#silent touches for the word silence that's so creative and this is beautiful!!

[remuslupinslittleslut]

No Cocks in Cunts.

It's been a while since I wrote reader insert and I feel a bit unsure of the quality, but I felt I had to just get back in the saddle and write something.

Prompt: Reader doesn't enjoy penetration but the boys make it fun for her anyway.

This is for @mavelfan1 and everyone who voted for one shots for tumblr on my poll. I love you and have some smut.

Masterlist.

Original post here.

His hands rub your legs, trying to provide comfort. “What do you feel about getting eaten out?” He asks you, before winking and leaning down to kiss up your legs.

“I uh, feel, I think good, about that,” you say, forcing the words out, cheeks heated as Sirius’ lips continue their way up your legs. “Just don’t, you know, get in there.”

Kiss. “I won’t.” Kiss. “I promise, I’ll take such good care of you princess.” Kiss.

Your whole body shudders as his lips almost touch your wet core with every kiss pressed to your thighs. “Siri,” you whimper, “please…”

He chuckles, again, and this time you can feel the hot breath against your pussy. He’s soon silenced, as his tongue darts out and licks a stripe along your lips, stopping only to swirl around your clit.

Remus is still balancing his body weight on one arm, face above yours, lips having been moved from your forehead in order for his eyes to graze your face. As your body is opening up to the sensations of Sirius’ tongue, however, Remus gets impatient and your boyfriend leans down over you to kiss your lips.

It’s soft at first, a gentle press of lips, but he soon escalates it, licking across your lips and nipping softly at them. This forces you to open your mouth and he’s quick to enter, curious tongue finding it’s way around yours.

Between your thighs, Sirius is working his tongue all the way around your cunt, licking and sucking, making heat start to build in your core as you feel the finish line getting closer and closer.

“Go on,” James says, from somewhere on the bed, with both other boys’ mouths on you you’ve lost all of your attention span. “Come for us, come on Sirius’ tongue, be a good girl now.”

Your back arches as you grind your hips against Sirius’ face, forcing his face deeper into your cunt, making him taste every last piece of you as his tongue makes it way up and down, in long licks.

Remus pulls away before Sirius does, his hands on your cheeks and holding you still, eyes following your every move. “You’re fuckin beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, kissing you softly again on the lips.

When you have calmed down from your orgasm, you find that you’re the only one who got to cum, which somehow feels a bit unfair.

“So,” you start, heat rising to your cheeks again, as you feel their eyes on you, all aware that you’re about to say something cheeky. “What were the other things we could do that wasn’t…”

“Cock in cunt?” James provides, earning himself a shove from Remus and a laugh from Sirius.

“Yes,” you say, avoiding eye contact, “that.”

They share another look, and your stomach drops slightly, like when going on a roller coaster, knowing that the creativity about to flow would be exciting to say the least. They seemed to share more of a silent conversation than just a look, and soon your body was moved across the bed, placing you flat on your stomach.

“So,” Sirius says from somewhere behind you, “you just tell us if there’s something you don’t like, and then we’ll stop and do something else, yeah?”

You nod your head, anticipation rising in your chest. Your lack of verbal confirmation earns you a soft slap to the ass, and you manage an “okay.”

You hear the soft sounds of fabric moving, along with clinking of hardware, likely their belts, and the smacking sound of kissing. You love knowing that they can get off on each other, that you don’t always have to be the center of focus, even though you usually ended up in that position anyways, not actually minding one bit.

“Okay, we’ve decided on something each, and we won’t tell you beforehand, but you can choose who you want to start with,” Remus explains, reaching a warm hand to rub the flesh and fat of your ass. “So take your pick darling.”

You shudder at the thought, raking your mind for who you think would be the most fun to start with.

“Remmy,” you say it the same second you’ve decided, the choice coming easily to you. You’ve missed his hands on your body and you can soon feel the withdrawal in an uncomfortable way. “Please,” you add, trying to make him hurry.

“Coming, darling,” he says, straddling your thighs and leaning down to kiss along your spine. “Padfoot, lube,” he demands, one hand leaving your body.

Soon after, you can feel the cold fluid hit your backside, falling into your crack, leaving your arse all cold and wet. Remus’ warm fingers rub through the liquid, running it along your backside and all the way to your front, allowing it to mix with your own natural wetness. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you when his heavy cock drops down, slapping your ass and gliding along the lube.

“Remmy,” you whine it this time, desperate for more sensation.

He chuckles, but guides his cock to the crack between your thighs nonetheless, allowing the length of it to rub along your pussy, the head pressing against your clit.

“How’s that feel baby?” He asks, hips thrusting his cock back and forth in between your thighs.

“So-oo-ooo good.” It comes out a moan, the sensation against your already sensitive clit sending sparks of pleasure through your body with every brush of his head.

“See that,” he muses, “making perfectly good use of your pretty cunt, no need to go inside love.”

His pace slows down, hips grinding in hard, intentional motions against you. It starts as a throbbing somewhere within the pit of your tummy, small waves crashing through your body until it’s convulsing in pleasure.

“That’s my good girl,” Remus says, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

His warm body is moved away from you and for only a moment you are left alone on the bed.

“Hi darling, my turn?” James says, reaching two strong arms out for you, moving your body to turn you, making you face him.

“Hi Jamie,” you say, smiling sweetly at him, reaching your own hands out for him, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

For a few minutes you stay like that, tangled up in a kiss with James, hands in his hair and breathing calming down after your orgasm.

His hands are rubbing down your sides, trying to keep you warm in your nude state; he never had any issues with that, his blood was almost always at a boiling temperature.

You don’t know what it is or where it came from, but suddenly, there’s a low vibrating sound from somewhere in the room and before you can really think it over, the object is pressed against your cunt.

“Ah!” You squeal, the vibrations causing your back to arch and your hips to grind. It’s so much, almost too much, after coming twice, the feeling is almost painful.

James dips his head into your neck, kissing the skin and breathing in your scent.

“You’re delicious, babe,” he murmurs, licking a long stripe up your neck. It’s only minutes before your body starts shaking, a blinding orgasm taking your body to somewhere in outer space. “Shh, love,” James is whispering, body still atop yours. “Shh, just gotta take it, just take it.”

You drift away from this reality to the sound of James’ soft voice.

*

When you awake, it is entangled in a warm embrace, all of your boys having fitted themselves around you on the engorged bed. There are limbs and love everywhere and you find your breathing is strained, but you don’t mind it one bit.

“Morning darling,” Sirius says, pulling you closer.

“It’s morning?” You ask, confused, making him chuckle into your hair.

“Not really,” his voice is soft but raspy in the mornings, it tastes like honey when you breathe it it. “Still very early, afraid you passed out a bit.”

He’s chewing his bottom lip, a tic you’ve noticed him having whenever he’s nervous or unsure of something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching your hand to cup his cheek.

His eyes flutter close at your touch, his cheeks turning a soft rose color. “I just…” he breaks off, and you know it best to not pressure him, but rather to just allow him to take his time. “I feel really bad about last night, I didn’t know you weren’t in to that and I almost made you do it,” he shudders at the memory. “Even with safe words in place I’m scared we’ll hurt you, I mean, we went pretty hard on you after that…”

You smile at him, brushing your thumb across his skin. “You don’t have to worry about it, my love,” you say, and you know that you mean it. “I know that I can always say no, and it was only proven when I did, and you stopped. You did exactly what you were supposed to, I’m just sorry to disappoint you with the whole no penetration thing.” The last bit is meant as a joke, as you are sure that they can make perfect do without it, but Sirius’ eyes widen still.

“We’re not missing out on anything, besides, Moony fuckin ruined my arse while James used that toy on you, it was really fucking hot, I’ve gotta say.”

It’s your time to shudder at his words, finding the thought of Sirius being fucked by Remus, turned on by watching you with James a very sexy one.

“Really?” You ask, giving him a smirk, “what was it like?”

You reach a hand down to tug at his briefs, freeing his half-hard cock and taking it into your hand.

He groans, turning his head to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Baby…” it’s a whine, music to your ears. “You were so beautiful, all blissed out, holding on to our Jamie for dear life, he’s got such a nice back, oh,” your hand is moving, a soft flick of the wrist that makes him moan. “Fuck, and Moony, oh my Moony, he’s so big, feels like he’s splitting you open, you couldn’t take it, you’d have to be all warmed up, and he shows no mercy, just fucks me so hard, while telling me not to take my eyes off of you.”

His eyes are screwed shut, but his hand reaches down to touch you, pinching and rubbing at your clit.

“I can image,” you tell him, “I felt him, Remmy, he’s so big, you did so good taking him.” You know Sirius always goes soft for praise, and your words send shivers through his body, convulsing in the shine of your appreciation. “You’re so good, so good to me, so good at touching me, I love you.”

Sirius’ body shakes as his breath gets heavy and his fingers toy with you in a rushed and impatient way. “Love you too baby,” he says, leaning his head in closer to yours, foreheads pushed together.

You come together, fingers sticky and thighs shaking, breathes shared between the two of you. When you’ve calmed down a bit, he leans in to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes, giving his usual chuckle.

“So was that your plan? If I’d chosen you first?”

He grins at the thought, pulling you closer into him. “Nah,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “I would’ve sat you on my face, maybe tried suggesting a sixty-nine.”

[zapreportsblog]

I'd love to request Emmtt with a mute mate, when she's changed he gets to hear her voice for the first time. She lost her voice in an accident just before she met him. Please and thank you!

Wow this is really creative, hope you enjoy it :)

↳ finding my voice ↲

➘ summary : Emmett’s mate lost her voice a while back but now as a newborn vampire will she find it once more

➘ a/n : you can not tell me this man doesn’t look crazy, like sir it’s giving yandere emmett

➘ emmett cullen x reader , twilight x reader

In the heart of the lush forests of Forks, the Cullen family existed as a unique coven of vampires who sought to lead a life far removed from their bloodthirsty nature. Among them was Emmett Cullen, known for his boisterous laughter and zest for life. He was a beacon of energy and strength within the family, his larger-than-life personality a stark contrast to his supernatural abilities.

However, it was a quiet and unassuming presence that would forever change the course of Emmett's existence. (Y/N), a human woman with an unbreakable spirit, had captured his heart in ways he never thought possible.

(Y/N) had been through more than most in her short life. A childhood accident had stolen her ability to speak, rendering her voiceless. Yet, her vibrant eyes spoke volumes, and the grace with which she moved resonated with the essence of her character.

It was during a chance encounter in the small town of Forks that Emmett first saw (Y/N). She was sitting on a park bench, reading a book, her fingers delicately tracing the words as if to hold onto every sentence. Intrigued by her quiet demeanor, Emmett approached, and as their eyes met, a connection sparked between them that transcended words.

(Y/N)'s accident had robbed her of her voice, but it hadn't taken away her ability to communicate. With the delicate yet deliberate movements of her hands, she wove intricate patterns in the air - a language known only to those who understood the power of silence. Emmett, captivated by this unique form of communication, found himself drawn into a world where words were unnecessary.

As days turned into weeks, Emmett and (Y/N)'s bond deepened. Their connection was formed through the silent exchange of signs, each movement carrying a weight of emotion that words could never convey. (Y/N) showed Emmett the beauty of patience and understanding, while Emmett brought laughter and adventure into her life.

The Cullen family embraced (Y/N) as one of their own, her presence bringing a sense of tranquility to their immortal existence. Alice, with her visions, often foresaw moments of joy between Emmett and (Y/N), and Jasper, with his empathy, felt the genuine love that radiated between them. Even Rosalie, known for her guarded nature, found herself warming to (Y/N)'s genuine spirit.

As their relationship flourished, the Cullens marveled at the profound connection Emmett and (Y/N) shared. They watched as the two of them communicated through touch, through shared glances, and through the intimate dance of their fingers in the air. The family respected and cherished this unique bond that transcended the limitations of speech.

And so, in the heart of the Cullen family's haven, an unconventional love story was written. Emmett and (Y/N) proved that words were not the only means of conveying love, and that sometimes, the most profound connections were formed through silence - through the quiet whispers of the heart.

Within the tranquil embrace of the Cullen family home, Emmett and (Y/N)'s bond continued to flourish. Their love story unfolded through gestures and expressions that spoke to the depth of their connection.

Emmett's boisterous laughter and playful antics were matched by (Y/N)'s radiant smiles and the light that danced within her eyes. He would often invent wild stories, acting them out with exaggerated gestures that made (Y/N) giggle in response. In return, (Y/N) would share her thoughts and feelings through a symphony of delicate hand movements, her eloquence in sign language surpassing the limitations of spoken words.

The Cullen family marveled at the harmony that Emmett and (Y/N) brought to their midst. Esme, the nurturing matriarch, had a soft spot for their unique relationship, seeing the purity of their connection as a testament to the power of love itself. Carlisle, the patriarch, respected the understanding they shared, acknowledging that true communication extended far beyond verbal expression.

Alice's visions of their future were painted with joy and warmth, while Jasper felt the serenity that emanated from their union, a tranquility that often eluded even the most harmonious of couples. Even Edward, with his mind-reading abilities, could not grasp the full depth of their emotions, for their love existed in a realm untouched by words.

As time went on, (Y/N) became an integral part of the Cullen family, her presence weaving seamlessly into their immortal lives. She brought a sense of serenity that balanced the frenetic energy of her vampire companions. The family gathered around as Emmett and (Y/N) recounted their adventures with animated gestures and subtle touches, their joy infectious and genuine.

But as with any love story, challenges arose that put their bond to the test. A threat from the outside world loomed, casting shadows over their peaceful existence. The Cullens' sanctuary faced danger, and the unity they had fostered was put in jeopardy.

Emmett's protective nature flared, a fierce determination in his eyes as he vowed to shield (Y/N) from harm. And through the intricate language of signs, she assured him that she was by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

As the Cullen family rallied together to protect their home, Emmett and (Y/N)'s silent communication proved to be an asset, allowing them to strategize and coordinate with a precision that transcended spoken words. The battles they fought were not only physical but also emotional, as they navigated the turmoil while leaning on the strength of their connection.

And so, as twilight bathed the tranquil forest in shades of gold, the Cullen family and their unique couple stood together, united against the storm that raged both within and around them. The echoes of emotion that passed between Emmett and (Y/N) resonated with a love that needed no spoken words to be understood. As they faced the trials ahead, their silent bond remained unbreakable, a testament to the enduring power of love and the strength found in shared silence.

As the threat to the Cullen family grew, so did Emmett's determination to protect (Y/N). He had witnessed firsthand the dangers that lurked in their supernatural world, and the thought of leaving her vulnerable and alone, especially considering her inability to call for help, was something he couldn't bear. He knew he couldn't protect her indefinitely as a human, and a sense of urgency pushed him to consider an unconventional solution.

One evening, as twilight painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, Emmett led (Y/N) to a quiet corner of the Cullen family home. He looked into her eyes, his expression serious yet filled with concern. Using the fluid language of sign, he conveyed his thoughts to her, his fingers forming each word with care.

"(Y/N), love," he began, his hands moving gracefully, "I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. I won't leave you unprotected like Edward did to Bella. I want to keep you safe."

He continued to explain his plan - the idea that (Y/N) could become a vampire, a creature like them, impervious to harm and capable of defending herself. His eyes held a mix of worry and hope, his love for her evident in every gesture he made.

(Y/N)'s heart swelled with emotion as she listened to Emmett's proposal. The idea of becoming a vampire was both daunting and enticing. She had already embraced the supernatural world through her relationship with Emmett and the Cullens, and the prospect of eternal life by his side seemed like a gift she couldn't refuse.

With a soft smile, she signed her response, her fingers moving in delicate patterns. "I agree. I want to be with you, Emmett, no matter the form."

Emmett's eyes lit up with relief and joy, his heart swelling at her willingness to share eternity with him. He took her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Their silent exchange spoke volumes, a testament to the depth of their bond.

With their decision made, they turned to Carlisle, the family's patriarch and a skilled doctor who had experience in transforming humans into vampires. He led them through the process, explaining the changes that would occur and the challenges they would face.

For (Y/N), the transformation was a journey of physical and emotional trials. She faced pain and power, vulnerability and strength, as her human life faded away and her vampiric existence began. Emmett stood by her side through every step, offering his unwavering support and reassurance, their silent communication speaking louder than words ever could.

As the transformation neared its completion, (Y/N) felt the rush of new senses and abilities course through her, her body adjusting to its immortal form. Her eyes opened to a world painted in vivid colors and heightened details, a realm she had only glimpsed through Emmett's descriptions.

And as the first rays of dawn bathed the room in light, (Y/N) opened her newly enhanced eyes to lock onto Emmett's gaze. In that moment, their silent connection spoke of a love that had transcended the boundaries of time and form, a bond that was now sealed for eternity.

With a tender smile, Emmett extended his hand to her, his fingers inviting her to join him in this new existence. She reached out and took his hand, their fingers intertwining, a silent promise exchanged between them.

And so, as the sun's rays touched their skin, the journey of a new life began - one filled with challenges and triumphs, shared by a couple whose love had conquered the limitations of sound and words. In the embrace of their family and each other, they faced the future with a strength that defied the silence that once defined them.

In the days following (Y/N)'s transformation, a sense of renewal and exhilaration coursed through her veins. She marveled at the new world around her, her senses heightened to levels she had never imagined. The bond between her and Emmett seemed to have deepened, the unspoken connection between them now accompanied by a symphony of shared experiences.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the Cullen family gathered, a hush fell over the room. Emmett and (Y/N) stood at the center, their hands entwined. The air was charged with a palpable energy, a feeling that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

As everyone's eyes turned toward (Y/N), she took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength coursing through her. And then, to the astonishment of all, she began to speak.

"Thank you," her voice, melodious and clear, filled the room, resonating with an ethereal quality that left everyone speechless. The sound was as enchanting as it was unexpected, a testament to the transformative power of their supernatural world.

Emmett's eyes widened in awe, his grip on her hand tightening as he listened to her speak for the first time. The joy that radiated from him was infectious, his laughter bubbling up like a spring of unrestrained happiness.

The Cullen family exchanged astonished glances, their eyes filled with wonder and amazement. Edward, whose mind-reading abilities were unparalleled, couldn't help but smile as he realized the extent of the change that had occurred within (Y/N). Alice's visions had not foreseen this, a delightful surprise that warmed her heart.

"(Y/N), your voice," Esme's eyes glistened with tears of happiness, her motherly love radiating through the room. "It's beautiful."

Carlisle, who had been studying (Y/N)'s transformation with a scientist's curiosity, stepped forward, his expression one of genuine awe. "It appears that your vocal cords have been restored during the transformation," he mused, a mix of fascination and delight in his voice.

As the room filled with applause and exclamations of joy, (Y/N) felt a sense of liberation she had never known. She shared laughter with Alice, exchanged words of friendship with Jasper, and even engaged in conversation with Edward, her voice a gift that allowed her to fully participate in the world around her.

But it was Emmett's reaction that touched her heart the most. His eyes shone with unbridled pride and love, his arms enveloping her in an embrace that spoke of a connection that had grown even stronger. They shared whispered words of love, their voices now harmonizing in a way that seemed to echo the bond they had always shared.

In that moment, the Cullen family celebrated not only the transformation of (Y/N) into a vampire but also the rebirth of her voice. Her words became a melody that resonated through the hearts of all who heard, a reminder of the remarkable journey that had brought her into their supernatural world.

And as the stars painted the night sky with their brilliance, the Cullen family reveled in the beauty of (Y/N)'s newfound voice, a testament to the enduring power of love and the extraordinary transformations that were possible within their extraordinary world.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Sleeping Beauty - Jake & Tsu'tey

Part of the Sleeping Beauty Series (all stand-alone)

inspo

Pairing: Jake Sully/Fem!Reader/Tsu'tey

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors dni, somnophilia, bi!Jake, dom!Tsu'tey, unprotected p in v (wrap it, you skxawngs), biting, swearing, surprise threesome, creative use of Na'vi words to avoid saying Y/n, oral (male receive), reader gets Eiffel-towered, reader is a bit of a masochist, creampie, Tsu'tey!lives au, Tsu'tey is olo'eyktan and Jake is just Toruk Makto.

A/n: Surpriiiiise! I feel like this one isn't as long as the last but I was almost desperate to push this out. I hope it's okay.

Also, I'm not gonna keep writing a 'Na'vi Words Used' section 🙃 Google is free, and this provides a browser that helps you quickly type in a word to find out what it means. Enjoy!

Jake knew from the very beginning that you had some sort of infatuation with Tsu'tey, but you would rather die than admit it. 

After all, you were with Jake, and in Na'vi terms you were mated for life. In human terms, you were married, and it made Jake extremely happy knowing that no matter what shape or form the two of you were in, you loved him no matter what and he loved you. When he decided that he wanted to pass through the Eye of Eywa and permanently transfer his subconscious into his avatar's body, you fully supported his decision. It helped that you had an avatar of your own, so you could still be a part of his world and occasionally return to yours if need be. You've only ever wanted him to be happy, and you always loved him, in and out of that damn wheelchair.

He knew you loved him, more than anything, but he catches the way you look at the clan's olo'eyktan from time to time. He knew you would never act on it. What you felt was just interest, nothing more, because you only wanted Jake at the end of the day. But then again, Jake was also just as curious as you, and if you weren't going to do anything about it, he was going to be the one to make the first step.

"Isn't she a doll? I mean, she almost is in the literal sense. A silent, inanimate object and pliable for me to play with however I want."

Tsu'tey didn't say anything in response, too caught up in watching the way Jake's large cock pushed into your squelching heat, the sound filling the kelku. The fact your avatar's body reacted according to Jake's touch without you possessing it had the Na'vi man completely transfixed from where he crouched near your head, a barely caged primal desire swimming in his yellow eyes. Watching how your lower lips, covered in your slick, spread, and pucker to stretch and accommodate Jake's unnatural size (thank you, labcoats), Tsu'tey's tail flicks with contained interest that was definitely questioning every rational thought.

He knows he shouldn't be here... but he had been thinking about this for months and not even Eywa could persuade him to look the other way after Toruk Makto was adamant about how both you and him wanted Tsu'tey.

Jake wasn't deterred by Tsu'tey's silence, knowing that if the olo'eyktan didn't want to be here, he wouldn't have followed Jake here after being invited. The two of them had gone out hunting that day and Jake thought it would be the perfect time to bring up his little... proposition.

Focusing back on the unconscious body beneath him, Jake grabs your avatar's hips with both hands and continues to gradually thrust inside of your pussy. Your body was already so tight and naturally became aroused and slicked up by the time Jake was done stretching you with his fingers. It took every ounce of self-control for him not to fuck you like an animal to his own completion when you look this enticing. Nothing was boring about your sex life, but with Tsu'tey's intimidating gaze watching his every move as Jake pumped in and out of your tight heat, something really hot and angry began to stir deep in Sully's stomach.

He lets out a punctured grunt, a wave of adrenaline coursing through him from the excitement of it all, a grin slowly plastering over his lips, glancing back up at Tsu'tey, "She lets me do this a ton, you know. She loves it. You would have never guessed she was such a minx, huh?"

Tsu'tey's ears twitch with that same intrigue, pupils further blown wide with barely contained desire, trying to ignore the growing strain of his loincloth. 

Jake's grin falters for a moment when your pussy grips him tight, a groan spilling from his lips and falling open in a silent gasp as his eyebrows pinch together in pleasure. He struggles to find his words again, huffing between sentences as everything else drains to his groin, "She said she was going to link up around this time. 'Should be waking up right... about..."

The first thing that moved was your avatar's eyebrows, scrunched closely together as your eyelashes fluttered. Tsu'tey watches as a soft flush rises up your body, reaching your face just as you open your eyes, pupils blown out of proportion as a soft, quiet whimper is pulled from your lungs. Your hands instinctively fly up to graze and scratch at Jake's tight chest and tummy when you feel that familiar sensation of an approaching orgasm.

"Oh, fuuuuck..." you moan out, tilting your head back as you close your eyes once more.

A deep, low chuckle reverberates from Jake's throat while staring down at you, slowing his thrusts until he's only grinding, the friction of his pelvis against your clit sending your growing moans to ricochet throughout the marui, "Hey, baby. Glad you could join us."

"Us?" You breathlessly question, managing to catch the choice of words. Looking around, you suddenly realize you and your husband are not alone. Craning your neck up, you find a familiar Na'vi crouching above your head, your eyes widening, "Tsu'tey?"

His eyes, so hard and intimidating like the rest of his physique, always piercing into your soul... had a lilt of something else that now pierced something deep in your abdomen and caused your warm and wet walls to flutter around Jake's cock. While Jake softly curses under his breath, biting his lip to stay quiet, Tsu'tey's eyes never leave yours even as his hand brushes over his straining loincloth to try and relieve the pressure, "Sevin..."

Any initial horror or embarrassment you might have felt at the thought of another man seeing you naked and being properly fucked started to melt and drift out of your mind the moment your eyes glanced down to the olo'eyktan's crotch. You now shamelessly watch and even feel a small ping of pride as Tsu'tey's clothed cock unexpectedly jumps under your attention.

Feeling some level of satisfaction now that you understood what was going on, you quickly replaced your shock with a smug smile as your eyes turned up to Jake, "You really wanted to spice things up that badly, huh?"

The grinding immediately halted and you whine loudly from the loss of friction. Jake smirks down at you, strong hands gripping the flesh underneath your knees, "Maybe I was just tired of watching you drool after Tsu'tey without doing anything about it."

"Like you acted any better," you found yourself snarling back in the midst of your sexual frustration.

Tsu'tey surprised even himself when he scoffed in amusement, attracting the attention of the couple in front of him. With both sets of "demon" eyes on him, the Na'vi man felt a warmth swirling deep in his gut, his own eyes slowly traveling down to the spot where yours and Jake's bodies connected, almost as if he appreciated the view. 

The expression on the olo'eyktan's face was not lost to Jake, who smiled with a hidden arrogance as he slowly dragged his hips back, pulling his hard cock completely out of your squelching heat, shiny from your juices, the loss of fullness forcing a broken whimper to escape your throat. Without warning, Jake grabbed your hips and flipped your over, gently smacking your ass until you got the message and moved to lean forward on your hands and knees, gasping from the sting of his hand that would definitely leave a mark in the morning. 

Jake moved to press himself up against your ass, idly twirling your tail around his veiny forearm and giving it a firm tug, "Why don't you put that mouth to work for Tsu'tey if you're just going to be a smartass, huh?"

You whine, feeling so degraded, and yet your body feels like it's on fire. Keeping yourself upright on your hands and knees, you flip your hair over to one shoulder and look up at Tsu'tey through hooded eyelashes, your face flushed and your lips shining wet from rolling your tongue over them as you watch his tight loincloth begin to dampen with precum. When you peer up at the silent warrior, your eyes lock and you can't help the way your mouth gradually falls open, poking your tongue out like a welcoming invitation that makes Tsu'tey's balls tighten.

The growl that leaves his throat softly echoes throughout the marui, and your pulsating walls clench around nothing, a flutter of arousal making its presence from such a sound. Finally, Tsu'tey unties his loincloth and both you and Jake shamelessly watch his cock spring up to attention once released from its confinements. He's not as big as Jake, but he's still long with a small barb leaking precum at the tip, which flushes an angry dark purple.

He doesn't waste any more time, not when you look so enticing. He grabs a hold of your chin, harshly, and squeezes until you're forced to hold your tongue all the way out, the dominance making your belly stir. He grips his cock with his free hand, angrily pumping himself with a few, firm strokes as his dark, gold eyes keep you frozen in your spot, your spine tensing with anticipation. Tsu'tey gently slaps his leaking tip against your tongue for a moment and you bring the appendage back in your mouth, moaning at the taste of him before you roll it back out for more.

