#slowly changing into something…..Different

[animeshotsh]

Broken Feelings | Various Arcane x Soulmate!Reader | LUMEN AU |

Lumen AU belongs to @motthe

Here is what a Lumen is + more information

Summary: Feelings cant be hided.

Warnings: Depression - Sad - Insolation - Comfort - SFW - Grammar mistakes - F/C = Favorite Color -

VIKTOR

While Viktor may seem distant and cold he is able to catch the subtle changes in your Lumen.

How its usual F/C seems to bright less and less with each passing day, or how it avoids his touch.

Viktor knows something is going on in your life right now. But he wont push it. He has his own boundaries, knows how angry he gets when these are not respected. He will give your Lumen space and let it come to him. But wont abandon it.

Its going to keep a close eye on it, talk to it about his work and sometimes ask how its feeling. Will also give soft reassurance words to it. He wants you to feel safe and happy again.

Once your Lumen starts to be more open it will be on Viktor's shoulder or rubbing against his cheeck. Looking for comfort. Its light will slowly bright again and Viktor wont be able to hide his smile.

Meanwhile with you, his Lumen is worried sick. Its brownish color flickers as it follows you around and makes sure you are eating and sleeping. If you are having a rought day then it gets protective. Have you see a Lumen push someone ? No ? Well some did and it was funny as hell. The person was bothering you and Viktor's Lumen could not take it.

Its going to be around you unless you ask for space, its going to listen to you talk about your problems.

Its going to be there for you.

JAYCE

Jayce's Lumen is a reflection of his personality, bright, playfull and smooth. Its yellow-honey color vibrates when its with you or when it feels like you are happy.

Of course it changes when it notices your recent mood.

While its going to try and do its usual approach once it sees its not working Jayce's Lumen will show a different side. One thats more sensitive, it becomes more silent and its glow will tone it down to a more comfortable one. Its going to let you know its there and wait for you to be ready to talk to it or to just hold it.

Jayce notices the change in your Lumen fast. It floats at a lower heights  like you have the word on your shoulders, its color its not bright and seems to fade, specially during centrain hours of the day when Jayce deducts you are feeling more sad or stressed.

Like his Lumen, Jayce will take yours between his hands and whispers sweet things. He knows the chances that you listen to them are low but he still wants to do it.

If he sees it being tired he will carry it inside his pocket and have it by his side all the time.

VI

Vi is slow at noticing it. Your F/C of your Lumen seems to keep being bright and still looks for her touch and also flies around her. Its only when she sees how it seems to slowly be losing energy that she notices it.

Vi is lost. She is worried you are sick or worse, its going to keep it on her side and caress it. May try to find someone who knows more about Lumens to know whats going on.

On your side, Vi's Lumen gets protective and worried. Wont stop following you, being close to you, it will settle down on your shoulder or head and will push back anyone who makes you feel just a tiny bad.

Vi's Lumen has always be a protective one over you and a bit agressive on others. Its just its nature.

The first time it sees you cry its going to float around like crazy, being worried and not knowing what to do. Will end being besides you and try to clean your tears.

JINX

Jinx's Lumen its explosive and energetic with its blue color zooming everywhere but going back to you once it finds itself too away.

However, its also a Lumen with a complex self, once it notices you being down its going to slow down and go to you. Its no longer zooming, it tries to make you laught and cheer you up and when it does happen it changes blues indicating how happy it is.

Jinx's loves your Lumen, loves its color and how it behaves. Not only does it understand her and protects her but it also engages in her shenanigans.

She is quick to catch up when it starts to show signs of you not feeling good. And while she is lost she does not want to lose you. She will take your Lumen and talk to it like there is no tomorrow, show it her last works, bombs, draws. And will do some soft talk to. Telling it how important you are to her and how she wants you to be safe and happy.

STEB

Steb's Lumen is calm like him. Its green-fish color tends to not change unless he is stressed and it keeps a close distance to you.

While its not cold, his Lumen is silent when it comes to comfort. Its not slow to see your mood change. Its going to be closer, cuddle against you and kind of zoom around your room to check if there is a problem or if someone is causing you to feel bad.

Steb sees your Lumen being less and less flashy (as he likes to call it) it does not go to him or stay with him. More like it avoids him. He wishes he could talk to it but knows its impossible to get a response. Will read more about them while keeping a close eye on it. Once he concludes you are passing by a hard time is going to softly approach it and talk to it. Telling it, it does not have to fight this alone, that he is here for it and will do his best to help it (and you).

EKKO

Ekko's green Lumen is strong and up front. Its not strange to find it checking your surrondings or the people around you to be sure you are safe. Its cute to see.

When it comes to you feeling bad, his Lumen is able to notice and help. Its other side Will show, a more gentle glow, being slower and keeping itself close to you. It needs to feel your body against it.

While it cant talk will try it best to do something to communicate with you (may even try and take a pen and write) or will flick its color or the lights (one flick yes, two flicks no).

On Ekko's side he notices how your Lumen has become more depend on him. He tends to leave it when he has missions with the firelights but now it follows him around. Even when he tells it, its too dangerous and it cant come.

This will make things worse and Ekko will find himself looking for it like crazy one day when after a mission it not where it usually is.

Once he finds it Ekko will notice how all of this has been strange, so it will take it and apologies, telling it how he failed to see you were suffering and just wanted him (your soulmate) to comfort it.

Ekko will try to pass more time with it but still wont take it to missions, however he becomes more open on having you on his shoulder or hair when he is out in the firelights safe space. Once you Start to do zoomings again he will smile and be happy that you are starting to feel better.

He also promises himself to never let it (and you) be sad or suffer alone. He wont lost you.

Final note: I love this AU :) I may write for of it in different scenarios. Thanks Motthe for creating it and let other writers work with it. 💞

[metranart]

After that damn dick pic, Gojo broke the window and entered… and basically, TAMED you. That’s how you felt. Satoru Gojo on top of you, pounding your pussy like his life depended on it, not even taking a break to rehydrate as fat drops of sweat started to fall on the feverish skin of your back. His hair was damp, strands sticking against his forehead, cheeks burning and heavy balls drumming against your ass, he should be exhausted, had already come five times, three inside and two outside, but his pace didn’t falter- like that smile on his face or his firm hands on either side of your hip or his muffled moans every time he felt close again. 

“Satoru~” you choked, voice weak and lazy, and he licked his lips expectantly. “Satoru….” You repeated, disoriented and you could hear him laugh, amused before his impatience worn out.

“What do you need, baby?” 

He asked in a calm that was almost impossible considering how agitated his thrusts were. How the hell did he make himself sound so in control while being so out of control at the same time!?

Your words caught in your dry throat. 

“Tell me, don’t put yourself in mute, (y/n)—” he insisted, slowing the pace of his hips but making each thrust more intense, more precise, making sure to hit that soft, spongy spot inside you that made your pussy clench around him and your fists clench the sheets, penetrating you slowly, deliciously slow, as if he wanted you to taste every vein and ridge on his cock. “Come on, tell me little one, you need it deeper, faster, you want to change positions, you want to ride me…. Would you like me to rub your clit again, pull your hair, come on tell me, I’ll do whatever you want—”

“—Get on top of me.”

You forced yourself to say it, embarrassment forgotten, an eyebrow rose on Gojo's forehead, surprise written all over his features, pleasant surprise. And before you had to repeat it, you felt his warm, strong, massive body on top of you… it wasn't enough—

“…Closer….” 

“Huh? I didn’t hear, love.”

Gojo leaned down further, holding himself up on his palms so as not to crush you, the height difference between you was alarming, so alarming that when he stuck his cock in you it felt like a forearm entering you. He almost came just remembering it.

“Like this? Or would you rather—…”

“Closer!” You cried against the sheet, “closer, Satoru, crush me—… hold my wrists and—… subdue me,” he could clearly make out the shame smeared in your broken pleas, “as if I were yours… and no one else’s—”

“—YOU’RE MINE AND NO ONE ELSE’S.”

The sorcerer stressed against your ear, his heavy body falling suffocatingly on yours, you could still feel his flexed arms holding most of his weight, still worrying about not crushing you under his immense mass of muscles, and that put a smile on your lips.

“Is this close enough?” He sewed the words against your sweaty hair, breathing in the delicious scent of your sweat and your essence, his large hands wrapped around your wrists. “Now, do you feel mine already?”

He asked, and his cock spasmed inside you, crawling deeper. 

“If anyone saw us right now, they would think the worst of me-”

“-That you sent me a picture of your dick, broke the window of my apartment and came in uninvited…no Satoru, why do you think anyone would think less of you?”

His laughter rumbles against your ear, “oh but honey, you didn’t put up the slightest resistance, I barely walked in, and your eyes went down to my crotch-”

“You had just sent me a dick pic-”

“And of course, you couldn’t wait to see the real thing.”

“Gojo!” 

You scolded him, but it wasn’t far from the truth, that picture had unleashed something in you that made you almost sexually assault him when you had him in your territory. Little was the dialogue before you were both naked, and shorter was the declaration of love, before you buried yourself in him— YOU! pushing him down on your bed to crawl on top of him and slowly begin to bury that massive cock inside you. YOU, pushing your body down as he holds your waist to keep from tearing you apart since you insisted of not letting him prepare you first, YOU, using all your strength to in one sitting swallow entirely that massive cock, making Gojo shriek almost painfully at how good it felt but in reality, you loving it more as it stretched you like never before. YOU, starting to ride him slowly but acquiring a wild, back and forth, that squeezed an almost animalistic squeal out of the sorcerer before he came way too fast, mortifying him.

“I-I’m sorry, (y/n)… it’s j-just that I like you SO damn much.” 

You didn't want excuses, you didn't need them, you just wanted him to keep fucking you and that's what he did, for hours, bending you in every position imaginable, your legs over his shoulders, your face against the wall, against the floor, against the kitchen counter, against the fucking floor. The obvious bed being left as the last bastion of your carnal sin. 

“You’re not going to move?” You ended up asking as Gojo just stood there enjoying the suffocating closeness and the even more suffocating feeling of being inside you.

“I’ve already come five times, even I have a limit—” he chuckled, “this is nice, just the way it is.”

You pouted, frowning a little. “Friction is more pleasant—”

“—I DON’T want it to end.” 

His statement shocked you. 

“I don’t want to wake up from this beautiful dream…” for the first time since you met him, his voice sounded fragile, “this dream where you want me, and you call me yours—” your gasp was smothered against the mattress, “just five more minutes, grant me this, darling.” His sweaty forehead pressed against the back of your head. “I know I sound pathetic but—” 

“You are mine, Satoru Gojo, and no one else.” 

You offered without hesitation and could clearly hear him gasp, unable to utter a word at your declaration, the same words he had said to you not more than five minutes ago. But they were not the result of passion or heat…. and that was what had him stunned. 

“……Marry me?” 

Was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but laugh as it came back to you, the image of a young Satoru asking you the same thing incessantly through the years.

You tilted your head to the side to glance at him and smiled. You could feel his heart beating excitedly, euphorically against your back.

“You’re not going to stop until I’m Mrs. Gojo, are you?”

“Even if you never are, I’m not going to stop.”

He kissed the words against your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks, up to your lips, which he devoured insatiably, and already sure of his victory, the friction was imminent, as well as him cumming hard and deep inside you, the muscles in his abs tensing against your back to then feel his warm mouth signing your flushed cheeks in a rain of sweet kisses. 

Both, spent and comfortable, Gojo stroke your hair in affectionate pets until your breathing even out to then in the gentlest of twists wrap you in his strong arms, rolling you over to use you as his blanket, his warm and sweaty and soft and his, blanket. The delicious tickle of his nails tracing your back as you rested on him almost sent you to the world of dreams.

“—See everything that a dick pic caused.” You spelled in a lazy voice.

Gojo grinned from ear to ear, a dorky smirk on his face. “If this caused just one, let me send you the other fifty I have but never sent you.” 

You shook your head, in reprehensible amusement and his eyes obsess over every inch of you, how your brows furrow, how your mouth twitches up, and how he feels so irrevocably blissed out by you.

“Silly boy-”

“Your silly boy?” 

You can feel his expectation, thickening the air around both and you grin, granting him the words he wants to hear so bad since he was but a child.

“MY silly boy.”

Satoru glued to your body, letting you sink deeper into his greedy embrace. Maybe being Mrs. Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be so bad, maybe.

➡️🔞 NSFW art of this drabble in my patr30n

Link to PART ONE of this story

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sibling

Chapter 4 | Sleepy Studies

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

“What is your sister like?” Viktor asked during one late night.

“Why?”

“Simply curious. I was an only child.”

“Okay,” Jinx said slowly, looking Viktor up and down. “Well, they’re like. . . Geez, I don’t know. I mean, when I was little I spent waaay more time with them than with V— We’ve always been close. I don’t really know how to describe it.”

Viktor noticed her cut off and raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t question.

He tapped something Jinx wrote twice. She looked down and her lips curled up. She wiggled her pencil in her hand for a moment before she flipped it and erased what she’d written, replacing it with something else.

“Perhaps phrasing it differently will help? What is it like having siblings?” the question phrased plural on purpose.

Jinx shrugged. “I mean, you’ve got someone to look up to, I guess. Someone who’s your friend and your bully all wrapped up into one present and shoved in your hands but the wrapping paper is kind of wet which is weird because that’s not how presents are supposed to be, right? It’s kind of off putting because it’s kind of gross. Then you open it up and look at the box and the box is weird too. It’s like purple instead of brown. And then when you finally open the box, it’s like all your insecurities are there in the shadows and then you put it in the light and boom! Unconditional love that you definitely don’t deserve but it’s hidden because of insults and petty drama.”

A pause.

Viktor blinked once, twice.

Jinx looked him up and down.

“Does that make sense?”

“None at all.”

“Oh.”

She was quiet for a moment. She looked off into the space before her. Unmoving, slightly unnerving.

She sniffed. She shrugged. She bounced back, leaning into his personal space. “Welp! That’s the best I got.”

Viktor shook his head with a bemused slight quirk to his lips. “Alright, so,” he began, pointing at some of the runes.

The rest of the night passed by until it was closer to early morning. Viktor stretched his arms out behind his back. Jinx was standing, leaning her back against the table, bending backwards. She’d taken out her pins that held her bun in place and long braids pooled on the table, one even hanging off.

“Do you think that trees cry when they’re cut down?” Jinx asked. “That they know they’re going to die?”

“And I will take that as our sign to call it,” Viktor said.

Jinx gave an over exaggerated groan in reply but Viktor could tell by the way she was twirling the end of one of her braids and occasionally hitting her face with it, she was feeling the pull of sleep begin to tug.

She tilted her hips towards the table and moved her leg. In one fluid motion she was upright. Then she almost fell. Quickly she righted herself and shot Viktor a giant smile.

Viktor grabbed his crutch. He situated it beneath his arm and curled his fingers around the handle.

Jinx let her body weight all go to one foot as she kept the door open. The only thing which prevented her from falling was her hold on the doorknob.

When he walked through, she followed him.

“Ow! Shit!” she yelled.

Viktor’s head whipped back and her braid had gotten caught between the doors. She jerked the door open and yanked her braid out of the way. It hit his leg and the door closed.

“I see why you keep your hair up,” Viktor said.

Jinx scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I like my braids being down, even when they do get caught on things.”

“May I ask why that is?”

“Because, they keep me grounded. Without their weight I feel like my head is floating away from me,” she said.

“Then why don’t you wear them down?” he questioned.

“Stupid Upper City people,” she muttered under her breath. “They think it’s ‘unhygienic’ because they drag on the floor. Yeah, they do and guess what! I clean them every day. They don’t even drag on the floor unless I’m hunched over.”

“I didn’t think you the type to let others people’s opinions bother you,” Viktor told her.

“I don’t! Normally. It’s just doing all these things and following all these stupid fucking rules is how I got here,” she said with a pointed gesture at the academy floors. “I can’t lose that now. Sis worked too hard to get me here.”

Viktor could empathize with the struggle. Being not only from the Undercity but also disabled prevented an entire load of problems up here. He’d take them though, over the polluted air. At least here he could breathe.

Viktor held the door open for Jinx. He waited until she was a decent bit away before letting the door fall closed.

“Let me haul you a taxi,” Viktor said, worried for the girl in her tired state.

She shrugged but didn’t fight him.

They sat in the backseat of the taxi. Jinx’s braids pooled in the floor.

She scooted closer to him. She slowly pushed her hand between his arm and torso until he tentatively let her wrap their arms together. Her head immediately plopped down on his shoulder. He tensed.

“I don’t even get to do my building anymore up here,” she said as she nuzzled her face against his shoulder.

