to the song her aura let out when their souls would meet.

It felt so right, it always did. It was the place to be. Always, forever, as long their bodies would last before turning to dust.

She smiled into the kiss and slowly began to pull away, while the smell of rain gathered gently around them. It was the same as when she enchanted her chamomile tea before going to bed, Asra recalled, hoping that the memories wouldn’t come back to devour her in her sleep; the same as when she found out about the kids, and healed the wounds on their knees with a simple ghosting of her fingertips. It was the smell of storms and worry, but she always looked hopeful when it rained.

I’ll stop soon, and you’ll be able to play outside again, she would tell Luz.

Asra wraps his arms around her. The song echoes,

My heart can’t feel good about this

Don’t go. Don’t go.

“Asra,” Mali’ya called, tender as ever. Any tinge of joy in her voice was gone already; and although she was trying to sound serene, and he couldn’t see the sadness in her eyes, he just knew it was there. He had learnt everything about her during the time they’d spent together; every gesture, every change in her behaviour when she would push aside what she truly wanted. And Asra knew this was for his sake alone, too. He’d been foolish to hope things could change; as if nothing could ever change, at last in his memories.

So he kept quiet.

Her hands were still caressing his nape when Mali’ya spoke again. “You have to wake up, love,” she murmured, returning his hug just as urgently.

She rarely called him that, Asra thought. Because she had grown up believing love was to be found in the little things, those unnoticeable acts of service towards the ones she cherished, Mali’ya had never been one for pet names or clamorous displays of affection. She would rather trust, offer, provide; pour her heart into everything she touched.

Love.

Four silly letters for one silly word. Asra still remembered a time before her in which it was just a meaningless concept he and Muriel did not dare to share with the world. But when she called him that, she made it sound like the poets had been right all along.

“You know you can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” He sounds like a whiny brat, of that much he’s aware. He holds her closer. Can’t they just go back to being kids? Can’t he make it right once and for all, can’t he make up for what he had destroyed with his own selfishness? Mali’ya squeezes her arms around him one last time.

In the distance, someone sings a song of longing and fear.

“Take care, love,” is her parting whisper.

Then Asra blinked and she was gone again, like smoke, bringing any trace of sunlight away with her. It was as if she’d never been there. As if he’d abandoned her once more. Shut her out. The one that had tiptoed so gently into his world, cradled his heart and soul in her hands asking nothing in return. She, Mali’ya, who was made of chopped roots and timid branches and radiated so much warmth he could drown in it. He’d taken her for granted from day one, apparently, because there was never a time in which she’d beg him to stay.

As though all strength had been drained from him, Asra leaned in on the table as the room dissolved around him, arms covering his face and fingers gripping his hair in a punishing hold because you killed her, Asra. You killed her and she’s never coming back. Never. And it’s all your fault.

It gets cold in the nightmare. The wind howls, scentless and cold, and this time the whiffs don’t carry any songs with them. Asra stays still. There are no tears he can cry; he dried them all a long ago, digging his hands until they bled on the black shores of the Lazaret.

If it hadn’t been for you, Mali’ya would still be alive. Breathing.

It took him but a second to put a face to the voice echoing in the void of his mind. It wasn’t like anything he had heard before, because now Mrs Heralia sounds angry, and disappointed, and her thick accent makes way among the words like it’s meant to stab him through his heart. And she would have all the reasons to do so.

Why did you leave, Asra? Why did you leave my niece alone? You promised you’d take care of her on my behalf. I entrusted her to you. Tell me, do you have any idea of what she must have gone through while you were away, warm and healthy and very much alive? Do you, Asra?

The voice was growing louder in his ears. Asra felt like his head was about to explode, but it was a blessing that his teacher wasn’t real, not physically there to make him stare into her soul and force him see all the hurt he’d caused to her only niece— The same he saw in his eyes every time he looked at himself in the mirror, a pretty wicked thing worn out by selfishness and anguish.

“I— I never wanted to— I thought she would—”

That she would come after you when you left? Oh, but do you know why she didn’t? Can’t you possibly imagine why she stayed?

Heralia let out a sigh, low and disappointed. Sharp. Asra could tell she was aiming for her killing blow.

Has she ever meant something to you more than a shadow that would follow you everywhere and console you in the dark?