Tsu'tey looked up and met Jake's gaze, and whatever Sully saw swimming in those same orbs made the muscles in his stomach clench. You can feel Jake twitch against your entrance and you whine while pushing back against him for more, all the while keeping your mouth wide open and panting like a bitch in heat, your warm breath fanning over Tsu'tey's length. The olo'eyktan groans lowly, eyes drifting back down to you as he lines himself up, parting your lips with his tip before gradually shoving his way into your mouth.

You choke once but then immediately relax your throat, breathing deeply through your nose to try and not gag, moaning around his cock when you taste more of him. You've barely been given time to relax and breathe before Jake finally pushes his own dick back inside your pussy, filling you up in one swift motion that makes your moans rise in pitch, the vibrations turning Tsu'tey into a growling, feral creature that forces himself to remain still... for now.

Jake faintly smirks while huffing out a small moan in response to your pussy contracting around him, "'See how her bratty mouth isn't running anymore?"

Tsu'tey's usual snarl appears as he gives Jake a warning look, "I wonder if the same conclusion will happen if I do the same to you."

You don't have to see to know that Jake's shit-eating grin is etched on his lips, leaving you moaning around Tsu'tey when your husband slides out and immediately plunges back in, a large, wet slap echoing in the air when his hips meet your ass.

"I think she'd like nothing better than to see you teach me a lesson," Jake pushes out while huffing a strained, small laugh, "She just got tighter."

Tsu'tey grunts in answer, feeling your throat constrict around his cock like a living being each time Jake pulls out and shoves his way back in. 

"Ngh, yes. Very 'ekxin," Tsu'tey groans out, finally giving in and starting to move his hips back and forth, small motions at first before eventually matching Jake's rhythm. 

You felt like a spitroast with both cocks thrusting in and out both ends of you, and even more so when you felt a burning warmth, pleasant and growing deep in the pit of your stomach. The way Jake's cock rubs against the lining of your inner walls is so addicting, but you're unable to savor it because you're instantly distracted by the reminder to breathe through your nose when Tsu'tey only manages to plunge further down your throat. It was the kind of edging that would make anyone insane... and you loved it.

"You're greedy, baby, ya know that?" Jake growls playfully as he bends over your back and nips at your ear, "First, you had Toruk Makto, but then you also had to go and want the olo'eyktan. Well, now you have both of us, and it looks as though you can barely handle it."

The whines you let out send shocks up Tsu'tey's cock, making him growl uncontrollably, like a cornered animal. His mind foggy with desire, he briefly forgets how he needs to be gentle and roughly grabs your kuru, pulling it back to force your head to tilt at the desired angle before thrusting deep inside your mouth. His balls slap the underside of your chin while your constricting throat makes the most obscure, spongy sounds as you take his dick.

One of your hands shoots out to tightly grab his thigh, gagging around his cock as the leaking tip hits the back of your throat, past your uvula. Your nails dig into his skin in an attempt to push him away, but that only appears to rile him up more.

He snarls down at you, pulling back his lips to display his teeth, "Take it, sevin."

Your eyes widen with tears as you choke around him, your tearful gaze only spurring Tsu'tey on. Jake bites down on your shoulder, either to muffle his moans or to remind you he was there, no one could say. 

"You heard him," Sully gasps as he lathers his tongue over your new bite mark, "Take it, baby. Take it all."

He tugs your tail a little tighter, reminding you that he still has his arm tangled around it. You whine loudly around Tsu'tey, feeling him twitch inside your mouth. The Na'vi man only rides your mouth faster, growling incoherently, precum leaking down your throat, making it tickle and threaten to make you cough or choke. Sensing he was close, you flex your tongue just underneath his length, hallowing your cheeks to the point his thrusts leave the most grotesque, sucking noises to fill the air.

"Yawntu-" Tsu'tey cut himself off with a snarl, his muzzle scrunching up like an angry thanator, "Kalweyaveng-!"

He's so deep in your throat that your nose bumps his pelvis, feeling his muscles tighten in his abdomen as he starts shooting his cum down your throat with one last thrust, driving himself as deep as possible while gasping for breath. You don't even dare close your eyes no matter how good it feels, watching his face contort above you, eyes closed as his brow ridge scrunched up as if in pain, and his mouth open while panting for air, loosening his grip on your kuru. He's still emptying his load as he slowly starts to pull out, the last couple of streams of his seed splashing over your lips and cheek. You close your mouth to swallow before your lips fall open to gulp down the air as if your life depended on it, your gaze flicking back up to him with half-lidded eyes. 

Tsu'tey's tail twitches behind him at the sight of your flushed and marked face. While the heat of his lust has dimmed slightly from his eyes, the way he looked at you made everything in your body instinctively tighten, forcing both you and Jake to start spiraling to your own orgasms.

Jake whines every time he pushes his cock back inside your wet heat, a ring of white cream now forming around his thickness every time he stretches your puffy ring, "Ah, ah, ah-!"

The first spurts of his seed filling your womb sends your eyes to roll back as you clamp down around his cock, forcing him to stop thrusting and just empty everything he has as deep as possible, painting your walls. You moan loudly as the warmth in the pit of your stomach bursts, flooding your body with euphoria, a high you have never been able to recreate without your husband, but this time it only felt better with both he and Tsu'tey pumping you full from both ends.

As usual, Jake's ears twitch erratically as the edge of his orgasm begins to fade, leaving him blubbering nonsense as he tries to ride it out longer, "Ohhhh, baby. That's it... oh, fuck. Clenching me so tight... god, I never want to leave this tight little thing. Took us so well. Our little doll."

Instead of replying, the overstimulation as Jake faintly moves his hips to form shallow thrusts makes you whine and reach forward to bite the inside of Tsu'tey's thigh, eliciting a deep sound in the back of his throat as his hand tightens in your hair once more, "Mawey, sevin."

Jake chuckles and slowly pulls out, groaning while watching a large amount of cum leak out of your abused slit, his tail already curling with interest, "Take her real quick so I can grab a cloth."

As if you weighed nothing, Jake takes your hips and lifts you up, passing you to Tsu'tey like the doll he claims you to be. Your face practically magnetizes to the crook of the olo'eyktan's neck, the corded muscle flexing beneath your lips as you playfully bite him stirring a small wave of amusement through you. Tsu'tey harrumphs while tightening his arms around you, his previous hesitance no longer there.

"Did I mention she bites?" Jake smirks while finding a cloth and wetting it down, moving back over to the two of you.

Tsu'tey scoffs faintly, but there wasn't any malice behind his tone, too exhausted and surprisingly relaxed to care while watching Jake dip the cloth between your legs.

As your gasp quietly at the feel, Jake dips his head down to whisper hotly in your ear, "So, tomorrow night... how do you feel about breaking your link and keeping both yourself and your avatar here so Tsu'tey and I can fuck both of your pussys?"

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @inolaphoenix @neteyamsoare @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter @ikeyniofthetayrangi @neteyamssyulang @sullybrothersmate @rivatar avatar4eva @bdudette

[circethesinner]

inevitable ⟐ xavier thorpe

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader oneshot (second person pov - she/her pronouns used for reader - occasional use of Y/N)

warning(s) : mild language, best friends to lovers, mutual pining

word count: 6.4k

⭑•⊱✩masterlist✩⊰•⭑

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summary: you and xavier had been best friends since you were 7, and nothing could change that - that is until you start to develop a new power that makes you question everything you think (or rather, what everyone else thinks)

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Normies usually strayed away from adopting outcast kids. They just didn’t know how to appropriately handle their slightly more complex needs.

Unfortunately for your adopted mothers, the realisation that you, their child, possessed psychic abilities hit at around the 5-year mark when they walked into your nursery and discovered that all of your bears were floating around the room, performing beautiful and elaborate ariel tricks. At first, they jumped to the conclusion that they were being haunted. In some ways, they wished that were the case. Ghosts could be exorcised, but a child who could undo a childproof lock (or five) to get into the cabinet where the candy was kept within mere seconds wasn’t easily fixed with a call to the local priest.

So, as soon as they could, they would ship you off to outcast summer camps and school programs. It's not that they didn’t love you; they just didn’t know how to help you manoeuvre your powers. 

Naturally, you resented this for a lot of your childhood. You couldn’t understand why your adopted siblings got all the time with your moms while you were sent away. Fortunately, as you matured, you grew to understand it and accept that what they were doing was for your benefit as much as theirs. Your moms were doing this to help you learn more about your powers from others who shared them, not punish you for having them. 

Of course, understanding and accepting the decisions didn’t exactly make the feeling of abandonment go away, but it was enough to subdue and push it down for some therapist in 20 years to pull out and deal with.

There were some plus sides to being sent away so often, one of which being the best friend you had made on day one of the very first outcast summer camp you had been sent to when you were 7 years old.

You and Xavier Thorpe got along like a log cabin on fire, which is coincidentally what almost got the pair of you kicked out of that summer camp on your first week. 

Xavier was sent away by his father while he was on tour. Touring the world would be far too stressful for a child; at least, that was the excuse that was given whenever anyone questioned where Xavier was.

Both of you being sent to Nevermore Academy was inevitable. Under the promise of not burning it down, together, you had fixed up the old shed so Xavier could use it as an art studio. You had occupied one of the corners where the two of you had set up a desk where you could work on your writing.

Together, you spent most of your free time tucked away like that, talking about anything and everything as you individually let your artistic creativity fill your individual pages. You would only stop talking when you demanded silence so you could focus, which would last about 10 minutes before the two of you got distracted and started talking about something else.

You were about 6 minutes into one of these silent periods when Xavier slowly stepped back from his canvas and inched towards your corner. Engrossed in your work, you didn’t notice he was in front of you until he spoke up.

“You’ve got some paint on your nose,” He pointed out. You closed your laptop instinctively; you had never liked sharing your writing with anyone, not even Xavier. 

You looked up at him in confusion as you hadn’t touched any of the paint scattered around the studio that day. “Really?” You asked, crossing your eyes to try and look at your nose. “Are you sure? I don’t feel-” You were cut off by Xavier swiping his thumb over your nose and smearing some paint on it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” He laughed, trying to step back as you made a grab for his arm. You just about caught his sleeve and used it as leverage to pull him down and wipe your nose clean with it.

“You are such an ass!” You groaned, trying to hide the laughter that threatened to bubble up. It was the third time that week he’d gotten you with that trick.

“Speaking of ass,” Xavier grabbed his own chair to sit opposite you at your desk.

“I have a great one?” You grinned, trying to use a tissue to wipe the remaining paint residue from your face. “Thank you, I know!” You froze when you could have sworn you had heard Xavier respond with a quiet ‘true’ but shook it off as your mind playing tricks as you hadn’t actually seen his lips move.

“That is not what I was going to say,” Xavier playfully rolled his eyes. “Speaking of ass, have you done Mr Cooper’s homework?”

“Are you suggesting Mr Cooper is an ass, or that he has a great ass? I mean, I’ve never looked myself, but I respect the-” You yelped out as your leg received a kick from under the desk. You pouted dramatically as he shook his head at you, but you cast your mind back to your chemistry class the day before. You hadn’t been paying much attention as it was the final class on a Friday, and you were just excited to sleep past 6am the following day. “Did he assign homework?”

“I’ll take that as a no; you haven’t done it,” Xavier grabbed his rucksack, which you had been using as a footrest. “Though I already knew that because I picked up your sheet when you left it on the desk.” He pulled the worksheet out and waved it in front of your face.

“This is such bullshit!” You groaned as you plucked it from his grip and scanned the questions. “He never assigns homework!”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you, Xavier! You are such a good friend!’” Xavier teased, doing his best impression of you… His best was awful.

“A good friend would have just done the assignment for me,” You sighed dramatically, putting the sheet down on the desk and pushing it back towards him.

“You mean the way I do half of your other assignments for you?” He pointed out. You had mastered one another's handwriting years ago and often took turns in doing one another’s assignments depending on who was better at the subject or who could bribe the other better.

“Yeah, half of them!” You fired back. “That only makes you half of a good friend, an okay friend, if you will!” Your friendship was built on this sort of playful teasing. 

“Well, as an okay friend, do you want to work on this together after dinner?” He asked, checking the time on his phone. “Which started like 5 minutes ago.”

“Shit!” You exclaimed, shooting up from your chair and shoving your laptop in your bag. “Come on! Get your butt in gear, or all the good food will be gone!” You frantically urged, walking around the desk to tug at Xavier’s arm to get him up and going.

“I’m coming!” He laughed back, getting up intentionally slowly. “Just give me a minute or two to pack up all my stuff. Save me a tray!” With a distressed groan that echoed through the shed, you let go of his arm and walked off, mumbling something along the lines of ‘snooze, you lose’ as you went. Xavier laughed and checked the time again one last time before he stuffed his phone back in his pocket, knowing that dinner wouldn’t actually be ready for another hour and preparing for the hellfire that you would rain down on him when you realised he’d tricked you again.

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Studying sucked. That was something you had acknowledged a long time ago. But studying while you had a bad case of hiccups was so much worse. Especially when the hiccups caused your powers to go absolutely wild; with each hiccup, the pen you were holding flew out of your hand and launched itself to a new corner of the room.

At first, Xavier thought it was an elaborate plot to get him to do your work again as revenge for the dinner incident. However, when your pen launched out of your hand and stabbed the door, he realised you weren��t joking around.

With a grunt of frustration, you got up to retrieve the pen once again, mumbling a ‘sorry’ to the door as you pulled it out from the wood.

“What did that poor door ever do to you to deserve such a vicious stabbing?” Xavier joked, trying to lighten up your tense mood.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about the time it smacked me on the ass on the way out!” You gave the door an accusatory glare. “Which it still hasn’t apologised for.”

“How could I forget?” He groaned, recalling the situation in great detail. He’d talked himself into a corner when he’d tried to defend the door by saying that your ass just got in the way and then couldn’t figure out if it would be more offensive to say that your butt was big or backtrack and say that it wasn’t big at all. In the end, he realised he was losing that conversation no matter what he said and just accepted the consequences. “You know, that is the second conversation today that has ended up on your ass.”

You couldn’t contain the laughter at the phrasing, which caused your hiccups to match the energy, and the pen flew from your hand and into the ceiling.

“Oooookay! I think that’s enough pen time for you, or I’m going to be accused of practising archery in my room again,” Xavier laughed nervously as you, still in fits of giggles, stumbled back over to the spare bed in his room that you had basically taken over as your own. It had your favourite blanket draped over it and some of your pillows from home. 

“Your hiccups are just like you,” Xavier pointed out, jumping up to get the pen out of the ceiling before it caused any structural damage. He was tall, so it didn’t take much to reach it.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, your laughter finally starting to calm down. “How's that?”

“Violent and cute,” He shook his head with a smile, but you just froze, unsure if you had heard him right.

“What was that?” You asked.

“Violent,” He repeated, dropping the pen onto his desk.

“No, no,” You shook your head, questioning your own sanity a little. He didn’t have that teasing tone in his voice he usually did. “The second thing.”

“I only said one thing?” He looked at you in confusion. “Are you feeling okay?” As if on queue, you hiccuped again, and a pillow went flying across the room, narrowly avoiding hitting him in the face.

“Never better,” You mumbled, laying back on the bed. You really could have sworn you had heard him say that the hiccups and you, by extension, were cute. It was quieter than he usually spoke, but you could have sworn it in his voice. 

Even though you joked around a lot, he wouldn’t lie to you about saying or not saying something if you asked. So maybe it had just been in your head? It was a weird thing for your head to make up.

“Are you staying here again tonight?” Xavier asked, snapping you out of your spiralling thoughts. “We can watch a movie and finish off those cookies from last night?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” You smiled sheepishly, glancing over at the trash can by his desk to see the empty packet still there, evidence of your crime. “But I ate the rest of those cookies while you were asleep last night.” 

“I know. I woke up and saw you at the end of my bed, hunched over like a little gremlin, shoving them into your mouth three at a time. I thought you were a sleep paralysis demon for a good few seconds. I wanted to record it, but you were like a wild animal, and I didn’t want to startle you by grabbing my phone,” A second pillow flew across the room and hit him in the face that time. Unlike the last, this one was intentionally flung at him. Laughing, he paid no mind to it and reached over the side of his bed and pulled something out from underneath. “I bought two packs and hid one from you- wait, are these open?”

“I may or may not have found those ones while you were in the shower,” You got up and flopped down onto his bed next to him, grabbing both of your pillows to lean on. “I didn’t eat them all, though! I won’t lie; I would have, but you came back before I could.” Rolling his eyes, Xavier reached under his pillow and pulled something else out.

“I bought the third pack,” He admitted, placing them down on the bed in between the two of you. “Hey, your hiccups are gone!” You were about to cheer when another hiccup bubbled up out of nowhere, sending the open pack of cookies flying everywhere.

“Well….” You looked around at the crumbs that scattered the once relatively clean room. “Shit.”

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You woke up groggily to your name being called out in a hushed whisper. When you opened your eyes, you realised it was still nighttime. Yawning, you pushed off the sheets you had been sleeping under and made your way over to Xavier’s bed.

It was a routine you knew all too well by that point. Part of you questioned why you even bothered sleeping in the spare bed in the first place. Almost every time you would sleep over in his room, you would fall asleep in the spare bed only to be woken up by Xavier after a couple of hours, usually because he’d had a nightmare. He didn’t ever want to talk about it, and you didn’t ask. He’d tell you about them when they were really bad, but he preferred to sketch them out.

Xavier was holding the covers up, and you crawled under them, bringing your arms to your chest using his arm as a pillow. He brought the covers down again over you both, and you closed your tired eyes once again.

That was how you usually slept in the same bed. You didn’t usually ‘cuddle’ when you slept like this. Your arms and legs always kept to themselves, with the exclusion of Xavier’s left arm, which you usually used as a pillow. However, this time, Xavier brought his spare arm over you and held you close to him. Instinctively, you moved one of your arms to wrap around him in return. It was a wordless sign to say that you were okay with this. You could have sworn you had heard a hum of contentment from him, but you passed it off as the start of a snore. Xavier always fell asleep fast, and his light snoring was comforting.

You chalked the change in behaviour up to a particularly bad dream and decided that you wouldn’t bring it up in the morning. Instead, you would just enjoy the added warmth for the night.

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“Enid, my sweet, your tag is sticking out,” You jogged ahead to catch up with Enid’s impossibly fast walking. “C’mere!” Enid stopped and took a step back so you could tuck the tag of her sweater back in.

“Thank you!” She cheered and held her arm out. “Walk and talk?” With a laugh, you linked arms with Enid and started walking together. “I’m so glad you’re here because I was supposed to be shopping with Yoko, but then Divina showed up, and I was totally third wheeling, so I left them to it.”

“Are they actually dating yet, or are they both too scared to make the first move?” You asked, causing Enid to laugh. 

“They’re still dodging around the question,” She sighed playfully. “Reminds me of you and Xavier.”

“What?” You stopped, pulling Enid to a halt with you.

“I said they’re still dodging around the question,” She repeated.

“No, no,” You shook your head. “The other thing you said!” 

“That was all I said?” Enid looked ask confused as you felt inside. “Are you feeling okay?” Instead of pushing things and questioning them further, you took a deep breath and shook it off. Enid was a terrible liar. You had probably just mistaken the wind for words or something.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine,” You smiled and shrugged. Together, you continued to walk.

“Did you have a fight with Xavier or something?” Enid asked. Glancing at her from the corner of your eye, you shook your head with a frown, wondering how she’d come to that conclusion. “He was pouting at breakfast today, and you’re here without him.” Realisation dawned on you, and you laughed.

“He wasn’t pouting!- No, actually, that’s a lie. He was pouting a little bit, but only because he felt sorry for himself,” You explained. “I mistook him for my alarm clock this morning and tried to hit the snooze button, which in this case happened to be his mouth, and now his lip is a bit swollen. I’m here to get an apology gift and some numbing gel.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out the numbing gel you had just picked up from the pharmacy and a bar of chocolate. You had technically bought 3 bars of chocolate, but you had already given in and eaten 2 of them, and the last one was on thin ice.

“How did he get into your room?” Enid asked. “If I remember correctly, which I know I do, your windows have enchanted locks on because he kept sneaking into your room last term.” 

You snorted as you remembered how many times Xavier’s tall figure had been caught trying to climb through your window. Or, more accurately, how many times he had gotten stuck trying to climb through your window, and you had to call for help to get him unstuck.

“I was in his room,” You explained with a shrug. “He’s got a spare bed, and I love Yoko, but goddamn, does the girl snore like a chainsaw. Plus, she wakes up at 6am every morning and starts playing her ‘meditation’ music. I usually stay with him on the weekends because it's the only decent sleep I get! I swear I’ve told you all of this before?” 

“The Yoko part you have definitely complained about to me on multiple occasions,” Enid confirmed. “But how am I only just learning that you have weekly sleepovers with your ‘best friend’.” She used her free hand to put air quotes around the last two words.

“Why are you saying it like that?” You asked. “He is my best friend? You know I love you, Wednesday, and Thing, but Xavier and I have been ride or die since we were seven. He earnt the best friend title way before I knew any of you.” 

“Just admit you both like one another,” Enid groaned, causing you to stop walking again, halting her.

“What are you on about?” You interrogated. “We like one another as friends.”

“I said nothing!” Enid protested, her face easily portraying the confusion she felt. You were about to protest again, but Enid spoke before she could. “No, Y/N, I literally said nothing! Whatever you think you heard, it wasn’t me! Maybe your mind is telling you what you want it to hear?”

“Absolutely not! I heard you! It was your voice!” Your phone started ringing before the conversation could progress any further. You didn’t have to check the contact before answering it. You had set a personalised ringtone for him. “Xavi, I’m on my way back now, I swear! I have the gel and a-” You stopped yourself before you mentioned the chocolate. Truthfully, you knew it would never even get back to Nevermore. “I have the gel!” You repeated.

“I will start this movie without you and then spoil all of it,” He threatened playfully. 

“Don’t you dare!” You gasped, but he’d already hung up. When you looked back up at Enid, expecting to continue the conversation you had been having, you recognised the look on her face as her signature ‘I’m telling everyone’ smile. “What?”

“Xavi?” She teased. “Really?” “Drop it, and I’ll split the chocolate with you,” You bargained, pulling the sweet snack out of your pocket again and waving it around. Enid simply responded by holding her arm out so you could carry on walking together and her other hand ready to receive her share of chocolate.

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“This show has gone to shit,” You groaned, sinking down into the sheets in disappointment.

“What?” Xavier pulled his head away from the screen to watch your movements instead. “You used to love it. It was all you’d talk about.”

“I did love it!” You agreed with a sigh. “But then they had to add all that forced romance in, and there are like 7 different love triangles that all interlock- it’s a pyramid scheme of love!”

“A pyramid scheme of love?” He laughed at your phrasing. “God, could you imagine the dm’s you’d get from people you’ve only spoken to once who had joined that?”

“Hey, girlboss! Long time no speak!” You put on your best bubbly voice as you spoke, replicating one of your moms’ friends who had been pulled into 8 different pyramid schemes. “Are you tired of settling down the old-fashioned way with one person? I was too! But insert a name of a multi-level marketing scheme here helped me take control of my love life!”

“Please never do that voice again,” Xavier pleaded through laughter.

“I think I gave myself a headache doing that,” You snorted, bringing your hand up to your head. It was a fruitless endeavour as you pulled them away again immediately. “Urgh, my hands are too warm. C’mere, you always have cold hands.” You grabbed one of his hands and held it up to your forehead, leaning against it.

“I always have cold hands?” Despite his verbal confusion, he didn’t protest about you using him as a cold pack. “Is that… a good thing?” 

“On this occasion, yes,” You smiled contently, closing your eyes. “During the colder months, not so much.”

“If we held hands more, it would warm them up,” You almost didn’t catch his words.

“You wanna hold hands more?” You asked, confused. Admittedly, you already held hands probably more than most friends did, but that was because you had a tendency to get lost in crowds. It was hand-holding, or one of those leash backpacks parents used on their kids, but Xavier shut that down as soon as you jokingly suggested it.

“How did you-?” Xavier pulled his hand away from you with a frown. You pouted at the lack of contact and opened your eyes again. He paused to look at you, searching for an answer in your eyes, but he gave up as soon as he’d started and just shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t think I said that out loud.”

“We can hold hands more,” You shrugged, smiling at him. “Come on, let's try and get a couple more episodes of this nauseating shitfest in before I have to go back to my own room.”

Xavier perked up at that, leaning over to press play on the next episode.

“I’m calling it now; there will be an unexpected kiss by the end of this episode,” You sighed, leaning your head on Xavier’s shoulder as your eyes settled back on the screen.

“If we’re placing bets, it’ll be between those two,” He added, pointing at the pairing on the screen. You really could have sworn you had heard him say ‘between us?’ just before the actual words left his lips. But you knew for a fact this time that he hadn’t, as the words slightly overlapped, and, as far as you knew, Xavier wasn’t secretly a talented ventriloquist. Though you supposed if you did know that, it wouldn’t be a secret.

Instead, you brushed it off as your tired mind playing tricks on you. Weird tricks for a weird mind.

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Four more days.

That’s how long it took you to realise what was going on. Or rather, what you thought was going on. You had to test your theory out, and you knew the perfect person to help.

“Enter,” Wednesday’s voice instructed before you even had a chance to knock on her door. Without questioning how she’d know you were there, you opened the door and closed it behind you once you were in Wednesday’s shared room with Enid.

“I need your help testing a theory,” You pleaded, leaning against the door. “I feel like I’m going crazy- and not the good kind.”

“There’s a bad kind?” Wednesday’s tone barely changed, but you knew her well enough to know she was teasing you in her own way. “I’m intrigued; go on.”

“I think I can read minds,” You confessed with a groan. “Not all the time; I think I can only do it if I’m purposely seeking them out or if the thoughts are… loud.”

“I imagine there are some people who have very loud thoughts,” Wednesday glanced over at Enid’s side of the room.

“Exactly!” You nodded. “And I wanted to test with you because I know I won’t just be reading your body language and facial expressions for clues.” 

“What number am I thinking now?” Wednesday asked, turning her head away from you to look at her desk. Closing your eyes, you tried to push for the connection that you had felt when you accidentally used this possible new power on Ajax just a few minutes beforehand. He had been moping around, and you wanted to know why. It turns out he’d stoned himself again and had missed all of his morning classes, and subsequently got in trouble for being ‘careless’. He was banned from visiting Jericho for two weeks.

When you had sympathised with his struggles and offered to buy him some snacks when you next visited Jericho, he’d looked at you like you had grown a second head which had started speaking Latin. He asked how you had known he was banned. After some confusion and back and forth, you made up some lie about overhearing one of the teachers say something about it and excused yourself.

“37,” You announced confidently to Wednesday as soon as you had felt the connection be made and heard your friend’s monotone voice. It seemed fitting that even her internal monologue was as dry as she was when speaking. “Which US state am I thinking of?”

“Trick question,” You answered proudly. “You’re thinking about Poland, which, unless I missed a memo, isn’t a US state.”

“Very good,” Wednesday didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised that you had gotten it right. “Final one, what line from which of Edgar Allan Poe’s works am I thinking of?” She asked.

“But evil things, in robes of sorrow, assailed the monarch's high estate,” You echoed the exact line out loud. “From The Haunted Palace.”

“I think that settles it,” Wednesday confirmed. You opened your eyes to see her turning around to face you again. “Considering I didn’t say a single word out loud throughout that. Not even the questions.” Wednesday’s mouth was pressed firmly closed, though you could still hear her perfectly clearly.

With a small gasp, you intentionally severed the connection and stopped reading her mind.

“Okay, you can think freely again,” You informed Wednesday. “Thank you for helping me test that.” The door you were leaning on was suddenly pulled open, and you only just managed to catch your footing before you had the chance to fall into Enid.

“Y/N!” Enid instinctively held out her arms, just in case you did still fall. “Why are you here? Are you planning a surprise birthday party for me?”