“Building?” he asked as he forced his body to relax.

“Yeah, before we came up here, I used to build all sorts of gadgets. I mean, I still do but I can’t do it as often. I can’t even find a place to test my bombs and since the Industrialist took over the Undercity, we don’t go down there much. Just on special occasions.”

“You build bombs?”

Jinx laughed a bit. “Yeah.” She closed her eyes and sank against him. “Smoke bombs—“ internally he sighed in relief— “real bombs, guns.”

“Huh,” was all he could say.

The rest of the ride was relatively silent. That is until Jinx started snoring and some drool seeped through his shirt. He didn’t make any attempt to move her though.

The automobile came to a halt. With a quick word to the driver and careful movement, he slipped out. He walked into the apartment building and knocked the door labeled 07.

A couple long moments passed. He raised his hand to knock again as it but it jerked open.

“The fuck do you want at one in the— Oh, it’s you. Hi,” you said as you processed who exactly stood in front of you.

Viktor felt his stomach do the smallest twist. Your hair was a mess. Your shorts were hanging off one hip and up too high on the other. A strap of the tank top you wore was twisted.

“Jinx is asleep in a taxi. I would bring her in myself but ah,” he gestured with his crutch.

“Oh, yeah,” you said as you walked out of the threshold of the apartment. “She sleeps like the dead.”

You yawned as you walked with him to the taxi.

Jinx’s head was lulled forward. Her chin touched her clavicle but still she snored on.

You crawled a bit into the automobile and put your hands beneath her legs and her back. You pulled her closer to you until you could heave her up in your arms. Her head bobbled and smacked you in the chin. She just groaned and used her hand to push your face away.

“Ow,” you said in a monotoned voice. “Anyway, thanks for getting her home.”

“Of course, it was my pleasure. Do you need me to open the door for you?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Inside you put Jinx to bed. You slipped off her shoes, pulled her vest down her arms, undid her belt. You undid the buttons of her shirt and slid on an oversized one before slipping off her button up and pulling off her pants.

She pulled the blanket around her and face planted in her pillow.

“Thanks, sis,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said.

Still, you moved her face so she wouldn’t suffocate on her pillow and brushed her bangs out of her face. You placed a kiss right above her brow.

Then you grabbed your own covers to wrap yourself in and laid back on the couch where you’d been, wondering why you felt all warm inside by the man who kept caring for your sister with you.

[insidekatmind]

Physiotherapist~ Jude Bellingham

Wearning: slight smut

It was a morning like many others in your physiotherapy studio. The sunlight filtered through the windows, and the sound of the instruments you were organizing mixed with the faint hum of the city outside. You were finishing up the last few things when the phone rang. You answered with your usual professionalism, but the voice on the other end surprised you.

"Hello, this is Jude Bellingham, a player for Real Madrid," said a young, polite voice, with an English accent that revealed his origins. "I had a small issue with my leg during training, and they told me about you. Could you come to my house to check it out?"

It took a moment to process the situation. Jude Bellingham? The talented midfielder for Real Madrid? And he was calling you? This wasn’t something that happened every day. Recovering from the shock, you calmly responded.

"Certainly, Mr. Bellingham. Tell me where you live, and I’ll come as soon as possible."

He gave you the address of an elegant villa, located in an exclusive area of Madrid. Shortly after, you were in your car, with your work kit, heading toward what promised to be a very different kind of day.

---

You arrived in front of an imposing gate. After announcing yourself, the gate slowly opened, revealing a modern villa surrounded by a perfectly manicured garden. Jude greeted you at the door. He was tall, with a kind smile despite the slight discomfort evident in his posture.

"Thank you so much for coming so quickly," he said, inviting you inside. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

"It’s my job," you replied with a professional smile, placing your kit on the coffee table in the living room. "Tell me, what exactly happened?"

"I was training yesterday," he began to explain, showing you a slight swelling on the lower part of his thigh. "I felt a sort of tear when I suddenly changed direction. It’s not too painful, but it bothers me when I walk, and I’m worried it might get worse."

You examined his leg carefully, applying pressure at certain points and observing his reactions.

You sit beside him on the treatment table, positioning yourself comfortably to work more effectively. Gently, you lift his leg and place it on your knees, supporting it with both hands. You begin massaging with slow, precise movements, trying to identify any areas of tension.

Focusing on a specific area near the knee, you press lightly with your fingers, carefully watching his reaction.

"Tell me, does it hurt if I press here?" you ask, maintaining a calm and professional tone, but with a hint of concern in your voice, ready to assess his response.

Jude looked at you as you touched his leg, he was a bit taken by surprise, since your touch sent a shiver down his spine, but he tried his best to keep a cool demeanor. "Uhm, yeah, a little"

You nod silently, keeping your gaze focused on Jude's knee as your hands continue to move with precision. Your fingers trace the muscles around the joint, exploring gently and applying measured pressure.

"Here?" you ask, maintaining a calm and professional tone, but with a trace of concern in your voice, ready to assess his answer.

Jude let a soft breath when you touched his thigh. A shiver travelled through his body once again, it was very hard to hide his reaction to your touch. He closed his eyes for a moment before answering. "Mhm... Yes, there too"

Your hands move with gentleness but firmness, slowly traveling up his leg to examine the area above the knee. You massage the muscles carefully, trying to sense any tension or irregularities under your fingertips. Then you press on a spot just slightly higher, tilting your head slightly as you watch his expression.

"And here?" you ask in a calm, reassuring tone, maintaining eye contact to catch any subtle sign of discomfort or pain.

With his answer, you moved your hands higher and a soft moan escaped from his lips, a shiver ran down his spine and he swallowed, trying his best to contain himself. He could feel his breathing getting heavier. "Mhm,yeah... right there".

As soon as you hear her groaning choked, you look up, worried. Your hands stop a moment above that critical point, then you start massaging it with gentle circular movements, trying to relieve the tension. "Does it hurt a lot?" Ask him in a soft but serious voice, looking carefully at his face for any signs of discomfort as you continue to work on the area.

Jude's breath quickened as you massaged the sensitive area. His body tensed at the contact, and he had a hard time keeping a neutral expression on his face, his self-control was weakening. "Yeah, It's sore... really sore"

Nod slightly, your eyes attentive to his signals as your hands continue to work very gently on the sore area. Your movements become even slower and measured, applying a minimum of pressure to not cause you further discomfort.

Stay focused, maintaining eye contact from time to time to make sure he is well, ready to modulate treatment based on his reaction.

Jude inhaled deeply as you continued to massage the sensitive area. His grip on the couch tightened, trying his best not to moan again. His breaths were getting heavier and uneven as your touch sent waves of pleasure through his body. "Mhm,God... Just like that"

You nod with a serene expression, interpreting his silence and movements as a sign that the pain was diminishing. Continuing to massage gently, look up at him and ask in a calm and professional tone:

"Is that okay or do you want me to add a little more pressure?"

Your voice is soft, reassuring, ready to adapt to give you the greatest relief.

Jude closed his eyes, trying to contain his growing desire for you. He felt his body trembling slightly with each touch from you. His voice came out in a low and raspy tone."No ... no, your pressure is good .. Just keep going, please"

You nod silently, your expression focused yet serene, as your hands continue to move carefully over the affected area. You maintain a delicate but firm touch, adjusting each movement to provide maximum relief without causing further discomfort. Your gaze remains attentive, picking up on every nuance in his reactions, as you dedicate yourself to professionalism and patience.

Jude let out a soft, shaky exhale, his body tense and responsive to your touch. The pressure of your hands on him was driving him crazy, his mind was foggy with desire, each movement you made leaving him more breathless."God, that feels so good...Don't stop, please..."

As you continue to massage with slow, measured movements, look up at him with a calm and reassuring expression.

"Are you feeling better?" you ask with innocence, the tone of your voice gentle and free from pressure, focusing completely on his well-being. Your hands do not stop working, adapting to his breath and any signs of relief.

Jude's breath was now ragged and uneven, his chest rising and falling heavily as you continued to massage him. He managed to let out a shaky response."Much better... please don't stop".

Nod with a slight smile, noting that the tension seems to be lessening. Continuing to massage gently, your hands work in a rhythmic and measured way, trying to relieve any stiffness. You focus completely on his leg, without haste, while carefully observing his reactions to see if the pain is fading.

The silence in the room is interrupted only by the sound of your gentle movements and his breaths

Each movement of your hands sent another wave of pleasure through his body, his grip on the couch tightening as he tried to contain his reactions. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you continued to massage him. "God... I... I need more...Please..."

Focusing on his well-being, apply a little more pressure during the massage, trying to work deeply on the sore area. Your gaze becomes more attentive as you observe it, noticing every little reaction.

"Does it still hurt?" Ask with worried voice, soft tone but serious, as you continue with the treatment, ready to adjust the pressure if necessary.

Jude's breath hitched as you pressed harder, a soft moan escaped his lips as he bit down on them to keep them in. He shook his head quickly, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of your hands on him. "No... not anymore... but... just don't stop... please"

You look at him with a concerned expression, noticing every subtle sign on his face. Your voice becomes even more gentle as you ask, trying to be reassuring but attentive to every response. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

Jude held your gaze, letting out a shaky breath as he spoke."It's all fine, keep going, please don't stop."

Continue massaging gently, slowly sliding down your leg looking for other areas of tension. Your hands move carefully, exploring every part until you stop at a point lower.

Looking at it carefully, ask in a calm and reassuring voice. "Does this hurt?"

Observe your reaction, ready to adapt the treatment based on the response, maintaining eye contact to better understand if there is still discomfort or if the pain is abating.

His body tensed again, as your hands slid lower, he swallowed hard, fighting the sudden intense sensation. He took a few moments to reply, and when he did, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Yeah...that's where it hurts..."

You nod slightly, continuing to massage the area you just touched with delicate and precise movements. Your focus is complete as you ensure not to apply too much pressure, aiming to relax each tense muscle. "Is it better this way?" you ask, your voice calm and reassuring, while you continue the treatment attentively, ready to adjust your touch based on how he feels.

As you spoke, he breathed out a low moan, his voice strained with desire. "Much better...but don't stop just yet..."

He reached up and gently grabbed your wrist, guiding your hand further down his leg, his body responding with another shiver of pleasure.

You continue to massage the area gently, focusing on the muscles that need more attention. After a few moments, you stop the movements and, with a calm gesture, slide his left leg off your knees, supporting it gently as you lower it with care.

Then, with the same attention, you take his right leg, lifting it and carefully positioning it on your knees, ready to resume the treatment.

Jude watched intently as you switched from massaging his left leg to the right, his body still burning with desire. He watched your every move, taking in every detail of your touch, his breathing heavy and uneven. " God... that feels so good... don't stop... Please..."

You look at him with a concerned expression as you position his right leg on your knees. Your eyes are focused on his reaction, trying to discern if there's still any sign of pain.

"Does it hurt?" you ask in a gentle voice, ready to stop or adjust the treatment based on his response. Your full attention is on him, aiming to ensure his utmost comfort.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes still fixed on you, his body responding to your touch by involuntarily arching into your hand."No... it doesn't hurt... it feels amazing...:

He reached out and touched your wrist, gently pulling you closer, wanting more of your touch.

You nod slightly, carefully observing his every reaction as you begin to gently massage his right thigh. Your hands move with precision over the muscles, searching for any areas of tension. Then, with a gentle motion, you press on a specific spot on his thigh.

"Does it hurt?" you ask in a calm and concerned voice, trying to assess his reaction.

He let out an involuntary gasp when you touched a particularly sensitive spot, his body tensing slightly at the sudden sensation. "mhm... yeah..."He exhaled deeply, his voice low and strained, the feel of your hand on his skin causing his heart to race with desire. "But don't... don't stop...please..."

As you continued to massage him, Jude's breathing became more ragged, each movement sending another wave of pleasure through his body. He closed his eyes and leaned back, his body arching involuntarily, seeking more contact with you.

He tried to keep his responses under control, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. Feeling himself hardening in his pants, he tried to muffle a low moan, his voice strained as he spoke. "God, please.... don't stop.... it feels so good... please"

You look at him with an innocent expression, continuing to massage his leg with gentle, measured movements. Your focus is entirely on him, aiming to relieve any tension.

You press gently on another area of his thigh and, looking at him with kindness, ask,

"Does it still hurt here? Your tone is soft and calm as you observe his every reaction, ready to adjust the pressure to ensure maximum relief.

Jude let out a low, shaky exhale, his body quivering with pleasure as your hands glided over his skin. He watched you intently, his body responding to your every touch as he tried to keep his growing desire in check. "No, not there... but... a little higher, please..."

His voice was strained and hoarse, his body tense with desire as he watched you, silently begging for your touch.

As your hand moved closer to his inner thigh, Jude inhaled deeply, his body tensing in anticipation, his eyes fixed on you as if begging you to continue. "Yes... please... just like that...:

His voice was a low and shaky whisper, his body involuntarily arching into your touch, wanting more of your attention on him.

Each touch from you sent a wave of pleasure through him, and he fought to keep his body from reacting too visibly, but was failing miserably. The pleasure was almost becoming overwhelming, his body trembling under your touch, his mind clouded with desire. " God, please... don't stop... it feels so good..."

He tried to keep his voice steady, but his breaths were growing more ragged with each passing moment.

You continue to gently stroke his thigh, looking for any other signs of pain. "Is it better?" you ask softly, your tone tender and concerned as you keep a close watch on his reactions.

Jude closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, his body responding to your touch with a shudder of pleasure. Your touch felt like electricity on his skin, sending currents of desire through him."Much better... but... don't stop, please..."

He reached out and gently put his hand on your wrist, silently pleading for you to continue touching him.

You comply with his request and continue, maintaining a gentle, focused touch as you proceed with the treatment, staying attentive to his comfort and any signs of discomfort.

Jude let out a soft moan as you continued to touch him, his body arching involuntarily towards your hand, seeking more of the delicious sensations you were causing. He was losing control, the pleasure too intense to ignore any longer. "God... I... I need more...Please, don't stop..."

You look at him with concern. "Does it still hurt?" you ask, watching his expression closely. Jude nods, but you can tell he's lying.

Jude knew that he should stop you, that this was getting out of hand, but the pleasure was too overwhelming, and the thought of you pulling away was unbearable. "Yes... it still hurts..." He said, his voice ragged, his body trembling with desire, his eyes fixed on you, silently begging you to keep touching him.

You look at him worried." I know it may sound strange but can you take off your shorts?" The questions and you get up for a moment to go get the cream.

Jude's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but there was also a flicker of anticipation in them. He nodded silently, then slowly began to take off his sweatpants, his hands shaking slightly as he did so.

Jude looked at his enormous hardness that was in his underwear that threatened to come out and really hoped that you would not notice

He watched you spread the cream on your hands and then you took his thigh putting it back on yours and massaged it with the cream

As you applied the cream, Jude watched you intently, his body responding to your touch, his breathing getting ragged. The coolness of the cream was a stark contrast to the heat of his skin, and the feeling of your hands on him sent another wave of pleasure through his body "Oh God, yes... that feels so good...".His voice was a low, strained whisper, his body quivering under your touch, his mind clouded with a mixture of pleasure and desire.

Jude's body seemed to have a mind of its own, as it responded to your touch more than he could control. His hips raised slightly, seeking more of the delicious sensations your hands were creating. He tried to control himself, not wanting to give in completely to his desire, but it was becoming harder with each passing moment.

"How do you feel?" you ask, continuing to massage, your tone soft and attentive as you watch his reactions carefully.

Jude tried to speak, but his voice didn't work properly, his body too overwhelmed by the pleasure your hands were giving him. " God, you feel so good..."

He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, but his body was reacting to every little movement your hands made on him.

Nod and go on. Jude took your hand and with a fake mistake made you touch his hardness to bring your hand under the thigh saying that here he hurt . You nodded and massaged that area with cream.

As you rubbed the cream on his thigh, Jude let out a low gasp, his body tensing under your touch. He couldn't help but silently curse himself for the slip, knowing that you had to have felt his hardness when he accidentally guided your hand there."Yes, that's sore too.... really sore".He tried to keep his voice steady, but there was an obvious hint of desperation in his tone.

You nod, feeling sorry for him. "I'm sorry you're in so much pain," you say innocently, continuing the massage with gentle movements.

Jude listened to your words, his chest feeling heavy with guilt for deceiving you, but at the same time, he couldn't deny how good your touch felt on his body."It's.... It's okay... you're making it better... your touch is helping..." He looked at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire, silently pleading for you to continue touching him, despite knowing it was wrong.