Water gathered in Asra’s throat, setting it aflame as an apology fought its way out. He jumped up, forgetting about the chair he was sitting on; which, without making a single sound, fell quickly into the darkness rising at the edge of his consciousness.

No, he meant to tell his teacher. A last defence against the hatred dripping from her chin. She was more than that, so much more. But a choked sob came out instead, before another followed, and another, and another...

Suddenly he feels like a child again, out in the cold. Alone. Mrs Heralia has vanished, too, and in the wide, scary unknown around him that’s slowly drifting from pitch-black to candid shades of white, Asra feels it; death’s touch like ragged paper on his skin, passing him by, so his lungs are full of air again and his heart pumps louder in his chest. It could be heaven, just floating around aimlessly in pure light.

The first thing he hears is the familiar sound of cutlery clinking before him.

Asra opened his eyes, waking up to the small kitchenette on the shop’s first floor. Nothing had changed a bit since he came back from… Well, he couldn’t really remember. But small bouquets of dried herbs still hung above the stove, where the salamander was sleeping soundly, and familiar, colourful jars filled the cramped shelves.

Then he hears her. She’s singing, of course she is. She’s calling him back to her. And she must’ve been so close he thinks, maybe climbing up the stairs or folding some clothes in the other room, because her voice was all around him and he would have looked for her everywhere if only the kitchen hadn’t started spinning like crazy, merging colours and shapes and taking his breath away in heavy gasps—

In the end, like always, the dream takes over the memory too quickly to linger anymore. So Asra gives up. There’s no hope to win against his guilt, to pacify it once and for all. And he’s so tired. Tired of wishing for her to remember him. Or what they had. Her past, their past, the days spent together climbing trees and learning magic and holding hands. He’s tired of trying. 

Asra falls in the cold, again, curled up in the white nothingness around him. 

Take care, love.

That voice again. Just now, someone was calling out to him in the distance. But who? And from… where…?

All of sudden, memory and sleep parted from him. The cold, too, had disappeared. There was something warm and delicate holding his face, though he couldn’t tell what. It was soft and a bit rough around the edges, shaped like it was meant to be cradling him, and strangely enough, the air smelled like damp soil after a long night’s rain. His body felt heavier than before as well, out of his dream-like state, while his lungs still struggled to catch up with his frantic pants.

“Master? Can you hear me? I’m here, Master. You’re safe— Please, please wake up.”

A hand, that was it, carded through his bangs, pushing them aside so that his forehead could freshen up. As a matter of fact, he did feel a bit hot. Asra slowly cracked his eyes open to take in his surroundings.

He was in their bedroom. It was probably late night, or maybe early enough for the sun to rise. Not like he could tell. Fireflies swirled silently around him—no, not fireflies, but tiny spheres of light. Gentle hands cupped his face, thumbs slowly stroking his cheekbones.

A few inches above him, Mali’ya let out a long, relieved sigh. She was kneeling on the floor, probably feeling a little sore by now, nonetheless she smiled reassuringly in his direction. Her braids were messy, Asra noticed. A few golden strands curled on her cheeks, framing her eyes. How could anyone be so beautiful?

“It’s okay,” she murmured, a bit startled the moment their eyes interlocked. Asra couldn’t really see it, his vision hazy from the dream, but he knew of the hint of a blush that was about to spread on her face at the sudden realisation of their close, if intimate, proximity. Despite that, she didn’t pull away. If anything, Mali’ya’s aura grew warmer. “It was just a nightmare.”

Asra propped himself up on one elbow, but regretted it immediately. To leave him more space to move and stretch, her hands intertwined on her lap.

“’M sorry I woke you,” he blurted out, still fighting the remnants of sleep.

Mali’ya shook her head as to shush him, lips still up in the gentlest smile. “Don’t say that,” she coaxed him, but then she stopped, unsure, fidgety fingers playing with the hem of her nightgown. “Is there anything I can do? Like…”

Staring at her with an expectant look, Asra felt his heart flutter. He couldn’t help it, not with her being so thoughtful and sweet in her shyness.

“Like a cup of tea. Or I can brew you some chamomile, if you want, or...” Jade eyes pierced right through him like arrows from Cupid’s quiver, soft and sincere and always, always agonizing to stare into. “Would you like… a hug?” 