“Enid, your birthday isn’t for another 9 months,” You shook your head with a smile. “Why would we be planning a surprise party now?”

“Because if you do it too close to the time, I would get suspicious when you were sneaking around making arrangements! But if you start now, by the time I’m thinking of it, the party will have been fully planned!” Enid explained cheerily. “I didn’t realise I’d said the party thing out loud? I hope I didn’t ruin the surprise!”

“You didn’t say it out loud,” Wednesday told her. “Y/N can read minds.”

“That’s why you were being weird with Ajax!” Enid immediately pulled out her phone, but you grabbed it out of her hands. “Hey!”

“Please, please, please don’t say anything to anyone yet!” You pleaded. “I need to talk to people first. I need to talk to the teachers. I don’t want people to think I’m going around snooping in on all of their thoughts. That’s not how it works.”

“How exactly does it work?” Enid asked as you wearily handed her back her phone. You didn’t entirely trust Enid not to at least tell Ajax… and then Yoko… and Divina since she would ‘just hear it anyway’ from Yoko… 

“I mean, I don’t know exactly how it works, but from what has happened so far, I need to be talking to someone and wanting to know what they’re thinking. So when I spoke to Ajax earlier, I wanted to know why he was upset, and I guess I accidentally made that brain connection thing happen without realising what it was,” You explained, trying to properly make sense of it yourself and using actual words to describe what happened. “And sometimes people just have one-off loud thoughts that I hear? Some more than others….” Realisation dawned on Enid when she heard the last sentence.

“Well, I’m sorry if my thoughts are too ‘loud’ for you,” She huffed, using air quotes around the word ‘loud’. “I can’t control the volume of my own mind.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” You apologised. “But I can’t control what I hear either, at least not yet.”

“Has Xavier thought loudly about how in love with you he is yet?” Enid asked.

“Xavier isn’t in love with me….” You protested but trailed off as you recalled some of the things that you had thought you had heard Xavier say over the past week, only to now realise that some of them may have been thoughts.

“Oops, did I think that one too loudly as well?” Enid smiled slyly, pointing at you. “Wednesday, look at her face. I asked if she’d overheard Xavier thinking about how in love with her he is.”

“I gathered that,” Wednesday mumbled, wanting nothing to do with the whole ‘love’ ordeal.

You remembered the other night when you had talked about there being an unexpected kiss, and you thought he’d said ‘between us?’ over the words he actually did say. It had been a few nights, and you couldn’t remember the tone he’d said- or rather, thought it in. Was he confused? Hopeful? You raked through your brain but couldn’t remember any of the details for the life of you.

And the comment about hand-holding? That was just in a friendly way, friendly hand-holding. You had held hands as friends before, multiple times, you were usually the one to initiate it, and it wasn’t like you were in love with him. You weren’t in love with him at all, right?

Right?

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You were. You absolutely were. Whether intentionally or not, you had never allowed yourself to think about it, always pushed the thoughts and feelings down before anything could become of them. Always pulled the weeds up, leaving the roots, not realising the roots were just growing and growing under the surface until one day, your whole garden was full of weeds. Except instead of weeds, they were possible unrequited feelings towards your best friend that threatened to ruin everything you had built up over the years you had known one another.

“I need to go,” You excused yourself and pushed past Enid to get to the door, ignoring whatever she was saying in the process. It would have been some sing-song ‘I told you so’, but your mind was too cluttered to pay attention.

You had to find Xavier and talk to him as soon as possible. 

It hadn’t taken long to find him. You knew where he’d be. You always knew where he’d be.

You didn’t knock before letting yourself into the shed; you never had to. It was your shared space.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Xavier looked at you in concern as you sunk against the door as you closed it behind you. “You look-”

“Xavi, I need you to please be quiet and let me talk at you for a bit because I need to say something now before I mess up the words in my head,” You interrupted him before he could finish. With a small nod, he had agreed. His mouth remained shut while you pulled away from the door and paced back and forth. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase here. I have somehow picked up the power to read minds. I hadn’t done it on purpose until like five minutes ago when Wednesday let me test it on her, and then I came straight to you because you have the right to know because you’re my best friend, and we talk all the time, and sometimes I accidentally hear people’s random thoughts because some thoughts are just really loud and some people have a lot of loud thoughts, like Enid, so I just hear them more, and I’m not saying that you have loud thoughts like that, but I think that maybe sometimes you do, which isn’t a bad thing but I wanted you to be aware so-” You had rambled so much that you hadn’t even noticed that Xavier had crossed the room until he had stopped your frantic pacing and held your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks together in what you assumed was a successful attempt and politely shutting you up.

“Deep breaths and calm down, yeah?” He said it so softly that it worked almost instantly. You hadn’t realised quite how fast your heart had been beating and how heavy your breath had become until he’d stopped and helped slow it down. 

You weren’t sure what exactly had caused it, whether it was the fast-talking where one word flew into the next, or the flood of emotions that had hit you, or the fear of how he’d react to it all in the end, or just a mixture of it all. No matter what it was, Xavier had successfully calmed you down.

“Dare I ask which of my thoughts were particularly… loud?” Xavier asked, his hands still cradling your face.

“There were only a few?” You replied uneasily. You thought back, trying to differentiate between everything. It was hard when she didn’t realise what they were when they happened. “There was the… hand holding? I think that was one… and, uh…. you called me violent and… cute?”

“Could be worse!” Xavier breathed a sigh of relief. “Could have accidentally admitted I’m in love with you.” One look at your face was all it took for him to realise what he’d done. You stood there, wide eyes staring at one another, each almost daring the other to make a move.

Xavier broke first.

“That was a loud thought, wasn’t it?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“It sure was,” You whispered, your hands coming up to take his own away from your face. Dejection crossed his face for a split second but was erased immediately when you just held his hands instead, cradling them against your chest. You broke eye contact, deciding that looking at the ground made talking easier because you didn’t have to worry about analysing every change in his expression to find the answers.

“Was it…. Truthful? Or did you think it jokingly?” You ask hesitantly, worried about the response it would elicit. Truly, you didn’t know if your heart could take it being a joke.

If the lack of response had worried you, when he pulled his hands away it all but shattered you. However, as soon as the pieces of you had been shattered, it was like Xavier scooped them all up again when he reached for your face and pulled you into a kiss.

It wasn’t a soft and gentle kiss. It was clumsy, frantic, and full of emotion and confusion. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be, because it was with him.

You returned the kiss as soon as your brain allowed itself to switch back on and be present in the moment. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him to you as though you were worried he would change his mind and back away again.

It was over all too soon for your liking, the two of you having no choice but to pull away to gasp in the air again. Xavier’s head ducked down, and he nestled his face into your neck. His breath tickled you as he spoke.

“It scares me how truthful it was,” He admitted, planting a small kiss on your collarbone. “I think I’ve known it for a while, but I didn’t want to risk you not feeling the same way.” He pulled away very suddenly to look at your face again. “Wait, you do feel the same way, right?”

You answered him this time by initiating the kiss yourself. This one was slower, the raw emotions you had both been feeling now having settled as a pleasant buzz in the air as the reality of the situation became clear.

You were two idiot best friends who had been in love with one another for longer than either of you could fathom.

You had always known you’d spend the future together, but now, you could spend your future together.

A/N - so I set out to write what I assumed would be a 2k-ish one-shot... then I think I blacked out and woke up foaming at the mouth 6k words later... if there are any accidental pov/tense changes, please let me know! I wrote this in third person, then decided I wanted it to be second person 5k words in so I went back and edited the whole thing which was a pain in the ass and I had to stop myself from rewriting it a third time in first person

feel free to suggest some more one-shots! I can't promise I'll get to them all, but watching Wednesday has filled me with inspiration and motivation to write! *cough cough* I'd be a sucker for a bianca x reader request *cough cough*

and lemme know if you'd like to be added to a taglist for future wednesday one shots <3

[imagineastrology]

how to make the signs fall in love with you

*check sun, moon, and venus*

♈︎ Aries: Famous for being tenacious, boisterous and fast. However, Aries long to be heard for their courage and silent diligence. Often, anger and impatience is a mask for their desperation and loneliness, but they struggle to express it healthily. When someone comes along and can see their true essence, isn’t affected by their moments of outward aggression and nourishes their passion, they will begin to let you into their world.

♉︎ Taurus: Don’t rush them. They feel free when you leave them to their own rules. Try appealing to their sense of touch. Anything soft and fluffy will take them to cloud nine and will make them want to whisk you away to a place of luxury and endless comfort.

♊︎ Gemini: Let them know you hear them, even when they’re silent. Let them know that there are ways to silence their thoughts from overthinking. Let them teach you. Let them give you two million facts and never make them feel insecure about their intelligence. This is a deep area for Gemini’s. Honour the raconteur in them!

♋︎ Cancer: Nurture them emotionally, spiritually and physically. Be attentive to their needs. Tune into the deepest areas of your soul, what gives you purpose in life? What are your morals? What and who do you stand up for? Shallow people do not assimilate well with Cancerian energy. Flaunting materialistic things will not make them fall for you. Cancerian energy needs to feel that you will be there for them when they need you.

♌︎ Leo: Allow them to fully express themselves. I’ve found that Leo energy to suffer from a lack of inner acceptance, this makes them demand recognition from others. Remind them of their inner beauty and compliments that aren’t based around appearance. The only attention and awareness they need is from themselves.

♍︎ Virgo: Be reflective. Virgoan energy doesn’t appreciate people who aren’t responsible for themselves. This meticulous energy likes the little things that other people may miss. You don’t have to boast or do anything outlandish to impress them. So, noticing that they have a new piece of clothing or that they seem happier will solidify you in their good books.

♎︎ Libra: Empower them. Remind them that the only thing they need to listen to is what they feel inside. Discuss and you may integrate yourself in their lives. Libran energy loves it when someone takes the time to learn about their world and thoughts. Also, go to places with them if they ask!

♏︎ Scorpio: Be authentic and truthful to your word. Scorpios look at actions. Scorpions respect people who have the courage to bear their soul to the often viscous comments of others and disappointments that the world throws at us. Don’t be offended by their secretive nature.

♐︎ Sagittarius: If you are open-minded, unattached and inquisitive, I guarantee the Sagittarius you’re thinking about loves you! Sagittarian energy is dreamy and idealistic. Allow them to dream beyond any expectations. Let them know that with you, they will feel even more liberated.

♑︎ Capricorn: Be independent and busy. Capricorn energy is extremely self-critical. Anyone that can lighten up their serious world is adored. Help them to understand that they are enough as they are and that ‘perfection’ is an illusion. Let them know that doing nothing can be beneficial too.

♒︎ Aquarius: Join them on their wistful journey. Reassure them that their soul is safe with you and that there is no judgement here. Don’t try to mould them into something they’re not. Be their friend first.

♓︎ Pisces: Pisces are often ridiculed for what they say and what their soul believes in. But trust me when I say that Pisces are wise in areas that most people don’t even know exist. If you desire a Pisces, you must be willing to go through many transformations. Celebrate them and don’t talk over them. Nurture their thoughts and creativity and a little reassurance will take you far. You must be strong enough to be sensitive, soft and patient.

[melodyofhisheart]

body paint | alex turner (the car era).

brushes, a beautiful landscape, love and a sleeping boyfriend. (fluff <3) hii !! this is my first post is this fandom, i fell in love with the arctic monkeys years ago, but i changed my style of music in the meantime, however the love for this band and for alex came back as quickly as it left aha :) i hope you will enjoy reading this !

The brushes glided through her fingers with an almost hypnotic grace, as she passionately painted the changing shades of the Alpine mountains in the morning light outside her window. The sun was beginning to rise, illuminating the interior of their bedroom. Illuminating her boyfriend's naked upper body, asleep, wrapped in warm comforters. His skin looked like gold, highlighting the few moles that reigned on his muscular shoulders. His brown hair lay sumptuously on the pillow and his sleepy, rested face looked like an angel descended from heaven.

She concentrated on her canvas, letting the landscape inspire her as she captured every shade of green of the fir trees, every fold of the majestic mountains and every minute detail of the fields below.

Suddenly, a surge of overflowing affection seized her as she watched Alex's peaceful sleep. The feeling of love that invaded her was so intense that she couldn't resist expressing it creatively. She gently placed her brushes on the windowsill and approached the bed. Her heart pounding, she delicately picked up a small can of paint, chose a fine brush and gently dipped the bristles in the softest color she had. With extreme care, she began to trace light lines on Alex's arm, drawing delicate patterns that seemed to dance with the morning light.

Her gestures were gentle and confident, each one a silent declaration of her love for the man sleeping in front of her. She traced arabesques on his skin, drew patterns of leaves and flowers, as if infusing some of nature's beauty into her own living work of art. As she worked, a blissful smile came over Alex's face, as if he could feel the gentleness of her gestures even in his sleep. Words couldn't express how beautiful and special she found him, and she hoped this artistic touch would show him in a way that was unique to their deep connection.

When she had finished, she stood back to admire her work. The light patterns seemed to merge with Alex's skin, creating a living, ephemeral canvas. She let out a satisfied sigh, her heart overflowing with happiness.

Alex's eyelids fluttered gently, and he began to emerge slowly from his slumber. His sleepy gaze fell first on her, who stood there with a teasing smile. Then his gaze drifted to his own arm, where the delicate, colorful patterns were displayed. He squinted, blinking several times, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. A smile of wonder finally appeared on Alex's lips. His dark brown eyes sparkled with an amused, affectionate gleam. Gently, he raised his hand, watching the patterns unfold with his movements. Each line seemed to resonate with a hidden meaning, a secret language between them.

She stood there, captivated by Alex's reaction, her own heart racing. She had put so much of her love and affection into these designs, and to see his radiant smile was a reward in itself.

Finally, Alex laid eyes on her, and they shared a knowing glance, a silent exchange of deep feeling and sincere affection. Without saying a word, he reached out to her, inviting her to join him on the bed. She approached with a gentle smile and slid in beside him, finding refuge in his arms. They remained huddled together, losing themselves in the warmth and comfort of their embrace. Her fingers slid gently over his skin, following the lines of the paint, as they cuddled tenderly. The silence wasn't awkward, but rather comforting, as if they could understand each other's thoughts without the need for words. They shared sighs of happiness, hushed laughter, and exchanged gentle kisses, testifying to their mutual affection.

After a moment, Alex slowly rose from the bed, casting a sidelong glance at her who remained there with a mischievous smile. He headed for the bathroom to take a shower, but before closing the door behind him, he gave her a knowing wink.

When Alex returned from the shower, she was waiting for him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. They found themselves in each other's arms again, their lips instinctively searching for each other in a tender kiss. Alex's hands roamed gently over her back, and she snuggled closer to him. As they laughed and cuddled, the sun's rays came softly through the curtains, illuminating the room with a golden glow and Alex's face. She came to caress his cheek tenderly and said :

"There's still a trace of body paint on your leg, on your arm and on your face love..."

[glitterp0prhaps0dy]

Staring contest

In the depth of the night, Floyd awakened, enveloped in darkness. The rhythmic snoring of Barb, however, pierced the stillness, a comforting reminder of companionship. Since Thrash had welcomed Floyd into their abode, he had been sharing Rebel and Barb's room, furnished with a bunk bed distinctly marking the territory of the teenage rock trolls. The room, a vibrant testament to their personalities, was adorned with posters of rock legends and scattered with instruments, reflecting the chaos and creativity of its occupants. In one corner, a beanbag, fashioned from segments of old concert tees, offered a soft counterpoint to the room's hard edges.

Tonight, as usual, Barb claimed the upper bunk, her breathing steady and deep, with Rebel beside her, an arrangement altered to accommodate Floyd on the lower bunk. The unfamiliar environment hadn't dampened the parched feeling in Floyd's throat, his need for water momentarily disrupting the sense of belonging that had begun to take root.

Floyd carefully maneuvered to avoid a collision with the bunk above as he sat up, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. He reached out, pulling the electric wheelchair closer with practiced ease. Balancing on his good leg, he settled into the chair, silently grateful for the mobility it offered. As he wheeled out of the bedroom, the cool air of the night brushed against his face, a stark contrast to the warmth of shared living spaces.

The kitchen he entered was a spectacle of rock troll aesthetics, blending the raw, rugged beauty of their culture with the practicality needed for daily life. The walls were a tapestry of volcanic rock, interspersed with metals that glinted under the dim lighting, giving the impression of being inside a cave lit by the soft glow of lava. A large, sturdy table made of petrified wood stood at the center, surrounded by chairs that resembled polished boulders, complete with cushions for comfort.

The countertops were sleek, black stone, and the cabinets were crafted from dark, aged wood, adorned with intricate carvings of rock troll history and legends. Various kitchen gadgets, each with a rock motif, from a blender that looked like a stack of mini drums to a toaster resembling a small amplifier, added a functional yet whimsical touch to the space. Overhead, a chandelier made from recycled guitar picks cast an ambient light, illuminating the room with a soft, warm glow.

Floyd reached for a glass cup, its surface etched with intricate bat patterns.He filled it with water from a sink whose faucet mimicked a guitar neck, the water flowing smoothly from its silver strings. Just as he was about to turn around, glass in hand, he choked on the water in surprise.

In the kitchen's deepest shadow stood Rebel, silent as a statue, her presence unnoticed until now. Her eyes, reflecting the faint light, fixed on Floyd with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. The question of how long she had been standing there, silently observing, hung heavily in the air, adding a layer of mystery to her already enigmatic demeanor.

Floyd's voice stumbled over the words, a futile attempt to slice through the thick silence between them. "I, uh... I was thirsty, so, um... I got... some water," he managed to say, his gaze darting between Rebel's piercing red eyes and the glass in his hand. The air between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken questions and curiosity.

For what felt like an eternity but was merely two minutes, they remained locked in this silent standoff. Floyd shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair, the weight of Rebel's gaze feeling almost tangible against his skin. Meanwhile, Rebel stood unmoved, the only sign of life being the occasional flick of her tail.

Finally, Rebel turned away, her departure marked by the distinct click-clack of her hooves against the volcanic rock floor. Floyd exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

'She must have been in here before me, considering if she came in after, I would have heard her,' Floyd reasoned internally. The encounter, brief and wordless, left a lingering sense of intrigue and unease. 

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

Floyd, having settled more comfortably into the dynamics of the Rock trolls' household over the week, found himself increasingly curious about their lives and interests. Today, his curiosity was piqued by Barb's artistic endeavor.

"Hey, Barb, that design looks wicked cool," Floyd said, leaning closer to get a better look at the sketch Barb was working on. The design sprawled across the page was intricate and edgy, fitting for a rock guitar. "What inspired this pattern? It looks like... are those lightning bolts mixed with skulls?"

Barb glanced up from her drawing, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up her face. "Yeah, exactly! I wanted it to have that raw, electrifying vibe, y'know? Like it's not just an instrument, but a declaration of who I am," she explained, her fingers tracing over the lines she'd drawn, emphasizing the fusion of elements.

Floyd nodded, impressed. "That's so cool. And these colors here," he pointed to a section of the design, "they're gonna look awesome under stage lights. Have you thought about what materials you want to use for it?"

Barb leaned back, tapping her pen against her chin thoughtfully. "I'm thinking something that'll really stand out, maybe a metallic finish? And I want the strap to have spikes. It needs to scream 'rock' from every angle."

Floyd chuckled. "Definitely screams 'rock.' It's gonna be amazing, Barb. Can't wait to see it come to life."

From the corner of his eye, Floyd caught Rebel glaring at him, her stare sharp and unsettling, before she abruptly shifted her focus back to the TV. Rebel had never uttered a single word in his presence, maintaining an air of silence that Floyd found increasingly intimidating.

Each time their gazes collided, he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine, leading him to wonder if perhaps she harbored a deep-seated dislike for him. Despite the warmth and welcome he'd received from Barb and Thrash, Rebel's silent judgment left Floyd questioning his place among the Rock trolls, and whether he'd ever bridge the gap with the enigmatic Rebel.

Ten minutes had passed,and Rebel left for her room. Floyd hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt before finally mustering the courage to ask Barb. "Hey, uhm, Barb, I have... a question," he began, his voice tentative. Barb glanced up from her drawing, her brows furrowing slightly as she attempted to grab the red crayon without looking at it. "Yeah, what's up, dude?"

Floyd swallowed hard, his nerves getting the best of him. "Does Rebel... hate me? She always seems so... cold, and she glares at me anytime we're in the same room. It's kinda scary," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty and a hint of fear.

Barb snickered, her laughter filling the room as she finally looked at Floyd. "Dude, seriously, no sweat," she began, shaking her head with a chuckle.

"That's just Rebel's vibe with new faces. She's all 'mysterious lone wolf' with everyone at first. And hey, no snitching, but she even gave Dad the cold shoulder for like, half a year. Only one who's never gotten the 'Rebel glare' is yours truly, but that’s because she’s only known me since I was three."

Floyd's confusion was apparent. "Since you were three? But I thought Rebel was your older sister. I'm... kinda lost here."

Barb looked at him with a playful smirk. "Oh, adoption, genius," she said with a chuckle, her tone dripping with her typical sarcasm. "Rebel's adopted, that's the twist," she explained, her laughter softening as she shook her head, amused by Floyd's moment of confusion.

Floyd blushed in embarrassment. "Oh, uh... I didn't think about that," he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

Barb rolled her eyes playfully. "No sweat, rookie," she teased, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned back in her chair. "Hey, speaking of not thinking things through, remember that time you tried to cook pancakes and ended up setting the kitchen on fire?" she added with a snicker, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease Floyd.

Floyd's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at the memory. "Oh, come on, that was one time! And I did put out the fire eventually," he protested, trying to defend himself with a grin. "Besides, you were the one who said adding extra syrup would make them taste better!"

Barb laughed, shaking her head at Floyd's protest. "Hey, don't blame me for your culinary mishaps, pal. You're lucky my dad didn't ban you from the kitchen after that disaster," she retorted, her laughter filling the room as they shared another moment of playful banter.

Floyd chuckled, attempting to defend his culinary skills. "Hey, in my defense, I'm sixteen  and had three older brothers and a grandma doing the cooking," he pointed out, a playful glint in his eye. "I never had the chance to master the art of pancake flipping before that fateful day."

Barb chuckled, flipping her mohawk back with a flick of her head. "Fair point, but maybe stick to playing music instead of playing chef, huh? At least until you figure out the whole not-setting-things-on-fire part," she quipped, grinning broadly at Floyd.

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As the days went by, Floyd noticed a subtle shift in Rebel's behavior. She seemed to stare at him less and less, while he found himself stealing glances at her more and more. He couldn't help but feel a growing curiosity about her, with countless questions swirling in his mind. Yet, he knew he might never get the chance to ask them.

On this particular day, Floyd was engrossed in scrapbooking. The materials in Volcano Rock City were different from those at the Troll Tree, resulting in a unique twist to his usual hobby. Across the room, Rebel sat on the beanbag, scribbling away in a journal of her own.

While working on his scrapbook, Floyd found himself quietly singing to himself, the lyrics of a familiar tune escaping his lips. "♪ The energy just shifted, When we dropped in, Ooh, let it drop in, hmm ♪"

Suddenly, a quiet, raspy voice broke the silence. "What song is that?" Floyd froze, stunned by the unexpected sound. It was a voice he had never heard before, and considering he and Rebel were the only ones in the room, he realized it must have been her. She had spoken.

"What?" Floyd replied, his voice barely above a whisper, still processing the momentous occasion.

"What song were you singing?" Rebel repeated, her tone soft but curious.

"I, uh... it's a song my brother wrote for the band we were in," Floyd explained tentatively, his surprise slowly giving way to excitement at the prospect of conversation. "He called the song 'Baby, Baby, Girl,' but on the official record, it's called 'Perfect.'"

"Band... you were in a band?" Rebel's inquiry came out slightly cracked, hinting at a possible reason for her reticence. Was her voice not used to speaking, or was it just naturally raspy?

"Yeah, it was called Brozone. It was a boy band... but just me and my brothers," Floyd shared, a mix of nostalgia and amusement in his tone. He used air quotes as he continued, "My oldest brother was 'the leader.'" He couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "Spruce was 'the heartthrob,' and he had these abs that, honestly, looked pretty odd on him. And then there was Clay, 'the fun one.' My brother John Dory insisted he wear this ridiculous underwear dubbed 'funerdrawers.'"

Floyd's recounting turned into a fond rant about his family's band, his words painting a vivid picture of their quirky dynamics and the roles they each played.

Floyd's voice softened as he mentioned his youngest brother. "And then there's my youngest brother... Branch," he murmured, a gentle sadness coloring his expression. "He was the baby... because, well, he's a baby."

As Floyd glanced up at Rebel, expecting her usual stoic expression, he was taken aback. Instead of her usual blank demeanor, her face was a mix of shock and disbelief, as if she couldn't quite comprehend what she had just heard. It was a rare glimpse into her thoughts, leaving Floyd wondering what emotions lay beneath her silent exterior.

 "Who the hell puts a baby in a band?" Rebel blurted out, her voice tinged with incredulity and a hint of amusement. It was a rare break from her usual silence, revealing a glimpse of her personality to Floyd.

"John Dory," Floyd replied rather quickly, his expression shifting to one of slight annoyance at the memory.

Later in the day, as Floyd was getting a glass of water, Barb walked in, prompting him to maneuver his wheelchair over to her.

"Hey, what's up, F—" Barb began, but Floyd interrupted her before she could finish.

"Rebel spoke to me," he blurted out, unable to contain his excitement.

Barb's grin widened, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Whoa, seriously? That's epic! Means she's actually considering you part of the scene now. The real puzzle is figuring out exactly what she's thinking," she said, injecting her voice with that unmistakable, rebellious spirit she always carried

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As Floyd settled into his room for the night, his mind replayed the day's events like a catchy tune on a loop. Rebel speaking to him was a significant highlight; it was like unlocking a new level in a complex game, one he hadn't been sure he'd reach.

Her voice, raspy and seldom heard, echoed in his thoughts, a reminder of the progress he'd made in this new, rocky world he was temporarily calling home. It was both exhilarating and daunting, knowing he'd sparked some kind of reaction from the most enigmatic person in the house.

But as the excitement of the day's interaction began to fade, Floyd's thoughts drifted to a more familiar and comforting place—his family. The warm, vivid memories of his brothers filled his mind, each one a colorful thread in the fabric of his past.

He could almost hear their laughter, see their smiles, and feel the reassuring presence they had always provided. Among these memories, his thoughts lingered most tenderly on Branch, his baby brother. Branch, with his curious eyes and easy giggles, had a special place in Floyd's heart.

He wondered how much Branch had grown since he'd last seen him, what new words he'd learned, and whether he still clung to the same stuffed animal as he slept.

The longing to see them all again, to share stories of his adventures among the Rock trolls and to hear about their lives in his absence, grew stronger with each passing day.

Floyd hoped, with a deep and earnest hope, that the day of their reunion would come soon. He imagined the joy of embracing each other, the laughter and tears that would undoubtedly follow, and the comfort of being surrounded by his family once more.

As he lay there, surrounded by the unfamiliar yet strangely comforting walls of his temporary home, Floyd made a silent promise to himself. He would make the most of his time here, learn all that he could, and perhaps even bridge the gap between his world and this one. But most of all, he vowed to return to his brothers, to Branch, with stories to fill their nights and laughter to brighten their days.

The thought of that future reunion, filled with love and shared joy, was a beacon of light guiding him through the uncertainty of the present. And with that comforting thought, Floyd allowed himself to drift off to sleep, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

[heromaker-if]

The current angsty asks seem quite nice, so maybe I will ask some sweet, fluffy asks before finding something equally or more angsty to join the mood XD So, some fluff first then!