Jude could feel himself growing closer and closer to the edge, your hands on him sending wave after wave of pleasure through his body. Every little touch was both ecstasy and torture, and he was struggling to hold back"God... please... I'm not sure how much more I can take..."His voice was strained, his breathing increasingly ragged

You look at him worried texting more intensely his thigh "does it hurt you again?" Ask. He while feeling reach his climax

Jude's breathing quickened, his body tensing up as he tried his best to conceal what was happening, but it was becoming almost impossible to do so. " No... not as much anymore... but... but it's still sore..."He managed to say, his voice choked and strained, his eyes tightly shut as he tried to contain his reactions.

You nodded and hummed while you continued massaging his thigh, and by mistake you touched a little bit of his hardness making him come "how do you feel?"

As your hand accidentally brushed against his hardness, a low, strangled moan escaped his lips

" God....so good....so much better..."His body was trembling under your touch, as he tried to come down from the intense pleasure you had just given him, his breathing still.

He smiled satisfied for coming without you noticing. You gave your last massages to his "better?"

Jude swallowed hard, his body trembling with pleasure, his breathing slowly returning to normal. " So much better... thank you... you have no idea how much your touch is helping me..."

He looked at you, his eyes dark and filled with a mixture of gratitude and desire, thankful that you hadn't noticed the true reason for his pleasure.

You nod and remove your hands from his thighs. "Next time, try to be more careful when you train," you say softly. "And if you need any more massages, you can call me," you continue, offering reassurance with a gentle tone.

Jude chuckled softly, his body feeling relaxed and satisfied after the intense mix of pleasure and deception. He looked at you, grateful for your help, but also a bit guilty for lying about the real reason for his pain. " I'll be more careful... and if I need more help, I know who to call."

He smiled genuinely, his eyes lingering on you, silently promising himself he won't ask for your touch again, despite his body begging for more.

As he put his sweatpants back on, Jude couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt mixed with regret. He knew that he had taken advantage of your kindness and generosity, but the pleasure he had experienced was something he wasn't sure he could willingly give up.He walked with you towards the door, his mind swirling with mixed emotions, his body still buzzing with the memory of your touch, and silently wishing he could feel it again.

You smile,Jude returned your smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment, silently hoping that you wouldn't read the guilt and desire in his gaze.

"Thank you, again... for your help."He said, his voice slightly hoarse, his body still aching for more of your touch, but knowing he had to send you away .

You smile gently and say, "It's my job," your voice soft and comforting, as you continue to offer reassurance.

Jude's eyes softened slightly at your words, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your voice. Even though he knew he was being selfish, he couldn't help the pang of disappointment he felt at hearing you brush off your actions as simply part of your job." I guess it is."He said quietly, his gaze lingering on you, his mind silently longing for the sweet torture of your touch again

You chuckle softly, looking at him with a warm, understanding smile.

Jude's heart skipped another beat as your laugh filled the air, his body responding involuntarily to the sound. His eyes roamed over your face, tracing the shape of your lips, silently wondering what it would be like to taste them, to claim them as his own.He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away, his guilt battling with his overpowering desire.

"See you, Jude," you say softly, giving him a kind smile before you turn and leave.

Jude watched you go, his mind a swirl of conflicting emotions, his body longing to call you back, to ask you to stay a little longer, just so he could feel your hands on him, even for just a moment longer." See you…". He said quietly, his voice strained, as he watched you disappear, knowing that the memory of your touch would haunt him for days to come.

[rainsiide]

NOBODY GETS ME .ᐟ.ᐟ

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི now playing Nobody Gets Me - SZA . 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

“i don’t wanna see you with anyone but me.”

giselle x reader ⋮ you’ll never let go of each other, nobody gets you but her.

warning you! ⋆ toxic exs,

tonight was another spoiled date. this was your last time responding to someone that had swiped up on your insta story. someone’s quick to take you home, huh?

now you back at your apartment. shoes kicked off, jakcet thrown on one of the couches. the ponytail holder no longer in your hair. scratching every bit of tightness out. the fridge called you, so did bed, and so did giselle. your phone buzzed, then again, and once more.

she knew about the date, you know she viewed your instagram story. you didn’t bother to take it out your pocket. you grabbed some water and went your room, face down on the bed. going into something comfortable and throwing your clothes into a hamper, that probably needed washing.

then the text came again, and again. you switched your phone to silent and then to do not disturb. yet, that didn’t block anything and she only hit notify anyway.

then the call came.

you sighed, why’d you pick it up? because you need her. you needed to see her.

“why aren’t you picking up, i know your home by now. unless you took them home.”

“i— just come over. please, i need you.” you felt so embarrassed for saying that. like a fool, a clown. the red tint on your lips might as well have been smeared and if you smiled in the mirror, you’d pass just as a foolish clown. and you’d proababy laugh too.

not long later a knock came to your door, you knew who it was. you couldn’t look desperate and bolt to the door and break off the hinges. you slowly trudged to the front door, and opened it. a sympathetic face staring back at your unwise one. words were exchanged, just not with your mouth. she pulled you in her arms and shut the door behind her. her arms compressed around you, inescapable. not that you wanted to escape.

“i’m here, it’s okay”

she pulled you over to the couch, gently embracing you. you wish she’d never let you go. pulling back gently and putting her hand as she gently caressed your cheek.

“it’s okay pretty girl, no more tears.” she said, placing a gentle kiss on. “you don’t deserve this, stop looking for other people baby. i’m right here.”

so many things came back to you. when you and giselle got back together for the tenth time. when you and giselle got back together after your friends told you not to. when giselle showed up to one of your dates and took you home. when giselle promised she would change for you because she loved you that much, and she did for a week.

giselle was toxic, but unfortunately nobody got you like her. she knew that, and so did you.

her fingers gently caressed your ring finger. the finger that held her promise ring. you’ve both broke the promise by now but, at this point did you really promise anything?

“you know i love you baby, those other girls aren’t worth your time. you know no one else could love else could love you like i do.”

she was right, you knew that. nobody else could love you like her. she always told you that nobody could replace her in your life. and no matter how many dates you went on, at the end she was always there. no matter how long the road was, your destination was her.

“i know, i love you gigi.” you said, like a fool. yet your heart didn’t beat this way for nobody, but her. it burned, beat, pumped, differently from her. she placed a desperate kiss to your red stained lips. leaving them smeared like a clown.

“you can’t leave me, you know this. i’ll always have you won’t i?” she didn’t mean it as a question. she knew you were to dumb to leave her.

“mhm.” you responded, her hands caressing your waist. her lips finding else where. there never was a end to it

[sirhamburrger]

havin' deep and uncomfortable conversations around the christmas tree (rin itoshi x gn!reader)

(a continuation of this more ryusae-centric drabble) being unexpectedly vulnerable with you wasn't really on rin itoshi's christmas wishlist. but he does want to ask you something else, and it would really make his christmas if you said yes. you will get a sentimental feelin' when you hear voices singin', "let's be jolly, deck the halls with boughs of holly" || wc: 861 || tags/cw: hurt/comfort, background ryusae, itoshi brother drama (but they're working on it), rin is bad at telling people how he feels (he's working on that too) series m.list

you watch the video ryusei just sent you. it’s... of him slapping sae’s ass really hard, but after months of being stuck with them as your roommates, your humor is broken. you whip your head around, giggling, ready to show it to rin, but your smile fades when you see the crease between his eyebrows. that only happens when he realises he's forgotten to buy groceries, or…

or when sae texts him.

you set down the box of baubles tucked under your arm and take his hands in yours, brushing his hair out of his eyes so you can look at him properly. even so, he doesn't look you in the eye.

“everything okay?” you ask softly.

he blinks. you feel his hands clench into fists within yours. 

“yeah. everything's fine.”

“what did he say?”

"he wants to have lunch with me tomorrow.”

you furrow your brows slightly. “well, then you should go. i know we have plans, but we could always go another day.”

he nods, but he's got his brooding face on, still. there's something he's not telling you, and you're determined to get it out of him on this not-very-eventful saturday afternoon.

so you flop onto the ground by the christmas tree - the christmas tree the two of you are in the midst of decorating. wiggling your way into the shade of the lower leaves, you tug on his pant leg.

“well? join me!”

looking slightly bemused, he lays down on the floor and positions himself opposite you. admiring his beautiful eyelashes up close, you twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. he smiles at this, his breath fanning over your face.

you ask him point-blank, then, when he might least expect it.

“what are you afraid of?”

“nothing.”

“liar.”

you stare at him as seriously as you can, and he stares back with double the intensity. you’re locked in, you could say - it’s a shared tradition of yours that whenever you have a staring contest, winner takes all. the last cookie. choice of date location. or something you want to know.

seconds creep by. thirty. forty-five. a minute. a minute and fifteen. tears start to pool in your dehydrated eyes.

rin's gaze softens some.

"are we about to kiss?" you mutter weakly.

"give up, darling," he advises gently.

a tear runs down your cheek. "no."

he makes a tsking noise at your stubbornness, and slowly - very, very slowly - he closes his eyes.

"i'm scared that sae is going to treat me differently now that we're both grown up and he knows we can't ever go back to what we were before."

you blink.

damn, that's...

he opens his eyes. "happy?"

it’s like a punch to the gut when he says it like that.

"of course not," you mumble. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have pressured you to say anything at all."

rin sighs heavily. "i think a part of me kind of wanted to tell you anyway, so."

"do you want to tell me more?"

he nods.

"when we were kids, it was all so easy. i looked up to him - i still do. we were together 24/7. we did everything together. and then he left for spain. came back a changed person. and okay, i get that he wants to reconcile and all, but it's just weird. he's really trying his best, and i am too. but we'll never be how we were in the past. it's too late for that."

"oh, honey..."

you want to reach over and hug him until he can't breathe, but then you remember you're lying on the floor. you scoot over to lie by his side.

"the important thing is that you're both trying really hard. you're talking to him more often, meeting him for meals - and sae really does want to make things right. i literally live with the man! he lets ryusei check his spelling in the texts he sends you."

"really?"

"yes, really. so you don't have to be worried. not at all."

“okay.”

you see the crease between his eyebrows has disappeared, and peck him on the nose. his lips twitch, and you see him open his mouth –

“move in with me.”

what?

“i want you in my life,” rin murmurs, abrupt, blunt, but that's how he does things, after all. “because i love you, and i want to be with you all the time.”

you're temporarily frozen in place, utterly surprised. but that quickly gives way to a rush of affection for your boyfriend, and you pepper his face with little kisses as he chuckles.

“i'll take that as a yes, then,” he says dryly, and you give him another kiss for his troubles.

you think of sae and ryusei, and pout. “i'm going to miss having them as roommates, though.”

“but would they make you breakfast pancakes every day?”

you pretend to collapse in his arms. “i’m going to wife you up one day, itoshi.”

he reaches for the switch on the christmas lights strung along the tree branches, and you look up, and your vision is filled with sparks of colour.

and in your little world, all is perfect.

this is what's happening btw (it probably wasn't very clear)

a/n: i never thought i would write for rin because for some weird reason i didn't like him when i watched his anime debut but like?? is he not so much like todoroki? (if todoroki was more edgy ig) but yeah i was prepared to write him as a sweetheart in this one

taglist: @anglefish3008, @standcom (open, leave a comment on any post in this series to be added!)

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[entitled-fangirl]

Rumors and the bastards of one Aegon Targaryen II.

Aegon Targaryen II x wife!reader

Summary: Aegon spent his time on the Silk Streets; rumors always spread. When Aemond encourages the truth of one, Aegon's wife is mortified.

Warnings: brothels, alcohol, being drunk, rumors, miscommunication

A/n: I am an Aegon hater BUT listen listen listen- I hated the fighting pit allegations with his "bastard children" that the twins talk about in the show. Do I think he had bastards? YES. Do I think he did all that? NAH. Also- this was supposed to be based on an ask but I may write another one with that ask cause I don't think I did that part justice

Masterlist

.....................................................

His wife was not a useless woman who spent her time doing deemed "meaningless" tasks like embroidery. She was well studied, and well spoken. She was not pushy. Alicent would never have let a woman control her son like that. But she found easy ways to state her thoughts while still being considerate to her husband. 

A woman like that felt like one of a kind.

Aegon knew that in his mind. Somewhere deep down. 

But he didn't change his habits when she came around. He still spent some of his nights in the streets of King's Landing, causing trouble and problems everywhere he went. 

Everyone knew of Aegon's "night adventures," though none talked of it. It was not something you bring up during a council meeting or spoke of in the corridors.

…

After a particularly long night out, Aegon rolled over in his bed, covering his eyes as he cringed at the sunlight streaming throughout his room.

This is why he didn't want to be king. Duty awaited him.

He was reminded that with the insistent knock on his door and his servant reminding him of the council meeting only minutes away.

He yawned, groaned with a stretch, and stood to slowly dress himself.

He could take his time, after all. No meeting started without the king.

…

Now a little more conscious, he entered the council room with a creak of the large doors. It earned the attention of everyone at the table.

Criston sat at the King's right side. The queen dowager was next to him and Aegon's wife after that. Aemond at the end. The table went round with others as well, but none were as connected in the king's life as those four. 

Y/n had always gotten along with Aemond. When Aegon was off sullying the Targaryen name, she spent time with Aemond in the castle's large solar, studying quietly alongside him. Different topics, but the shared silence was comforting.

And Aemond almost felt a guilt when he looked at her. Especially today when her husband entered the council meeting late with a staggered step and a clear look that said 'I did things I shouldn't have last night.'

The council was quiet at first, the awkwardness eating any things they had to talk about.

But once the talk of war started, the two brothers began to argue and the council meeting had truly begun.

The queen stayed quiet, her eyes set on the table, her fingers fidgeting absentmindedly with her stone and its place at the table.

Aegon never really had his arse in his seat. He loved to pace. When the arguing grew to anger, he set his anger on anything that annoyed him, prompting him to once point out his wife's fidgeting. Her cheeks turned red and she forced her hands away from the table.

But soon Aemond stood as well, eager to point out his plan in their map. As he did so, he took the long path around, passing by his brother's wife. In his hand was his own stone, which he set on the table in front of her without even looking her way or slowing his pace. 

It rolled towards the edge of the table and she caught it, silently thanking his support.

He felt like he owed it to her for what he had done yesterday.

…

"I'll never understand," Aemond muttered, breaking the prolonged silence of their studying.

Her eyes never moved from her page. "Understand what?"

He rolled up the scroll he had focused on and set it aside. "Him. Being so irresponsible."

Their eyes met, and neither had to question who he was speaking of.

"He did not want this," was her soft reply.

"Neither did you. And still you defend him. You did not wish for a man who spends his time with ale and women rather than home and duty."

Her eyes softened as his words hurt her. "I am Queen of the Realm. Me. Anyone would kill for my seat. One woman of the millions here."

"That means nothing." His eye pierced hers deeply. The gaze of Aemond Targaryen, though only half the gaze of a normal person, was double in the way it would see right through you. It made even tough men flinch. He leans over his papers. "He should be here, spending his time with his wife so she may do her duties."

"H- He does," she tries to defend. "Sometimes."

"Right before he passes out from all he's drank." There's no defense for that. He was right. "My queen, it's not that he can't make heirs with you. He just doesn't with you."

"What?"

His eye darkens. "How do you fancy an adventure down the Silk Streets of King's Landing?"

…

The meeting was over with the wave of Aegon's hand, thank the gods, and they all stood to leave.

"Except you, brother. You'll stay."

Y/n takes her time leaving, seeing both brothers' eyes roam over her for a moment before she left them to talk.

…

She sat by the fire. Since she had lived here, the servants had all begged her to sit in chairs or sofas near the fire rather than on the hard floor directly in front of it, but none held the same feeling that she desired.

She always had a cloak or fur of some sort on the floor, a small nest of sorts always awaiting for her to come back to the flames.

She had asked for a needle and thread, struggling to embroider on one of her skirts as she tried to relieve stress. But she'd never really done so before and it looked messy and her hands were too gruff with it.

Aegon entered after a few minutes. He didn't knock. He never did.

His eyes took in the room slowly until they settled on her. He tilted his head and stepped further into the room until he could feel the heat of the fire. "Aemond doesn't know what he speaks of."

"Aemond only told me the truth. I don't see why you have to lie."

He shifts his weight. "I-I told him to stop meddling in your affairs. He's far too close."

She turns her head but doesn't look over her shoulder. "He's been kinder than… most."

That hurt Aegon more than he wanted to admit. "What did he show you? What did you see?"

She begins to sew faster, as if it's a quick sport. "Does it matter? You're the king. Your affairs are none of my bu-"

"-I want you to speak to me," he said with a desperate tone. "How can I keep a kingdom together if I cannot even communicate with my wife?"

"How many?"

His head tilted again in confusion. "How many what?"