Asra sat up, fully awake now, smiling teasingly as he raised an eyebrow. “A hug. You sure make it sound important, do you?”

“You always hug me when I have nightmares,” Mali’ya replied, not taking any of his playful tone, although the red deepening on her cheeks said a lot about the embarrassment coming from his remark. “Fine,” she sighed, stumbling back up to walk to the kitchenette. “The tea will do.”

Asra chuckled. She’d never been comfortable with displays of affection, had she? Even before this whole mess it had taken her a while to step out her bubble and hold his hand just because, or kiss him on a whim, let alone anything like listening to her body when the words would fail them. And Asra had been happy, oh, so happy to witness the rewarding growth of her blooming confidence.

When he stepped into the small kitchen, Mali’ya was already crouched down beside the stove. She was saying something in a quiet whisper, looking apologetic, and a moment later she got up to pick a flower from the ones he’d brought her from the forest a couple of days ago, for her to dry. She knelt down again, offering a wild amaryllis to the salamander, and beamed.

“Thanks. And sorry for troubling you, little one.”

“He must have a soft spot for you,” Asra pointed out as he sat at the table. “I never seem to bribe him right.”

Mali’ya let out a small laugh, adjusting the teapot on the stove. “Oh, it’s not hard to please him. After all, everybody wants to be pampered once in a while.”

Resting his chin on the inside of his hand, Asra hummed quietly. “So do I get to be pampered, too?”

There is a thin line between this and mere selfishness, he thinks, but his heart speaks before his mind can catch up and properly elaborate his thoughts.

“Will you sing for me?”

Abruptly, Mali’ya stopped in her tracks, her hand coming down from the shelf where their cups rested. She didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry, I… I can’t think of any songs.”

I’m sorry I can’t remember.

Asra felt his heart sink in his chest. “No, it’s—”

“Do you… do you have any suggestions? They say you can make a song out of anything.”

She still wasn’t looking at him, now busying herself with the steam rising from the pot, but the resolve in her voice was strong as ever. From the moment she’d first woken up from her slumber, Mali’ya had made so much progress; she was curious, determined to learn and catch up to normalcy, and stopped at nothing. There was always a way with her. She’d always been like that.

“Master?” she called out to him, their mugs in hand, and Asra quickly snapped back to reality.

“You remember the song,” he started, carefully threading each word so as not to prompt one of her devastating headaches. “That I would sing to you when you couldn’t sleep? It’s been a while, though, you probably—”

“The one about the lovers and the nightingale. Yes,” Mali’ya cut in, gently pouring the tea in his cup before filling hers. She nodded, then handed him the honey jar. “I remember that.” A small smile that barely revealed her dimples curved up her lips as she blew on the infusion. “It’s one of my favourites.”

“Ah,” Asra said. Was it just a coincidence? That she liked the same song she once used to love? His attention returned to the mug before him. “Is it?”

“Of course. You said you heard it from a traveller, right?”

“Something like that.”

Mali’ya looked down, pondering something. A tea leaf floated in the greenish drink in her hands, its corners burned by the hot water it had been thrown into. She tentatively took a sip. “Were they native? From—where does the song come from?”

“Venterre. I translated it,” Asra explained, though it wasn’t exactly how things had gone. There had once been a time in which he had been the one asking her to share the secrets of her mother tongue. A request Mali’ya couldn’t refuse him, no matter the difficulty of those foreign sounds. “And yes, they grew up there... but left at a young age.”

Mali’ya closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. Hadn’t she been smiling in the while, Asra would’ve thought he’d said too much. So he did the same. “Something’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering, what does Venterrean sound like? I’ve never heard anybody speak it,” she confessed with a shrug, and took another sip from her cup. “Though I suppose it’s not the loveliest language.”

“It’s actually very, very lovely,” Asra replied.

Beyond the curtains the sun began to rise, idly bathing the kitchenette in its warm and golden light. Mali’ya still pondered something, chin on her palm as she looked over the window. And just like the first time they’d met, two strangers in the Market District fighting for their lives in their own way, Asra couldn’t stop looking at her as she glowed before his eyes, ethereal and strong and beautiful in the fiery red of dawn.