On a beautiful evening, with a clear sky unveiling a breathtaking starry night, the MC who always likes to enjoy such peaceful celestial scenery has asked the ROs to spare the time watching the stars with them, to which the ROs agree to since this is not the first time they are invited. Well, they thought it is going to be just like everyday else, enjoying the night as friends, but what would be their reaction if they suddenly felt the MC’s shy touch on their hand, and hear them confessing their love to them for the first time?

Wow, this is so cute! Thank you for bringing me a wholesome ask 😌🙏

In the story, stars no longer exist, but for the sake of this ask, I will take some creative liberties. Here you go!

I can see Pachypoda really enjoying stargazing, silently admiring the stars in your company. It comes as a surprise, when they feel the shy touch of your hand, and goosebumps raise across their skin. When they turn to you and hear your gentle confession, they're both shocked and overjoyed. They opt instead to take your hand and stay quiet, there's no words that they can say now that they won't be able to say later. A simple thank you seems awkward, but that's what they reply with. Later, you will have a conversation about it, for now, this is nice.

A stargazing moment with Astro/a would be funny, because Astro/a would be talking miles an hour, pointing at stars, telling you the made-up or not made-up stories behind constellations, and just in general talking your ear off. They shut up however, when they feel your hand graze theirs, and then purposely take their own. When they look at you to tease you of your softness, they are surprised to hear your affectionate words. They might pounce on you there and then, hugging you tightly and affirming that they feel the same. Now the night is filled with flirtation instead.

It would be hard to convince Secret LI1 to just lay there for awhile, doing nothing but staring at the bright stars ahead. They're used to keeping busy, but you're very similar in that way, so it doesn't take much to convince them. The moment is very silent, but a comfortable silence. When you take their hand, you're the one shocked by Secret LI1's quick reaction to it, interlocking your fingers together like you've done it before. They don't glance your way until you actually start speaking, and when you're done, they laugh quietly. But before you can take offense, they turn their body to fit with yours and whisper a confession into your ear too.

A few moments watching the stars might make Secret LI2 fall asleep. It's rare that they have a moment of respite, so they can't help but sleeping soundly. Taking their hand in yours, you think of either waking them up or pretending they're awake and confess anyways. You do the latter. When you get it all off your chest, the hold on your hand tightens, but they're still sleeping. Did they hear it? Maybe confessing to them another time might be better, they deserve some rest now.

[roseianxiety]

On The Balcony

Ship: Logince

Content Warning: None

Word Count: 1,200+ words

AO3

Prev - Next

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Stars littered the dark night sky and a crescent moon shone above him. The cool winter breeze brushed against his hair, cooling off some of the sweat that clung to his skin. The night air was crisp, and he felt cold but not uncomfortable. All around him was silent, no one else in the area besides them.

Logan breathed out heavily, leaning on the railing for support while looking up at the stars. He closed his eyes for just a moment and took another deep breath, enjoying the feeling of fresh air after being cooped up indoors for too long.

He opened his eyes again when he heard footsteps coming towards him followed by a disembodied voice.

"Why are you awake this late, nerd?"

Logan retorts but doesn't look back at his newly arrived company. "I could say the same thing about you, Roman.". The footsteps came closer and Logan knew that Roman must've had a purpose for approaching him.

"What do you want?"Logan queries, turning so now they are facing each other. Roman's face is illuminated with a white glow from the light of the moon. "What? Am I not allowed to be on the balcony? I just wanted to look at the stars."Roman hums, standing beside Logan before looking up at the sky.

Then there was silence, both of them focused on the sky, watching the twinkling stars.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they?"Roman asked out of a sudden, glancing at Logan. His eyes seemed to bore into Logan's soul, and it made Logan feel slightly uneasy but he couldn't bring himself to look away from Roman's penetrating gaze. "They're quite lovely."He replies softly, unable to keep himself from staring into those brown irises for longer than what would be considered polite.

Roman chuckled in response and then turned his head to look at the sky again. Logan did the same, following Roman's movements and noticing how close they were standing. Their shoulders nearly touched and Logan's breathing picked up pace for a reason he wasn't entirely sure of.

Roman spoke up softly, his expression rather melancholic.

"Things have changed a lot, haven't they?".

Logan blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?". He said hesitantly, his gaze returning to Roman's eyes. This time, Roman looked directly at Logan and smiled lightly but there was something else behind that smile.

"Well, you know... everything that's happening to Thomas. Nico arriving in his life and probably going to make him feel amazing. I can sense the sweet sweet romance blooming already."The creative facet chuckled and shook his head slightly as if trying to get rid of some sort of invisible fog that clouded over his mind.

When he finally looks back up at Logan, the soft smile hasn't disappeared from his lips and neither has the sparkle in his eye.Logan only mutters as he looks away from Roman's piercing stare. "Perhaps... but we cannot be too sure with that.". He doesn't notice the way Roman frowns at his answer or the way that his gaze turns distant. "You're such a party pooper.".

"I'm merely being realistic rather than believing in idealistic fantasies, Roman."Logan replies, still avoiding Roman's eyes. Roman only scoffed at his statement but didn't make some sort of remark (which confused Logan slightly).

"Why are you really here, Roman?"Logan questioned, breaking the silence which had settled between them again. There was an odd atmosphere surrounding them; Logan thought he could detect hints of something but he couldn't quite place his finger on it.

Roman didn't respond to his question as if he was avoiding it. He remained quiet as he continued gazing up at the starry sky. Logan sighed and rubbed his temple. "Why are you here?".

Roman scowled, finally facing Logan. "I told you, I'm here to look at the stars. Why do you care anyway?". He sounded defensive and annoyed and Logan felt like hitting something.

"You are my acquaintance and we basically live together, it's only reasonable that I am concerned with your well being".Roman huffs and rolls his eyes at Logan's reply.

He seems to be thinking and Logan is waiting for his answer. After several minutes passed, they remained quiet. The silence was starting to get awkward and it was making Logan slightly uneasy.Finally, Roman answers him."I couldn't sleep...". Roman pauses for a moment before looking down at his feet.

"There are days where I find myself unable to sleep. Certain thoughts run through my head that keep me up. Things I'd rather forget about....". He trails off for a moment before sighing.

"This is stupid. What about you? Why are you still up this late?"Roman asks, changing the subject.

"I suppose, I am going through the same thing as you.".

Roman nods in understanding and they fall into an almost comfortable silence. They stand side by side for a few moments until Roman speaks again.

"Maybe the two of us are not too different after all."

"Hm? And why might that be?"Logan inquired, curiosity getting the better of him. Roman smirked mischievously, and shrugged. "I don't know.".

"You are an idiot."Logan says, a giggle escaping his lips. It surprises even him, but Roman chuckles along nonetheless.And they stay like that for a little bit longer. Enjoying each other's company without any need for words, without pressure or anything else that would disrupt their serene peace. It was quiet and tranquil and perfect.

Roman spoke up suddenly once again, glancing at Logan. "We should dance. Do you know waltz?". Logan sighs, internally face palming. "Okay now, I regret hanging out with you.".

Roman grins mischievously and grabs him by his wrist and pulls him close. "Well you're stuck with me for the moment, you may like it or not."He remarks, spinning Logan around. Logan huffs but let the other do so anyway.

The rest of the night went on like this with Roman leading Logan around the dance floor/balcony, holding onto his wrists and swaying with him gracefully. Logan unknowingly smiles fondly at Roman, who was smiling right back, his brown eyes shining brightly as he laughed and moved with Logan, dancing despite the lack of music. The moonlight illuminated them as they danced and laughed on the balcony, comfortable with each other's presence.

They eventually slowed down their dance, their bodies still attached closely to each other and their faces mere inches apart. They stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other, eyes sparkling. Neither daring to speak up yet unwilling to break contact completely. Both of them slowly leaned closer slightly but after realizing what they were doing, they jerked away from each other, their cheeks tinted with pink.

"That was.. lovely, thank you, Roman."Logan murmurs, a genuine smile on his lips. Roman returns his smile shyly, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Thank you as well, Logan.".

They stare at each other a moment more before deciding that they should get going, after all, it was 1 o'clock already.

They parted ways and bid goodnight to each other before heading to their rooms to return to their beds for the night.

Both of them finally can sleep peacefully with smiles on their faces, and perhaps dreaming of each other.

[bryanos12]

Admire creativity in the 35th selected work of Denny Ja: “Apart from the bomb, I call your name in silence”

In the world of art, creativity is one of the important aspects that is often the determinant of the success of a work. In the context of literature, creativity is the main element that makes the work of a writer able to inspire readers. One of the Indonesian writers known for his creative work is Denny JA. In his 35th anniversary celebration of his career, Denny JA released his latest essay poem entitled “Apart From Bombs, I Called Your Name in Silent”. In this article, we will admire the creativity in Denny JA’s selected work that presents a deep and meaningful atmosphere.    In his essay poem entitled “Apart From Bombs, I Call Your Name in Silent”, Denny Ja presents a story full of mystery and intrigue feel. This story focuses on the journey of a main character who is trying to escape from his dark past. Denny Ja managed to describe the feelings of the main character very deeply, so that the reader can feel the same emotions as the character.    Not only that, Denny Ja also uses beautiful and poetic language in compiling stories. He uses a distinctive language style and presents a clear picture in each sentence. As readers, we can easily be carried away by the storyline written very nicely by Denny Ja.    In this elected work, Denny Ja also succeeded in presenting a deep and meaningful atmosphere. He is able to describe Indonesia’s social and political life very realistically, but still gives a poetic touch that impresses the reader. He expressed his anxiety and hopes for the future of the nation through the narrative of a story full of symbols and metaphors.    In the process of creating his work, Denny Ja also shows his ability to process words very well. He uses an innovative and unique writing style, thus making his work fresh and attractive to the reader. In this selected essay poem, Denny Ja presents various styles of writing, ranging from poetry to short stories, which make this work more diverse and interesting.    In addition, Denny Ja also uses intelligent writing techniques in compiling the storyline. He is able to combine various elements of the story well, so as to produce a work that is complete and attractive. Denny Ja also presents an interesting surprise in the story, which makes the reader continue to be interested in continuing to read until the last page.    In his closing, Denny Ja gave a deep and attractive impression to the reader. He was able to convey important messages through his story, thus making the reader reflect and inspired. Denny Ja uses simple words but has a deep meaning, so that it makes the reader seem and inspired.    In his conclusion, the 35th selected work of Denny Ja entitled “Apart from Bombs, I Called Your Name in Silent” is a creative and amazing work. Denny Ja succeeded in presenting a deep story, using beautiful and poetic language, and describing an atmosphere full of meaning. He is able to process words well, use intelligent writing techniques, and provide important messages for readers. Through this work, Denny Ja shows his expertise in creating literary works that are attractive and inspiring.

Check more: Admire creativity in the 35th selected work of Denny JA: “Apart from the bomb, I call your name in silence”

[jumbothy-blog]

The Stars Dance When We Watch Them

A short creative writing piece I wrote about human imagination and purpose. Felt inspired by a scene in Don Hertzfeldt’s THE MEANING OF LIFE and wanted to write about the stars dancing. Enjoy!

“There’s no light pollution out here. You can really see the Milky Way at its most beautiful.”

“Hm.” She didn’t really feel like glorifying that with a response.

Both their eyes stared up at the sky. Everything was still in that moment. Each word seemed to fade quicker than usual, with nothing for the sounds to bounce off of, only an unobstructed journey into the atmosphere, where they would dissipate into nothing.

“You don’t think this is incredible?” he asked disappointedly.

She shrugged a bit. “It’s fine.”

“Those little specks of light, the stars, are huge. You get that right? They’re larger than life. Thousands of times larger than the planet we’re on right now. Think about the scale of it. This hill we’re lying on? It’s tiny compared to the cityscape down there. The city is a grain of sand compared to the whole country. Our country is a small fraction of the Earth. Take a chunk out of that star right there,“ he pinched his fingers together, “and there’s virtually no difference. And these giant balls of pure energy are as old as time. Doesn’t that fill you with wonder?

”She sighed. “Not particularly.”

He briefly turned his head to the side to face her. “The night sky has painted us a beautiful mosaic, a moving composition with depth and grace with the entire universe as its canvas, and you don’t feel anything?”

She folded her arms. This was starting to get annoying. “What, do you want me to lie? No, I don’t see what you see. You can give me the whole elevator pitch ten times over, you could even fly me up there and give me front row seats, and my level of enthusiasm won’t budge.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “I doubt that. I would take us up there if I could. Then you’d understand.”

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She was waiting for him to fill the silence with something, like more insisting that there’s a missing piece that she could find. But he didn’t. He just sat there with a stupid grin on his face. A good kind of stupid. She found it oddly endearing. Then she looked back up at the Milky Way. It was a streak of color across the deep blue expanse. It was hard to tell what colors, since they blended together in a strange, subtle way. Some parts were an understated violet, others were a stark bright orange.

She took a second to think before speaking again. “When I was a kid, I would look up at the night sky and dream of floating around, flying by all the giant planets, stars, and galaxies. You know that one nebula, the pillars of creation?”

She waited for a response. He simply kept listening, like a silent invitation to continue.“

That one was my favorite. I always thought it looked like a big hand, reaching out to grab something. Like some cosmic entity, a gentle giant rearranging her heavenly garden. She was a mother of the sky, and she would smile down on every galaxy, and every planet in that galaxy, and every grain of sand on that planet. She was never scary to me, never had ill intent, was just an observer who would reach out with a delicate touch from time to time. And with her delicate touch, space glittered and it was full of light, and everything would do an intricate dance. Maybe it was to perform for someone, or there was some rhythm I couldn’t feel. Maybe because even in the void of space, dance is nature.”

She shook her head. “But that’s not what’s out there, that’s not the real universe. It’s cold. Dead. Empty. The sky only looks so bright and full of stars when you’re here on the ground. You could be reaching out for millions of years, just for the stars to stay as far away as they were when you started.”

Neither of them met each other’s eyes.

She continued. “There is no hand. The pillars of creation are just dust. There is no dance. It’s just gravity and angular momentum. So, I stopped looking up. I stopped dreaming of the stars that would dance for me.”

She sat up. Maybe it was time to go. “Sorry. I just don’t see it.”

He didn’t budge. “I’m going to keep lying down for a while. You’re welcome to leave. But it would be better if you stayed.”

She decided it wouldn’t hurt to linger for a bit longer. She lied back down.

“Everything has meaning because we’re the ones that give it meaning. I’m sorry you lost sight of that. Searching for any sort of inherent meaning will only end in disappointment.”

She’d heard this before. “That’s cliché.”

“Let me finish. The important part is that everything that we give meaning is better off for it in the end. The schools we build would be covered in cobwebs, and their walls would be barren if it weren’t for the children covering the walls with their finger paintings. The stuffed toy you had as a kid is covered in stitches because you gave it so much love it started to tear, and then took the time to treat that tear. The stars are just burning balls of gas until you sit and watch them dance. Think of everything as vessels. Without the meaning you give these vessels, it’s like you said: they’re cold, they’re dead, they’re empty. Then you fill up those schools, hug your toy, go stargazing, and they’re brought to life. In a way, the hand you saw? It’s your hand. You know what I mean?”

She did. “When those stars dance, they dance for you.”

He grinned that good stupid grin from ear to ear. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

As the stars looked down at their audience on the ground, they performed the most elegant dance they had ever danced before. They didn’t disappoint their audience.

[yeoldontknow]

the light keeper’s daughter | jhs (m)

A/N: written as fulfillment for the july house games at @bangtansorciere  ❂ To The Lighthouse      ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere​ AU Type: Trident’s Tides (soulmates) Themes: God/Goddess (goddess reader); Secret Relationship Kinks: clit biting; pain kink; size kink; masturbation; degradation; overstimulation; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing

↝ Creative Content Contributor: @jamaisjoons​ for this incredible banner. its literally so stunning ;~; ↝ Pairing: Lighthouse Keeper!Hoseok x Goddess of Light!Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: soulmate au; secret relationship au; gods/goddess au; mentions of an arranged marriage; heavy angst; smut; romance; pining ↝ Rating: NC-17 | 18+ ↝ Summary: For years, you’ve kept your relationship with Hoseok a secret. As the daughter of the God of Light, you are destined to marry anyone who slays the beast in the Gloaming Isles in your honor. When that day finally comes, you go to Hoseok to tell him your relationship must end and you are set to be married. One last time, Hoseok reminds you no one will love you as eternally, as enduringly, as he. ↝ Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language; pregnancy; unprotected sex; creampie; masturbation; clit biting; oral sex (f receiving); pain kink; size kink; overstimulation; light degradation; a brief handjob; impreg kink; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing; crying; biting; marking; scratching; brief mentions of blood ↝ Word Count: 14.7K        ↝ special thank you to @softyoongiionly​ and @kithtaehyung​ for reading through this and being amazing betas! if there are any mistakes left over they are absolutely my own and the fact that 98% of this was written while sprinting owo

Looking at Hoseok, you think, is exactly like being struck by lightning. Which is to say, every time, all the time, looking at Hoseok means you feel him everywhere, all over and all at once. 

Inside the lighthouse, there is no escaping him. 

Pressing your back against the rough concrete of the small light room, you tilt your head to the side as the totality of Hoseok’s warmth, ardor, and fidelity blossoms over you. He flowers deep in the nodes of your lungs, your breath constricted as you take him in, studying the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the way he wears the night as though he is the stars.

In the distance, waves rush to the shore, kissing the land with the same enthusiasm you wish to be kissing him, only to pull away from land; the water shy, anxious of the earth’s response to its affections. Over and over, the sea rolls like thunder. Every now and then, the light that spins overhead refracts downward, illuminating the blood that has rushed to his cheeks. Flushed, his lips part as he processes the words you have just told him, all red and red and red with understanding.

As though he is burning, as though you are not burning for him, your hands clinging tightly to your skirts as you hold your knees against your chest. It should be utterly unfair, you think, for him to appear so beautiful, so exquisite, even as he remains painfully stricken by your words. The searing ache in your chest germinates alongside your love, mind racing with the apologies he deserves. Your bones tremble with the force of remaining still, prepared to reach out and hold his face and tell him it was a lie. You want to smile for him, want to tease him, want to say you’d been terribly silly and that such jokes are best kept for nights when the sky is not clouded, not cold, and instead warmed by your shared rapture. 

How you would like to give him all the kindest, all the softest, words in the world.

‘It can’t be true.’

He’s said this twice, the disbelief in his voice only just winning out against the grief. Hoseok repeats it again, taking a step towards you, eyes cast down to where you have slunk in shame and sadness. Hands limp at his sides, his fingers quake, torn between balling his hands into fists or running through his hair, their resting place for his worry. Deciding on neither, he simply stands tall and stoic, appearing so small in the light that cascades around the room.

You’d glow for him if you could, if you felt like you deserved to illuminate any part of him at all.

Looking away from his woefully dejected expression, you turn your attention to the small gap in the wall beside you. A window once blocked the wind - stained glass, exquisite. It shattered during a storm, on a night when he pressed himself so deep inside you traces of his essence lingered on your tongue. He was deep enough it hurt, rolling into you with enthusiastic vigor. Tonight, the breeze smells of low tide, acrid in the back of your nose and sour, just like your mood.

‘We knew this would happen,’ is your quiet reply. 

A weak and pathetic excuse, you hate the words even as you say them. Shameful, you think with a grimace, to have pretended that you could have a happy ending, that convincing your father would have been simple. The lies you told yourself and Hoseok, the platitudes that fell from your lips to comfort him, turn on your now, betrayals stacked against you that weigh heavily your judgement. You’ve been childish, so childish, to assume you could have ever been happy.

Hoseok shakes his head, refusing to accept your answer. All fury and rage, he comes to stand before you and lowers to his knees, demanding you look at him. His presence is a live wire, the heat and energy from his skin is vital, a pull against yours that makes you regard him once more, confronted by his enduring beauty. Flooding your vision, he is all you see, all you can fathom, your world beginning and ending with his pleading eyes. 

‘But it’s been years,’ he argues, the high pitched tone of his voice wavering and taught with emotion. He’s older than you, physically, but at this moment he has never been so young, so small, so gloriously human. ‘Centuries even. It’s unfair to you.’

A huff of breath rushes through your nose, your scoff ripe with bitterness. ‘Someone finally slayed the Sydral, as archaic as this ritual actually is. My father said I should have always expected it.’

‘And so now…’ Hoseok’s voice drifts, falling back onto his knees crestfallen. The corner of his lips drop into the beginnings of a deep frown, all manner and will to fight rapidly dissipating.

‘I have to marry them,’ you nod, answering his unspoken question.

For a long while, you hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the umber of his irises and missing the mirth that usually ignites their sparkle. It is just his breath that cascades over your skin, just the waves that rush beyond the light room, just the world that seems to turn onward, without you, time passing without either of you truly acknowledging it. In this silence, you see your history, your every moment spent with him: the day you met; the day he could not help himself any longer and kissed you soundly, without restraint; the first moment you told him you loved him; the first moment he said he needed you; the plastic ring he won at the pier arcade - extraordinary in all its ugliness - and the gentle, reverent, way he slid it over your finger, calling it a promise of fidelity. 

In Hoseok, you see it all. 

Similarly, he drowns in you, the pink of his cheeks deepening to rose with each passing breath. Posture falling slack, the strap of his ride suspender slips from his shoulder, the collar of his linen shirt loosening with the lack of restraint. A sliver of his collarbone becomes exposed, golden and rich, a tantalizing patch of skin you would caress and kiss if only the circumstances had been different. You wonder idly what he remembers of you, what he sees in your own dispirited expression. You wonder if he remembers the way he loved you, the way he loved you beyond your light and into your darkness. 

You wonder if he remembers the way he ate your shadows - with his whole mouth, with fervor, with pride. You wonder if he remembers the way you devoured him just the same. 

‘This is ridiculous,’ he announces, finally. Turning to look out the window, he regards the sky solemnly, the curve of his profile imposing in its majesty. Eyes narrowed, it is the harshest he has ever looked, devoid of forgiveness. ‘It’s supposed to be me.’

Swiftly, you shake your head, adamant in your disagreement. You reach for him, leaning forward to rest your hand against his chest, against his heart where it thunders in his sternum. Warmth from his skin radiates into your blood, taking root between your joints. Hoseok worms his way into pieces of your spirit long left abandoned, and you swallow thickly, wondering if such affection as this is normal, if it’s always this way.

‘I’d never have let you.’ Your dispute is biting, sharp enough Hoseok turns his eyes back to you, jaw clenched and tight with silent fury. ‘You’re human. It would have killed you. And then where would I be?’

‘You’d be sitting where I am,’ he argues, emphatic. 

Reaching for your hand where it rests, he covers it with his own, lifting it slightly to twine his fingers with yours. Unable to help himself, he inches closer, running his thumb over your knuckles and sending shivers along your nerves. Like always, his touch is a wildfire, the electric kinetic energy needed to set you aglow. Your mind swims with him the same way your body becomes whelmed by his devotion, but he does not let himself become distracted. 

‘Do you even understand?’ Voice little more than a whisper, Hoseok’s gaze is penetrating, a bite to his veneration that demands your complete attention. Tilting his head to the side, he continues. ‘You think I wouldn’t die for you?’

You squeeze his hand with tenacity, acknowledging his sentiment, but he does not see all the things you have witnessed. He does not know the true menace of the Sydral, does not know its tricks, its many heads, its speed, its cunning; Hoseok would die for you, and death would find him quickly. 

Instead, you offer him a small smile, one that is so fragile and close to breaking. Hoseok’s intensity burns within your chest, transforming his softness into the valor of a man that leaves you breathless. Salvaging your own strength, you lower your gaze to the white collar of his shirt, to the soft linen and the expanse of his throat where he swallows. This you can regard with pleasure, can regard without fearing you may shatter.

And so you smile, finding the will to fight him once more. ‘The problem,’ you begin, hoping the earnestness of your smile is enough to cool the rage that boils in his throat, ‘is that I know you would. And I would live my life alone, married to him while knowing you are gone. Would you really condemn me to such misery? My darling, I would die to keep you safe.’

This feels like anguish; this feels like dying, you think to yourself, growing ever more despondent the longer you feel Hoseok pleading with the emptiness that lurks behind your eyes. You can’t bear to face him, not when the tightness in your throat becomes a threat, tears lingering on the precipice of spilling. Every time his gaze meets yours it is brutal in its honesty, violent in the way your love and lust tumbles so completely into grief.

‘How long?’ he manages, breathing life to the very question you’d been hoping to avoid. 

Your future is still so far away, distant enough it makes this moment, and every moment to follow, heavy with the pain of imagination. Still, you’ve never been able to deny him anything. 

Once more, you turn to view the window, regarding it with a vacant expression as though you are regarding time itself. ‘You know this is the last time I can see you.’

‘I know,’ he bites out, unwilling to let you dodge the answer. ‘I mean how long until...you’re not mine anymore.’

‘That’s...not possible,’ you offer gently, casting him a solemn, detached grin. ‘I am always going to be yours. Even when I’m in his bed, even when I’m thousands of miles away, even in death, I am yours.’

Hoseok pulls you against him, compelling your complete attention. Eyes wide, you study his face - the resolution of his passion fierce enough to be an earthquake against your sternum, a collision of meeting worlds. His arm winds itself around your waist while he still clutches your hand, the strength of his grip stinging against your knuckles. You tremble against his powerful frame, inhaling the deep scent of cedar and ambergris that always clings to him, the salt of the ocean that lingers on his skin, the dust that has saturated his shirt from the lighthouse, and you; your vanilla and lemon, the brightness of your own natural scent that emanates from your light and always seems to find him, not unlike rays of the sun. 

Your mouth waters at this closeness, his own eyes darkened to a rich black as he studies you seriously. You’ve wounded him - worse, you’ve denied him - and he presses the tips of his fingers into the soft muscles of your back, ensuring you cannot leave him. Not until he is ready to let you go.  

‘You know what I mean,’ he breathes, words lowered to a hiss. If he were a vengeful sort of man, he would be full of venom. Instead, there is only remorse in his insistence.

Closing your eyes, you sigh. ‘Months, most likely. Tomorrow the rituals begin - the seven days feast, the Fate Tying, the Blood Gathering.’ 

When you look at him again, your lower lip begins to quake. Saying the words makes it all feel immediate, tangible, as though your father stands in the dark corners of the light room casting his judgements. You almost feel him there, his presence always so sinister for a man blessed to command the light; he resides in the silent places, giving birth to shadows, prepared to pull you from bliss at a moment's notice. 

‘All this pomp and circumstance from eras bygone,’ you continue, grounding yourself in the firmness of Hoseok’s arms and chest. The bones of his knees press into your thighs; your hand caught between your twin heartbeats; you immerse yourself in the pain of this connection and remind yourself it hurts because he was always meant to be yours. ‘It’s been centuries since a goddess has been married off, and yet somehow I’m the first for such a sentence. The wedding won’t be for at least five months.’

‘Then we have time.’ Hope saturates his words, his hold on you growing ever more unyielding. ‘You can still come to me, we can still see each other,’ he explains quickly, speaking in a rush. ‘No one will have to know.’

Biting your lips, you raise your hand to the soft strands of his hair, carding your fingers through it. All silk and satin, you relish the texture as his desperation soaks into your pores. 

‘I wish that could be true.’ Even as you speak, you focus on his hair, committing these small details to memory. The curve of his bang in the center of his forehead, the deep amber and dark sienna and all the golden highlights that come to life in the daylight, the way all of him, every piece, is soft enough to break you. Yes, you focus on it all. ‘All the Old Gods will be gathering in Teylim. There will be more eyes on me than ever before. Ladies coming to fuss over my hair, my clothes, the oils I wear; men worshiping Daeus like he’s some kind of king when, really, he’s just lucky enough to be half of a god. I won’t be able to get away.’

Hoseok’s eyes roam your face, wild and storming, waiting for you to amend your answer. When you do not speak, his brow furrows and he exhales, a small whimper released from the center of his breaking heart. ‘So this is it, then? This is really it?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ you whisper, moving your hand from his hair to cup his cheek. 