She turned her body this time, pausing her efforts on the fabric to look at him. "How many of your bastards run around King's Landing?"

Silence.

This was not a comforting silence like the solar with Aemond. 

This was a silence that suffocated you.

Aegon tore his gaze from her face in embarrassment to look down at his shoes. Like they needed his attention over the woman in front of him.

She tried again. "How many, Aegon?" Her voice quivered with his name and it send sharp spikes down his spine.

When he dared to look back up at her, he saw unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

"I-" he stopped himself. What answer did she want? What answer did he even want? "I don't see how that's relevant."

His deflection forced a sob out of her. It was light and painful, a slow withering of her from the inside out. 

Aegon deemed himself useless when it came to tears.

His jaw went slack for a moment, his eyes just watching in slow motion as his stomach jolted. He blinked and shift his weight again. "I…. I d- stop doing that."

It was a ridiculous ask. They both knew that. But she turned away from him as if keeping it from his sight was enough. 

He watched her shoulders shake with each weep as her fingers tried to pull the needle through the fabric. He closed the distance more, now daring to kneel at her side. He had no idea how to comfort a situation like this. "You have never liked needlepoint," he softly pointed out.

It was a long while before she answered. Sniffle. "I have never liked you either. Yet here I am with both."

That forces him back to rock on his heels. She was quick and had a sharp tongue. It was thoroughly impressive- when it wasn't painful like this.

The only sounds that echoed in the room were her sniffles and the occasional clicks and pops of the fire in front of them. And her tugging of the thread through the fabric.

Finally, he spoke.

"Two."

Her fingers paused. "What?"

"I've fathered two bastards."

Her head snaps back to him, but he makes no hurry to look at her. The flames dance in his eyes as he stares off. 

"Only two?"

Aegon finally lulled his head to look at her. "Two."

"You sound sure."

"I am sure. I'm very sure." He reached up, wiping away a stray tear off her cheek. Once gone, he returned his hand to his lap, pulling at the skin around his nails.

"There are rumors about your bastards…a… at the fighting pit-"

"-Who told you those?" He said in annoyance.

She hesitated. "There were so many of them there. They had your hair."

"Most bastards here do. Does not make them mine." He sighed. "Do you ever think that perhaps I'm not the only Targaryen that has roamed the Silk Streets at night?"

"You're saying-"

"-I'm saying that they could be Daemon's. They could be my father's. They could be his father's, or his father after him. But they're not mine." His kind eyes set on her. "I won't be blamed for all of King Landing's problems. Only the ones I cause."

She set the needlepoint aside and rubbed her hands over her face. "I just wished…"

Aegon waited patiently for what she would say.

"I just wish you would spend more of your energy here. With me. You're forcing me to neglect my duty." She ran a hand through her hair. "I cannot take your mother's insistence again. She's relentless."

He sighed again. He loved to drink, and that usually ended with him stumbling into the brothel with the help of his friends. That was his release from this prison they all called 'duty.' But perhaps there could be silver linings in all of it.

He couldn't say no when he never gave her a decent try.

"Fine. I'll… hold back on the drinking. And the… the late nights. If it guarantees your happiness. I want to make you happy." It would be hard. No, it would be like torture to not drink as often, to not spent hours forgetting life and having to return to it with a headache a few hours later.

But she deserved a decent try from him.

"Thank you. And when I am with child, we can… access it all once again." She tucked a stray hand of his hair behind his ear. "Thank you. Truly," she added again.

"Of course," he smiled sheepishly. "Just promise me to never assume the trust of the rumors of King's landing. Just ask me. I've done awful things, but I'll admit them to you at least."

For once, she smiled. "That's easy enough. I never should have gone with Aemond last night."

"From now on, the streets will see little of their King and Queen," Aegon smiled back. With a hesitant stretch and groan, he stood. "I have petitions soon. Perhaps you'll wait for my return?"

She pushed herself up to stand, taking Aegon's hand when he immediately offered it. "Of course. But not here. I'll be in the solar."

His brows furrowed. "What's wrong with here?"

"If I have to pull that needle through fabric one more time, I will stab it in my eye." She said it with no emotion, and it caused a bright laugh to pull from Aegon's chest. 

She was witty.

Finally, she broke into a breathy laugh and moved to collect her things for studying.

He followed her for a moment, curious to see what she had before he left.

"In the least, Aegon," she spoke over her shoulder. "Think of the money you'll save when you're away from it all. Whores and drinks are expensive, I'd wager."

His voice was low in her ear as he stood next to her. "Darling, when you're King, they all beg to buy a drink for you. I haven't bought myself a drink in almost a year."

She shivered at his proximity and she spared him a glance- almost one of offense. "Then you spend it all on women?"

He shook his head as if it was a dumb thought. It was true that he spent a lot on the streets. But now that he considered it, no one had ever really asked where it went. The crown just provided it and that was that.

"Then where-"

He put a finger over her mouth. "There are two children with no father to provide for them." He tilted his head side to side, "Perhaps their mothers find themselves with… extra money from a donor of sorts."

Her eyes widened. And just as she opened her mouth to ask more, he walked away, leaving her to her thoughts.

How wrong she had been about King Aegon Targaryen II

.......................................

[lolli-popples]

@0mossymeep0 Okay well since you asked- *takes deep breath*

So, I'll start with the design inspiration here. At a base level it's me trying to make something with the same energy as fandom watcher designs, but not just a mouth-themed version of the same concept.

The thing that's directly pulled from those designs are the magic/illusionary mouths on the face and hands, they're meant to be similar to the purple eyes people like put around stuff that's watcher-themed. Also, I specifically didn't give him an actual mouth or face, and that's also inspired by watcher designs, specifically the ones that obscure the face with a hood or the eyes with a blindfold. I will say, I often see either watchers don't have their real eyes exposed OR they ONLY have their eyes exposed, and have other senses covered. I sort of combined these two, because I wanted a less human facial appearance.

Also, I liked the idea that none of the holographic mouths are actually real, and all of the sound comes out of the speaker on the neck and the mouth on the torso. (and I put a mouth on the torso again to add to the monstrous inhuman vibe.)

The multiple arms idea is both to stand in for how watchers have multiple wings, and also because hands IMO are a vital part of communication. (and if all the hands have mouths, them it gives the appearance of a choir) And, of course, having multiple hands means that he can play multiple instruments at once.

To actually speak on the neck speaker, I liked that idea partially because it adds to the artificiality and horror. You can speak, but you can't use your real voice, it's filtered through a machine that could theoretically break or be turned off.

Also comedy wise, it acts as a voice modulator, he can change his pitch and volume (as you see with the arrows in the art)

The halos are to tie in with the angelic feeling of the watchers, and I specifically made them audio tracks. I imagine that they change and move based on what he's saying, like it's being actively recorded.

The leg auras are to imply that he's able to fly (and to add leg detail lol) I chose music notation just because I wanted to do something different than the audio tracks, and tie back in the musical theme.

Colour-wise, I very much chose blue and yellow randomly. I know people usually only do one colour for watchers and listeners, but it just worked better for the pallete I wanted to do lol.

And lastly the umbrella is a replacement for the watchers wings! And also, it's a reference to both the quiz bot's umbrella and the snails parachutes, since Oli did voice lines/music for both of those.

Seperate from design stuff these are my main headcanons and random thoughts

-I imagine most of the time, he fully wears the cloak, and the only details you can see are the glowing mouth and speaker beneath the hood, and the halos slowly undulating behind him.

-the hand mouths can play wind instruments I actually almost gave him a saxophone instead of a fiddle before I realized you'd need 3 hands for that.

-he can also use the speaker to play sound effects

-this isn't a new thing I just think it's really funny that the watchers have cool wings and he's floating around with a fucking umbrella insane energy

Anyway you asked for my thoughts those are my thoughts, you're welcome.

See no evil, hear no evil... speak no evil?

Because Oli did all the music and sound effects for Wild Life I wanted to try my hand at making him a Speaker design. He's very funky.

Also before ANYONE says anything, I *KNOW* that music notation has 5 lines, not 3, and that how he's holding the violin is slightly inaccurate. I AM AWARE.

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ SYLUS | dream come true (christmas special)

── ◜sylus x fem!reader — mini one shot 1.5k words ◜sylus decides to prepare a surprise for her as a christmas present author's note | christmas specials from the rest of the LI on my profile

Christmas wasn't her favorite holiday, but there was something different this year: Sylus was by her side. She knew he wasn't a big fan of the holiday either, she'd noticed, but the idea of doing something together excited her.

"Where are we going?" She asked, letting out a breath. A cloud of smoke came out of his lips, making her laugh. Even as an adult, that still made her laugh. Sylus had been leading her to 'a surprise' over ten minutes ago, but she just didn't see any surprises and she was freezing to death.

"We're almost there." Sylus turned to look at her and a small smile formed on his lips, barely perceptible.

She sighed in frustration and continued walking in silence for a few more minutes. Her gaze was fixed on her shoes and the way they sank into the snow with each step. Sylus had shown up at her house two hours ago, forcing her to get dressed saying he had a surprise for her. She wondered how he knew she had no plans specifically for that day, had Mephisto told him something? Had he spied on her schedule?

"We arrived." Sylus' voice brought her out of her bubble. She looked up excitedly, but her expression changed completely when she saw what was in front of her.

"What is this?" she asked confused, she hadn't even noticed when she had stopped walking, but Sylus had stopped in front of her.

"It's for us." She felt him take her hand and force her to walk with him, she followed him trying not to fall but she was still too shocked to walk normally.

A large ice rink was in front of her. She recognized it perfectly, it was the typical ice rink that the mall put up every year during Christmas. But it was empty.

"Sylus, I told you I can't skate," she muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but she still didn't sound shocked, she had told him that two weeks ago. She had mentioned to him that she had always wanted to do Christmas things like in the movies, like skating, something she didn't even know how to do. She had never tried to learn because she was embarrassed by the looks of the people around her.

"I know. I rented the whole ice rink for us, so you can learn." She blinked in confusion but forced herself to keep quiet. He'd rented the whole damn ice rink… for her.

She remained silent as Sylus helped her into the small space where there were benches to put on her skates. She also remained silent when she put on the skates Sylus had brought for her, she had really thought of absolutely everything.

"Sylus… I'm going to fall." She sighed in frustration as she looked at the ice rink in front of her. It was huge and completely empty, which was comforting.

"You'll be okay, I'll hold you. Come here." She stood up and walked very carefully to the edge of the ice rink. She stood there for a few seconds, there was some snow because there was no roof, but nothing that would bother her.

She blinked as she felt Sylus' arms wrap around her hips. Her body tensed and suddenly she no longer felt nervous about the ice rink… It was Sylus' body pressed against hers and his arms holding her close that made her nervous.

She entered the ice rink slowly. She kept her feet steady because she didn't dare let Sylus go, at least not at that moment. First she needed to find balance.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, letting Sylus lead her. He was actually the one doing all the work, pushing them both across the ice rink. She kept her feet completely firm, she was still too nervous and afraid that the second she separated from Sylus she would end up with her face against the ice.

"You said your dream was to ice skate during Christmas," he replied quietly, his lips too close to her ear. She remembered it, they had watched one of her favorite Christmas movies together. She was surprised that Sylus remembered. "You also said you were embarrassed to be seen."

"And that's why you paid for an entire ice rink?" She tried to look over her shoulder and when she turned her face she noticed how close Sylus was to her. She quickly looked back, feeling her cheeks warm. If she hadn't noticed, she could have accidentally brushed their lips.

Sylus smiled when he noticed the way her face had turned quickly. "Does it bother you?"

"I'm surprised." She shrugged. She knew that anyone else wouldn't have done the same thing, but Sylus wasn't just anyone.

It was new for her, she appreciated every detail that Sylus had with her, but no one had done the same before. She didn't know how to accept anything that came from him without feeling ashamed.

"I'm going to let you go now." She blinked repeatedly as Sylus' voice brought her out of her thoughts. She looked over her shoulder in fear but Sylus was no longer beside her and was not pressing his body against hers.

He pushed her gently, letting her skates slide across the ice. She gasped in a mix of surprise and terror of end up with her face against ground. It took her a couple of seconds to regain the balance and he prepared to catch her if she fell, but it wasn't necessary.

She looked at Sylus with excitement and slowly slid down the ice until she reached him again. He gently grabbed her wrists to hold her and smiled due to the excitement and happiness on her face. When the girl looked up again she met Sylus' piercing eyes, her smile fading slightly due to the nerves caused by the way he looked at her.

"Thank you… for this."

"You did it yourself." He shook his head not wanting to take credit for something so simple.

"I'm not talking about that." She rolled her eyes. She knew Sylus knew she was referring to the whole ice rink surprise.

She looked up at the sky, feeling a snowflake falling on her face, a sign that it was going to start snowing. He had fulfilled her Christmas dream.

[renatogpadilla]

The One Where She Comes Clean.

It took Lux a full 3 seconds to process what she had just heard.

She had wondered, despite her best intentions what could her friend have possibly seen in that harrowing vision that had made her break the way she had...

Losing a daughter would do it.

Isha... Not-Isha kept going.

"She wasn't mine," She sobbed out between tired tears "but... But she was mine, you know...? She came... into my life at my lowest p-point... And for seven m-months... S-seven beautiful months, she... she made it so... so b-bright! My Isha.... my.... my p-perfect, beautiful baby girl!"

She couldn't hold it in any longer. Lux hugged her friend, both of their eyes filled with tears, as she sobbed into her arms.

They didn't know how long they'd stayed like that. It didn't matter. Eventually, the tears stopped... slowly. Her eyes were burning. Everything hurt.

Jinx managed to talk. "I... Listen, Lux. You saved me too. In more ways than one... And I want to be honest with you. If anyone knows, I want it to be you... but...." How do you even start?

"If you're not there yet, I understand. I won't push. When you're ready, I'll be here." Jinx wondered if Lux was this sincere all the time or if she just put on a pretty face for her... Either way, she couldn't have asked for a better friend right now.

"I think I genuinely don't deserve a friend like you." Jinx meant that. She really didn't deserve her.

"Well, suck it up, Firework." Lux had to push that out of her throat. She just told you about her dead daughter and you're trying out nicknames?! "You're stuck with me. And I don't plan on leaving you alone."

"...Firework?" She could not let Lux know how much she actually liked that. She had an image, dammit!

"Hey, you call me 'Flashlight'!" It wasn't a chuckle so much as a sputtered breath that left her mouth, but the feeling came across.

"Okay, fine. That's fair." Something in her still feared telling Lux everything...

She didn't know where to go from here... Lux was staying the night. Should she offer tea? She didn't have cookies or anything. She should have had cookies! What kind of witch didn't have cookies to lure children into the woods with?! She had to step her game up when she stopped feeling so depressed...

"But... If not your birth name" Which was a shame, because Lux found 'Powder' really cute "and not your other name... What do I call you?"

And here she had to take a gamble... In her mind, she was praying to Janna or whatever other spirit could hear that the name of the most wanted criminal in Piltover-Zaun hadn't reached Demacia... Or at least not Lux.

She wanted to be honest. But she had to brace herself first. "I can be... completely truthful with you, right?"

"Always. I'm almost offended you even had to ask!"

"Heh... I know. Listen, Flashlight. There's a part of me that's terrified to tell you."

"...Why?" Oh, did Lux want an answer to that question?

"Because..." Just say it. She took a deep breath. "Because you've told me your story. And I'm afraid that... I'm scared that if I tell you..." You wouldn't come see me anymore? You would hate me?

"You'd have to take the first step for once?" Lux didn't mean for it to be a jab, but she wanted to get out of the depression, by whatever way she could, and this girl needed to get this out.

"I'm afraid that you'd be too... Familiar with me." She could think of no other word to describe it. She was kinda glad she couldn't. "You... Um..."

"Go on, friend." And she said it so sincerely that Jinx felt her heart grow a size... She swore those eyes got bigger the longer they stared at her. "I'm not leaving."

She dared to hope. "You promise...?"

Lux actually stood up from the couch. Jinx could tell she was sore from the fight still, but she didn't let it show. And then she took a knee and put one hand over hers and another over her heart.

"I," she said, and she put the weight of the world into her words "Luxanna Crownguard, swear on my honor as a Noble, as a servant of the Crown of Demacia, on my Knighthood and on my light as a Mage, that I will not desert you. I will not run from who you are. I will not judge or hate you for what you have been through. On our friendship and on the joy you've brought me... Lest I be struck dead by the gods themselves."

Tiny lights floated around them. Lux wanted to make sure she knew she meant business. What a dramatic little lady she'd let in her hut! Welp, she'd done it now... Fuck it.

"Whatever happens now, you asked for it."