With a quick motion of his fingers he pinched the tip of her nose, causing Mali’ya to snap out of her train of thoughts. “I can teach you some words, if you so wish,” he suggested before taking a long sip, and lowering his gaze. “Although I must tell you, it’s not the easiest language either. It might take some time.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Mali’ya shook her head, a smile carefully concealed between her lips. “We have plenty.”

Nightingale, nightingale, do not sing so early My heart can’t feel good about this Nightingale, nightingale, what do I do now? I came to love him once—and cannot forget him.

[voiceless-terror]

all those sleep prompts are so killer and such big jon vibes!!! i would love to read anything on "- a character who refuses to share a sleeping space with anyone else, and it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb others/doesn’t want pity/is ashamed of his nightmares" with jon. bonus points if tim is involved and extra bonus points if tim also has experience with insomnia/nightmares, either himself or used to taking care of someone in his life with those issues...

Hey there! Here I am, finally writing the promised Jon/Tim that I should have written ages ago. Feels good to be on this train! I’ve placed this in pre-canon, when Jon and Tim are researchers and have just started dating. Hope you like!

“That was...really nice, Tim. Thank you.”

“Thank you? Jon, we split the check,” Tim throws an arm around his shoulder and it’s heavy and warm in all the right ways. “You know my policy on that. The person who asks you out pays the bill! Ergo, me.”

“I know, I know,” Jon relents under the pressure and burrows into Tim’s side. The wine’s gone to his head, he’s sure of it. Shouldn’t have had those three glasses. But the waiter was so attentive and Tim’s smile was infectious so he couldn’t help but say yes, of course, thank you, to every pour. “I just...I really enjoyed myself, is all.”

“I did too,” Tim’s voice goes to that soft, fond register he’s only just started using with Jon. Before it had been all gregarious charm, winks and nudges that he used interchangeably with friends and acquaintances alike. When Tim first asked him out, Jon thought he was joking; he rolled his eyes and went back to work, ignoring Tim’s look of hurt. Jon was used to practical jokes of this nature- he’s not exactly an attractive prospective partner, and several people have implied he was more trouble than he was worth. But a week later, on their usual coffee run, Tim offered to buy him dinner, his voice serious and shy and utterly unlike him. The look in his eyes was genuine and Jon had to say yes; who could refuse him, in the face of such sincerity?

It’s been a month and they’ve fallen into a sort of routine. Every week is a new spot- Tim’s a bit of a foodie, and he overheard him making a list of places with Sasha. It took up an entire page in his notebook, and Jon wonders if Tim will get sick of him before they finish it.

He stumbles on the sidewalk and Tim catches him with a steady hand on his waist. The cold air should be bracing but it is not; his dizziness increases two times over and it’s a long journey home. Tim knows this, which must lead to his next suggestion.

“You can spend the night at mine,” he says, voice purposefully light. Jon freezes. They hadn’t broached the topic yet, but he thinks Tim has some sort of idea. Rumors abound in research, after all. Tim must notice his nervousness because he stops walking, turning to face Jon with that same unbearable sincerity. 

“Nothing untoward, I promise,” Tim says, and Jon believes him. Tim hasn’t lied to him yet. “I just don’t feel comfortable putting you on the tube, and you’re a long way from home while I’m right around the corner.” Jon still doesn’t respond, so Tim continues. “No pressure, honestly. I could call you a cab, it’s not a big deal-”

“No, that’s-that’s too expensive.” Living in London is hard enough, especially on a researcher’s salary. But to spend the night at Tim’s, as innocent as it may be, fills him with dread. There’s a reason he lives alone. There’s a reason it took him almost a year before he stayed the night at Georgie’s.

Sleep has never been kind to him.

Jon has nightmares. Terrible, horrifying visions of make-believe that leave him screaming and crying and choking on his breath. Georgie had been about ready to call an ambulance the first time she witnessed it, but Jon was able to talk her down.

“These happen every night?” she’d asked, her face a mix of pity and concern. 

“Not every night,” he insisted. It was true. If he stayed up late, working himself to exhaustion, he could usually manage a dreamless sleep of at least five hours. But that came with its own difficulties; crankiness, irritability. It put a strain on most of his relationships. 

Tim, though- Tim is kind and understanding. Beneath the mask of sociability and flirtation lies a serious, determined person. Compassionate, loving, but in a quiet way and with small gestures. He makes lists. He puts in time. He asks Jon what he wants when they go out to eat and he doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes when Jon carries on for too long. 