He presses himself into your touch, turning just slightly to kiss delicately at your palm. The sweetness of his tenderness splinters the last of your courage, the tears you’ve so valiantly held back starting to burn as they spill over to your cheeks. 

‘I wish it could be different,’ you plead - with everyone and no one at all. ‘I wish for it everyday. Hoseok, I can’t -’ Distraught, you choke on your own words, and Hoseok pulls you firmly against him, resting your head against his shoulder. ‘I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.’

Hoseok says nothing at all as you dampen his shirt, tears spilling into the linen as you struggle not to collapse against him completely. When you are finally alone, you will succumb to the sorrow that has learned to occupy every chamber of your heart. When you are finally alone, you will eat the spirit of rage with teeth and fangs, and you will let the darkness have you, refusing to let the light erupt from your skin. But for now, you let the tears arrive of their own accord, aware that you are suddenly too sad to even weep, tears dripping into his shirt as means to remain a part of him.

Against you, Hoseok’s breath becomes uneven, his own shoulders shuddering as he minds his own heroism, fighting back his own tears. He quivers against you, his stuttering breath exhaled through his nose as he maintains his composure. The light room becomes almost too quiet, the blood rushing your ears drowning out the sound of the sea, narrowing your focus to just the shared heat between your bodies. You inch closer, removing any space that could exist between you, extinguishing any oxygen that would dare to separate you from him. What you would give for a thunderstorm, any sound at all to give life to the end of love, to the start of the war of loving. 

Unable to stomach the quiet any longer, your mind seems to become unhinged. All the tiny, miserable little thoughts Hoseok’s love kept locked away worm their way past your lips, erupting to life as though your heartbreak has given them permission to persecute you. 

‘I wish you never found me,’ you mumble, almost incoherent. Your tongue fumbles with the words, caught between weeping and speaking, making a mess of so much more than just his shirt. ‘I wish you never saw me. I could love you like that, on my own, from a distance. I could be strong enough to move through life not knowing you, loving only the idea of you. You’re so much more than anything my mind could have fabricated out of childish desire. The reality of you is heaven. And now, I’m hurting you. I should die for such a transgression.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Hoseok pulls, easing you back and lifting both his hands to cup your face. Briefly you mourn the loss of his fingers and knuckles so rough against yours, but cradled between his palms, your skin tingles, making a festival out of this contact and celebrating the nuance of his fingerprints. He looks down into you, deep enough you feel him taking root in the center of your belly. You love him most when he looks like this - fierce and unforgiving - and you cannot help the way your body responds, aroused simply by the passion of him. ‘Don’t you dare wish that,’ he commands, voice thick. ‘The day we met was the day my life started.’

‘But...’ you struggle to find the words, drifting off with the implication that, now, his life is surely ending.

‘I don’t want to know who I would be without you.’ Hoseok takes his time as he speaks, an art you cannot comprehend. 

Behind his eyes, his mind races, words living and dying before they can reach his tongue. He has so much to say, so many more promises to make, so many more words of affirmation he’d like to give you. You see them all, recognize them all - for they mirror yours, are born from your own likeness; you know them all so well, you feel as though you could reach out and touch them. 

‘I can’t fathom it, I won’t even consider it.’ Shaking his head, he denies this completely, holding onto your stare with a fixation that borders on zealous. ‘You came to me, and it felt like I could breathe. You came to me, and I felt like myself. Loving you makes me better, loving you is partly why I am alive.’

It’s difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat, its size and prowess growing ever larger in the wake of his words. In the oncoming quiet, you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t reminded you of the way you the oncoming storm of his presence before you met him. One look at him and you had seen it all, a life designed by the Fates - marriage, children, hope, happiness. In death he’d have joined you in Teylim, youthful, young, yours. With eternity before you, you’d bask in the rapture and the joyful silliness that comes with forever. 

He felt it, too, saw it in your eyes. On your fourth meeting, he held you against him and promised you his life.

‘I will put my child in your belly,’ he announced, deliberate in the way he enunciated his words. You waited for the shock of such an exclamation to overtake you, but it never came. ‘I can’t explain it,’ he chuckled, amused by his own enthusiasm, ‘but I’m certain of it. I see my unborn children in your eyes. I think this is what the elders mean when they say there is always a plan, and you will always know it the moment you find it. I’m so certain my whole life is tied to yours.’

The memory burns within your mind, a scorch of greed mixing immediately with longing. You wish the fire of it would incinerate it to ash, that it would vanish altogether before the Fate Tying. You can handle all of these frivolous little rituals, sure of yourself and your own strength, but the Fate Tying means to unmake you. At just the thought, your stomach begins to sink. 

You will sit, hands clasped on your amber throne with the sunlight seeking your hair, your cheeks, your lips; Daeus will smile, wrapped in oak and evergreen, in the earth that flourishes beneath your light; and you will weep, watching as the Moirai unstitch your soul from Hoseok’s, peeling it apart inch by horrible inch, to thread it with the ugliness of Daeus’ strands. You will wonder, mouth dry and eyes wet, why the Moirai would bother making a man for you, would bother weaving your spirits together, only to unravel the work they had done, the love you had found. 

The movement of Hoseok’s gentle caress, pads of his thumbs running across the bones of your cheeks, returns you to the present moment. Once more he whimpers, doing his best to keep you grounded with him, unwilling to lose you before he absolutely must. Digging your nails into his shoulder as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, you wallow with him, knowing that, just like him, you don’t know who you would have become without him.

‘What do we do?’ you manage, reduced to a more pathetic version of yourself as you plead with him. Anyone else, and you’d be ashamed to appear so weak. ‘How do I do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ is all he can provide. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Promise me -’ You cut yourself off, not entirely certain where the idea comes from, what part of you would willingly propose such a request, the meaning of what you had intended to say catching up to your mind the moment you heard your own voice. Hoseok waits patiently, and you lower your gaze to the curvature of his lips, wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss him, knowing your next words will scar you both. ‘Promise me you’ll find someone else. Promise me you’ll be happy.’

Without any hesitation, he scoffs, dismissing the idea altogether. ‘Don’t ask me to tell a lie.’ 

‘I can’t, Hoseok.’ Now, it is your turn to hold his face, cupping his cheeks with veneration. Mind reeling, you envision it, certain you could take it. You are certain you would die for less. ‘I can’t do this if I spend my life knowing you’ll be unhappy. I can’t do this knowing you’re alone.’

Slowly, gently, Hoseok lets the tip of his nose press against yours, rubbing it back and forth, back and forth. Breath  a deluge down and over your lips and skin, he somehow finds it within himself to smile, empty of all amusement. 

‘It’s so unfair of you to expect that I could be happy with anyone but you,’ he chastises. ‘I’d rather be alone, utterly and completely, than to be lonely with someone. They deserve better than someone who is with them out of loyalty to another person - a promise kept to the person they truly love.’

His rejection and refusal of your plea inspires a thrill in the pit of your stomach, all manner of possessive pleasure coursing through your veins. How easily he turns you into a selfish woman, how quickly his promises of fidelity make you lose all sight of strength and future vision. What sort of man is Hoseok that he should have such dominion over you, you think to yourself. But then, you know. You know as you have always known: Hoseok is your man, your lover, your soul.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, just as he had done, reverently, adoringly, you bite your lip and feel your exhale shake. ‘So what will you do?’

‘I’ll do as I’ve always done,’ he shrugs, as though the very thought is not a bruise within his ribs. ‘I’ll keep the lighthouse. Every night, I’ll let the beacon burn, and keep the light on. Even on clear days, I will let the light shine.’ Hoseok smiles as he says this, the first real smile he has managed since he saw you on the shore this evening, waiting, just like always. ‘When you’re up there, perhaps you will see the light.’ 

He shifts his gaze to the roof of the light house, looking up and beyond, past the clouds, up to the seat of the gods. Furrowing his brow, he hardens his jaw just slightly, eyes turning dark as he demands your father witness him. 

When he looks at you again, he is a changed man - a boy trapped in the throes of love, and a man on the verge of letting himself perish.

‘Maybe up there,’ he murmurs, ‘you will see my light and know that I’m burning for you, just as I’ve always been. I’ll continue to love you. I’ll be good, I’ll be pious, and maybe when I die we will meet in Teylim and even in death I’ll watch you, staying close to your light like a bird in flight.’

‘Hoseok.’ The quiver of your bottom lip disrupts the cadence of his name, besmirching it to little more than a sob.

Sucking air through his teeth, Hoseok leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes fall shut. At such close proximity, you study the almost feminine length of his eyelashes, the pores of his skin, and wonder who or what god or demon you could barter with to stay inside him forever.

‘You’re supposed to be mine,’ he whimpers, the sadness welling up in him like a mountain. ‘You are mine, but…I will always be yours. Even when they untie us, I’ll be yours. They can’t thread me with anyone else. I don’t think my soul will allow it.’ 

Unable to sustain it any longer, your desire for him rises to a swell, erupting beside your sorrow - just as fervent, and even more unyielding. His words are a comfort, an echo you will revisit over and over when you have long departed, but your skin has learned how to ache for his touch, learned how to anticipate the way he moves over you like water, and you need it. You need him. 

The rest of your pitiful existence looms out before you, days and months and centuries passing without Hoseok to hold you and keep you, and you despise the very notion of it. You rebuke it, refusing to let yourself continue on without knowing how it feels to have him. Tonight, you do not want him as your lover.

Tonight, you want him as your husband.

‘Kiss me,’ you announce, guiding his forehead away from yours, skin prickling with the lack of his warmth. ‘Kiss me like it’s our wedding. I -’ The tightness of your voice steals your breath, words hot and heavy in your mouth as you say them. ‘I want to know what a marriage bed truly feels like. I want to know what our marriage bed would be like.’

Mad with an unbearable passion, no longer contained, Hoseok heeds your words and lets his tongue wander over the seam of your lips. You cling to him, clutching what you can of his shape, his body, and you sigh in woeful euphoria, granting him unspoken entry to the recesses of your mouth - but he does not enter. Your lover has always been disobedient, reckless in the evening when your skin and your lips and your heart are presented to him, and tonight he is no different. Tonight, he scorns the hour, taking his time as he traces over your cupid’s bow with his tongue, rendering the turn of the earth meaningless. The heat of his breath tickles your skin, a cascade in which you luxuriate, and your eyes, blurred by the urgency of your desire, lose all sense of your surroundings until there is only Hoseok. 

Hoseok - on you, around you, all over you, the rain and the wind all at once.

Only when he has had his fill of your lips does he press the whole of his mouth against yours, sucking languidly at your bottom lip. Skin growing tight, you keen into his kiss, consumed by greed. Slowly, he moves his hands down and down, letting his fingers trace indeterminate lines over your cheeks, your jaw, your bones until they rest at your neck. With his palm over your pulse, he holds you still, his touch a fever, his touch the sun, radiating deep into the caverns of your heart. 

Filled with him, you think. Absolutely alive with him, Hoseok lets his palm cradle the tether of your life until you are certain he is the oxygen made to sustain your mortal form. You, living and breathing, are little more than remnants of departed touches, composed entirely of his affections, his affirmations, his adoration.

So, too, do you kiss at him, battling against him for any semblance of permanence, demanding that you be remembered. Feeling you writhe against him, insistent in your need for closeness, he hums in pleasure, a musical sound that traverses your synapsis with unhurried ease. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, either by a passing breeze or the way Hoseok leans in, harder, rougher, all manner of dominance in the way he so desperately seeks to have you, and you shiver, delighted by the peak in your senses; delighted, fundamentally, that you will commit every moment of this last evening to bodily memory.

Willing to be devoured, you surrender to him, feeling arousal leak from between your folds as though his savagery has given it permission to spill over. It soaks into your underwear where you briefly mourn the fact that it will not coat your thighs, not yet, and that Hoseok must wait to see how easily you could paint yourself in your wanting. Like always, he anticipates you and ardent your longing; perceptive and always acutely aware of the way you have grown wanton. depraved by the strength of his kisses alone. 

Hoseok eases his hand to the back of your neck, determination apparent in his grip, and guides you forward to rest in his lap. Letting your legs settle on either side of his thighs, you straddle him, unwilling to break any contact he has with you, your skin, you, your hands on him. You come together like a cataclysm, the burgeoning tip of his erection firm and stubborn where it presses against your core, assertive and tantalizing even beneath the fabric of his trousers. 

It’s lewd the way you crave him deep inside you, jaw dropping as your mouth opens wide to gasp in delight. Hoseok wastes no time in letting his tongue glide against yours, explorative and eager, utterly deliberate in his stroking. Slowly, the tips of his fingers move from your neck to your hairline, ever deeper and ever more intrusive. A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he runs his tongue over yours, grazing the roof of your mouth before he forms a fist in your hair and tilts your head back, swift and aggressive. 

All at once he pulls away, face hovering just centimeters above yours and gaze hooded as he explores your lustful expression. A flush creeps into your cheeks, the control he has over the flow of your blood is always surprising even if it is to be expected. Hoseok seems pleased, evident in the familiar way his eyes have become blackened by the force of his yearning and the smile that has worked its way into the corner of his lips, a secret for only you to discover. He takes a pause, disregarding his haste, to regard you: your parted lips, your heated cheeks - a fire that has spread itself over your chests and breasts.

‘You are a vision of sin,’ he murmurs, cocking his head to the side and tightening his grip in your hair. ‘What would all the gods say?’

Your own nails scratch tenderly into his scalp, gripping his hair to mirror his hold on you. Futile, you know. The strength in Hoseok is silent, a gift that makes him appear merely pretty until the seat of his power is fully revealed, a fortitude you could never mimic.

You swallow, preparing to speak, and watch the way Hoseok studies the movement of your throat. ‘They would call me a harlot.’ 

His gaze returns to yours, an otherwise thoughtful look turned menacing by the terror of his passion. ‘And are you?’

Tongue heavy in your mouth, you struggle with the few words you can manage. ‘They will make me out to be,’ you begin slowly, poignantly, ‘and it will be your fault. You’ve made me a slut.’

You hold onto the word - draping yourself over the “s”, tapping your tongue against the “t” - ensuring it lingers in your mouth long enough for him to taste it. It’s his fault, really, that you will be judged and scorned and shamed for coming to your new husband wholly impure, the construct of your virginity eradicated by Hoseok’s insatiable appetite. It’s his fault, you think, that you want him this much. That you love him this much. Your tongue caresses the word slut like it's your dearest companion, familiar with its shape and texture, and you lean upward, hoping to put it in his mouth. 

If he is half of your soul, then he should learn how it tastes to be utterly reprehensible. 

But he dodges the trajectory of your desires, moves away from your lips and your face entirely, diving down to your chest where he lets his teeth traverse the expanse of your sternum. Lifting his hand from your pulse, he trades one beat of your blood for another, fisting his hand in the collar of your dress to pull it down and expose the thin bit of flesh covering your heart. It thunders in your ears, your body a storm of his making, and you tremble as he positions himself to ravage your very spirit.

His teeth leave scars upon your nerves, eternal echoes within your pores that have you rolling your hips downward in encouragement. Again, you feel him, his cock against your core, enough to have you whimpering as though you are small and fragile, not the maker of your undoing. As punishment for your impertinence, Hoseok takes aim and bites down harshly at the slender bone of your clavicle. 

‘Hoseok!’ 

‘I know you, Sparrow.’ The husk of his breath is an avalanche into the marrow of your bones, the memory of his teeth still reverberating into your lungs. ‘You always like it when it hurts.’

Your skin still stings, yet he is relentless. You quake in his hold as he bites at the bone once again, teeth inlaid perfectly where they had been before. Your skin bends beneath the force, ecstatic hiss descending into a low moan, giving away the truth of how well he truly knows you. The pain grounds you in the moment, allows you, too, to ignore the passage of time, the ebb and flow of the waves as though the tides have halted altogether. You are prettiest when you are red and purple, black and blue by the marks he leaves in his wake, and not once, not even when he breaks your skin to bleeding does he tarnish your light.

In his arms, you are illuminated, glowing with the same intensity as the lighthouse beacon. He’s called you the heavenly sky for the way you glow under his affections, your inability to control your power when he makes you feel so impossibly good turning you into an evening star. You often forget you are blessed with a holy gift, the goddess of light as though your title has any meaning beyond providing you a seat at the table in Teylim. You often forget this is who you really are, someone happy, someone made of magic - a light kindled only under joy.

‘I will make you ache for me,’ he breathes, pushing the collar of your dress lower and lower, threatening to expose your nipple. ‘I want you alight, burning for me. Only me.’

Hoseok kisses deftly at the supple softness of your breast, diligent and greedy. His breath comes ragged, thick in the center of his lungs where he struggles around the insurmountable longing that puts force in his handling of your body. Working his tongue over the skin, he licks the stars out of the constellations of your pores, tasting the dust, the salt, the sea. Your hands run through his hair, messing the thick strands to a state of perilous disorder in your eagerness to move downward to the comforting solidarity of his shoulders.

Grinding your hips into his lap, the tip of his clothed erection slides along your slit, and you release a whimpered exclamation as the cloth of your underwear slips between your folds. Biting your lip, you breathe deep, Hoseok’s own groan of dissatisfaction vibrates into your chest. You feel him deep in your throat, his voice alongside yours, his desire matching yours in intensity. 

Hand leaving your neck in favor of your waist, his grip tightens, fingertips pressing deep circles into the muscles of your back. Thrusting upward, he teases you, laughing darkly to himself with a rough nip to your breast. The motion sends your underwear deeper into your cunt, a pressure to your clit as erotic as it is cruel. It sends a shiver down your spine, inspiring tremors in your nerves that have you clenching your walls around nothing at all, seeking the bulbous head of his cock in need. 

Pleased with himself, he raises himself from your chest to work at the buttons of your dress. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your own rolling back to present you breasts to him like a preening cat. Hungry, he takes the bait, slipping a palm under your dress to cup your breast. He presses against your nipple, a small wine tumbling from your throat to mingle with his whispered expletive. Rolling your nipple between his knuckle, he regards you momentarily, studying your dazed expression. Against him, you are an earthquake unto yourself, a cosmic shift of longing ravaging your blood, and you are pleased by it, offering him a smile of gluttony. 

Abruptly, he releases your breast, hands falling to your hips as he raises to his knees, keeping you against him. Hoseok pushes your hips roughly against his, cock a threatening force against your core as he guides your bodies down to the floor, careful to keep the shift in position painless. Once more, he thrusts at you, and you feel yourself becoming soaked, juices no longer dripping into your underwear but instead crawling slowly down to your ass. The concrete of the floor is chilled, cold enough your back and hips arch indelicately in retreat, causing you to carelessly meet his thrust. 

‘Fuck,’ he mutters, returning his hands to your front as he sits back on his knees. 

Hoseok avoids the buttons over your breasts, choosing instead to undo the buttons just beneath. Continuing onward, he takes his time unwrapping you, hungry for the pieces of your body he will mark as his. The heart of his lips parts on a silent exclamation, mouth falling open as he unveils more of your ample flesh. The light from your skin mixes with the lighthouse beacon, casting shadows of desire in his eyes, rendering him beastly. With his eyes only, he devours you; your body, the fruit of his immense craving. 

Leaving your breasts covered, Hoseok exposes your hips, your stomach, your thighs. Your hardened nipples strain against the fabric, begging for release the same way your core clenches once again around nothing at all, swallowing more of your underwear in an effort to lure him deep inside you. He meant it this way, all too aware your sensitive nipples will tease you to a point of aching the longer they rub against your dress.

The sea breeze cools your skin, so much of you exposed you feel as though you have been submerged in wind and sky. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mourn momentarily that it is not Hoseok that covers you, not yet. Still, you enjoy being naked for him like this - naked, vulnerable, safe, and his. You open your legs further, letting the wind kiss at the wetness of your cunt, your answering grin borderline salacious. How glorious to give everything and hide nothing from him. How glorious to let yourself be worshipped, his eyes starved for the pleasure of your sex. All this joy, and yet your frustration runs over, an overflow occurring with little thought. 

‘It’s not fair,’ you whine, raising your arms to reach for him. ‘Let me undress you.’

Sitting up, you press your hands flat against his chest, becoming attuned with the ample hills and valleys of his muscles. Hoseok sits still and proud, lips reddened and wet from kissing you. Your light ignites the flush that dapples the tips of his ears, skin flushed by lust and longing. Throat running dry, you swallow thickly, committing his unrivaled beauty to memory. You refuse to forget a single moment of this, unwilling to relinquish a single detail of him. 

Slowly, you ease the suspenders from his shoulders, humming in approval at the way the loose linen of his shirt relaxes in its newfound freedom, offering you more of his neck and collarbones. As your fingers work earnestly at his buttons, Hoseok takes his time admiring you, a piercing look both penetrative and heartsick. His hand comes to cover yours, unable to help himself, and he holds it tightly, raising it to his lips. His eyes remain locked on yours as he kisses the pads of your fingers, one by one, before slipping your index and middle finger into his mouth. Your lips part on a sigh that fades just as quickly as it came, feeling his tongue swirl over the digits with purpose. 

And much the same way you did not expect his touch, so too are you caught off guard when he moves your fingers from his mouth and guides it down your stomach. Lower and lower, he guides your hand between your bodies where he slips it beneath your underwear. Your breath hitches, skin wet from his saliva and clit throbbing at the prospect of tangible contact, your own hand an ominous presence resting upon your mound.

‘Touch yourself,’ he commands.

Hoseok is so often the picture of tenderness in the way he makes love to you, always gentle and always mired in the totality of his affections. Occasionally, he is sharp and, occasionally, he is in control - only on days when he is starved, only on days when he is completely ravenous. Tonight, there is no room for argument. Tonight, he makes himself an unrelenting devil, unafraid to exert dominance.

‘Eventually we will remember little of how we undress,’ he explains, pressing your fingers over your mound, dangerously close to your clit. ‘Right now, I need to see the way you will touch yourself for me when I’m no longer around. I want to see it. I want to memorize it. Touch yourself for me.’

Removing his hand from yours, he nudges softly at your shoulder, and you obey immediately. Leaning back on your right elbow, you keep your hand in place as he grabs the band of your underwear and pulls it down. Lifting your hips, your tongue licks at your bottom lip where the skin has become dry and chapped, struggling to catch your breath as your desire becomes oppressive. Falling back on your tailbone, you spread your legs wider still, proud and impish as you slide your fingers down your slip, separating your folds to display your core. 

But he sees nothing as he lifts your underwear to his nose, fisting his hands in the fabric and pressing it against his face. Hoseok breathes in deep,eyes rolling back slightly in the effort of keeping his eyes open, a growl rumbling in his chest like a warning. Exhaling into the cloth, he laughs to himself, a high pitched, small sound of amused embarrassment before he falls completely silent once more. And then, he breathes in again, just as deep, just as fervent, lips kissing at the wet patch you have created.

‘I’m keeping these.’ Easing your underwear away from his nose, he crumples the garment and buries it in the pocket of his trousers. Cocking an eyebrow in pleasure, he takes in your exposed cunt, licking his lips. ‘I’ll fuck myself with them, imagining it’s you and your wet pussy.’

‘Pervert,’ you tease, jutting your chin forward in mock derision.

‘Whore.’ Inspired by your nakedness, he begins to undress, gaze heated and focused on your wet cunt. ‘I told you to touch yourself.’

Your fingers easily breach the barrier of your folds upon their release, wet with Hoseok’s spit and your walls slick and dripping with your juices. Years ago, you would have been ashamed of being so soaked, a damp patch expanding in the concrete beneath you in visible proof. But you no longer care, not when Hoseok’s expression of thirst is so incorrigible. 

You fuck yourself with your hand, fighting the urge to tilt your head back in relief - small as it is. In the heat of your lonely nights, you find it tragic your fingers never reach as deep as Hoseok’s slender digits; yours are too slim, knuckles not nearly as rough or pronounced. And when your mind drifts dangerously to thoughts of girth, your eyes drop swiftly to the pronounced shape of Hoseok’s straining cock. Swallowing the weep of appreciation that builds in your chest, your teeth chew at your bottom lip, clinging in anticipation.

Pressing the base of your palm against the hood of your clit, you whimper. Mild and meek as it is, your fingers bring a temporary relief, this satisfaction fleeting, and it will not be long before you are begging him to fill you. 

‘You’re dripping,’ he comments, interrupting your thoughts and removing his shirt in one swift motion. ‘Are you sure you’re not the princess of water? If I kiss your cunt I might drown.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

While not truly a detailed explanation, the words carry the weight of your whole chest, erupting with little thought. Your mind offers the only logical explanation for your wetness it can manage while your body grapples with the implication of Hoseok’s mouth upon your core. 

‘Say it again,’ he orders, hands tugging harshly at the zip of his trousers.

A slow smile spreads over your lips, head cocking to the side as you admire his eager expression. ‘I’m in love with you.’

‘Again.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

This time, you say it with venom, as though you want it to hurt and hope that it will leave scars in its wake. Hoseok tugs his trousers down his thighs, rising to his knees, appearing regal and godly. Freed from its cloth restraints, his cock springs upward to rest against his stomach, and he smirks, chest and neck flushed as your focus shifts immediately to the purpled bulbous head. 

Without hesitation, you remove yourself from your folds, the ache at your core only minutely grieving the loss of your small hand. Instead, you reach for him, fingers slick with your juices as you grasp the base of his cock with a gentle squeeze. He’s heavy in your hand, rigid in the solid way that makes your walls clench and drip once more, mirroring the way your mouth waters. Slowly, you move your hand up and down the shaft, letting your thumb rub over the leaking tip with care. 

Hoseok’s breath hitches, his hips thrusting slightly into your hand as you pleasure him. His own hands clutch at his discarded clothes, doing his best to exercise his dwindling patience, and you repeat motion, admiring the smoothness of the skin in contrast to the veins of his shaft.

‘I always wonder how you will fit inside me,’ you comment, moving your hand back down and studying the way your fingers do not meet your thumb. ‘You’re so thick.’

He rolls his shoulders back in the aftermath of your praise, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Hoseok is always free with his praises, showering you in worship and stating it is his duty to devote himself to the goddess in his favor. Always, he does this, and always he seeks nothing in return. But you have always sensed, as attuned to him as you are, that praise from you sets his soul afire. One word of praise from you and you are certain he could eat the god of Daeus entirely, rendering him completely human.

‘You were made for me,’ he explains, voice taught and words strained. Unable to hold back, he fucks your fist, seeking relief. ‘You will always stretch to accommodate me, just like your life was meant to. Just like your belly was meant to, stretching with my children.’ His gaze is penetrative, deeply serious for such an obscene state of being. ‘You were meant to take all of me. My true home is inside you.’

Your grip loosens slightly at his admission, lips curling into a small pout. ‘I so desperately wanted to give you a child.’

A choked sound rumbles through his chest, and his hand reaches yours, pulling it from his cock to wind your fingers together. With his free hand, he nudges at your shoulder, easing you back to the ground with a darkness in his eyes that has your throat running dry. Automatically, your legs spread wide, offering him space to settle between them. The tip of his cock rubs carelessly against your slit, and your focus fades, mind emptying with the single desire to have him inside you taking root. 

‘Promise me you won’t give him children,’ he commands, words thick with purpose.

He walks his hand languidly down  your body, grazing over your chest, your covered breasts, to the flat of your stomach. Beneath him, you tremble, the tectonic plates of your spine shifting beneath his touch. Splaying his hand over your stomach, he eyes your skin with parted lips and a furrowed brow. Hoseok wars with himself, his thoughts tangible behind the darkness of his irises, expression swimming with strife.

‘Promise me,’ he repeats. ‘I don’t think I could survive the thought of someone else's baby growing inside you.’ 

Raising your hand from the floor, you card your fingers through his hair while you squeeze your joined hands, determined to win his attention. 