Lux just nodded her head and smiled. One more deep breath.

"You know Piltover?" She started. Might as well match her dramatics if she was going to tell her.

"The City of Progress. I've heard of the place, but I've never been..."

"Well, you'll hear a lot of stories about it. About how they have the most beautiful skyline and how their technology is second to none... It's alright. They're good, I guess. But what they won't tell you is that their glorious city sits on top of another. One that breathes the refuse of their engines. The smog of their factories... The dust beneath their boot. This is the city of Zaun. And I used to call it home."

Lux was sitting fully cross-legged on the floor now, looking up at her like she was her favorite teacher... Or like a child, hearing a new story for the first time. Jinx realized she missed being a storyteller. She liked that the theatrics she could weave into stories didn't require several hours of explosive safety prep... Like she'd ever cared about the safety prep!

"And even in this veritable hive of scum and villainy, where the air was thick with smoke and drug lords named 'Chembarons' ran the streets, there was a still a little corner of light: A section of the city, marshalled by a man named Vander. My dad. This place was called The Lanes, and smack dab in the middle of them, there was a quaint little bar called The Last Drop... And in that bar lived Vander and a gang of kids. There were four of us: There was Mylo, Claggor... my sister Violet... 'Vi'. And me. Powder. And we spent our days gathering scrap for dad to sell and keep the bar afloat... Well, at least that's what we thought. Looking back, he probably just gave us that idea so we'd feel important. Petty heists here and there, nothing too crazy. Mylo could pick any lock, Claggor was big and smart, always a step ahead of everyone else and the one who always knew the getaway route... Vi could punch like hell and I had my little gadgets. None of them worked as intended, but I was getting somewhere." She nodded her head at Pow-Pow and Fishbones on the floor. "That's one thing I can proudly say I got much better at."

"Question!" Said Lux. She actually raised her hand, the darling! "If there were just those four of you, then... Where does Ekko come in?"

Leave it to Miss 'Repressed Fairytale Princess' to immediately ask about her crush. Good to know Lux had her priorities straight!

"He hung around on occasion. He was more Benzo's kid than Vander's. He usually tipped us off to jobs the gang and I could pull. He was small and could get in anywhere if you stopped paying attention to him... He did stay with us for some time, learning how to fight with Vi... Dancing to the jukebox with me..." She had to take a moment. "You know, I don't think I ever noticed how much Ekko made me feel like a kid until you made me bring him up." He really had been there the whole time... Looking back, that crush he'd had on her was so incredibly obvious that she should have noticed, kid or not. That boy was smitten!

"Sounds like you were getting there by yourself already."

"I might've been, Flashlight... Anyhow, it was Ekko that tipped us off to the biggest heist of all. Some big-shot academy nerd over at Piltover had gotten his hands on something incredibly valuable, and now we were going to strike it rich..."

She told her about the heist on Jayce's house in detail, and while she did so, it occurred to Jinx in this moment of retrospection, that she had never actually met Jayce Talis!

The Man of Progress himself! The Father of HexTech! She'd just... stolen his marbles (and his sandwich) and ran! He made Vi those overdesigned bitch-mittens and she'd never even seen the guy outside of a couple posters or ostentatious mugs!

She wondered where he was now and if he had made it out of the scuffle with Noxus alive. After all, if he hadn't dabbled with the Arcane, she wouldn't be who she was...

Lux was completely enamoured by the story. The little band of ruffians braving the top of society to put food on the table... It was inspiring! It made her think of the struggle Mages faced now in Demacia. And Powder (she'd call her that for now, until she got a name.) had been a fighter since the beginning! And now what a woman she'd become! She could make gadgets that could bring down demons from actual Hell and explosions that outshined the moon! As far as she was concerned, she could have been anything but chose to live as a witch of the woods for the vibes!

She admired her more with every bit of her story she learned...

Little by little, Jinx told her overenthusiastic Demacian friend how everything had been downhill from the moment they'd robbed Jayce's place. The Piltie Enforcers that had killed her and Vi's biological parents now flooded the underground, looking to make an example of the undercity for what they had finally perceived to be an excuse...

She slowed down on the details after a while... And eventually, she told her about the night the rest told her to stay behind...

"I should have stayed behind... Looking back I notice that Vi was just trying her best to keep me safe. But then, I just wanted to be useful. So I went anyway... And I took a new toy with me. Filled to the brim with those magic marbles we stole. It was my biggest bomb ever. And it was gonna get them all out."

Lux could tell by her tone that it was not gonna go that way. She got up and sat on the couch with her. She'd put some tea on after she got done with this part. If she wasn't in shambles by then.

"I got there to see my friends, my sister and my dad pinned down through a small window. They'd run rampant and clobbered everyone that got in their way... Now it was my turn to help. Well... I set the little bomb through the window and let it walk off into the fray." Jinx had to stop for a moment. Lux could see in her eyes that what happened next would be heavy... Maybe she should do it now.

"Tea, friend?" She offered.

"Yes. Please. A lot. I... I think I'm going to need it..." Fuck, she missed coffee sometimes.

Lux put the kettle on. If you could call that ramshackle mechanical contraption a 'kettle'.

"If you need to stop, I understand."

"I think if I don't get it out now, I never will." Jinx owed her the truth after tonight. "I... Be patient with me? Please?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask."

Careful, Jinx. She's about to make you believe in kindness again...

While the water boiled, Lux sat down next to her friend. She made some little light balls float around them and dance a little. Nothing too crazy... It was nice that she'd managed to control her powers to the point of making little magic lanterns, but she wanted to try something new now. Something simple, for her.

"You know." Lux started "When I blasted that monster today, I felt something I'd never felt before. Like, I connected to light in a way I'd never understood... Like I could almost talk to it."

"Now who's got voices in her head?" Oh, good. Powder was making jokes now! That was great! A bit of the gloom of the night was starting to dissipate at last...

Lux shot her a playful glare and continued. "Anyways, now that I see it in that light, heh, I was wondering what would happen if I just... Asked nicely."

As she said that, she waved her hand in front of one of the little light motes she'd made... And a few seconds later, it slowly changed. From yellow, to green, to a lighter tone. A red... A purple... Until finally, a light, magical blue floated in front of them. Slowly, all the little lights changed, one by one, lighting up the hut in a blue hue that reminded her of her friend's beautiful fireworks.

She turned to look at the not-a-witch... and she saw tear roll down her face.

"It's beautiful, Flashlight." Jinx had had pretty lights lit for her before (albeit more dangerous and rebellious ones) but this was so... soft. So caring and genuinely precious... This was a gift. "I'm proud of you, for what it's worth. And I'm glad you're here."

"It's worth the world, mon ami." She leaned in close to the little sphere of light. "Thank you!" She whispered. And the little lantern glowed a little brighter. Jinx knew it was just Lux making it 'answer', but she still let herself get lost in the magic for a moment...

She drank her tea slowly... Calm your nerves. Eventually, she put her cup down and resumed her story, the new mood lighting actually calming her down a bit more than she thought. "Well, I was right about one thing: That really was the best bomb I'd ever made. So much so that even I didn't expect it to go off so... effectively. The blast sent me flying onto the street... As well as the entire building."

She'd expected, deep down, that a blue glow would make it harder to tell Lux how the bomb she'd used had killed two of her friends and her father, made her sister hate her for a decade and taken down the entire building with gods-know-how-many people still inside, but if anything, it was comforting to see a blue glow that didn't mean somebody wouldn't see tomorrow for once...

As she continued telling Lux what she'd done, she felt a pain growing on her chest. "This is it!" she thought. "If she can still care for you after she finds out you blew up children then she's sticking around for good."

"There were five of us when that explosion went off... but when the smoke cleared, it was just Vi and me." She lamented. Some days she wondered what Mylo and Claggor would have said about the life she'd led. Would they have come with her? Would they have fought against her? Would they have joined Ekko's Firelights and stayed out of it until it was their problem? Whatever the outcome, a part of her would have still cared. She'd always care. That was her own jinx. "I killed them all, Lux. I killed Mylo and Claggor and dad... And when Violet realized what happened, she... she said something. She called me something that would shape who I'd be forever. A name I took for myself the day... the night 'Powder' died. And she did die in that blast. I just didn't know it until my sister told me to my face."

She was too afraid to look at Lux. She wasn't saying anything, so maybe she was trying to process just who she'd been friends with this whole time... Jinx continued before one of them got cold feet.

"Shortly after, she was sent to jail. Pilties needed someone to blame and I was in the wind. My other dad had found me and taken me in after Vi and I fought. A crime lord named 'Silco'. The man who kept the Chembarons in check. He nurtured my curiosity. Kept me safe from the gangs... From myself. He never blamed me for what I'd done. He'd been Vander's friend before everything. I'd killed his friend, and he didn't blame me! Eventually, I grew up to be his number one closer. His little Boogeyman that exploded his enemies. And he had enemies, Lux! After Vander was gone he practically ran The Lanes, if not all of Zaun! He was a force to be reckoned with... And I was the little monster he had to make sure people stayed in line. I spent years killing my way out of facing my trauma, hearing the voices of my dead friends in my head, building my gadgets, blowing people up without a shred of remorse... Seeing my sister's face in the people I gunned down. I hated her, Lux. For years, I thought she'd left me to rot... I didn't know she'd been taken... I didn't know she still loved me. And, to be honest... Outside of Silco trying his best to be a crime lord and a part-time dad... I..." This was something she had never admitted to anyone. People who knew her could see it, of course, but she'd never said it out loud... "I didn't think I could be loved. I didn't think I deserved to be loved." And some days, when things get really rough, I still don't.

Warmth was the first feeling. Like a loving little oven had started microwaving her from the side. And when she turned, Lux was holding her tight. Her hands were glowing. Her face too! Her whole skin, dimly lit, warming up Jinx's body... She hadn't noticed she was cold. Lux just held her. And something about it melted in her heart.

"It wasn't your fault."

Those were the first words that came out of Lux's mouth.

It was words Powder had wanted to hear her entire life.

She held her back. The warmth in her chest felt like a knot that had strangled her soul for ages had finally been undone. She allowed herself to sob as Lux kept talking, and she couldn't see her face, but she knew she was crying too. The lights turned yellow again. Warm and welcoming. Like a hug. Like a home.

"You were a child. You tried to help. You didn't know. It wasn't your fault, Powder. That night, that life, will never be your fault! Okay? And if anyone ever blames you for it, I'll light them up myself!"

And for the first time, she believed it.

Her eyes were dry at this point... She was out of tears. And that was okay. It was her that kissed Lux's cheek this time. She'd never really been known to be tender, but her Flashlight had earned it. She could be soft for one person, she thought. As a treat. For both of us.

They pulled apart.

"Thank you, Flashlight. But... Not 'Powder'." She'd made up her mind now. If anything happened to Lux, she would burn Demacia to the ground. "And... not 'Isha' either."

"Alright then." Lux wiped her eyes and stretched out a hand. She wanted to know everything about this person now. "Hello, miss. I'm Luxanna. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Jinx chuckled. She took her hand in hers. "Believe me, the pleasure is absolutely all mine, Luxanna." And she meant that with her whole heart...

"My name is Jinx."

[niqhtlord01]

Interviews with the Mythical

Human Reporter: What do you mean you invented Christmas?

Vampire: I mean just that, we invented the entire thing up.

Human Reporter: But we have documents, records of-

Vampire: All fabricated during the 3rd century as you call it.

Human Reporter: But why would you do that?

Vampire: Long term plan to subvert the day Christ was born.

Vampire: We gathered and felt that if we could slowly subvert the holiday with something less Christian we could dilute the faithful.

Vampire: Eventually we took a step back and you humans corporatized the holiday all by yourself to the point many associate it with our “Saint Nic” over that zombie boy Jesus.

Human Reporter: How would you say that has played out?

Vampire: I watched a woman throw a child like a football all to get the last Christmas day sale Toaster.

Vampire: It’s going swimmingly. ------------------------

Shape shifter: Oh yes I knew him.

Human Reporter: You knew Vincent Van Gogh?

Shape Shifter: This will be a short interview if you continue to question everything I say.

Human Reporter: I was just surprised since you look so young.

Shape Shifter: Such things as aging function differently for us.

Shape Shifter:  We appear old because we wish to feel the ravages of time.

Shaper Shifter: We appear young because we wish to bask in the depravities of youth.

Human Reporter: So are you immortal like vampires?

Shaper Shifter: *scoffs

Shape Shifter: I wish they would stop referring to themselves like that; the arrogant bastards.

Shaper Shifter: Vampires age slowly, but they age all the same; and I’ve yet to meet one that didn’t find a stake through the heart a grievous inconvenience.

Human Reporter: You are dodging the question.

Shape Shifter: Because I don’t have an answer.

Shape Shifter: The only way I imagine I can die is if I change into something dead, but I have no idea what that feels like so in the back of my mind there will always be a part of me alive meaning I am never really dead.

Human Reporter: Sounds like a maddening state.

Shape Shifter: Gogh said the same thing before he asked to paint me in my natural state.

Human Reporter: Really? What was it like being in one of his paintings?

Shape Shifter: Let’s just say he wasn’t always paranoid. ---------------------------

Human Reporter: So you take being a wolf seriously.

Werewolf: So?

Human Reporter: I mean, really seriously.

Werewolf: What kind of stupid question is that?

Werewolf: You take being human pretty seriously for being a human.

Human Reporter: But that’s just it, you are half wolf and half human; but your more animalistic side seems to take more precedent.

Werewolf: *Snarls

Human Reporter: I mean from what we do know you still form packs and groups with other werewolves even when in human form, you organize yourself like a pack being led by an alpha, etc.

Werewolf: I see what you’re getting at.

Werewolf: The animal tendencies are more…overpowering than human ones.

Human Reporter: Aren’t they the same?

Werewolf: No, they’re not.

Human Reporter: Could you elaborate?

Werewolf: Do you want to leave with your head?

Human Reporter: Yes.

Werewolf: Than this interview is over. ----------------

 Human Reporter: Do you have a moment for an interview?

Sphinx: Only if you answer my riddle.

Sphinx: What walks on-

Human Reporter: The answer is man.

Sphinx: ……

Sphinx: I haven’t even finished.

Human Reporter: I mean…..it’s not exactly a secret riddle.

Sphinx: But how can you possibly know it?

Human Reporter: Oedipus recorded the answer after he solved it.

Sphinx: *Defeated sigh

Sphinx: I knew I should have just killed that little man.

Sphinx: What else did he write?

Human Reporter: That after he solved the riddle you were so distraught you flung yourself into the sea to commit suicide.

Sphinx: That lying sack of shit! --------------------

Human Reporter: So does your pumpkin rot and you need to collect new ones or is it just eternally ripe?

Headless Horseman: Through the pumpkin That is what you are opening with?

Human Reporter: Well I just wonder how that thing could be still fresh after almost 300 years.

Headless Horseman: *Tilts neck down to show severed neck muscles and spine

Headless Horseman: None of this is freaking you out?

Human Reporter: If I’m being truthful I did interview a zombie before meeting you and they also were missing a substantial amount of flesh.

Headless Horseman: Did you just fucking compare me to a zombie!?!

Human Report: You technically are undead in a sense.

Headless Horseman: They made a bloody movie about me! It had Johnny Depp and I was played by Christopher Walken!

Headless Horseman: They made a tv show about me!

Human Reporter: With respect they’ve made more shows about zombies.

Headless Horseman: *Storms off and kicks over a stack of boxes while swearing in german ----------------

Human Reporter: Thank you for your time.

Leprechaun:  Pay my fee, lest I shall flee.

Human Reporter: *Reaches into pocket and tosses three gold coins.

Leprechaun: *Catches coins, takes a bite on each, then pockets them.

Human Reporter: You’re the only creature I’ve met that’s actually charged for an interview.

Leprechaun: Fools and half-wits waste fortunes with words said free, but I’m neither lest I’m paid handsomely.

Human Reporter:  Bit of a rhyming theme going on I see; very poetic.

Leprechaun: Words and songs are my crafts by trade, but none still finer than my cobbler days.

Human Reporter: What makes Leprechaun gold more special than normal gold?

Leprechaun: A simple question gets a simple answer.

Leprechaun: No gold is finer than the ones I gather.

Leprechaun: Through trade and trick I make my wealth, and by deceit and death I keep it still.

Human Reporter: You’re saying you’ve had to kill to protect your gold?

Leprechaun: The penance is clear, there’s no debate.

Leprechaun: You take my gold, I take your life. ------------

Human Reporter: What is it like to be the neck tie for a god?

Nag Vasuki: You would mock an immortal being?

Human Reporter: Do you not coil yourself around the neck of the literal god of destruction?