“We can go to your place,” he whispers. “I-I think I’d like that.” Tim smiles and hooks an arm through his and Jon knows he’s made the right decision. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe the wine will dull the terror that rules most of his life. The night is dark and Jon’s flat is cold and lonely. 

Tim’s flat, on the other hand, is warm and cozy. It’s neat and organized, but cluttered enough to give it personality and charm. There’s a couch calling his name and he answers it, practically collapsing in the cushions as Tim lets out a little laugh.

“No going to sleep yet,” he instructs and Jon can’t help but let out a groan. The warmth and safety of the spot and the closeness of Tim has suddenly made him comfortably tired, and he’d like to slip off to sleep in this pleasant haze. “Not until you’ve had some food and water. I’ve even got those crusty little granola bars you like so much.”

“They’re not crusty,” he grumbles, his voice stifled by a pillow. But he’s not in a fighting mood and his mind’s currently swimming with the fact that Tim stocked his favorite snack. 

“Very crusty, indeed,” Tim’s nudging him up into a sitting position and forcing water into his hands. “Drink up!”

“You’re very irritating, I hope you know,” Jon says as he leans his head onto Tim’s shoulder. Tim makes for a comfortable pillow. 

“Aw, you love it.” 

Maybe he does.

By the time he’s choked down the last of the bar, his eyes are fluttering and he can’t keep in his yawns. Tim puts a warm hand on his arm and it burns pleasantly as he pulls him up. “Time for bed, I think.”

The words startle Jon out of his haze and he blinks his eyes open, focusing on Tim’s gentle smile. “Er, I think-” he doesn’t want to disappoint the man, but he would rather be as cautious as possible. “I think it would be best if I slept out here.”

“On the couch?” Tim asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh- would you rather sleep alone?” Tim doesn’t seem too miffed about it, just confused, so Jon answers as honestly as he can.

“Yes.” He doesn’t want to, not really. But he needs to.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily enough. “But you should take the bed, then. The sofa’s comfy but I know you have a bad back-”

“It’s fine for one night,” Jon responds. Forcing Tim to sleep on the sofa in his own flat seems terribly selfish.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Jon assures, trying to convey his affection in a gentle smile. Tim returns it.

“I’ll just get you some sheets, then. Change of clothes, too.”

By the time Jon’s head hits the pillow, comfortably attired in Tim’s old joggers and t-shirt, he’s already half asleep. He thinks Tim’s already left the room but then he feels the warm pressure of a kiss to his forehead.

Perhaps he dreamed that, though.

__________

There’s a thread and it’s pulling Jon forward.

It’s not comfortable. Jon would rather stay here, in the library, surrounded by books and dim lights and knowledge he has control over. But there are whispers in the hallway, and someone’s telling him to go, go, go. 

And go he does. Down stairs, so many stairs, more stairs than the institute ought to have. There is something watching and something pulling; Jon is being split in two and somehow this is worse than actually seeing the spiders and the eyes that have haunted him all these years. This, he feels in his soul. Something is at stake.

There’s a door. This is how it always ends, you see- with a door. And Jon’s fist, small and childish and grubby, raises to knock against the wood. It echoes too many times as Jon tries to step back, get off this porch and out of this nightmare but it is too late, the deed is done and the door is opening and a single, spindly black leg creeps out of the door hello, Mr. Spider-

“Jon!”

There are limbs holding him but it’s not the many-legged creature of his nightmares- they’re familiar and strong even as he thrashes against them but someone is screaming and the sound is haunting and painful-

And it’s him. Jon wrenches his eyes open to find himself safe and sound, held in place by Tim’s arms. His heart continues to stutter and he wheezes- Tim’s got a hand on his back and a soothing murmur going.

“You’ve got to breathe, Jon. Slow.” Tim takes his shaking hand and puts it to his own chest. “Like this. In and out. There you go. Nice and slow.” The words are calm and practiced; Tim’s done this before, with someone else. As his heartbeat resumes a normal rhythm, he wonders who. 

There’s a hand on Jon’s face, gently wiping away tears he wasn’t aware he shed. Tim’s eyes are far-away, sort of, like he’s just going through the motions, slow and loving. “There we are,” he says as he finally meets Jon’s eyes. “Better now?”