‘I promise,’ is your soft whisper. ‘I shall bear no other child than yours.’ 

Invigorated by your promise, he returns his gaze to yours and maintains it as he works his way down your body with his tongue, kissing everywhere his hands have been. Without warning, he buries his face between your legs to bite gently at your clit, this contact a thunderclap in your spirit. Back arching off the floor, your voice shatters around his name, teeth chewing over the syllables as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Your bones hum with the stimulation, very existence stinging and resonating, while he sucks your clit into his mouth, soothing the pain into a deep, soul burning pleasure. He swirls his tongue around it, mouth greedy and impatient, the fullness of his lips a heaven unrivaled by Teylim, and your hand tightened in his hair, body writhing in passion. 

Hoseok releases your clit with a wet pop before he kisses his way down to your folds, thrusting the flat of his tongue between them, impatient and hungry. Mindlessly, your legs spread wider, small gasps escaping from your chest as your lungs take in the scent of your sex and your hips roll upward, feeling your juices mix ceremoniously with his saliva. Consumed by the sheer power of your need, you feel yourself howl like a moonless wolf, rolling your hips against Hoseok’s face in erratic motions, inspired by the promise of your orgasm.

But Hoseok releases your joined hands, moving it quickly to your hips where he holds you still, growling against your cunt.

‘You shall not wander from me,’ he says, moving his lips against your slit as he presses you into the ground. ‘Keep still and let me feast on you.’

Once more, he thrusts the full length of his tongue between your walls, sucking eagerly at the juices spilling into his open mouth. He’s velvet and silk against your core, sturdy and solid while still gliding against all the places you have needed him most, and your voice careens off the ceiling, loud enough to drown out the ocean waves. Scratching your nails down the soft skin of your thighs, you fight back the desire to thrust against his face, wishing you could fuck his mouth and press yourself against the tip of his nose. All of it, every thrust of his tongue and every roll of your hips you suppress has you moaning, voice high pitched and growing erratic.

The feel of his tongue inside you inspires the deep desire for something larger, something thicker. Your orgasm is a threat in the center of your belly, spine tingling and tightening as each press of his tongue against your walls tames the beast of your racing heart. Hoseok buries himself between your legs with a diligence that borders on hysteria, holding you down and indulging in your

Still, his tongue only just hits the place inside your core that needs him most. You want him hard against your cervix. You want him deep enough to leave bruises on your softest pieces.

Tonight, you want the thick girth of his cock to splinter your bones. Tonight, you want his cock pressed against your cervix, a bruise you will carry for the rest of your life. Tonight, you want his cum so deep inside you it burns.

Tonight, you want him to love you and you want it to hurt. 

‘Hoseok,’ you whimper. ‘Please, I -’

Hoseok thrusts two fingers into your cunt beside his tongue, silencing you with the rough skin of his knuckles spreading your walls even wider. The contrast between his fingers and tongue elevates your hips from the floor with force, disregarding the strength of his hand. You are beastly beneath his ministrations, finding yourself caught in a wild hour and feeling as though you have abstained from him too long. He forces your hips back down with the palm of his hand, groaning against you loudly enough you feel his voice reverberate up to your tongue, and you cry out, distraught. 

Having left the top of your dress buttoned, your nipples strain against the cloth, sensitive and sending electric ripples down your arms, your shoulders - all along your nerves. Another breeze moves through the lighthouse, and it kisses at the sheen of sweat that has broken along your hairline. 

Desperately, you want him. Desperately, you need him. But still it’s not enough. 

‘God,’ you keen, ‘I need to cum.’

Hoseok hums in understanding, the vibration of it moving deep inside you once more. 

‘Oh,’ you whine, so small and so close to breaking. 

Hoseok’s tongue leaves your cunt, only his fingers remaining, and he moves his mouth to your clit where he sucks at the swollen nub deftly. Again, your hand scratches down your thighs, harsh enough to draw blood. Red and angry, the sting of these scores against your flesh makes you smile, a manic and monstrous expression you hope your father, Daeus, and all the gods can see. Frustrated and feeling the coil of your orgasm tighten, your other hand slaps into the ground, gripping at the linen of Hoseok’s shirt. You dig your nails into it, pretending it is him, his skin, his cock, anything substantial to torture him as he tortures you.

Against your cunt, you feel Hoseok begin to laugh, wearing the smirk of the devil as he sucks diligently at your clit.

His name begins in your mouth and dies on an exhale, eyes open wide as you stare up at the ceiling. Vision glazed and vacant, your body trembles as your orgasm lingers dangerously on the precipice of your nerves, skin growing hot and bordering on a point of pain. You hear yourself crying, you feel yourself pressing harder and harder against Hoseok’s eager mouth, and you struggle to discern if the rush in your ears is your blood as it moves swiftly to find him or the ocean that works swiftly to keep your coupling secret. 

And then, without any warning at all, Hoseok once more latches his teeth to your clit.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a wave of heat in your blood and skin, your juice cascading into Hoseok’s waiting mouth. This orgasm is an eruption, a shockwave in your soul that leaves you trembling while his relentless motions of tongue and hand milk you to completion. The tears you have held back begin to spill, soaking your cheeks as you soak his lips, a great wave over you that leaves you breathless.

‘Come up here,’ you gasp. ‘Come up here and kiss me.’

Slowly pulling his lips and fingers from your cunt, you hiss as he eases his way up your body. Using the tip of his tongue, he traces the shape of your parted lips with careful strokes, still messy and dripping with your slick juices. At your core, his cock presses, the contact sending tremors up your spine and causing a whine of pain to splinter in your throat. Granted permission by the sound alone, Hoseok delves his tongue inside your mouth and demands you taste yourself - you, your cum; him, his breath, his spit, his flavor; all of it, mixed together. Your walls clench as you kiss him, devouring him, as your folds seek to lure his cock inside you. 

Gasping against his mouth, you feel his tip press roughly against your core, your walls still sensitive but your body and spirit eager for his fullness. Hoseok pulls away from your lips to whine a low expletive, his resolve shaking and unstable, close to shattering by the force of his desire. His lips part on his sighs, breath slow and shallow, and still shimmering with you. Already, he had devoured you, drunk his fill and yet he still appears starved. As he lingers above you, Hoseok rolls his cock against your walls once more, a challenge, a reminder that he is exhausted by the prospect of not having his fill of you.

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you press your fingers into the soft skin of his back and muscles, letting them wander down and down until you grip the rounded flesh of his ass There, your grip tightens, threatening to push him inside you lest he waste any more time. 

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe. ‘I need you to fuck me.’

‘You want me to fuck you?’ he mumbles, running his tongue over your jaw before biting at your chin. ‘Tell me how badly.’

‘Please,’ you whimper, rolling your hips up against his cock, a warning against the tip. ‘I need you so badly it hurts.’

Wordlessly, Hoseok thrusts himself inside you to the hilt, balls pressing against you with a loud slap. You feel him shake inside you, body shivering with the sudden heat enveloping his cock. Hoseok’s moan is a deluge, an ecstatic exclamation howled victoriously into the juncture of your neck and shoulders, and you smile blankly at the ceiling, mind empty of all things that are not the feel of Hoseok against and inside you. 

His stillness is a tease you cannot endure, and so you clench yourself around him, his teeth biting at your skin as you release and repeat, urging him to move. The feel of his mouth at your skin, the feel of his heaviness pressed so roughly inside you, as your cunt leaking over him, back down into the floor where it coats your ass in its stickiness. Still, you pay little attention to anything other than his immense girth as it stretches you, your walls strained to accommodate him like always. 

Feeling you drip over and under him, he pulls out and thrusts back in, a knock at the door of your cervix and the sudden feel of him so deep as you groaning his name. He challenges you, repeating the motion as your bodies slide back along the floor with the force of his thrusts, the piercing sensation stealing your very breath. You are gasping as you clutch him, breasts moving against the fabric and nipples aching with the sensation, letting him push your body to its limits. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ he grits out, an echo of your earlier promises.

‘I love you,’ you choke, the words incomprehensible. 

‘Say it again,’ he hisses, executing a piercing thrust that has you gasping for breath, nails digging into his skin for purchase.

Squeezing your eyes closed, your hands move to the wings of his shoulder blades and you cling to him, a flightless bird. ‘I love you.’ 

When you hear yourself say it, you realize you are crying, your voice a sob of affirmation around tears of grief. It should be impossible to love someone this much, with the devastating whole of your existence. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ you plead, barely able to speak around the way Hoseok punishes your cervix, a punishment for abandoning him. 

‘I love you.’ Equally affected, his voice warbles over the words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he presses the words over and over into your pulse. 

‘I love you, I love you.’

Slowing his pace, Hoseok accentuates his proclamations with brutal thrusts against your cervix. Slow as his thrusts may be, they are full of power and force, a pain against your walls and muscles ensuring you will never be free of him. Tears falling freely, your breath is as sharp as his thrusts, a burn in your lungs as you struggle to contain the cosmic feeling of love you hold inside. 

‘I know you like it when it hurts,’ he grits out, thrusts relentless. 

All you can manage is a nod, a moan, the dig of your nails into his skin, the acknowledgement that you would prefer it if he shattered you. You would prefer it if he left nothing behind of you at all.

‘I know you like it when I stretch you, when you can’t walk for days.’ 

‘I do,’ you nod weakly, legs automatically spreading wider - until your hips hurt, until you are certain your bones will bruise from the way you have spread yourself open just for him. 

Hoseok moans as a harmonic response to yours, the sack of his balls slapping diligently at your ass. You cling to him, holding him against you in despair, the vice grip of your hands matched only by the grip of your walls. Pleasure ripples through your synapses, an overload to your very synapses, little else registering in your mind apart from the places Hoseok penetrates within your core.

‘Do you want me to cum inside you?’

The pleading nature of his tone does not go unmissed, his own anguish evident in the way his hand cups your breast and his nails scratch at the flesh, wishing for entry. 

‘Yes.’

‘What if I get you pregnant?’ he muses, though he remains completely sincere. What if I fuck my baby into you? What will they do?’

‘I hope you do.’ It takes all your strength to speak without losing your breath. Once more your orgasm has started to build gloriously around the pain of taking him against your cervix, and you need him to know that you mean it. ‘I don’t care if they scorn me.’

‘I’ll do it,’ he bites out - not a threat, but a promise. ‘I’ll knock you up, fuck my baby into you. They’ll have to watch you grow someone else’s child. What a sight, huh? Bet Daeus would love to see you deliver another man’s baby.’

‘Do it.’

You see yourself, heavy and round with his child, glowing brilliantly like a constellation unto yourself. Carrying your offspring, you would be a supernova, the cradle of the very universe and you would celebrate it with every word breaking over laughter. Daeus would snarl at you, a sneer reserved for your growing belly; your father would find himself in a rage so beautiful and blinding, you think darkness would befall the earth, this winter sudden and unforgiving. The other gods would ignore you, this you are confident of and would take with pride. You’d tease them with it, finding yourself immensely confident in the power of being pregnant with Hoseok’s child. 

You’d carry his child as though this were your real pilgrimage within Teylim, your true purpose. 

And Hoseok, you know, would be your chosen king, god of the sun because he deserves it.

He deserves you. 

‘Yeah?’ he moans, hips picking up pace as he begins to chase his own high. Still, he loses none of the strength in his motions, seemingly motivated by your affirmation of desire.

‘Get me pregnant,’ you plead, biting your lip with shame at this impossible ask. A fool’s errand, a childish plea to change the way of things. ‘Make me stay with you,’ is your final whisper.

Together, you both fall silent as he fucks you with vigor, silent and awestruck by the violence of your coupling. With each thrust, your voices become a symphony of your union. Gripping him tightly, you hope it reaches the gods, your father, all of Teylim. You hope they see the way Hoseok fucks you, absolutely unforgiving. You hope they see the way you make a mess of yourself for him, that you have already decided on a husband and he is no god, no hero, but a man who loves you as though you are the whole of the sky. 

Hoseok trembles against you, and you sense his orgasm approaching in the way he gasps against your skin, thrusting harder and faster and, somehow, harder into your core. You are burning with the ache of containing him, but your own orgasm is cosmic, making its steady approach with each brutal thrust. Hoseok wanted to live inside you, wanted to give you a child, wanted to watch you swell with him alone - and it is these thoughts that send you over the edge, the universe apart from Hoseok melting into a white. In this orgasm, there is no air, no sea, no sky - only Hoseok; his breath, his smile as you cum around him, his ecstatic laughter.

You imagine yourself pregnant, learning to contain a sun inside your womb. You imagine him laughing, hands and lips at your belly. You imagine him happy. You imagine him happy, and your orgasm moves over you with the strength of a lunar tide, the same way your tears move over your cheeks, torn between sobs of bliss and sobs of grief for a life you will not have.

Hoseok continues to thrust into you with purpose, the last of your orgasm leaving you in shockwaves as the motions of his hips overstimulate your walls. It hurts to contain him, not nearly as much as it hurts to leave him, and you dig your nails into his skin, demanding all you can from him with enthusiasm. The world is tilted on its axis as he cums inside you, wave after wave of seed spilling into your core as you stroke tenderly at the hair at the base of his neck. Teeth chattering, you mumble his name, shivering as he spills himself inside you, and you pray, woefully, that he kept his word and left you with a piece of him.

‘Mine,’ he says, stilling inside you as the last of his orgasm quakes his mortal form. 

As his cock begins to soften inside you, the hand at your breast moves gently to the buttons. Your skin burns with the heat of the saliva he dripped against your neck, and he presses his cheek against your neck as he unbuttons the last of your dress. Exposed, now, to the sea breeze, your back arches slightly as the wind and his breath moves over your nipples. His hand cups your breast, too tender for the way he fucked you, and you are certain he is imagining your breasts full of milk, your body heavy, his wish granted, too. 

Pulling his cock free, you both grimace at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your breast to instead smear the cum from your core that leaks from between your walls over your folds. He strokes the tips of his fingers against your slit, the stimulation making you hiss and writhe beneath him in retreat, before you are crying out his name, his fingers dipping inside to scoop his cum from your center. As he pulls his hand free, his studies his fingers carefully, smirking not unlike the devil, before he guides them over your breasts and lets it drip.

And then, without warning, he begins to write his name along your breasts.

‘I am sanctifying you,’ he explains. ‘Anyone who pulls down your clothes will find me. I have already laid claim to your temple.’

Your smile is composed entirely of sadness, a hope that has made a home of despair evident in your expression. Holding his hand in yours, you guide his soaked fingers between the valley of your breasts to your stomach, where you hold him still.

‘With any luck it will be visible here,’ you offer, hoping he cannot hear how remorse has consumed you.

Hoseok frowns. ‘My biggest fear is that you do become pregnant and that I cannot see my baby grow in you. That I won’t be able to raise our family with you.’

Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head to the side in consideration, battling the new found grief that consumes you. ‘Did you not mean it?’

‘I meant every word,’ he promises, moving his hand from your stomach to cup your cheeks. ‘I’d put twins inside you if I had any control. But you are mine, our family is mine. I curse the gods for taking it from me.’ Hoseok falls silent, and you press your cheek into his hand, turning to kiss his mount of venus in encouragement. ‘The day I met you I saw my life with you,’ he continues, so quiet, and so unlike your Hoseok. ‘You are half of my soul.’

Abruptly, Hoseok lifts himself up and pulls away from you. As he rises to a stand, he is still warmed by your touch, the glow from your magic still draped over his muscles, turning him amber and yellow. He’s incandescent, as much as a god of light as you, more regal and more royal than any man who was lucky enough to slay a beast in your name. Running a hand through his hair, he regards you with dark eyes - embers burning in his rises of lust and longing, devotion and despair. He says nothing at all as he moves, naked and vulnerable, to the back corner of the room where he gathers his tools. 

‘What are you doing?’ you hum. Reaching your hand out, you curl onto your side, writhing in the pillow of your discarded clothes, beckoning him back to you. ‘Come back to me. It’s cold without you.’

He says nothing at all as he roots around, pulling out a thick screwdriver and hammer. 

‘He will give you rings,’ he says, more to himself than to you. 

The words come softly, barely a whisper that cuts through the air. Settling in front of the fog bell on his knees, he begins to hammer the end of the screwdriver into the metal, carving and carving. 

‘He will give you flowers,’ he grits out bitterly, ‘and will see your smiles in the morning. He will bring you food and nectar, and he will watch you glow your brightest. He will watch you glow each time you remember my hands on you, my lips on you. In bed, he will watch you glow, thinking it’s him, letting his own ego grow so immense he will get off on his own power rather than you. But he won’t know, not like I do. Not like we do.’

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your naked body, the breeze from the sea cooling your dampened skin. Licking your lips, you watch as his muscles strain with his pound of the hammer. Brow narrowed, jaw set, and hands gripping his tools with confidence, he marks the metal with a certainty born from a man learning to combat loneliness. 

‘He won’t know,’ he continues, words a grunt of demand and dominion. ‘No one will know that each time he touches you, you are comparing him to me. You will be remembering me. I want you to remember me. I want you to think of me, I want you to look for the light from this beacon, and I want you to outshine the anguish. I am destined to look for you the way so many people look for the North Star. My every storm is guided by you. So don’t you dare forget.’

The fog light spins overhead, clouds passing by and changing the refraction just enough to see the shimmer against his cheeks. Hoseok weeps as he carves, jaw unflinching, and hands steady with determination. A lump rises in the center of your throat, chest tight with the pain that comes from loving someone too much, entirely too much. Gasping for air, you move towards him, wanting his body pressed tightly against yours in comfort.

On instinct, you give him light - more light, so much light. From beneath your skin, you become torchlight, neon, candle flame; wrapping yourself around his back and shoulders, you rest your head on his shoulder and cling to him, becoming sunlight and firewood, banishing the darkness from his mind and mouth, a lamp unto his feet to lead him home. Pressing your lips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you feel him tremble beneath you, mindlessly leaning into you for more, endlessly more. 

As you turn to watch his hands, your own tears soak the corner of your eyes.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe, regarding his craftsmanship.

‘He can’t give you light like I can,’ he murmurs, suddenly so small and so young, weakened suddenly by the ever looming distance between you. ‘He can give you all the falsehoods of husbandry, but he can’t give you light. He can’t give it back. He is not your equal like I am.’ 

Beneath the careful, diligent work of his hammer and screw, your name begins to take shape, just beneath his. The markings are deep, thick scratches unlikely to erode in any substantial length of time. Wind and sea will not wipe your names away, nor snow nor sand. Not even heaven, you think, could cause your names to smear. 

When he finishes, the bronze bell glimmers beneath your light, your names encased in a heart he artfully crafted. You imagine it in a wedding band - silver, and not gold. Gold, you think, is too soft and too malleable. The gods prefer it, a sign of eternal wealth and glory, but gold bends. Gold is too impermanent, value placed in all the wrong places. You would give Hoseok platinum, would give him silver, would give him bronze. If you had the power to move the earth, you would give him iron and steel, anything equally as enduring as the way you will be immortalized in ardor. 

‘I can’t believe this is all I will have of you.’ Hoseok stares at your names, at the jagged lines he carved into the bell, mourning. Shoulders slumped and hands folded neatly in his lap, he laments quietly to himself as though in prayer. ‘At the end of all this, this is all I have. Your name and a memory.’

Raising your hand to his chin, you turn his face to yours, biting your lip as he cries freely, tears staining the softness of his cheeks with salt. 

‘No one will have me, not like you.’ ‘He can take me, he can take my light, he can take my name, but he will never have my heart. All of me belongs to you. I am yours. Swear to me that you are mine.’

The hammer and screwdriver fall to the ground at his knees, a loud clank so disruptive for the quiet paradise you have built at the top of the lighthouse. Enveloping you in his arms, he buries his face in your neck, lips at the center of your throat - a place he has been so often this night you are determined to call it his home - tugging your hair back to make space for him. 

‘I’m yours,’ he swears passionately. ‘Not a single person will have me the way I’ve given myself to you. In a thousand summers, not a single one will pass in which I’m not yours.’

The conviction in his words undoes you, your eyes wide as you stare up at the ceiling, at the base of the light, feeling as though there is no difference between the moon and the sun, not anymore. For you, they are interchangeable, each burning in an hour of love; which is to say, there will be no hour that passes in which you do not love him, no hour passing in which your light does not belong to him and his does not belong to you. 

‘I wish I could stay like this.’ These affectionate speeches tumble from your lips, your mind empty of misgivings, wishing to be as honest as you are naked. ‘I wish I could stay this way, forever touching you.’

‘Time is meaningless,’ he muses, detached and distant, even as you hold him. ‘For me, this is the end of my life. There will be nothing else after this. For me, it will always be this way. My arms will always be around you.’

For him, you are glad. For him, you are relieved that there shall be no other moment than this. 

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

The seaside feels like the edge of destruction after so long away from it, gravity pressing at your bones. From where you stand, the unchanging nature of the earth makes a mockery of your nerves, the past beating against your sternum like a second heart.

You are poised and still, relearning the way the earth is unforgiving compared to the heavens. Too long have you been removed from such a tangible feeling of living, such a tangible reminder that you, too, are made of flesh and blood and all the things that break so easily, just like ocean foam. Your toes bury themselves into the rocky shore, rooting yourself like a tether as a promise that you will not run away, that you will not leave - not again. As though it senses your presence, the sea rages beneath a cloudless sky, the sun’s rays reflecting off the water, illuminated without any need of you.

The lighthouse looms along the hilltop, and you worry your bottom lip as you study its eternal guardianship. All these unchangeable things, loyal without you, and yet you stand here, begging for acceptance. You can hear Hoseok’s words like an echo, words not yet spoken but you anticipate them, the lump in your throat sinister in its tenacity. 

How dare you, he will shout, and the tears on his cheeks will be your parting gift. How dare you haunt me here when I did not expect you, when I had already worked so hard to give you up. 

Promises in the dead of night are easy to make when the daylight has yet to take anything from you. The earth remains unchanged but you are evidence of the passage of time, and you are certain Hoseok will have warred with himself so completely your memory of him is little more than a ghost of a man who died the moment he woke to find you missing. 

He used to be able to sense you here. Back when things were new and things were simple, back even at the end, he would sense your presence along the water and come running, a smile already at his cheeks in welcome. Stroking your naked hip with the tips of his fingers, he told you all about his skin would tingle when you were close, a static on his tongue that told him something too important to be contained by the earth was waiting for him. Even before he knew you, before he knew it was you, he felt it, as though he had been made just to know you, to find you. 

It used to be the same for you, a pull to the shore and a lightness of being that always made you stand here, in this place, waiting. Weeks passed before either of you had any idea you were near one another, before you’d even introduced yourself, and now it is the same. Your body combats the change in gravity with strength, though you realize too much has changed in you for the weight to feel the same. 

The hair at the back of your neck stands on end, rising in anticipation as the air becomes thick and heavy. You feel him approaching, a magnetic pull against your back that has your posture shifting, pulling you to your full height regardless how heavy all of you feels. Still, he doesn’t close the distance, and your lips part around a sigh, silently asking him to reach for you, to touch you.

But he won’t.

Not when he thinks you are the same as you were. Not when he thinks this is all just a memory.

Closing your eyes, you turn to face him, feeling tears burn against the lids. Hoseok makes no movement towards you, and, unable to hold back any longer, you open your eyes once more, weeping at the sight of him. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you study the way he looks at you, the way his gaze traverses your form with a pained expression, the knot in his brow visible even from a distance. He’s far from you, far enough you cannot touch him, but he, too, remains unchanged - still beautiful, still glorious, still the sun king himself, and you choke back a bitter cry at the way it seems only you are the one who was allowed to change.

‘Hello,’ you try, offering a weak and unsteady smile.

Hoseok says nothing as he closes the distance, eyes trained at your middle, focused enough you feel him move inside you. He lets himself get close, close enough your skin calls out to his eagerly, begging him to touch you. You can smell him on the wind, the same musk, the same ambergris, the same dust that you remember, and your hands twitch at your sides, straining to reach out to him. 

‘What is this?’ he manages, not looking you in the face.

‘I -’ A small cry cuts you off, and you press your hand to your lips, forcing yourself to keep your composure. 

Hearing the anguish in your voice, he raises his gaze to yours and you see the way he mirrors your pain, confused and bewildered. 

‘Tell me what this is,’ he whispers, fierce and demanding. 

‘It’s exactly how it looks,’ you explain, feeling terribly pathetic.

It’s so simple, you know. Absolutely obvious. Your pregnant belly sticks out far enough now it leaves a distance between you, a gap where your child grows the only thing that separates you. 

‘Did you come here to mock me?’ he spits, leaning forward with venom.

‘No!’ you exclaim, holding your hand up in surrender. ‘I…’ you drift off, uncertain where to begin. You decide, perhaps, it’s best to begin with the truth. ‘The baby is yours.’ 

Hoseok’s expression shatters, a thousand different feelings breaking over his face before he settles on disbelief and quiet rage.

‘Why would you show me this?’ he pleads, sounding so small. ‘Have I not suffered enough? You knew I wished for this and now you tease me with it?’

‘I’m not here to show you anything, Hoseok, and certainly not to cause you pain.’ It’s shocking how tired you are becoming, putting in the effort of not reaching for him, not weeping for him, not rushing to an end you both deserve. ‘They...rejected me,’ is all you manage in the end.

Hoseok sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes watering as he lowers his focus to your belly once more. ‘They stopped the wedding?’

He speaks so softly you almost do not hear him over the rolling tide, and now, you cannot be contained. In one swift motion, you reach for his hand twining your fingers together. Your hold on him is unrelenting, not allowing him a single escape. Feeling his palm against yours is all the motivation you need, a resurgence of energy you have been missing for months.

When you continue to remain silent, he narrows his brow and persists. ‘Are you unmarried?’

‘They were going to go through with,’ you explain quickly, not allowing him any room for interjection. ‘They were going to make me marry him. Daeus even said he’d give the child to a human family, make it go through a Hero’s Journey to join us back in Teylim. Gods, the fight I put up to stop that from happening. The Fate Tying went poorly,’ you finish with a sardonic grin.

Gently, you tug Hoseok against you, forcing his stomach to bump against yours. His heated breath cascades over your skin, and you sigh in pleasure.

‘The child is completely human, my love,’ you whisper, eyes searching his face. ‘The Moirai refused to untie us.’ Incredulous, you laugh, looking out over the grassy hill in wonder. ‘The old crones are always right.’

The weight of your explanation steals Hoseok’s breath, and he falls against you, clinging to you as he sobs into your shoulder. Holding him close, you remember the last time you were in this position, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your hands clutching him, unwilling to be removed. As though sensing the great wave of his emotion, the child in your belly stirs abruptly, pressing against your womb to get his attention. 

You jump slightly at the feel of it, and Hoseok looks down, laughing, incandescent in his joy. He brings his hand to your belly, touching softly at where your child had just been, and he sniffles, looking to you and back down, cheeks reflecting the light you suddenly cannot contain. 

‘It’s a girl,’ you state, always wondering how he would react to knowing he’d have a daughter. ‘Our daughter kept me with you.’

Falling to his knees, he holds your belly in his hands and presses his forehead against its peak, too overcome with emotion to utter a word. Instead, he simply breathes deeply, wrought with bliss. Lowering a hand to the crown of his head, you thread your fingers through your hair and think that this, this precise moment, is what it means to be a goddess.

This is what it means to truly be sanctified.

[quillsanddaydreams]

puzzle dates

regulus black x reader

—author’s note: I adored writing this. Like a lot. Requested by an anon who wanted some Regulus fluff with a potter!reader. @scvrllet my dearest, gave in prompts for it and a message by @nuttytani darling inspired it. So what happens when you meet Regulus, your friend years after hogwarts? Happy reading ;)

—warning(s): mentions of food and drink. gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren’t used). reader is James's sibling but it's hardly there.