Nag Vasuki: I do.

Human Report: Then that makes you a neck tie.

Nag Vasuki: *Lunges across table and bites reporter in the neck, delivering a lethal amount of poison before storming off to get a bagel. ---------------

Human Reporter: Why do you eat children?

Baba Yaga: Why does a raging river drown those lost within its grasp?

Human Reporter: Because a river is part of nature.

Baba Yaga: As am I.

Baba Yaga: There is nothing more unforgiving and unrelenting than that of nature, and in their youthful bliss many young find themselves lost within its tangled woods of thorn and wood.

Baba Yaga: I, like nature, stand at the gates of great change that children must face; be it for great joy or misery.

Human Reporter: Are you saying you eat children because they refused to adapt?

Baba Yaga: *chuckles

Baba Yaga: Only the unlucky ones. -------------------

Human Reporter: in hazmat suit Thank you for the interview.

Nuckelavee: Through the hanging mouth of a horse and its rider man Save your false gratitude.

Nuckelavee: I seek neither your accolades nor your ponderous questioning.

Human Reporter: Then why did you come at all?

Nuckelavee: For all of humanity to know that their end will soon be at hand, and it will be by my machinations shall you fall.

Human Reporter: Forgive me but you remind me of the four horseman.

Nuckelavee:  *laughs

Nuckelavee:  Ah yes, the fear of the southerners was so rich when they first laid eyes on me.

Nuckelavee: They had come to preach the word of their god, so it was only fitting I made them scream out to their savior as I peeled the flesh from their bones. The look of abandonment they gave was so amusing I allowed the last of them passage back to their stone temples.

Nuckelavee: So wrought with horror they were that when they scampered back their minds could not conceive such malevolence as a singular being.

Human Reporter: So you are claiming to be the inspiration for the four horsemen?

Nuckelavee: There can be no other.

Human Reporter: If that was the case are you not upset you were depicted as such?

Nuckelavee: In the end I shall feast on you all; what mind have I to care for such trivialities?

[salty-autistic-writer]

Buck can’t bake anymore.

He’s sick of it. Sick of lemon loaf waiting forever on the kitchen counter and of Baked Alaska melting in his fridge.

The sweet relief of the moment changed into bitter memories that feel like ash in his mouth now.

He can’t bake anymore. So he turned back to pasta, pancakes and omelette. Back to pans and spices and knives. He serves his meals at the firehouse, wiping his hands on his apron, nervously waiting for reactions. Because it seems to be good. But he can never be sure it’s good enough. 

Will I ever be good enough for someone to stay? 

“It’s really good, Buck,” Hen assures him. Chimney nods, his mouth full of lasagna. Bobby helps himself to a second serving already. Eddie licks sauce from the corner of his mouth, grins, and calls Buck a chef. “Is there something you’re not telling us?” He asks teasingly. “Were you offered a position at a 5-star restaurant?”

And Buck laughs dutifully. But inside, he still feels that ache that never quite goes away. It’s better now. But it’s still there. Not good enough. Not enough. Not enough for something that lasts forever. Not ...

“This smells delicious,” a new voice adds quietly behind him.

Buck’s head perks up. His breath hitches and his heart seems to stop for a whole beat before restarting at a more frantic pace. No. It can’t be. He can’t be here, right? Just … like that? Now?!

He slowly turns his head. And there he is. Tommy. He’s real.

He’s standing there, wearing his turnouts, wringing his hands, blue eyes flickering back and forth. And the first thing Buck feels is rage. Because … what the hell? Here? Now? Like this? 

His first instinct is to yell. But he's frozen. Can’t decide what to say. Or do. He’s frozen. And after the initial shock, he has time to take Tommy in. Really take him in.

He looks ... drained. More gaunt than Buck has ever seen him. His hair is tousled and his posture expresses exhaustion. His eyes are redrimmed and his skin is a little too pale to pass as normal. In fact, Tommy looks like he's been through hell. Buck doesn't know what to think or feel. He just stares and Tommy fidgets and everyone around them is too quiet, the moment stretching until the silence roars in Buck's ears.

“Hey Tommy,” Chimney finally says, after swallowing a mouth full of lasagna, smiling after sharing a glance with Hen. “Are you … okay?”

So they can all see it too, Buck thinks. They can all see the numbness of terror in Tommy’s eyes. The too-thin line of his mouth. The ghostly paleness of his skin. They can all see it. Something happened. What happened? Or ... Is it the breakup? That angry part of Buck hopes it's the breakup. Hopes Tommy had his share of suffering, longing, wondering, breaking ... But he somehow feels like it's something different.

Tommy clears his throat. “I … I’m sorry. My phone is broken. I didn't want to intrude. But I drove by and I thought ..."

“Sit,” Buck says. Quietly. But sternly.

Tommy blinks. “I …”

“Sit. And eat.” Buck points at the free seat on the table. And - of course, it’s Tommy’s old place, he realises then. Sometimes it sends a chill down his back to think about the fact that he basically took Tommy’s place at the 118 only for them to meet years later. It could have been such a romantic fact. A string of fate connecting them through the 118. But … well. Tommy dumping him cut into that string like a knife.

Tommy is still hesitating. Looks like a deer in the headlights, a second away from turning away and running. Again. Just like he ran after he decided to end the relationship. Coward , Buck can’t help to think. That’s the angry part of him, he knows. The part that wants to punch walls, shatter glass and scream in Tommy’s face.

“You look like you could use some food,” Bobby says calmly. “Regain some energy,” Hen adds, matter-of-factly.

“It’s really good lasagna. You don’t want to miss it,” Chimney chimes in. “Especially not after a long shift.”

“I think I just heard your stomach growl, man,” Eddie says, pointing his fork at Tommy.

“Okay,” Tommy says, finally, his shoulders sagging with the relief of the decision.

He sits. Buck loads a massive lasagna heap on a plate and puts it in front of Tommy. After a moment and another subtle glance between Buck and Tommy, everyone starts talking again. They do their best to be a distraction. To make it seem like this is a normal thing. As if nothing happened. And Tommy eats. He finishes his plate. Then eats some more. He makes some small talk, smiles a few times, nods and even laughs one time about something Eddie tells him. But.

But Buck sees what no one else sees. He sees behind the facade of facial expressions. And what he observes makes the worry nag at him with sharpening teeth. It’s the way the smile never reaches Tommy’s eyes. They remain distant. Clouded and numb. Something happened. Something bad. And of course, Tommy isn’t talking about it. But it was bad enough to have him come here. Just like that. So it has to be really bad.

Eventually, Tommy clears his throat and pushes his chair back. “Thank you for the food. It was really good. I should go home now.”

“I’m going to drive you,” Buck says. It’s a heartbeat decision. Almost surprising himself. But it’s the right thing to do. He can feel it.

Tommy looks startled. “You … you don’t have to.”

Buck sets his jaw. “I want to.”

“My truck …”

“You can pick it up tomorrow,” Buck says. “Not a problem.”

The others fell silent and are watching the conversation between them, not saying anything.

Tommy swallows, his discomfort clearly growing now that so many people are looking at him. He’s already pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Buck knows why. Of course, he does. He knows Tommy is fidgeting with something, trying to calm his nerves. Oh. He knows this man so well, doesn’t he? But apparently not well enough. Not well enough to be with him forever, like he imagined. The rage curls around Buck’s heart again. “Alright,” Tommy finally says, giving in.

For the tevan advent calendar day 21: Trauma / PTSD

(Continue reading: AO3)

[kirain]

Just a little Emmrich fic based on @timethehobo's beautiful art here. Had me feeling angsty. 😅

Vae pushed open the heavy oak door to Emmrich's study, the hinges creaking slightly in protest. The room was as she expected: cluttered yet strangely orderly, filled with the faint scent of parchment and pipe smoke. Shelves packed with ancient tomes, scrolls, and artifacts lined the walls, and to the right of it all stood his desk, a chaotic mosaic of notes, quills, and half-finished experiments.

"Emmrich?" She glanced around but found no sign of him. "He must have stepped out."

The old book in her hands felt heavy as she crossed the room and carefully placed it on the desk, smoothing her fingers over its cracked leather binding. It had caught her eye in Dock Town, and she immediately remembered Emmrich's passing mention of wanting to read it.

Satisfied, she turned to leave, but a sudden, eerie green light flared behind her.

"Well, well," a snide, feminine voice drawled, its tone dripping with venom. "If it isn't Volkarin's little paramour."

Vae froze, a feeling of nausea churning in her gut. Slowly, she turned back to face Johanna's skull. The cursed object sat atop its ornate pedestal, its hollow eye sockets somehow teeming with malice.

"Hezenkoss," Vae said flatly, unwilling to give her any more attention than necessary.

"How cold," The skull cackled, the sound sharp and grating. "I was just starting to enjoy the quiet, then in comes the professor's pet. What did you bring him, hmm? Chocolates? Cheese? Some other fatuous notion of romance?"

Ignoring her jab, Vae headed for the door. "Just a book he wanted. Goodbye, Hezenkoss."

"How amusing. I can assure you, he's already read it," she scoffed. "That absentminded fool could never keep track of what he's consumed. He'd open a book, read the first page, then suddenly realise he'd read it years ago."

Vae paused, her hand lingering over the door knob. Against her better judgement, she sighed and walked to the desk, leaning against it and facing the skull.

"What was he like when he was younger?" she asked.

There was a brief silence, as if Hezenkoss hadn't expected the question. Then, her voice took on a grudging edge. "An idealist. A bleeding heart. A coward."

Vae frowned. "You were friends for years. You must have admired something about him."

"His intelligence," the half-lich admitted, begrudgingly. "And his magical prowess, but that's all. Both became the reason I despise him—he never utilized either one, wasting his potential. We could have ruled Nevarra, brought every neighbouring kingdom to their knees, but he preferred to play nanny to wayward spirits and shortsighted students. Pah!"

Vae's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you. You don't stay friends with someone for decades without seeing something worthwhile in them."

"As I just said. He was a useful duck to bounce ideas off of, but he never did appreciate my vision."

"Your vision?" Vae crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. "Your vision killed innocent people. Turned spirits into abominations."

"Sacrifices are necessary to achieve greatness," she spat. "I'm no hypocrite. As you can see, I made the ultimate sacrifice. Volkarin will do the same, should he pursue lichdom."

"It's different if it's yourself," Vae argued. "But not when you force it on others. That's not a 'sacrifice', it's just murder."

"No difference, same outcome."

Vae flinched, disgust welling in her eyes. "I can't imagine Emmrich ever being friends with someone like you," she said, her tone ruthless. "Which means, at some point, you must've changed. I just can't help but wonder if it was before you became a lich or after."

"Lichdom doesn't change anyone's personality, morals, or thoughts. I'm the same person I always was," she asserted. "If you want the truth, the old man's too trusting. Too softhearted. He wants to befriend everyone, even if it means adjusting his own interests to suit their needs. I'm sure you've seen it."

Vae swallowed, thinking back to all the times Emmrich went out of his way to ensure his colleagues' comfort at the cost of his own. Hiding his skulls, refraining from discussing necromancy in front of Taash, choking down one of Harding's ham sandwiches, afraid he'd insult her if he didn't try it—and then all the times he fussed over Vae herself.

"He's kind," she countered, though she knew it was sometimes to a fault. "He said you were, too. Once."

"Pah! You mistake kindness for naivety. I was young, with no concept of reality." She groaned, as if cursing her former self. "I grew out of that. Volkarin didn't. Beneath his grey hair and wrinkled skin, he's still a child at heart, always seeing individuals over the collective."

Vae shook her head. "Do you feel any guilt at all for what you've done to him?"

The skull chuckled, a bitter, humourless sound. "Guilt? For what? He impeded my plans. I did nothing to him."

"You had him on a hit list."

"Yes, because I knew that bleeding heart would never stand for my glorious uprising. Better to crush him, and that ridiculous pile of bones he drags around, than risk his interference. It wasn't personal, you see? Just collateral."

Vae's jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists. "You have no idea how lucky you are to have that 'bleeding heart' in your life. The rest of the Mourn Watch wanted to seal your skull in a tomb, alone, for eternity. But he fought to become your caretaker, because he couldn't stand the thought of you rotting in solitude. Even after everything, he pitied you."

Silence fell over the study, save for the faint crackle of energy within the skull. Hezenkoss said nothing, but her glow dimmed slightly.

Vae huffed and rose to her feet. "He's taking your betrayal harder than he lets on. You should be grateful for his kindness."

The half-lich grumbled, a note of frustration in her voice. "I was never loyal to him. There was no betrayal.”

"Yes, there was," Vae's temper flared. "You could always go to him, always talk to him. You were friends. He cherished that, cherished you, but you threw it all away—and for what? A broken existence? Eternal imprisonment? Loss of all feeling? You'll never be able to walk again, smell again, enjoy someone's touch on your skin. You had it all, but now it's gone. Was it worth it?"

For a long while, Hezenkoss said nothing, Vae's eyes boring into her sockets. Then, with a soft, almost incredulous hiss, she said, "I will escape."

"Maybe," Vae nodded. "But if you do, know this: I will never let you hurt him again."

Hezenkoss' laughter rang out as Vae moved towards the door. "You won't have to worry about that, darling. The decrepit old fool probably only has a few years left anyway!"

Vae tensed but didn't look back. Gritting her teeth, she wrenched the door open—and froze. Emmrich stood in the hallway, his expression a mixture of shock and pain, the weight of the overheard conversation hanging heavy in the air.

"Emmrich," Vae whispered, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her. "How long have you been—?"

"We were friends once," he whimpered, his eyes drifting to the floor, "...weren't we?"

Vae reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. He was so hurt, and it killed her to see. Without another word, she pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around him. Almost immediately he melted in her embrace, burying his face in her shoulder, his hands trembling.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He didn't respond, but the way he clung to her spoke volumes.

[whizzing-fizzbee]

The Pact

Sebastian Sallow x Female reader (MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: friends to lovers, marriage pact, unspoken feelings, fluff, smut Word count: 6,429 Summary: You and your best friend, Sebastian Sallow, made a pact on your 18th birthday: the two of you would get married if you were both single at age 25. Now it's your 25th birthday and neither of you have a spouse.

Notes: Would like to note that under no circumstances do I believe that anyone living in the modern age of 2024 should have a marriage pact at age 25. But times and life expectancies were different back in the good ol' Hogwarts Legacy days, which is why I chose 25 for these two.

Part I is fluffy. Part II gets smutty. Both are on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: The Pact

Sebastian Sallow glanced at his pocket watch. It was five after 7 p.m., and it wasn’t like you to be late. Most times, you were annoyingly punctual, if not fifteen minutes early.

Sebastian exhaled slowly and audibly, fidgeting in his seat as his eyes scanned the view outside the window for your familiar face. His fingers drummed anxiously atop the white tablecloth.

The bistro was a bit fancier than he preferred, but he wanted to do something nice for you. For all you cared, the two of you would eat cold sandwiches from a picnic basket somewhere quiet and secluded, but you agreed to meet him here for a change of pace. After all, it was a special occasion. It was your 25th birthday.

Your mirror was the reason you were late. You couldn’t tear yourself away from it, your gaze scrutinizing every miniscule detail of your reflection. Was your makeup too much? Was your hairstyle too simple? Did the dress you picked suit you? Were you trying too hard? Would Sebastian even notice?

Realizing you were going to be late, you took a deep breath, willing the air to somehow inflate your nerves and give you the confidence to survive the evening.

When you arrived at the restaurant an uncharacteristic twelve minutes late, you found Sebastian seated by the window, rifling through the day’s Daily Prophet.

“There you are,” you said cheerily, hoping your makeup hadn’t smeared and your hair was still in place after your apparition. It was a common greeting between the two of you, dating back to your Hogwarts days.

“There you are,” Sebastian replied per usual, folding the crinkled newspaper as he met your gaze. You could feel it sweeping over you as he took in your appearance. “You look stunning.”

Suddenly, you felt foolish for wearing blush. Sebastian’s compliments were more than enough to bring a tinge of rosy color to your cheeks.

“You look nice, too,” you answered as you eyed his outfit. Sebastian had become a sharp dresser over the years. Tonight, he wore a sleek pair of trousers that matched his vest, buttoned over a fresh white shirt and tie, though his hair maintained its signature tousled look.

Nice was the understatement of the century. Sebastian looked positively, devilishly handsome. Of course, he could wear a burlap sack and you’d find him attractive. You’d been a sucker for that boy’s freckles and brown eyes since you were fifteen.

But Sebastian’s boyish features faded a few years ago, his once round face morphing into a man’s. It had sharpened, becoming more defined with stubble that surfaced over his jawline if it went too long without a razorblade. He was clean-shaven tonight, though. You could smell his aftershave, an indication he had shaved just for you, or so you wanted to believe.