“Y-Yes,” he croaks back. His hand is still gripping at Tim’s shirt but he doesn’t let go until the reality of the situation sets in. “Oh God- I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Is that why you slept out here?” Tim asks, his voice patient. “Does this happen a lot?”

“M-More than I care to admit.” Jon feels a sudden need to explain himself, to let Tim know he tries to keep it under control as best he can. “I’ve tried everything- tea, therapy, p-pills- it doesn’t work.” A note of frustration creeps into his voice. “Something doesn’t want me to sleep, I guess.”

“Just thought you were a workaholic, to be honest,” Tim pulls him into his side and Jon melts, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Should’ve known better. We work at the Magnus Institute, after all.” The laugh that comes from both of them is bitter. “D’you want to sleep in my bed, maybe? Just- just for company. I’ve been told that helps.”

“I-I don’t want to wake you.” The argument is weak and the both of them know it.

“You already have, love.” The endearment slips out unnoticed by Tim, but Jon hears it. “You’ll wake me either way, but I’d rather you didn’t wake up alone.”

“O-Oh.” There’s a lot of care in those words. Jon doesn’t know what to do with it, except agree. “Yes, I’ll- if, if you don’t mind-”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did.” He wouldn’t, Jon knows. Tim always means what he says when it comes to him.

So they curl up in his bed, an arm slung across Jon’s waist, his back to Tim’s chest. There are no spiders here, not in this bed that smells of dryer sheets and detergent and Tim. He’s almost asleep when the arm around his waist tightens suddenly.

“My brother always said the pressure helped. When he had bad dreams.” Jon opens his eyes.

Tim never mentioned a brother; it never came up in any of their conversations. Tim knows Jon is an only child, that he was brought up by his grandmother and had a lonely childhood. He didn’t realize, in all of their time together, that he knew so little of Tim’s own background, besides his publishing career.

Nobody liked to talk about what brought them to the Magnus Institute. It was like some unspoken rule, some shared trauma that somehow kept them all silent and apart.

“Your brother?” he whispers, turning over to see Tim’s face. Its dark, but he thinks he can see a brightness in Tim’s eyes like unshed tears. 

“Danny.” Tim says the name like he’s asking for forgiveness that Jon can’t give. He sees a tear drip down the man’s face and he reaches for it, just like Tim did before. “He was...he was my little brother. And he was so, so good.” Tim’s voice breaks and something in Jon breaks too. “And something took him from me.” His expression is hard but his hand reaches out to lovingly trace Jon’s face, as if trying to memorize its shape.

“I’m sorry,” Jon knows his apology is not enough, that it will never fill the gap in Tim’s heart. Instead, he finds words spilling from his lips, as if sharing his own pain will help too. “I-I saw someone get taken, once. I didn’t- I didn’t love them, but- but it was because of me.” Tim’s hand is in his hair, tucking a curl behind his ear as his voice wobbles. “It should’ve been me.” 

Tim draws him close and squeezes; Jon buries his face in the crook of his neck and inhales. “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Jon,” Tim whispers as he runs a hand down his back. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Jon isn’t Danny and Tim isn’t offering him absolution but it’s fine, for tonight.

Jon doesn’t dream.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494077

[voltage-vixen]

Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe

‘Tis the Season of Smut Challenge Day 1

Prompt: Kiss me under the mistletoe (NSFW)

Fandom: Voltage (Court of Darkness)

Pairing: Guy Avari x MC (Female)

“Could you be bothered to remove the blindfold now?” MC sighed, impatiently fidgeting on the couch Guy insisted she wait on.

“Wait for me,” Guy’s deep voice abruptly boomed. “I wish to show you something, but I must finish the final preparations beforehand. Your patience is required for just a little while longer.”

Earlier that afternoon, Jasper had summoned her to the royal’s private quarters, insistent that Guy had an urgent matter to discuss with her. Since the loyal valet refused to answer any of her questions, MC was left in the dark when she arrived at Guy’s chamber. Then she was even literally left in the dark when her vision was suddenly concealed by a blindfold that magically wrapped around the circumference of her head.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes continued to pass until MC stood in a fit of restlessness. MC was about to voice her annoyance when Guy’s single finger appeared to have slipped under her chin. She was enraptured by the powerful gaze of his red tinted eyes as the blindfold slid down to the floor. Her mouth opened only to utter a short gasp when she witnessed the state of the room outside the focus of Guy’s face. Taking a step back, MC surveyed the room and found that a Christmas transformation had occurred.