—word count: 1,546

It was raining heavily. You had been out for about an hour, getting groceries for the week. Whispering a spell, making sure no one was viewing in your direction, you watched your wand transform into an umbrella and hurried away from the shop. Stalking towards your house, you tried to make sure not to let your bags get wet. You didn’t notice the man standing in your way.

“Ah, shit—” you began, not looking up far too busy to check whether or not something fell. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t notice where I was going—”

“Potter?”

You gazed up meeting someone you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Regulus.”

For a minute you two just stared at each other. He had changed. The thin, gaunt boy you saw as a child was replaced by a handsome man with the same striking eyes you used to know so well. You shook yourself.

“What— what are you doing here?” you said gesturing towards the damped hair and drenched clothes. Extending your umbrella over his head you continued, “You’ll get sick.”

“Worried about me, are you Potter?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Why don’t you think the soaked-to-the-bone look works for me?”

You chuckled.

“You didn’t answer my question,”

“Ah, I was here on ministry business but I guess I won’t be able to get it done now,” he said slowly looking around. “Was trying to find a place I could apparate safely. Too many muggles around.”

You furrowed your eyebrows noticing your surroundings again.

“Come with me,” you suggested. “My apartment is nearby and you could dry off before leaving.”

Regulus looked like he wanted to refuse but you cut him off.

“You’ll only ruin your health here, come with me— also it’s been a long while since we talked,” you pointed out and Regulus looked at you curiously. His mouth quirked upwards and he nodded. The two of you moved to the quaint three-story building, climbing up the stairs before reaching your door. You muttered in some spells before hearing a click.

“Don’t trust muggle locks?” Regulus said smugly as you rolled your eyes.

Waving your wand, you started up the fire; the warmth tickling your skin. Regulus took to drying himself off— murmuring incantations. You took to keeping the bags in the kitchen, putting up a kettle for some tea. Taking off your scarf, you sighed and sneaked a glance at Regulus who was now standing awkwardly looking around the house.

“You know you can sit, right?” you asked him. Shaking his head a little, he went to sit down in front of the fireplace. You took out some cups and an assortment of tea bags placing them in a tray along with some cookies you had bought the same day. Regulus smiled as you came in.

“Which one will you have?” you inquired as he gently took the cup from your hand. “Ah, still can’t have tea made by anyone else?”

Regulus threw you a grin.

“It’s a disastrous habit.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tea pleasantly hot against your throat. Rain thrummed at the roof, the noise filling up the place.

“So—”

“How—”

You laughed. Indicating at him to continue, you raised the cup to your lips again.

“So what have you been up to?”

“I’ve been managing dad’s business. Since James joined a quidditch team, there was no one to help so I stood up. I quite like it, it gives me enough room to be creative;” you said softly. “How about you? Tell me something other than your ministry job.”

“Well I tried my hand at painting,” Regulus said after thinking for a while. “Remember how you used to tell me to try it?”

“You had the most gorgeous handwriting and the diagrams you made were always so perfect. Could you blame me?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, smiling as dimples formed on his cheeks. He looked beautiful like that. Curls of hair falling over his forehead, relaxed and carefree. You missed it.

“What?” he asked his cheeks a rosy color. You shrugged.

“Nothing, it’s good to see you after all this time,” you said, ignoring how your stomach tickled. “Remember how we promised to stay in touch?”

“Oh yes,” Regulus said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Right after your brother glared at me and threatened to hex me if I don’t stop talking to you.”

You snickered.

“You know he is quite the idiot,” you countered. “And my parents would’ve been proud if I brought you home.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Brought me home, huh?” he said as you bit your tongue, looking away. “Did you fancy me, love?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying and failing to keep a straight face. It was something about the way he called you love that made you feel like a teenager with a crush again.

“The point is,” you pressed. “The point is that it never mattered what James did or said. He couldn’t do anything to keep us from being friends.”

“Yeah, friends.” Regulus breathed. You almost missed it.

The room fell silent again and you could hear the pitter-patter of the rain. Regulus picked up a cookie before speaking again.

“Do you still like doing puzzles?” he said as your eyes lit up.

“Yes, I do,” you said, reminding yourself of all the times the two of you spent together. “I never quite got over it after all the hours we spent together. Sirius used to mutter ‘mental’ whenever he saw us working over one. Especially since we always took up the one which seemed impossible to do.”

Regulus grinned, nodding.

“I don’t think he ever had the patience for it.”

“You know;” you said pondering. “I have bought a puzzle recently. Would you like to do it with me? For old time’s sake.”

“And here I thought it’s because you enjoy my company,” he said with a smug expression. Your heartbeat erratically and you found yourself hating how he still affected you.

“So that’s a yes?” you said, overlooking his jab. Regulus clicked his tongue accepting.

You got up slowly taking out the box you had bought a few days earlier. It was a fiery phoenix, looking at you intently. Regulus rubbed his hands and sat down on the floor beside you. He gasped a little when you put the box down.

“You know, I bought the exact same one about a week ago,” he said, helping you open the pack. “It’s missing a piece.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and Regulus shrugged.

“Should I bring another one? I have—”

“No no let’s do this one, it was fun.”

Folding your legs, you sat down beside him, your arms touching. Starting from the corner the two of you put together pieces. A sense of calm eloped you. The house and everything with it seemed to blur away. Just you, him, and the puzzle remained. It was different from your memories though, neither of you were children anymore. The adoration you had for him somehow hit harder now. Your hand touched his several times and you beamed at him as the puzzle came together.

“Aha!” you exclaimed putting the last piece in its place. It looked pretty. You looked over at Regulus, who was holding a stray piece in his hand, oblivious to what you said.

“Reg? Earth to Reg?” you called out as he finally looked over at you.

“I’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate,” he said as you felt your ears heat up.

“What—”

“This,” he said, indicating the odd puzzle piece. “This is the exact piece my set was missing.”

You snorted trying to deflect how your chest was filled with butterflies.

“Oh? And that makes us soulmates?” you asked, amusedly. “Since when did you believe in soulmates even?”

Regulus had the decency to blush.

“Well didn’t you always say our lives were a big puzzle?” he started. “Right now, you have a portion of mine.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh at the cheesiness or pull him close at the very same moment.

“You’re a dork!” you said poking his head with your finger. The boy smiled but it was strained. His demeanor changed. You could practically see his walls building up. Did you say something wrong?

“Reg,” you said urgently. He hummed in response. “Was that soulmate thing a joke or you meant it? Even if a little?”

Regulus avoided your eyes.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, yes it does.”

“Yeah well then I like you,” he said, looking down. “Always have. But I know you don’t and…”

You put a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“I do,” you said as his stormy grey eyes landed on your own. He cradled your cheek, leaning in tentatively, glancing at your lips. You heaved a sigh as his mouth finally met yours. Grabbing his collar, you kissed him softly. When you pulled back, you had a smile on your face.

“Now that wasn’t how I was expecting the day to go at all,” you commented, delighted. Regulus held your hand kissing the knuckles.

“We’re going to have more of these puzzle dates, aren’t we, love?” he said as you rested your head against his shoulder, interlinking your fingers with his.

“We are.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[merakiaes]

Captain Jealous - William Lennox

Pairing: William Lennox x reader

Requested: By @neemonroe​

Prompts: #20, #41, #42 from the smut-list. 

Warnings/notes: Takes place before Transformers. Not proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes. Might be a little bit OOC but I still hope you’ll enjoy it. Please reblog and comment, it would make my day <3 

Wordcount: 3806

Summary: Flirting with Will only seems to result in annoyance, but when you finally turn your attention elsewhere, he’s not very pleased. 

Growing up, your mother had always told you to be the kind of woman that, when your feet hit the floor each morning, the Devil says, “oh crap, she’s up”. 

You lived by those words every day of your life, not once backing down from a fight, always standing up for what was right, as well as holding your own and never giving up on getting the things you wanted.

To most, you were one of the strongest and most admirable women they’d ever gotten the pleasure of meeting, but to others… well, let’s just say that you might have taken your mother’s words a bit too literally.

You were absolutely relentless when you put your mind to something and one of the many people who had fallen victim to that stubbornness was William Lennox.

Having enrolled in the army around the same time and being equally as good at what you did both back in training and in the field, the two of you had always respected each other and rather than being competitive, tried your best to lift each other up.

If one of you took control of a situation and started shouting out orders, the other didn’t question it, not even when Will eventually passed you in ranks. Because your minds worked in the exact same ways and so it didn’t really matter who gave the orders since the orders would be the same in the end, anyway, no matter whose lips they passed.

But you did differ in the way that Will much preferred to keep his personal life separated from his professional life, while you had a habit of letting them merge together, which inevitably resulted in you bringing the obvious attraction you felt for him with you out on the field.

Will was one of the people who thought you had taken your mother’s advice a bit too literally. That was what he told you on a daily basis as a response to your endless flirting, at least. But you knew better; you knew that he, at least to some extent, reciprocated your attractions, thanks to the few moments you had shared back in training.

“It was all fun and games back then”. He liked to say in that stern, military voice he had picked up the second he was promoted to Captain. “But this is the real deal. This is serious, and this, this thing you’re doing, is unprofessional.”

Ever the workaholic soldier, he was, at this point basically having dedicated his entire life to the job with no time to spare for fun. But no matter how hard he tried denying it, you knew that the two of you shared something, and so did every other member of your squad.

The only ones who seemed completely clueless to this were the newbies and as you gradually lost hope that your stubborn captain would ever admit and give in to his feelings, you found it to be a breath of fresh air to be able to spend time with people who weren’t constantly making suggestive remarks and fueling the attraction from your side.

One, in particular, caught your eye; tall, dark and handsome. He had yet to gain more muscle than the bare minimum and was, admittedly, kind of lanky. He was one year younger than you which was way too young seeing as you’d otherwise not even go for guys the same age as you, but he had banter and shared your flirty, dirty, cheeky sense of humor which, most definitely, made up for what he lacked in life-experience.

Will had smugly watched all of the newbies try to make a move on you only to be shot down quicker than your enemies, but then the last of the soldiers had swept up by your side, put a long, lean arm over your shoulders, and hit you with the cheesiest pick-up line he had ever heard. 

“How you doing, mama? You must be a parking ticket, ‘cuz you got fiiine written all over you.”

While Epps, Fig and the rest of the team broke out into laughter at the man’s poor technique, Will’s face transformed from smug to stone-cold murderer. 

Why? Because he knew that you didn’t want a man to tell you the stars reflected in your eyes or that you took their breath away with your beauty.

What you wanted was someone who could make you laugh, and when you threw your head back and joined in on the seemingly endless laughing fit, he was overtaken by a feeling so strong that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

And you noticed the change of demeanor immediately. The long, hard stares were only the tip of the iceberg, as was the way he would move closer to you and find a way to touch you as much as he possibly could without making it inappropriate or suspicious. 

The most extreme part of his change in behavior was how hard and strict he suddenly became with the rookie, who had quickly earned himself the reputation of your very own lapdog. 

He got scolded even for the most insignificant of mistakes, always got put on parade as the “example” in exercises in which he was usually thrown to the ground by Will himself and totally and completely humiliated.

Of course, those moments were just poor thinking on Will’s part seeing as you, besides being incredibly flirty and witty, also happened to be one of the most caring members of the team. 

Not only did he have to watch you laugh until your stomach hurt at the rookie’s bad jokes, but he also had to watch you comfort and reassure him after his one-on-one’s with the Captain.

And still, Will couldn’t stop himself from making the same mistake again and again, the consequences every time being that he was stuck watching you fuss over the younger soldier, because no matter how much it vexed him, he knew that you knew why he was acting the way he was. 

It was all a game to you and he played along because he wanted to keep showing you that he was the better option. Unluckily for the rookie, though, Will’s method of showing dominance was through physical contact.

You knew what Will was doing, how he was trying to punish the rookie, mildly and legally, of course, while simultaneously trying to show you that he was displeased with what was going on; that he wanted it to stop.

To a start, you only showed interest in the rookie to fuck with Will, but you quickly realized that he was actually a fun guy to hang around.

You enjoyed spending time with him. Not a second with him went without laughter and it was nice to be able to have fun like that for a change, and soon enough, you’d more or less forgotten about the silent war between the two of you.

You probably knew that it wasn’t a real interest, judging by the way you didn’t even care enough to remember his name, but it was fun to have another banter-buddy.

You’d had an identical friendship with Epps since the start, but two people could only keep the creativity up for so long; after a while, you just couldn’t come up with witty remarks and sarcastic jokes, anymore.

Up until then, Will had still kept his disapproval about the whole thing lowkey, because as long as you were only doing what you were doing to make him jealous, you were still interested. 

But when you started making moves on the rookie with genuine interest, without looking over at Will while doing it, it was no longer a game. 

While already on the topic of games, you were completely useless when it came to cards. It didn’t matter what game you played; you’d always end up as the loser. And although you enjoyed the banter that followed the teasing of your poor card-playing abilities, your patience wasn’t endless.

“Alright, I’m calling it.” You chuckled after losing the fifth game of the evening, dropping your thick deck of cards onto the table in front of you.

“Really? But it was going so good for you.” Epps wasted no time in firing back with feign-surprise, to which all you did was deliver a sharp slap to his head.

The table broke out into laughter. “You had that coming.” Fig shook his head, successfully starting a metaphorical war. 

You chuckled at their antics and pushed back your chair, getting to your feet and stretching your arms above your head.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You said, and wasted no time in starting to collect your things.

The rookie’s attention was instantly piqued, and so was Will’s, who had been playing in silence nearly the entire time you’d been there.

“You know, I need to shower, too.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. “So, I should probably join you. You know, save water. Provide some extra heat.”

“Oh, yeah?” You raised a playful eyebrow and chuckled. “Tempting offer, but I’ll have to take a raincheck on that. Glad to know I have options, though. Maybe next time.”

Without waiting for his reply, you snatched your jacket from a nearby stool and playfully flicked his forehead, before turning around and walking away, completely oblivious of the pairs of eyes that kept watching you from the table you had just left.

You went about your shower routine like you always did; get undressed, wash hair, wash body, turn off the water in-between washes, get dried and get dressed again. Sharing the water with so many people could be hard, so you couldn’t really take the long, thoughtful showers you did when at home.

You were out again as quickly as you had gotten in and took your time getting lotioned and dressed, getting as much self-care into your night as you possibly could when at a military base.

“What are you doing with the new kid?”

You should’ve been significantly more aware of your surroundings as a soldier but in your defense, everyone dropped their guard to some extent when in a safe environment, so the scream that came out of your mouth at the sudden sound of a voice was completely justified.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You swore as you jumped around, hastily reaching for your damp towel to cover your bare chest.

Coming face to face with a furious-looking Will, you glared. “Knock much?”

He didn’t look amused in the slightest, crossing his arms over his chest. “Knock, knock. Answer my question.”

Your mouth snapped shut at the dominance behind his voice and your eyes instinctively flickered to his biceps, veins and muscle more defined than ever in the way he had positioned his arms.

You were, however, proud to say that you were quick to come back to your senses, your eyes snapping back to meet his.

“Do you, maybe, oh, I don’t know, want to turn around?” You asked sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.

If you wanted him to turn around to gain privacy for yourself or simply because you couldn’t stop glancing at his bulging biceps, you didn’t know, but no matter the reason behind your wish, he didn’t move an inch.

“Answer the question.” Was all that he said, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m just having a bit of fun.”

“Do you like him?” His questions kept shooting out as quickly as bullets and, again, you couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes.

“He’s fun to be around.” You said simply, giving him a slightly annoyed glare before turning around and dropping the towel to continue getting dressed.

Will didn’t even try to cover the fact that he was checking you out, eyes shamelessly traveling your form and taking his sweet time to remember all the details his eyes could reach. 

It wasn’t like this was the first time one of you saw the other only partly clothed – you know, it was kind of inevitable for all of you to catch a glimpse of each other’s birthday suits once every blue moon - so once the shock of his sudden appearance had melted off, the nervousness followed.

“But do you like-like him?”

At the sound of that question in particular, you couldn’t help but snort.

“What is this? Third grade?” You threw him an amused look over your shoulder. “Say that I do like-like him, do you think I should ask Epps if he can give him a note asking him to check yes or no on whether or not he’d like to be my boyfriend?” You gave him a sarcastic pout.

At this point, Will was completely fed up with your inability to take anything seriously and spun you around by your arm. 

Luckily, you had just finished hooking your bra behind your back, said bra thankfully covering your chest from his view.

“Can you not make a joke about everything?” He asked, your wrist firmly held in his hand. “You have to realize how bad this looks to our superiors. First me, and now him. You can’t go around flirting with everyone. It makes you look unprofessional and uncommitted and that, in turn, makes it look like I can’t do my job.”  

“Is that really what’s got your big-soldier-boy panties in a twist, though?” You narrowed your eyes challengingly, and slowly fought your wrist out of his grip to, instead, grab a hold of his hand.

Further proving your point, he did nothing to protest, the glare remaining in his eyes, but the rest of his face being overtaken by exasperation.

“I just don’t get it.” He said. “You spend all this time pushing my buttons, being completely insufferable with your never-ending flirting, and now you’re suddenly interested in someone else?”

“I think the real question here is why you’re suddenly interested when I’ve spent so much time trying to get your attention to no avail and now, what? You suddenly want me because I might be interested in someone else?” You raised an eyebrow, and couldn’t deny the flash of heat going through your body when he lowly growled.

“I’ve never not wanted you.” He objected. “And you’re not interested in the rookie.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I know you.”

“So what you’re saying is, basically, that you can’t be with me, but I also can’t be interested in anyone else.”

“We both know that relationships in this work are highly frowned upon and-“

“Highly frowned upon, but not forbidden. You’ve still had the option to choose, and you actively chose not to act on it. Just making that clear.”

“I haven’t acted on it because it’s wrong.”

“If it’s so wrong…” You started, a sharp shiver going down your spine as your bare back hit the cold, wet tiles. “Then why did you just corner me in the shower?”

During that short minute of back-and-forth arguing, he had done just that, the two of you now standing chest against chest in the darkest corner of the room.

Your face was pulled into a determined glare, as was his, and the tension and intensity behind your shared stare was enough to have all of the previously discussed issues forgotten in less than a microsecond.  

The proximity between you in combination with the fact that you were at an obvious disadvantage in height and size made you feel both hot and cold at the same time. You felt like prey under his stare. You found yourself liking it all the while you were hating the feeling of being so powerless, and your inner conflict only added to the tension.

“You have no idea how much willpower it’s taken me to keep resisting you, to keep turning you down.” He spoke slowly, and lowly. “Each of my thoughts about you are improper and you put all of those thoughts into my head every day, pulling my strings, pushing my buttons, just walking around being… you.”

In one smooth motion, he intertwined his fingers with yours, and your eyes automatically flickered down to watch your now joined-together digits; rough and calloused meeting even rougher and more calloused.

“I like you. I care about you. More than I should.” He continued, prompting you to look back up with an eyebrow raised.

“And?” 

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, exasperated and impatient. “Do you want me to say that I want to be with you? Because I do. I. Want. To. Be. With. You.”

You snickered at his over-dramatic emphasizing, finding it nothing short of amusing that he’d been protesting and telling you how wrong it was only seconds before, and now he was more or less proclaiming his love for you. That, more than anything, just showed how stubborn he was.

“Took you long enough.” You mused, leaning your head back into the wall and smirking, all while looking him straight in the eye. “It’s just too bad that I’ve grown so fond of the rookie. You know, he’s quite-“

Before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by Will’s lips crashing into yours, roughly and urgently. In the process, you were pushed even further into the wall behind you, and as the sudden force threw you off balance, you instinctively reacted by moving your arms up to his neck to hold yourself in place.

In return, his hands moved to each side of your waist, big, warm hands squeezing down on the flesh that had long ago turned cold from being bare in the nippy air for so long.

You had always imagined what it would feel like to be touched by him like this, but not even your wildest imagination could compare to the intensity of the tingles that spread through your stomach and chest.

Your hands slowly sneaked up the back of his neck, your body reacting automatically, but just as you were about to tousle your fingers in his hair, the moment ended when he pulled away.

Both of you were left panting in silence, the only sounds available for your ears to hear being your ragged breaths and the rhythmic dripping of the shower beside you.

“Wow, Captain.” You were the first one to speak. “I knew you were hot for me, but try to keep it in your pants. That was hardly professional.”

Just like that, your sarcastic persona returned as if it had never left in the first place, your eyes opening after having been closed up until then and meeting his with a playful grin.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I’m pretty sure you threw professional straight out the window the first time we met.” He pointed out and much to your dismay, stepped back. “Are you going to stop encouraging the rookie, now?”

Getting straight to the point, okay.

“I don’t know…” You shrugged casually, bringing your hand up to your face to inspect your nails and peeking up at him through your lashes with a devilish smirk. “Jealousy looks kinda good on you.”

“I’m not jealous!” He exclaimed quickly, and you immediately raised an eyebrow as a way to say ‘really?’

“I’m not jealous.” He repeated, this time in a lower, calmer tone. “It’s just, you’re mine.”

Those two words alone were enough to make you inwardly groan, like one would when eating that first scoop of ice cream after not having been able to eat any in a week. Or a day.

But in a brave attempt to not make a fool of yourself, you remained in your teasing element, raising your eyebrows and hitting him back with a feign-uncaring: “Is that so?”

To that, he stepped closer to you once again, brought his hands up to cradle your cheeks, and playfully glared.

“Stop flirting with the rookie.” He repeated.

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“I’m asking politely.” He lied.

“Hmmm….” You hummed, pretending to think only for a moment, before flashing him a shit-eating grin. “No. I’m having way too much fun watching you squirm.”

Still leaning against the wall, you carefully pushed yourself up, pushed your chest against his and watched in success as his eyes flickered down.

Taking your sweet time, you brought your hands up to his chest with agonizingly slow movements and leaned your head up to his.

His breath shook as you brushed your lips over his and whispered against them lowly. 

“You’re hot when you’re mad.”

Will pushed his head forward with obvious intentions, but before he could press his lips against yours, you slid out of the tight corner, resulting in him having to catch himself on the wall left behind.

With a proud smile, you walked over to the bench by which you had previously been working on getting dressed and snatched your shirt where it laid.

“You’ll drive me crazy before all this is over, you know that?” Will spoke from behind you, which only made your smile widen.

Quickly pulling on your shirt and collecting the rest of your things, you turned around and walked back up to him where he still stood in the shower.

“That’s always been the plan.” You replied simply, placing a quick peck to the corner of his mouth before once again turning around and walking away, this time leaving him completely alone in the room.

He had to take a few moments to collect himself and regain his composure, and by the time he walked back out, you were nowhere in sight. 

With only you on his mind, he headed back to the table where the rest of the team were still playing cards, and sat down in the chair he had occupied before leaving.

“So, now that it’s just us here, I could use some advice on-“ The rookie wasted no time, but didn’t get to finish.

“You couldn’t handle her even if she came with instructions, kid.” Will interrupted without even looking at him, reading his mind without struggle since the person of his interest was one they had in common.

Growing up, your mother had always told you to be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor each morning, the Devil says, “oh crap, she’s up”. 

You lived by those words every day of your life, not once backing down from a fight, always standing up for what was right, as well as holding your own and never giving up on getting the things you wanted.

To some, this was an admirable quality while, to others, you might have taken your mother’s words a bit too literally.

When it came to Will? Well, he just had nothing bad to say about you. You might’ve gotten on his nerves ninety-nine percent of the time, and been completely and utterly insufferable, but God did he love it.

Taglist: let me know if you want to be tagged in any future Will Lennox fics!

[crimsonophelia]

hi basil !! can i request for an imagine with zhongli and an adeptus reader? the reader has been in love w him since the archon war but never told him bc they were scared, and when rex lapis “dies” they’re absolutely crushed. but when they see a certain funeral consultant preparing his funeral, they tell him about their friendship w rex lapis and how they regret never telling him how they felt. thank you!

featuring: zhongli x gn!reader

warnings: angst, a little suggestiveness, some god complex stuff if you squint hard enough, typos lol

published: may 14, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: hi anon! thank you for the request~ i’m assuming reader recognizes zhongli in his mortal form and confesses in that way! in canon, it’s kind of dubious whether or not zhongli explicitly told the adepti that he actually isn’t dead, but i’m going to take some creative liberties and assume that he tells some of his adepti friends that he’s alive in person, like so~

Time slowed to a halt, as the body of the magnificent dragon, Rex Lapis, plummeted to the earth from the heavens, like a meteor summoned by Celestia. You felt like it was all a cruel, eldritch dream that the Archons had cursed you with, frozen among the crowd of onlookers, as the body tumbled, tumbled, and fell in a lump at the alter. Not a single sound emerged from the crowd, as they all stared in horror.

To them, their deity, their Archon who had pulled Liyue from the depths of the abyss and ascended it to wealth and prosperity, had come crashing down to earth in front of their eyes. But to you... Rex Lapis was your world. It was not Liyue that he saved from the grasp of darkness, but rather, you, you were the one he rescued. It was you to whom Rex Lapis had shown more compassion than you had ever thought possible coming from any living being—warm hands grasping your cold limbs, pulling you up, up, and up, into the light of day, giving you a purpose. A reason to live.

The body lied there, as Lady Ningguang acted fast, trying to ease the onlookers, her own horror still painted visibly upon her usually cold and composed countenance. The corpse of your god still retained some semblance of life, you thought, scales still glimmering with a slight sheen, mane fluttering in the wind of commotion, almost as if he were glowing with vibrant life not a few moments ago.

Please. Rex Lapis. Please don’t leave me. I have so much left to tell you. 

*****

“Master!”, you called. “Wait for me!”

You ran to catch up with archon, who had begun his daily routine of assessing the growth of his blossom trees. Tianheng Shan was a favorite location of Rex Lapis, particularly in the springtime when all the flowers on the treas began to bloom, and the glowing flowers that sprouted from the ground took root and broke up from beneath the soil.

Rex Lapis, hands locked behind his back, looked back at you, as you joined him at his side.

“Hello there, [y/n]. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The archon really did behave like an old-spirited mortal, you thought. He had the mannerisms and idiosyncrasies down to a tee, certainly the polar opposite of the likes of Barbatos.

“I was just about to view the blossoms as well! They should be in season within a week or two”, you responded innocently. This certainly wasn’t an opportunity purely to spend time alone with Rex Lapis. You would never be so silly.

The both of you strolled along the banks of the river, eventually reaching an opening where tens, even hundreds, of pink-blossomed trees wove their way about the bottoms of the cavernous cliffs, some delicate petals already beginning to fall, sprinkling upon the river like memories across the stream of time.

Rex Lapis proceeded past you, craning his neck upwards to get a closer look at the blossoms. As he did so, the hood of his robe fell back down onto his shoulders, revealing long, silky locks of earthy amber resting upon shoulders as hardened as Cor Lapis.

“Quite lovely, aren’t they?”, he mused, almost absentmindedly. “These yinghua are often mistaken for taohua—yinghua do not produce fruit, and their blossoming period is much shorter.” For some reason, you thought, the archon’s gaze seemed to stray elsewhere, somewhere beyond the mass of trees.

“That is why the yinghua is renowned for its beauty. Its life is fleeting, yet so utterly captivating.”

Now, it was all gone. All that was left was a husk—a shell of the god you loved and devoted every ounce of your existence to. A mere gnarled tree that once possessed a beauty that transcended seasons.

*****

You entered the foyer of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, hearing the bell jingle solemnly as the door closed behind you. The place seemed to be rather empty, with nobody manning the front desk. Assorted coffins and various floral wreaths adorned the rooms of the parlor, a rather gauche little showroom of death. The taste and aesthetics reflected quite well the nature of the parlor’s director.

You treaded through the silent shop, wood creaking beneath your feet. The building must be quite old, you supposed.

“Hello?”, you called out. “Is anybody here?”

Before you could take another step, you heard a man’s voice coming from a back room, tucked away behind the main desk and obscured by a curtain.