“Here, sit,” he said, rising to his feet to pull your chair out. He loomed over you now, his frame having reached at least six feet years ago.

You smoothed your dress out as you sat and Sebastian returned to his own chair, brandishing a bouquet of flowers he had brought for you. 

“For you,” he said simply.

You smiled at the vibrant bouquet, pausing to smell it before placing it delicately on the table.

“Thank you,” you said, offering him a smile. He gazed at you quietly for a split second and it made you want to squirm in your seat.

Instead, you shot him an inquisitive look, challenging him to speak, and in return, he flashed his signature smirk.

“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretching beneath the table and his eyes still lingering on you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you said, crossing and uncrossing your legs. You shifted, tucking one leg behind the other as you willed yourself to remain poised.

You wondered if he was going to broach the subject, the topic that loomed over both of your heads. You hadn’t spoken of it in five years, and you weren’t certain Sebastian even remembered.

But you thought of it constantly, its weight omnipresent in your life and your choices, nagging every “What if?” in the back of your mind.

It began when you turned eighteen. You and Sebastian spent your birthday getting piss-drunk at the Three Broomsticks with a few of your friends. Once everyone else had returned to Hogwarts for the night, you and Sebastian remained seated at a tiny table by the pub’s fireplace, your drunken antics leaving you warm and giggly.

“I can’t believe we’re adults now,” you marveled after you lost count of how many shots of firewhiskey you had consumed.  

“Eighteen with our futures ahead of us and the world at our hands,” Sebastian declared dramatically, raising his glass to you. Before you could toast, he tipped back the drink and grinned at you.

“The future is so daunting,” you said, your tone turning serious as the liquor started to stir up your insecurities. “What if I can’t find a job, Seb?”

“You’ve had the Ministry eyeing you for its auror academy for months now,” Sebastian said. “You’re a shoo-in to become the best damn auror the wizarding world has ever seen.”

“But what if I’m no good at it?”

“You’re joking, right?” Sebastian snorted. “You literally saved wizardkind from a goblin rebellion. You take down poachers and Ashwinders on a regular basis. Plus you manage to keep Leander Prewett at bay, despite all of his abhorrent advances.”

“What if I don’t find someone who’ll want to marry me?”

“Then I suppose Prewett will have to do.”

“Sebastian!”

“Relax, I was only joking,” Sebastian chuckled. “What makes you think no one will marry you? You have half the boys in our year positively drooling over you and tripping over their own feet for your attention. And besides, you don’t need to get married to have a fulfilling life. You’re incredible on your own.”

“But I want to share my life with someone.”

Sebastian blinked at you. “I didn’t realize you were such a hopeless romantic,” he mused.

You shrugged, your eyes glassy from your drunken haze. “I just think love could be a beautiful thing, you know? And what about a family? I want a family of my own.”

Sebastian hummed in agreement, falling uncommonly quiet. “You’ll find love,” he finally said, his gaze resting beyond you, at something that didn’t exist over your shoulder. 

“But what if I don’t?” you whined, the alcohol replacing your usual composed demeanor with something far less sophisticated.

“You will,” Sebastian said confidently, his gaze returning to you with amusement. He studied you, his smirk softening as he recognized the concern in your eyes. “Tell you what,” he continued, leaning forward to emphasize his seriousness. “How about you and I make a pact? If neither of us is married by the time we’re both 25, we’ll get married to each other.”

It was your turn to blink at him as you processed his proposal. It wasn’t quite the marriage proposal you wanted from him, but it was likely the closest you’d get, at least from Sebastian.

“Really?” you asked stupidly.

“Sure,” Sebastian answered assuredly. “Why not? I doubt it’ll come to fruition considering what I said about all the potential suitors you already have, but it’d be good to have a back-up plan just in case. And despite your best dramatics, I know you don’t despise me as much as you pretend. Growing old with me wouldn’t be that bad, would it?”

Of course it wouldn’t. It was all you really wanted. But you didn’t want to be Sebastian’s back-up plan. You wanted to be his first and foremost plan, his top choice, his only consideration for a wife. 

But you didn’t dare share that detail with him. He was your best friend, your confidant, your kindred spirit. The two of you had been through so much together; the trauma, the laughs, the adventure – it was too much history to risk with romance. 

So instead of making any romantic proclamations, you kept your cool and merely shrugged. “All right,” you agreed. “You and I, married after 25.”

The two of you shook hands and laughed about the frivolity of your new vow. After that night, you only brought it up a few times on rare occasion, like on your birthday or after one of you endured a particularly nasty breakup with a romantic partner.

”Well, I suppose there’s always our pact,” Sebastian once told you after you and Amit Thakkar broke up the summer after you graduated Hogwarts. You sighed that time, saddened by your failed relationship, yet hopeful for the notion that you and Sebastian could still someday end up together.

But that was just a silly, drunken agreement with no real weight to it, right?

The last time the pact had been mentioned was your 20th birthday, which was dampened by another breakup, this time with a man named Maximilian Flint. He was a professional quidditch player on the Appleby Arrows’ reserve team roster. 

The two of you met at a Christmas party and hit it off, but distance quickly made it clear that you weren’t meant to last. You were living in London, traveling on occasion for work. Maximilian, Max as you called him, was always traveling with the team. So your relationship was short-lived, leaving Sebastian to remind you of your agreement again. But that was the final time he brought it up.  

Meanwhile, Sebastian seemed unbothered by expectations of marriage. You watched as he kept his connections much more casual, dating different women with no real romantic intent. You couldn’t help but wonder if Sebastian simply had no desire to ever get married, making your pact void of any real potential.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t had any more suitors since then. Adulthood had served you well, your body filling out nicely in your early twenties. You certainly weren’t starved for attention from men and had your fair share of dates, but even the most charming bachelors fell short.

It wasn’t them, it was you. Or maybe it was Sebastian.

Every time you found yourself in the arms of a new man, a potential husband who would be willing to love and care for you, your mind wandered to that stupid pact. You couldn’t help but romanticize it as if it were reality — you and Sebastian, happily ever after. Your daydreams drew you downward to dangerous depths where you envisioned a cozy home the two of you shared. He’d help you cook dinner before you both tucked your children in bed so that you could enjoy each other’s company privately.

It was a maddening fantasy that had managed to sabotage all of your romantic prospects, but you couldn’t help it. No man compared to Sebastian, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself otherwise, and no matter how often you reminded yourself that the two of you were merely meant to be best friends.

Now, the two of you were seated at that bistro table five years later, still without spouses.

”You didn’t have to take me to such a nice place,” you said as a waiter served you champagne.

Sebastian flashed a grin and raised his glass to you, igniting a sense of deja vu that pulled you back to that night at the Three Broomsticks seven years ago. 

“It’s not everyday my favorite person turns 25,” he noted. You clinked your glass against his and drank, savoring the champagne’s sweetness. You wondered how much of it you could have before you were drunk enough to forget about the stupid pact. The answer, sadly, was unsurmountable.

Instead, you did your best to enjoy your meal and Sebastian’s company. You swapped work stories, Sebastian telling you of his latest curse breaking endeavors while you recounted a recent arrest during your work as an auror. 

When you thought your dinner was complete, Sebastian sat back and smirked over your shoulder. You frowned, turning to see what had stolen his attention when you spotted your waiter approaching with a small birthday cake.

”Sebastian,” you hissed as the cake was placed in front of you, its frosted letters spelling out Happy Birthday in purple cursive. “You didn’t need to do that.”

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Sebastian said, leaning over the table with his fork to steal a bite of cake. “You deserve a nice birthday.”

You smiled at him before taking a bite, enjoying the cake's sweetness until you noticed Sebastian watching you.

”You have icing on your lip,” he noted with a smirk.

Before you could reach for the napkin in your lap, Sebastian was reaching across the table again. He swiped at the rogue icing with his thumb before he relaxed back into his seat, licking his thumb clean.

You had to sit on your hands to keep from fidgeting too much.

Once Sebastian paid the bill, he became quiet, his eyes drifting toward the window as the two of you watched the passerby in comfortable silence. A young couple passed, holding hands and laughing, a sight that made you long for your own companionship.

It was sitting three feet away from you, but you didn’t realize how it was sneaking glances at you.

”So,” Sebastian finally said as he tossed his napkin on the table. “Ready for our next stop?”

”Next stop?” you repeated blankly.

Sebastian rose to his feet, his tall frame drawing the attention of other women in the room. You wanted to throw the remnants of your water goblet on them, but Sebastian extended a hand to you.

”Yes, doll, our next stop,” he said as you stood. His eyes gleamed and you prayed you wouldn’t lose your composure — not now, not when you’d nearly made it through the night. Or so you thought.

”Seb, you don’t have to-”

”Nothing but best for my lady.”

You were certain you were going to pass out right there in the middle of that quaint bistro. Instead, Sebastian led you outside into the cool night air.

”And just where are you taking me?” you demanded. “If we’re heading to your flat, I hope you took care of that niffler in the closet-”

��Eager to head back to my place already?” Sebastian teased.

You tripped over your own feet. Luckily, Sebastian still had a hold on you. He failed to conceal a laugh as he steadied you, clearly enjoying your frazzled state.

”If you must know,” Sebastian continued as he steered you toward a vacant ally, “We’re off to the Three Broomsticks.”

”The Three Broomsticks?” you laughed. “Why? We haven’t been there in years. We aren’t students anymore.”

Sebastian took hold of your arm and offered a grin. “Just thought we’d head there for old time’s sake. I’m feeling rather nostalgic tonight, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t decide if the lurch in your stomach was from your nerves or from Sebastian’s apparition. 

When you landed, the familiar smell of aged wood and butterbeer greeted you. 

“Come, sit,” Sebastian said with a gentle tug on your arm. You swallowed as you realized he was leading you to that same tiny table in the corner, near the fireplace. You took the same seat you’d held before, seven years ago, as Sebastian retreated to the bar to fetch your drinks. When he returned, he set a small glass down and grinned at you.

Firewhiskey.

”Sebastian,” you started as you eyed the liquid warily. “This is a bad idea.”

”Exactly.” You couldn’t help but snort as Sebastian lifted his own glass. “Cheers,” he continued as you clinked your glasses for the second time that night. “To old times and to our future.”

You nearly choked at his words. Our future? Was he referring to your pact? 

You downed your drink swiftly and made a face, evoking another laugh from Sebastian. He took the stool across from you and grinned.

”Are you trying to get me drunk again?” you accused.

”Of course not,” Sebastian answered. “I’m merely recreating old memories. Though you were certainly capable of drinking more back when you turned 18.”

“I had far fewer responsibilities when I was 18,” you pointed out. Sebastian hummed in response before another silence settled between you.

You wanted to bring it up. You wanted to mention it, even if it was just in jest. ‘Hey, remember that ridiculous pact we made?’ you could laugh. But instead, you remained quiet, the low hum of the conversations of other patrons inside the pub filling the space between you and Sebastian.

”So, how’s it feel being 25?” Sebastian finally asked. There was something about his gaze that unsettled you. He wasn’t looking at you with his trademark smirk or the glint of mischief that typically hid in his eyes, only detectable by those who really knew him.

“It feels… exactly the same as 24,” you laughed.

Sebastian nodded in understanding. “It’s rather anticlimactic, isn’t it?” he mused.

”That, it is.”

Sebastian smiled but you couldn't help but narrow your eyes at him. “If 25 feels the same as any other year, why have you gone out of your way to make tonight special for me?” you asked.

Sebastian shrugged, the gleam of the nearby fireplace flickering over his features. “Because your 25 is special,” he answered. “Now we’re both 25.”

You couldn’t form words. Your usual sharp wit and clever quips had abandoned you. Sebastian eyed you patiently, as if you contained some kind of answer to a riddle.

”Do you remember?” Sebastian continued. “The pact we made when we were 18?”

You were certain he could hear the way your heart seemed to be pounding in your skull, rattling your brain and leaving you void of any coherence.

”I do,” you managed.

”Well, we’re both 25 now.”

”We are.”

Sebastian was still studying you with patience, a jarring contrast from his usual unrest.

”Well, do you think you want to go through with it — the pact?”

”Huh?” You had never sounded so stupid in your life and it was starting to scare you. Sebastian also seemed slightly alarmed by your sudden stupor, because he leaned in closer.

”Look,” he said, his eyes searching you with a quiet desperation to be taken seriously. “I know it was just a stupid thing we said when we were young and drunk. But that doesn’t mean that it was irrelevant, at least not to me. I actually meant it. The offer still stands.” He paused to study your expression, as if to ensure you weren’t laughing at him or appalled by the topic. “But I also understand if you weren’t serious about it. It’s not like you don’t have a line of dates waiting to take you out, if you even want to be married, that is.”

”And what about you?” you managed, your voice much pitchier than usual. “You bring a different girl home every week.”

Sebastian appeared taken aback by such a harsh accusation. “Every week is quite an exaggeration,” he mumbled, his gaze falling to the tabletop as if he were ashamed. It made you feel horrible for passing judgment on your best friend. “But you’re right, I haven’t had many serious relationships. I guess I haven’t wanted any.”

”But you want to get married?” you asked incredulously.

”You didn’t let me finish,” Sebastian replied gently. His eyes drifted upward again to meet yours, softening your own gaze. “I haven’t wanted any serious relationships beyond the one I have with you.”

”But we’re-”

”Friends, I know,” Sebastian finished. “But I don’t want that to be the case. I want more.”

His words seemed to linger in the air above you, their weight threatening to crush you with a pastiche of emotions. They hovered, waiting for your response while Sebastian held his breath.

“How long have you wanted to be more than friends?” you finally asked. You silently scolded yourself for asking such a mundane question when you should be yanking Sebastian by the tie into the best kiss of his life.

“Since the day we became friends,” he answered.

The impact of his honesty made you inhale sharply, but the air didn’t seem to reach your lungs. 

”All this time?”

”Of course.”

Your head spun with a thousand more questions, each one overtaking the next as you tried to make sense of Sebastian’s confession. You couldn’t decide which emotion was the most prominent — the surprise, the elation, or the anger that the two of you had withheld yourselves from each other all along.

”Why did you make that pact then?” you finally asked. “Why didn’t you just tell me, then and there, that night seven years ago?”

”Because your future was just beginning,” Sebastian answered. “You had so much life to explore and I was just the moron who made a mess of what little family he had left. I was still figuring things out, and even though I knew I loved you, I didn’t think it was fair to hold you back from the life you deserved.”

“I deserved the truth, Sebastian,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, a juxtaposition of hurt and happy. “I deserved to spend the past seven years with someone who made me happy.”

The revelation settled over Sebastian, who became still. He looked dumbfounded, and if you weren’t about to spill your best-kept secret, you probably would have teased him.

“You mean you actually wanted to be with me?”

”Don’t be so dense,” you breathed with a soft laugh. “Of course I did. Sebastian, you’ve met some of the men I’ve dated. None of them are like you.”

”I thought that was by design.”

”As utterly exhausting as you are, you’re the only person I’ve ever deemed worth my time and energy,” you said. “I wouldn’t have agreed to that stupid pact if I’d known it wasn’t the only chance I’d have at being with you.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to sort through his racing thoughts, but you were growing impatient. You didn’t even realize you were standing now, anxious to find out where the rest of your life was now headed, now that you and the only man you’d ever loved had just admitted you wasted the past ten years pining after one another.

”So all this time, we could have… just been together?” Sebastian said.

”Apparently.”

”Are we stupid?”

”Apparently. Did you plan this evening with hopes I’d agree to carry out the pact?” you asked.

”I mean, I thought there might be a chance,” Sebastian admitted. “I was fully prepared to make a case for myself.”

It was the tipping point. The strange scene, nostalgic yet new, would become the pivotal moment in your timeline when Sebastian Sallow would no longer be your best friend. It was exhilarating and terrifying, comforting and confusing, a perfect reflection of who you and Sebastian were as humans and as a pair.

Sebastian was still looking stunned as you finally came to your senses. 

“So can we continue to our next stop?” you asked.

Sebastian was confused, but rose to his feet when he realized you were preparing to leave the pub. “Next stop? Where’s that?”

”Depends,” you answered. “Did you get that niffler out of your flat?”

Part II: The Vow

The floating candles were fading, the last remaining drips of wax fighting to keep their flames alive. The music dipped to a low hum as the live band prepared to end its performance for the night.

The remaining guests bid their farewells with cheerful laughter and hugs, offering well wishes to you and your groom while you watched them leave with sadness.

You didn’t want the night to end — or so you thought.