A fireplace roared in the chimney, while stockings hung from the mantle above. Next to Guy’s bed sat a tall lit tree decked in illuminating lights and ornaments. Classy gold garland decorated the walls, and a light snow fall appeared and trickled down from the ceiling creating a winter wonderland scene in front of the fireplace. Rendered speechless, one of MC’s hands drifted over her mouth while the other rested onto Guy’s arm as he embraced her from behind.

“My research indicated that this this time of year is special in your world,” Guy stated, admiring the way her eyes lit up brighter than any of the lights he crafted in the room. “Something about holidays being meaningful to your people?”

“Guy,” MC sniffled, tilting her head to allow Guy to wipe away the tears straggling down the line of her cheek. “This is beautiful! Thank you so much! But answer me this….why go through all this trouble for me? I’ve never mentioned celebrating the holidays to you before.”

It was Guy’s turn to dwell in astonishment by MC’s sudden line of questioning. Something happened to the prince that very rarely ever happened-a faint crimson blush that was barely visible to detection creeped onto Guy’s face. Not wanting her to witness this side of him, Guy hurried to turn away, but his intent was foiled when MC caught the sides of his face with her palms.

“Tell me,” she pleaded, pressing her forehead against his. “I’m speechless. Seriously, I didn’t hold any expectations, yet they’ve been exceeded. Why would you go to such lengths though?”

Letting go of Guy’s face, MC rose to the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her eyes twinkled wide in wonderment, and she looked like a vision as the snow had begun to cling to her hair. Captivated by her alluring gaze, Guy’s heart pounded when her eyelashes fluttered at him. It wasn’t often that the Prince of Avari found himself succumbing to the whims of others, but the woman standing before him was an exception. For there was no other that owned his very being unlike her.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Guy leaned down to murmur into the nape of her neck. “I promised I would ensure your happiness if you stayed with me. I’ve only simply begun to fulfill that vow, but-”

MC stole the breath uttering Guy’s declaration when their lips collided together. Touched by his sweet sentiment, MC was overflowing with her feelings of affection and she was determined to convey her emotions physically since words couldn’t fully express how much she loved him. Guy seemed to have the same idea in mind since he tightened his grip on MC and collapsed back onto the couch. Their fingers frantically tore away at each other’s clothing whilst they explored the intimate canvases of their bodies.  

Once they were both bare, MC climbed onto Guy’s lap. Settling herself over the heat of his arousal, she was about to lower herself onto him when a colorful flash up from above seized her attention.

Mistletoe.

MC’s smile sparkled in admiration at the twinkling decoration. The curl of her lips implied how obviously evident her joy was. Guy’s investigation into her former world’s traditions led to his discovery of the purpose that mistletoe served in retrospect of her customs. Yearning to witness more of MC’s innocent reactions, a beaming carnelian aurora radiated around the prince’s silhouette as he casted his powers to coat the remaining vacant spaces in mistletoe.

“Guy,” MC choked, her lower lip trembling from the surge of gratitude on behalf of the amount of consideration Guy put forth into preparing this astoundment.  

Stunned into a silence from Guy’s tokened generosity, MC nuzzled her head into his neck, lovingly expressing her appreciativeness for the thoughtful gestures. Wet tears streamed onto his chest, communicating the affirmation she held in her heart for him.  Driven by the desire of how ecstatic his actions impacted MC, the lust flaming from within his loins awoken his carnal instincts. His person trembled beneath her, longing to be joined in body and soul with the one he loved. Guy may be a powerful ruler, but underneath the surface he was just a man-and a selfish one at that. He had to have MC, and he had to have her now. Waiting was no longer a viable option.

“Every tear you shed is beautiful, but they’re even more beautiful when they are discarded from you coming undone by my touch,” Guy crooned, encasing the curves of her hips as he arose from the couch and sauntered over to fireplace. “However, I’m a greedy man and I demand more. Leave nothing unturned and show me all of you now.”