“Just a minute, please. I will be with you shortly”, the voice called back.

After some further rustling emitting from what you guessed was the storage room, a man stepped out from behind the curtain, slightly ducking below the doorframe due to his rather imposing height.

Dressed in sharp formalwear, hair tied neatly behind his head in a long ponytail, he stepped forward from behind the desk. You noticed a geo vision dangling from the belt at his waist. How familiar, you thought. Something about him tugged at a string deep inside you, but for the life you, you couldn’t put a finger upon it.

“Greetings, how may I be of service to you?”, the man queried, amber eyes penetrating into you. There it was again. Maybe it was his voice, or his gaze, or perhaps just the way he carried himself, that felt so awfully familiar. His words seemed so... warm, even. Like some fond old memory that is slipping off the precipices of your brain. I must be going mad, you thought. One thousand years and still fawning over every handsome man I see.

Clearing your throat, you replied, “Yes, I am here on behalf of Lady Ningguang and the Qixing. We are looking for a supply of flowers to send off Rex Lapis at his funeral next week.” The man eyed you, curiously. “I was wondering if perhaps you could suggest a suitable flower wreath, preferably something in-season.”

Without a response, your odd companion began to walk towards an adjacent room attached to the lobby, hands crossed behind his back, quite like an old man, although he looked to be in his early thirties, at most. Assuming you were to follow, you stepped into a side room filled with vibrant flower wreaths of all sizes and colors.

The man begun to the scan the selection closely, as you stood to the side and watched him work. Oddly enough, the silence in the room wasn’t awkward, but was even quite comforting, in the same way a blanket warms a body.

Settling upon a modest, pink-flowered wreath of bouquets, he turned to you, indicating that he has decided upon a suggestion. He turned to you, those same eyes once again boring into you. Those were not the eyes of a young man, but something much, much more ancient, and for a moment, you stood frozen, frightened.

“Might I suggest the lovely yinghua? They are a personal favorite.”

White. White was all you saw for seconds, and when you opened your eyes, everything looked crisper, like a veil had been lifted. The world felt clearer, your thoughts came at you with greater clarity, but above all, it was no longer the funeral parlor manager that stood in front of you.

It was him. Rex Lapis.

The room started to twist and warp again, but this time not because of the spell of fog that the archon had cast to maintain your ignorance, but rather because of the salty tears clouding your vision, and the pressure of pure relief, joy, and utter agony that brought you collapsing to your knees, right then and there.

You couldn’t believe it. What about the body? Was that a mere fabrication ? Or was this vision before you an illusion, an echo of the past that had somehow manifested itself in front of you? Why would Rex Lapis do this to you, make you endure such pain? If he knew how much you loved him, how much gratitude you felt for him, how much you didn’t want to move on without him—

“Oh Archons, [y/n], please, I’m so, so sorry—”, he uttered. You felt a soft pressure surrounding you, as you became vaguely aware that the man you loved was now embracing you, the both of you huddled on the floor. “Please forgive me, I hate myself for it but I had to do it, and for the pain I have caused you, I’d much rather die, myself. ”

You could barely understand his words over the sound of your own weeping, forgoing all manners and letting your tears run free. You felt your master tighten his arms around your middle, as if scared to let you go, after already sacrificing you once.

You mustered up the strength to look up at him, seeing that now the dragon’s eyes themselves had become watery with emotion, something you had never seen in the archon before. The regret you felt was threatening to burst from your throat, a lump preventing you from being civil, or talking like a proper adeptus, or confessing your feelings to the man who you owed your life to. No more. No more weakness that plagued your heart for centuries. You may never have this opportunity again.

“[y/n], I beg of you, please forg-“

You pulled your savior’s face towards you, and without hesitation, placed your lips upon his. Too long, had this moment been forgone, and the both of you knew it, as the archon gradually deepened the kiss, intertwining his hands through your hair. This was life. The clarity of it all, the energy surging into you from the points where your skin touched, the infinity of your lips melding against his. This is the god you worshipped and would lay your life down for. Without him, there is nothing.

His lips, initially hesitant, grew more confident, more desperate as they clung onto yours. His fingers were soft as they traced the back of your neck, as if trying to memorize each one of your vertebrae. A feral yearning, something only a dragon was capable of, was unhinging behind Rex Lapis’ ministrations, as you proudly latched yourself deeper into him. The silence of the parlor was now filled with heavy pants and the rustling of fabric, as the two of you clung onto each other, one not wanting to depart before the other.

As you felt the breath in your lungs dwindling, having given all of your life and energy to Rex Lapis’ mortal body, you pulled yourself off of him. Streaks of wetness along his cheeks glinted in the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows. His hair had become undone in the minutes where he had been attached to you, and his face showed something of a quenched desperation. He was mortal, and he was perfect.

“Promise me. Promise me, that you will stay by my side forever.”

a/n: ohoho i hope you like it anon~ this is a little bit spicier than i usually write but tbh i kinda vibe w it

[seriouslysnape]

Hi!❣️ Your writing is pretty cool, and I love the way you portray Sev, especially!

If it isn't a bother, of course... Could I make a request? Where Snape and the Reader are expecting, and go through all the nine months (like, through things like cravings, mood swings Snaddy has to endure, buying the child's stuff and decorating the room, all of that), till delivery? Only if you'd like the 'prompt', of course.

Wish you a nice day☺️

I LOVE THISSSSSS. YES DAD SEV >>>

__

Paternal Figure

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language, Emetephobia, Sexual implications.

Word Count: 5,161

“We’re going to be one happy family.”

__

“How much longer?” Severus questioned, eyeing the pregnancy test that was lying face down on the bathroom counter.

You looked at your wrist watch that was secured on your trembling hand. You saw that it had been more than enough time for the pregnancy test to do its job. A quivering sigh flowed from your chest as you reached for the test with trembling fingers.

“It should be ready.” You replied.

Severus sat up straighter from where he sat on the bathroom floor, his blood pumping with eagerness and nervousness. You held the test to your chest for a second with your eyes closed and head lulled towards the ceiling.

You and Severus wanted a baby badly. After being married for a few years, the baby fever was becoming harder to resist between the two of you combined. It started out as a casual thing. Severus first briefly mentioned how there was still an empty room in the house that needed to be occupied. You assumed that he meant as an office space or maybe even a large walk in closet.

But when Severus suggested that the two of you turn that space into a nursery, you knew what he was implying. You had always wanted to have kids with Sev. In the beginning, Severus wasn’t totally sure how he felt about having a baby. He wasn’t great with younger people, and he was always afraid he wouldn’t be a good dad.

However, the longer the two of you were together and the more life you shared together, the more he wanted nothing more than to put a baby in you. He wanted to raise a child and teach it all the wonders of the wizarding world. He wanted your baby to be perfect.

The two of you sat and chatted for a long time about it, not wanting to rush into things. It was a huge deal after all; bringing a human into the world was a life changing ordeal. You talked it over, and you both happily agreed that you would start trying for a baby.

You admittedly became a little obsessed with getting pregnant in the first few months. You tracked your menstrual and ovulation cycles much more than usual, eventually memorizing everything down to the minute. You tried any wizard (and even a few Muggle) tricks in the book to increase your chances of conceiving, including basically pouncing on Severus any chance he was around.

If you had a free minute to spare, you were shoving him into bed and having sex with him. At first, Severus found it rather endearing that you were so excited to have a kid, but he became concerned as time went on. Getting pregnant isn’t always a quick process. Some women can so much as look at their husband and get results while some spend a better half of their life trying to even get a positive pregnancy test.

You were proving to be one of the harder cases.

With each negative pregnancy test, the more frantic you became. You felt like your fertility window was closing in on you rapidly, and if you didn’t get pregnant soon, it’d be too late. The first few negatives didn’t phase you much, but by the fifth or sixth, you were feeling discouraged. Severus was much more patient than you during all of this, holding you flush to him when you burst into tears of frustration.

It had become a monotonous and vicious cycle. You’d try to get pregnant, buy a pregnancy test, get a negative result, and fall into a weeping heap onto the bathroom floor. After one particularly hard let down, Severus stepped in. He was rocking your sobbing frame in his arms, hushing you and comforting you as best he could.

He suggested that the two of you take a break for a while, and that maybe you were trying too hard. The stress couldn’t have been good for you as a whole, and maybe taking a more casual approach would be best.

“Here’s what I’m thinking, my love. You and I take this step by step. We continue life as normal,” He said softly; “If you get pregnant then that’s good, and if you don’t, then we remain calm and try again. If much longer goes by, then we can go see your doctor.”

You nodded into his chest with heartbreaking sobs, agreeing that this had taken a huge toll on your body. You apologized for your crazy behavior, but Severus only gave a light laugh and kissed your head.

“No, no, my dear. Don’t be sorry. I want this just as much as you do.” He consoled, sweeping you off of the floor.

You were a bit apprehensive about Severus’ approach to this, but you were willing to try anything. Fast forward a few weeks later, and this was the first test you had taken since taking Severus’ advice.

“Sev...” You croaked out; “What if it’s negative?”

You were sitting against the door in your tiny bathroom, Severus sitting on the wall across from you. Your knees were almost touching one another’s as he replied.

“Then we accept it, take a few days, and try again. It’ll be alright, [Y/N].” He reassured, resting a hand on your knee in a loving way.

You exhaled deeply, already half expecting to be disappointed. You nodded, and quickly flipped the test so you could read it. Your heart hit your feet and bounced back into your ribcage at the sight. You were stoically silent as you stared in silence at the test.

Severus was watching with a clenched jaw, prepared to comfort you in case it wasn’t what you wanted to see. You kept looking at it for a few more seconds to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The double pink lines were as clear as day.

You were pregnant.

Tears filled your eyes, but they were tears of happiness. You turned the test so he could see it.

“It’s positive,” You said, smiling through the tears streaming your face; “We’re going to have a baby.”

Severus’ jaw fell open and stars of delight shot over his eyes. He himself gazed down at the test as if it would explode right in his hands.

“You’re pregnant...” He breathed out.

You nodded, wiping away at the tears with a genuine laugh. A blinding smile appeared on Severus’ face as he moved to pull you into a tight embrace. A few tears leaked from his eyes as well, the two of you mumbling “I love yous” to each other as you cried out the adrenaline and undeniably glee that you were feeling. It had almost been a year since you started trying, and now it seemed that it had paid off.

You were going to be parents.

__

The first trimester of your pregnancy was less than pleasant. While you were eternally grateful to be carrying your first child, you weren’t too thrilled about the symptoms that came with it. You were violently sick for the first few weeks, basically bringing back up anything you tried to hold down. Even something as mild as pumpkin juice was enough to make you sick just from the smell.

As disgusting as it was, Severus was by your side any time you fell ill.

“It’s okay, darling. Let it all out.” He soothed, rubbing circles onto your back as you let out another hurl.

You seemingly puked up everything you had eaten in the last ten years into the toilet bowl, a new groan escaping your chest every time you had a chance to take a breath. Severus kept your hair out of your face as best as he could, trying not to visibly grimace every time you threw up.

You closed the lid of the toilet for a minute, draping your arm over the top of it and resting your forehead on the heated skin of your forearm.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t want you to see me like this.” You grumbled miserably.

He gave a chuckle, and even though you couldn’t see it, he raised his left hand to reveal his silver wedding ring.

“In sickness and in health.” He said, wrapping his long legs around your from behind, resting his head on your back.

“I think this is an exception to that vow.” You joked, hoping that the relief you were feeling was to signal the end of today’s sickness.

Severus hummed.

“I think that this is exactly what it was referring to,” He corrected, his heart fluttering when you lifted your head with a weak smile; “Just as beautiful as ever.”

You snorted at that, but you were heartwarmed.

“How did I ever deserve you?” You asked, falling into his open arms.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

When you were actually able to have an appetite, you wanted any and every food imaginable. The pregnancy cravings were insanely hard to ignore, and it was even harder to ignore the weird things you craved.

“What...is that?” Severus questioned cautiously as he entered the kitchen, catching you in the middle of biting something he couldn’t even discern.

You looked at him with wide eyes and stopped mid-chomp. You didn’t respond, not even sure how to explain this to him. His gaze averted to the open pantry, and saw that mostly everything had been raided and placed on the kitchen counter. He had noticed that satisfying your cravings had proven to be the most difficult thus far. He inspected the food item in your hand and his stomach lurched when he realized what it was.

“Is that a treacle tart with...” He trailed off, barely able to finish the thought.

You finished his sentence, rather ashamed.

“...pickles.” You confessed.

Severus was sure that his face had turned a nasty shade of green at the thought of your concoction. He shuddered and made you put it down. You had always been creative and experimental in the kitchen, but this was too far.

“Okay, I’ve been supportive of every strange food combination you’ve come up with, but I draw the line at treacle pickle tarts.” He said with a voice full of amusement.

You whined.

“I know it’s weird, but I can’t help it. Everything we have sounds good.”

He scratched the back of his head. He never liked to tell you how to live your life, but there was no way that this was good for you or the baby.

“I don’t think Little One is going to appreciate pickles and desserts.” He noted, placing a hand on your very small baby bump.

“Little One” was the nickname that he had coined for your developing child. You and Severus had decided early on that you wanted to keep the baby’s gender a surprise up until delivery. Severus hated to keep referring to the baby as...well, “the baby”. So he had instinctively come up with all kinds of nicknames along the way.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that Little One is the only reason I want pickles.” You snapped back.

“It’s not the pickles. It’s the pickles with the tart that I can’t stomach.” Severus explained.

You sneered at him, but Severus continued before you could snark back at him.

“I’ll tell you what, princess. How about we whip up a bunch of your favorite foods, and we’ll have a nice dinner together?” He offered.

Your belly grumbled at the sound of that. You nodded in agreement, and you and Severus prepared a heavenly meal.

On top of the all day morning sickness and the nauseating cravings, your hormones were going absolutely nuts. You had never experienced such frequent mood changes like this, and poor Severus was the victim of all your emotional outbursts. It seemed as if you were blowing up at the smallest of details.

“Damn it, Sev. How many times have I told you not to leave your socks on the floor?” You hissed, angrily picking up his dirty socks.

Severus poked his head out of the bathroom that was adjoined to your bedroom, a guilty look on his face.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I left them there.” He said truthfully.

“Just like how you didn’t realize that you left the sink faucet dripping or how you forgot to put the pillows back on the bed when you got up at 10 in the morning?” You mocked, throwing his socks into his laundry basket.

He caught how aggravated you were, and exited the bathroom to talk things over. Severus didn’t want you to be upset with him, but he knew you were just going through a lot of changes and couldn’t really control your emotions well.

“I assure you that I didn’t do those things on purpose,” He said, not even an ounce of irritation in his voice; “I’ll pick up after myself.”

His light and friendly tone made you realize that you had overreacted once again. Severus had not once lost his temper with you, no matter how bad you had nagged him. Your shoulders slumped and you looked at your feet that were close to being covered by your steadily growing bump.

You felt bad for being on his ass about something 24/7. He was trying his best to help you and make your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. You yelling at him all the time wasn’t fair to him.

“I’m sorry, Sev. It’s not you.” You uttered for the hundredth time in the last three months.

He only smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Not to worry, my dear,” He mewled; “I can handle being screamed at for as long as it takes.”

__

The second trimester was actually easier than the first as far as symptoms goes. Your morning sickness had subsided, you had adapted to your ever changing hormones, and you weren’t tempted to eat everything in sight. While the symptoms were still there, they didn’t completely dictate your life.

You and Severus were well into the finer intricacies of planning for the arrival of your baby boy or girl. You were in the process of converting your extra bedroom into a nursery, which was a challenge for Severus. He was a shitty interior decorator, which wouldn’t be an issue if he hadn’t insisted that he decorate the baby’s room.

Severus wanted to be as involved as possible, never wanting you to think that he wasn’t there for you. You were ecstatic with the idea of him taking charge of the nursery, but you soon realized that wasn’t a good idea.

“We are not painting the baby’s room BLACK, Severus.” You protested, eyeing the cans of black paint on the floor.

Severus had gone out and bought all kinds of paint supplies. Paintbrushes, paint rollers, stencils, tape, etc. He was adamant about doing it all by hand (as opposed to using magic; a suggestion that he was horribly offended at), and had taken it upon himself to buy everything.

You had forgotten that there wasn’t much color interest in the world of Severus Snape.

“And why not? There’s black in other parts of the house.” He argued.

You put your hands on your hips, your back beginning to arch from the weight of your five month swelling belly.

“Yes, but this is a baby’s room. I don’t think he or she is going to like it,” You retorted back; “It’ll be too dark and...scary. I want Little One to be comfortable in here.”

Severus looked around. Perhaps, black was too extreme for such a small human. He looked a tad defeated and disappointed in himself. He was trying his hardest. You caught his dejected look.

“Oh, honey. I know you want it to be perfect,” You said, taking his face into your hands; “We can do it together. Maybe we can sneak a bit of black in here somewhere.”

He nodded.

“So, what color should we paint the room?” He asked.

You looked around this time, biting your lower lip in thought. You wanted to have gender neutral colors, and something that would be cozy for the baby.

“How about we paint the walls white? That way we can add pops of color wherever we see fit.” You said after a moment of thought.

Severus agreed, but was holding to your promise to have at least some black in the room. The nursery was an ongoing project, lasting about a week and a half. The crib was the last item placed in the room, and it was complete. You and Severus stood in the middle, basking in the finished nursery.

“It looks great, S.” You said, looking at the black painted changing table and the mobile above the crib.

“It does. I’m glad you helped me.” He admitted, eyeing the moving pictures on the walls.

You wrapped your arms around your husband’s waist, his lips falling to your head in response.

“We’re going to be one happy family.” You announced.

Severus laughed into your hair, his heart beating with hope.

“We already are.”

You had officially made it past the halfway mark, and your due date was quickly approaching. There was still so much to do, and not a lot of time to do it. Your bump was already huge, and you still had another trimester to go. You were getting to the point where swollen feet and an aching lower back was crippling your ability to go out and do much.

You were laid out on the sofa with Severus rubbing your tired feet. You were fighting the aching pain in your back and legs from the unevenly distributed weight from your midsection.

“I really need to go out today.” You winced as another round of soreness flooded your body.

Severus’ careful hands continued to massage the aching muscles of your feet.

“Why, love? You can surely go on a day where you’re feeling in higher spirits.” He said.

While he wasn’t totally wrong, you were at the point where every day was the same as the last. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t have a “higher spirits” day for a while.

“I suppose I could. But I need to get baby clothes, pacifiers, bottles.” You grunted, exhaling heavily.

You really needed to do this, but you just weren’t feeling up to it. Then you had an idea. Since Severus didn’t get to put all his effort into the nursery, you thought you could give him a second chance.

“Severus, could you possibly go out and buy baby stuff today?” You suddenly asked.

You were honestly expecting him to say no, considering he knew nothing about baby fashion. Instead, his face brightened and he leapt up from the couch.

“Of course! Why didn’t you just ask?” He queried, giddy with joy.

You laughed at his anticipation, giving him a few instructions.

“Alright, Sev. Don’t buy anything ridiculous or anything that’s made of uncomfortable material,” You said; “And do NOT get anything Slytherin related. As much as you would like it, we have no clue what Little One is going to be sorted into when he or she is old enough.”

Severus groaned.

“Not even a-”

“No Slytherin stuff.”

“Well, what about a-”

“No, Severus.”

He groaned again, but accepted your request. As badly as he wanted his daughter or son to be a Slytherin, there was always the chance that they wouldn’t be. He’d love them regardless of what House they were in, but it would tickle him to death if they were a Slytherin.

So Severus went out into Diagon Alley with extra pep in his step, jittery as he went from store to store getting stuff for his little girl or boy. Severus had never paid much attention to baby clothes, and now that he was looking, his heart was swelling with excitement.

There were so many cute sweaters, onesies, socks, and pajama sets that absolutely made Severus burst with joy. He would pick out about a dozen outfits to start out with, knowing that you’d have to go buy more once the baby was older. But each time he thought he had enough, he’d spot two or three more outfits that he just had to buy.

He could not WAIT to see his baby in all of this stuff. It had obviously been a while since he was a child, and he was amazed at all of the new things that had been invented to make parenting easier and childhood more fun.

He bought a pacifier for every day of the week, and enough toys that would last your kid through kindergarten. He bought blankets and stuffed animals and anything else that a baby MIGHT want. Your baby was going to be spoiled to the max.

Truth be told, Severus went a little overboard with his purchases. He came back with no less than ten bags full of baby materials. You not-so-gracefully lifted yourself from the couch when he entered, several bags hooked onto each of his arms. He had a proud smile plastered on his face.

“Oh Merlin, Severus! What all did you buy??” You questioned, eyes bugging out at all the goodies in front of you.

“Clothes, pacifiers, bottles. Everything you asked for.” Severus stated innocently, you rifled through the bags at all the baby wonders.

“And toys, blankets, and stuffed animals.” You finished his list.

You looked at Severus with an entertained smile, his cheeks glowing red.

“I just want Little One to be happy.” He shrugged meekly.

You let out a soft “awh” and captured his soft lips in a sweet kiss. He already loved this baby so much that it melted your heart.

“With you as their dad, they absolutely will be.”

__

You had never been happier to enter your third and final trimester. You were in the home stretch, and you were so excited to meet your baby. You were about to pop like a balloon and, quite frankly, you had enough of it. Don’t make any mistake about it, you had cherished every moment of being pregnant, but you were ready to get some somewhat decent sleep without being kicked in the ribs every 5 minutes.

Although, with a newborn around, you weren’t sure how much sleep you would get.

Over the course of your pregnancy, Severus had become more and more protective the more your baby grew. Now that your due date was only a few days out, he jumped at any sudden movement or noise. He had eyes and ears like a hawk. He came barreling into the living room, completely naked and dripping with water from where he had just stepped into the shower.

“Darling, what was that? Are you alright?” He asked frantically as if he had just heard an airstrike.

You looked up from your book, readjusting the pillow that was underneath your massive belly to support the weight.

“Severus. I sneezed.” You declared.

Relief washed over him, and he ran a hand through his damp hair.

“Oh. Do you need anything?” He asked you for the millionth time that evening.

You laughed shortly, nodding your head.

“Yes. I’m fine,” You said; “Please try to enjoy your shower.”

Severus had been on your tail nonstop for the last three weeks. Even though most pregnancies go the full 40 weeks, your doctor said that labor could be expected once you hit 36. Sev didn’t want you out of his sights in case you went into labor early. He didn’t want to miss anything.

You had begged him to break away just for a minute, for his sake and yours. He padded back to the shower, ignoring the way his heart was thumping in his chest. You went back to your book, grinning to yourself at your anxious husband.

Once Severus was showered and somewhat calmer, you had grown tired and were ready to get in bed. Growing and carrying a baby had really tanked your energy levels, but Severus didn’t mind going to bed early. As long as he knew you and the baby were safe, he was content.

He laughed out loud when you slid into bed wearing only a pair of panties and a t-shirt that you had used a spell to stretch out. It was the only sleepwear that fit you due to your risen belly.

Getting comfortable was next to impossible, but you had gotten used to it over the last few months. You didn’t mind, because you knew it’d be back to normal soon. Severus was eyeing your tummy, looking to you with expectation once you were settled.

“Go ahead, Sev.” You giggled, knowing what he wanted.

Every single night since you had been pregnant, Severus would rub your belly and tell the human growing inside of you goodnight. Severus shimmied down to where his face was in front of your bump. He lifted the shirt up to reveal your bare belly. He left a kiss on the stretched skin, carefully placing both of his hands on you.

“Hello in there,” Severus said, smiling proudly when he felt the baby move at the sound of his voice; “Are you still kicking your mother?”

You even nodded at that, thinking about all the times that the baby had soccer kicked your ribcage or hit your bladder just right. You placed one hand over one of Severus’, and put your other in his hair as he spoke.

“I’m so ready to meet you. I love you so much already. Other than Mum, I never thought I could ever love someone this much,” Severus spoke gently; “You two are my whole world.”

You rubbed his hair as you listened. Severus had been nothing short of amazing during this process. He was more than you could ever ask for. This baby was going to be loved endlessly.

“I don’t know how great of a father I’ll be. I didn’t exactly have ideal parents. I admit that I don’t have a model to go off of. But I will love you no matter what,” He spoke; “I hope you sleep well, Little One. I can’t wait to see you.”

He pressed another kiss to the side of your belly, before returning to your side. You were misty eyed at his words, turning so you were facing him.

“Oh, Severus. You’re going to be a wonderful dad. I’ve seen the way you love this child,” You assured; “Little One is going to love you. And there’s no one else I’d rather bring a baby into this world with.”

Severus still had a modest amount of nerves, but it was drowned out with joy. He was so ready for this baby.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you, Sev.” You whispered back.

You leaned to kiss him, but just as your lips touched, you felt a contraction and a massive gush of fluid flushed out between your legs, soaking both of your lower halves. A startled gasp fell from your mouth, and Severus eyes grew about three times their normal size. You both knew what that meant.

Little One was about to make his/her entrance into the world.

__

Getting to the hospital from the time that labor began was a blind rush. Severus was positively panicked, which didn’t help your attempts to remain relaxed. He had spent 9 months preparing for this moment, and he was still caught off guard.

The hospital was busy, but you had a team of nurses and doctors ready to go. You were wheeled into a delivery room, your doctor checking to see how dilated you were. He let you know that you had one of the fastest dilations he had ever seen, because you were already at 10 centimeters. There was no time for an epidural or a spell.

It was time to push.

The nurses got your legs into delivery position, Severus taking your hand as the doctor and nurses guided you through it. You gave a hard push, screaming bloody murder and squeezing the circulation out of Severus’ hand.

“You’re doing great, my love. Keep pushing.” He praised you.

Your head fell back onto the pillow with gruff, heavy breaths. You were filled with a pain you couldn’t describe. You needed this baby out. The doctor gave you a second to rest, before instructing you to push again. You took a deep breath, every muscle in your body tensing up as you pushed. Severus scrunched his nose at how badly you were hurting his hand, but he didn’t dare say anything.

The baby’s head and shoulders were out, ear splitting cries echoing through the room. It was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Severus peeked between your legs, and you saw the way his face filled with pure love as he saw your baby for the first time.

“Oh, [Y/N]. Little One is gorgeous...” He breathed, wanting you to push again so you could be able to see; “Push again, darling. You’re almost there.”

The nurses and Severus were encouraging you as you pushed hard a few more times, your baby finally entering into the world. Severus was a little too squeamish to cut the cord, but he watched every single movement as the doctors and nurses cut the umbilical cord and got them cleaned up. You were breathing heavily, your entire body shaking from the strenuous action. You whimpered out to Severus, who had a better viewpoint than you did.

“Is the baby okay? Please tell me the baby’s okay...” You whined out, desperate to see him/her.

Severus was close to crying, but it was the happiest he had been in his entire life.

“The baby is perfect. You did so well, my love.” He said, kissing your sweaty forehead.

The chaos in the room died down, and one of the nurses had swaddled the crying baby. She gave a huge, kind smile and set the baby in your arms.

“Say hello to your baby girl.” She cooed.

Tears fell from your eyes as she was placed into your arms. Her cries dwindled out at the feeling and sound of your and Severus’ voices. She was the most stunning baby you had ever seen. Severus felt something awaken in him. A side of him that had been itching to come out.

“A girl...oh, a girl.” You cried happily.

Severus sniffed, holding back tears.

“She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.” Sev croaked.

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her small baby whimpers making his heart explode. The two of you sat in silence, raking over your baby’s perfection. After a minute, you looked up at Severus with a smile.

“I just thought of something we have to do.” You said.

Panic flashed over his face again. You had done everything he thought. What could there possible be to do?

“What is that, darling?” He acquired.

You giggled, kissing Severus’ cheek.

“We’ve got to pick a name for her.”