The flames roared in the fireplace while Guy placed MC down onto her back, allowing her to bask in the heat of the fire as his lips madly roamed her chest. Never one to neglect, Guy’s fingers traveled up the silk of her thigh, his fingers fervently stroking until the heat of MC’s nectar spilled onto him. Confident that she was ready to take him, Guy climbed on top of her. Gripping her ankle, he situated her leg over one of his arms before pushing himself as far and deep as MC was able to envelope him.

MC’s sensual cries echoed melodiously in his ears in sync to each of Guy’s thrusts. He uttered his own moan when her fingers curled into his back, madly clawing away at the warmth of his skin. Her face glowed from the perspiration beaded on her forehead. She was bordering on the edge of consciousness; each movement of Guy’s was delivering a rush of bliss that left her toes curling and her hands thrashing searching for the carpet to grip onto. Guy’s fingers swept down south of her body at a tantalizing pace and kept teasing until he reached the swell of her womanhood. His thumb massaged the sensitive bud, his rhythm deliberate and slow, eventually inducing her second wave of euphoria. Guy groaned as his arousal poured into MC, whose body was violently quivering from her elation.

He collapsed onto the floor beside her. Cradling her onto his chest, Guy played with her hair while MC snuggled closer into his warmth, comforted by the thumping sound of his heartbeat. She could always distinguish how much Guy cared for her by the delicate way he caressed her. MC relished in his affections and found her eyelids were growing heavy from how safe she felt in his arms….

“I pray that this will become a tradition of our own we can look forward to immersing ourselves in during future holidays,” Guy murmured lazily into her hair. “You can expect the future to be filled with joy, for one day you will be ruling by my side.”

MC didn’t respond, which caused Guy to prop himself up only to discover MC had drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Reaching over to intertwine their fingers together, Guy snaked his leg in between hers and placed gentle, languid kisses on her cheek before whispering a sweet goodnight to MC.

“Happy holidays, my future queen.”  

You can still join the challenge and find more info HERE!

[papercranes-and-hope]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚍-𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 (𝚓𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚞𝚜)

TW: mentions of child abuse, death, graphic description of drowning, angst

Tissues are recommended.

James wasn't sure when he realised but he remembered grabbing his pale lover's hands once and finding them freezing to touch. He'd winced slightly causing a worried and slightly shocked expression to grace Regulus' normally neutral expression. "D-did I hurt you?" came the soft whisper and the guilty look that James wanted to simply kiss off the younger boy's face.

That was the first time Potter noticed the constant cold that Regulus carried around with him as a second soul. It was a fact etched inside the prankster's head that seemed to have stuck better than Transfiguration lessons ever did and after the constant pestering he received from his own mind James decided to make it his mission to rid his lover of the cold he held onto. Every encounter, every little date every night spent curled up in the Gryffindor common room was spent with fingers interlaced tightly together, hugs that held only warmth and love, kisses that served to chip the ice off of a once beautiful heart.

Regulus never realised the small acts of warmth that James displayed simply assuming it to be the constant need for affection that the boy held in his heart. The younger Black did enjoy the gestures but their small amount could only do so much to cure Regulus from the illnesses lurking in his mind.

Sometimes every embrace reminded the younger of his mother's grasp as she led him to the bathroom before every party in an attempt to make him even more spotless than he already was.

Every reassuring squeeze reminded him of the constant grip his father had on his shoulder as he floundered under the freezing water trying to get out of the bath he'd been plunged in.

The hands that ran themselves through his messy hair only served as a memory of the uncaring fingers that pulled at Regulus' curls and ruffled his hair before vanishing into the night and fleeing to a place where the dark didn't seem as foreboding.

But despite the love that James had poured into those little comforts and sweet gestures they seemed to lead Regulus back to the darkest days of his life where he knew he'd be trapped once more the moment he stepped out of the halls of Hogwarts.

Because the light that seemed to shine in every single corridor wouldn't follow the young boy through his course of life. It wouldn't follow him back the meetings with scoundrels and marks that etched themselves into his arm and his family name.

It wouldn't shine through the dimly lit cave that Regulus will march into, not a thought about the people outside nor his return on his mind because he knew that neither would matter anymore.

He knew that the reminders would haunt him forever as different hands pulled him into the water, different fingers clutched his hair as he lay trying ton convince himself that he stood in the Gryffindor common room instead.

He knew that neither the light nor the warmth would reach the depths of the lake where was destined to lie frozen forever, no source of warmth to change his fate