But your sad goodbyes were quickly replaced with anticipation as you could feel your husband snaking his arms around your waist.

Your husband. The very word made you swell with pride. You waited over ten years for this moment and couldn’t believe it was a reality. Ten years of patiently waiting for that freckled brown-eyed boy to realize how much you loved him. Ten years of putting up with his chaos, of keeping his darkest secrets, all because you saw beyond his mistakes. Ten years of hoping and praying that boy would turn into a man who would return the unconditional love you carried for him since the day you dueled in Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Ten years of waiting on Sebastian Sallow to kindly remove his head from the sand and make you his wife.

Mission accomplished.

”That’s everyone,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. “The last of the guests. Just you and me now.”

”Thank heavens,” you hissed, wincing as you shifted your weight. “These shoes are killing me.”

”Let’s get you home so you can take them off,” Sebastian mumbled against the back of your neck, his lips pressing a series of kisses there. “That dress needs to come off, too.”

The wedding had been perfect. It was a beautiful garden display with your closest friends and family, all who sighed in relief that the the two people involved had finally squashed their stubborn resistance and ended up together.

”I was really starting to get worried you were going to end up with that bloke from the Ministry,” Ominis Gaunt told you. “The one with the hideous outfits.”

”And I was worried Sebastian was going to be a bachelor forever,” Anne Sallow added. “If I can’t have kids of my own, I’d at least like to be an aunt.”

Ten months ago, you and Sebastian finally figured it out. The two of you had spent the ten years you’d known each other waiting on the other person to say something, anything, to ensure that the feelings weren’t one-sided. 

That stupid marriage-after-25 pact you made was upheld though, even if it had become less of a pact and more of an absolution as a result of a decade of unspoken words and mutual pining.

”Finally,” Sebastian declared once he’d apparated the two of you home to your shared townhouse in London.

Though you had wasted ten years waiting on another to begin your relationship, you and Sebastian wasted no time in consummating your marriage.

Actually, you’d spent the past ten months making up for lost time and, “It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten pregnant yet,” as Anne so bluntly stated.

This night was no different.

Sebastian hooked an arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss, his hands roaming from your sides to reach for the back of your dress.

”You looked beautiful tonight,” he told you for the hundredth time. You knew his words were sincere though, given the way Sebastian’s eyes had devoured you the entire evening, waiting impatiently to see beneath the dress you had only picked knowing damn well he’d be dying to remove it.

A sharp tug at the ribbons of the corset that laced up the back of your dress loosened the bodice, causing you to spill from it, exposing your bare chest.

Sebastian flashed his canines. 

He kissed you hard, his hands tugging the dress downward in frenzied motions until you could step out of it, leaving the beautiful garment in a heap. Those frantic hands found their way back to your waist, tracing the curves that led upward to your breasts.

Your breath caught as Sebastian kissed your neck, his own breath hot against your skin, trailing along your collarbone in a desperate attempt to put his mouth on every inch of you that he could manage.

Sebastian was far too overdressed for your liking, so you tugged at his tie, pulling him in to meet your lips before you helped him loosen the fabric. By the time the silky accessory slipped to the floor, you were working on the buttons at the front of Sebastian’s shirt, thoroughly annoyed that there seemed to be so damn many of them.

Three buttons in, you huffed your aggravation and Sebastian barked a laugh. “Go on, love,” he said. “It’s just a shirt.”

You weren’t seeking his permission, but his blessing was all the encouragement you needed to tear the shirt open. Its buttons popped and sailed across the room, scattering over the floor to be fetched another day.

Sebastian’s shirt sank to the floor and you practically dove for his belt buckle while he gazed downward in pure elation stoked by your eager actions. You didn’t care. Now was not the time for poise and composure. You’d spent the entire day indulging propriety, performing your part as the perfect blushing bride.

Now, you were ready for your role as Sebastian’s real wife.

You removed his belt swiftly, his suit trousers soon joining the rest of his clothes on the floor until your own panties were the only article of clothing between you.

Sebastian took it upon himself to remove them, hooking his thumbs into the sides to tug you closer for another kiss. His tongue hinted at the things he wanted to do to you as it pushed past the threshold of your lips, his thumbs working your panties downward until they fluttered to the floor.

“You’re a fucking vision,” Sebastian breathed, his fingers reaching between your thighs to drag over your folds. 

You sighed as his fingers worked at the tension that had mounted in your core, and ground your hips impatiently against Sebastian’s palm, which was pressed against your clit. 

“So tense, you are,” Sebastian mewed, removing his hand from your body to gently suck on his fingers.

Before you could form a response, he scooped you up to carry you to the bedroom. You squealed as one arm supported your back, the other supporting your weight beneath your thighs. He smirked at you as he felt the slickness that had settled between them.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Sebastian groaned as he entered your bedroom. He tossed you on the bed and loomed over you as he decided which sinful act he wanted to perform first.

He licked his lips and reached for your ankles, tugging you toward the edge of the bed. 

“Can’t wait to see if you taste even better as my bride,” he said as he settled between your knees. He planted a trail of kisses up your thighs, over your hip bones to your bellybutton, invoking a pitiful whimper from you.

You could feel him smirk against your skin, undoubtedly planning how he could use his tongue to orchestrate your demise.    Sebastian hooked his arms around your legs, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs as he prepared himself to feast on you.

A sharp inhale passed through your lips the moment his mouth made contact with you, his tongue gliding over your folds.

”Shit,” you heard him hiss. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

His tongue darted patterns across you, dragging deep sensations below your skin. Your fingers tangled tighter in his hair as you willed your body to produce the response you were both working for.

Sebastian grunted, a telltale sign that his own needs were making him impatient. His cock stirred and he couldn’t help but grip himself as he continued to taste you.

”Oh god,” you groaned as you could feel the familiar sensation of a climax surfacing. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Sebastian would have to be hit with an Unforgivable Curse before he dared to stop. Instead, his fingertips pressed into your thighs as his tongue applied more pressure, maintaining the pace he knew you liked.

The reward of his sinful act surged forth, your body rippling with pleasure as you moaned, your fingernails digging into Sebastian’s skull at the peak of your orgasm. When it subsided, Sebastian left you panting as he straightened up, one hand still supporting his shaft.

He smirked downward at you as he admired the aftermath of his work. He always did this after such an act, his gaze gleaming with pride, lips wet, his tousled hair making him the epitome of sin incarnate.

Most times after Sebastian’s tongue had worked you into a breathless, fucked out frenzy, he was ready to seal the deal and take you until he was finished himself. Other times, you were eager to return the favor and he’d allow it if he felt he had the willpower.

So as he stood over you, his eyes drinking in the erotic vision that was his wife in a post-orgasm haze, you rolled yourself over to lie on your stomach, facing him so that he could bring himself to your waiting mouth.

You reached for him and he hissed as your fingers enclosed around him, a thumb tracing gentle circles around his tip. He twitched slightly, the sensation forcing a grunt from him.

You smirked, your eyes raised upward as they met his while you took him in your mouth, the velvet of his skin gliding against your lips.

”Fuck, I love you,” Sebastian breathed. You hummed in response, the vibration from your lips drawing a groan from Sebastian. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said as your head bobbed, your cheeks sucked inward tightly around his shaft.

His eyes roamed your form, presented in such a pretty way for him, laid out so that he could see your backside. He reached for you, gently squeezing as you focused on using your mouth.

Sebastian’s tip hit the back of your throat and he groaned at the sensation of the soft flesh. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, but he silently thanked every higher power for forgiving his past sins enough to present him with you.

”Come here,” he suddenly growled, pulling his cock from your mouth. You whined in protest but knew you were in for the ultimate honor.

Sebastian had you by the legs and rolled you to your back again, pulling you toward the edge of the bed once more. This time, he stood between your thighs, his bedroom eyes dark with desire as he held his cock in one hand, ready to take you.

When he guided himself inside you, you moaned until he was fully engulfed. Sebastian clenched his jaw at the sensation, unsure how long he would last thanks to the wetness that was already pooling around him. But he had told himself that morning, before he got to watch you saunter down the aisle to him, that he was going to do everything in his power to make you happy. And that included satiating your every need in the bedroom, until your legs shook and your voice became hoarse.

Sebastian made a silent vow to get at least two more good orgasms out of you tonight. You deserved it. You were his wife.

The room filled with the sounds of Sebastian’s body slapping against yours, a rhythmic beat punctuated with your occasional moans. Sebastian leaned forward to leave kisses on your neck, one hand cupping your breast as the other supported his weight.

”Going to come for me?” he panted.

”Yes,” you breathed. You used your own legs to lift your hips, meeting Sebastian’s in a desperate act to ensure another orgasm.

It didn’t take long to achieve your goal. Sebastian had been here before. He was familiar with your wants and needs, the rhythms you liked and the way you secretly were turned on when he whispered absolute filth in your ear.

He fucked you harder, so hard that your cunt started to spasm before your lips could form his name. You cried out so loud you were certain the neighbors would come knocking, but Sebastian would hex them if they dared to interrupt.

The bedsheets became soaked beneath you, your gasps replacing the fervid sounds of sex as you caught your breath. Sebastian, still inside you, nuzzled your neck as he allowed you to recollect yourself.

Now, it was his turn. You knew that and you wanted it. So you sat up, indicating it was time to switch places. Sebastian obliged without a word, settling onto his back as you straddled him.

Though he’d seen you in this position countless times, Sebastian never failed to admire the sight. This time, he took extra care to savor the moment that was his absolute goddess of a wife mounted on top of him.

You held your breath as you slowly lowered your hips, impaling yourself on Sebastian. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he said through gritted teeth as your cunt swallowed his shaft until your full weight had him completely inside you.

You rocked slightly, seeking the familiar friction and angle you knew would privilege you with a third orgasm if Sebastian could hold out that long. Lifting your hips and slamming back downward, you quickly found the spot, moaning Sebastian’s name to express your gratitude for his cock that seemed to be made with you in mind.

”You take me so fucking well,” Sebastian said as he watched you ride him, your hips lifting and bucking. His gaze flickered from your breasts to the spot where the two of you were connected, and he reached to press his thumb against your clit.

”Sebastian!” you wheezed as the sensation caught you off guard. You were met with a smirk, which you didn’t see because your eyes squeezed shut to focus on the absolute ecstasy forming within your core.

”You’re soaked,” you heard Sebastian say, but you chose to ignore him as you rocked backward, the tip of his cock pressing against the most sensitive part of you.

Heaven couldn’t help you in that moment, and Hell wouldn’t know what to do with you. You choked out a moan as your cunt contracted, desperate to milk out another orgasm. You could feel the tension teetering you right to the edge as your core tingled with warning.

”Fuck, Sebastian!” you gasped as you earned your final orgasm, your walls fluttering around your husband’s cock. A guttural moan escaped your lips as you rode it out, the contractions setting Sebastian’s own climax in motion.

”Fuck!” he grunted as he spilled himself inside you in quick bursts. His hands gripped your hips and his eyes were clamped shut as his body responded to the intensity. ”My god,” he managed when the feeling finally subsided, leaving you both panting.

Once you finally managed the energy to roll yourself off of him, you cuddled up to Sebastian, resting your head on his chest. Your exhaustion left you euphoric as the reality of your evening settled in. You were a wife now, and your husband was the one and only man you had ever wanted to spend these kinds of moments with.

Ten years had finally led you and Sebastian to this point, and you were so glad that stupid pact had been replaced by your vows.

[derww]

for @heartcircus.

its not like zam actually tries to talk: he stands, carefully holding his notes, just staring at spawn, noticing one familiar face after another, feeling like all thoughts in his head became too heavy, and then just. turns around. and leaves.

you know, all of the princezam nature is to oppose, is to fight. but the last seasons taught him about just how important it is to appreciate people around, to do not only for yourself but for them too. and just today he promised to not interfere with mapicc's plans.

he can't fight, but he can't support. so he leaves. first time in many days, he has no words to say anymore.

all of it is just too familiar, and memories of the past cloud his mind and make every part of his body weak and stale. story repeats itself, and hed hate to see it continue and weave hemself into it, so he does not. i need some time to be alone, he says to derapchu and goes almost to the border – to sunny hill, surrounded by snow-capped mountains.

this time something in it reminds him too heavy. he doesn't build a castle. instead, he builds a hut.

it's not so bad, he says to himself, laying firewood in the stove, it's not season 4 anymore, noone will backdoor the server and mapicc will stop. sooner or later. i cant fight him, but i dont have to. everything will end. and then ill go back.

he feels so fucking tired. only now he understands just how tired he is. so he lies down. and sleeps. and sleeps. and sleeps.

it never gets better; the tombstone of exhaustion only presses him down harder and harder. he sleeps and sees dreams. he cooks himself food and eats it, feeling no taste. he plants flowers and takes care of them. sometimes he talks to derapchu. he never tells where he is.

only in so slow time he suddenly understands just how misplaced he is. he's patch on patch, stitched over and over again with scraps of fabric, no matter how worn or unsuitable they may be, over and over and over, stitched with scars running through his spine. he is a trace of something forgotten, overlaid by images of other people and experiences, accustomed to it so much that it feels like himself. he sleeps and sees no nightmares. maybe it's for the worse.

so far from anyone, without any real goal, Immersed deep into himself, he easily starts missing hours, days, and weeks. time doesn't feel real, and he, at the end, too. people write him. sometimes he answers. he never agrees to meet.

i'll go back when the mawn thing will be over; he promises to derap but hardly believes in it himself. something makes him feel like he has nothing to come back to. this house is also not his home, but it's at least silent here.

derap persists, but in the end he gives up too. and, in the end, he is left alone. he grows dandelions in the field around. when an unfamiliar flower appears in the field, he does not prevent it from growing nearby.

he blinks and feels like he missed a whole week. sometimes he just lies there and doesn't move. he doesn't feel the softness of the pillow, the springy floor under his feet, and, after all, he doesn't feel pain either. a ringing void freezes in his head. he feels tired, but sleep doesn't help.

he missed a moment something changes.

something about how the world exists around him. something about how forest smells like. something about how the grass is rustling under his feet. something is wrong, but he barely makes himself care. it doesn't matter, not really, but time still slows down. he slowly dips his hands into the loose earth, feeling the coolness and texture. nothing here belongs to him, but that's not the point. he plants some poppy seeds. one of them ends up in a pot on his windowsill.

i'm fully okay, he says to derap while not being able to remember what he ate today, i'm just in retirement for now. i will go back to you, i promise. i just need some time.

the boards under his feet creak differently. sometimes something whistles, like an unfamiliar bird. sometimes it seems to him that the grass next to the house is crushed.

isn't this a true peaceful life, he asks himself. to run away from everything and be alone. in the end, there is no way to harm anyone if you are alone. he feels like he was running a marathon all this time and only now stopped.

he adds blue orchids, but their blue is drowning in the red. he takes the smallest orchid inside and turns it into a magnificent flower. In a moment of weakness, he takes the cornflower inside. the next one turns out to be an orange tulip. he doesn't comprehend it.

is it what i wanted in season four, he asks himself. this place strangely reminds him of it. he reminds himself of it, too, allowing himself to feel anything. he still can't decide if it's a good thing. 

the rain is pounding on his window. someone is knocking on his coffin lid. poppies fill the whole field.

i miss them, he writes on a paper. but i can't go back yet. not while spawn is someone's. not while i have to fight my best friend.

when he comes back from the forest, his house still keeps warmth. his footsteps are echoing, and his diary is open by the wind. i miss being able to decide, this page says. i was good at it once.

he doesn't feel sick. he feels dump. the green in his cape is starting to fade.

sometimes it seems to me that i won't be able to overcome this, he writes. but I know i can handle it. i always can. i will overcome anything. i just can't give up.

the forest smells of pine and fir, and it has not been lost in the trees for a long time, wandering far beyond the edge. the forest always brings him back when he wants to. it never holds him by force and generously supplies him with tree cones and wet moss. he always comes back because he has nowhere to go.

this time, when he comes home, he has a visitor. he is not surprised: he calls them by name, nods, makes tea from fir needles.

mapicc rests his head on his elbows.

– lets go home, – he says. zam shakes his head.

– to mawn? – he asks.

mapicc squints.

– yes.

– i won't.

– why.

zam looks at him almost regretfully.

– because i refuse to fight you, – he answers simply, – and i will have no choice but to.

– even fighting me is much better than- than whatever this is, – mapicc remarks irritably.

– i don't want to fight you ever again, – zam signs, – i know you like me as your enemy. i do not.

– you don't have to fight me. join me.

– i hate everything you've created, – he answers with pity, – and i can't change it. please, leave me alone. do whatever you want to do. and one day i'll be able to go back.

– i dont understand why you oppose it so much. you haven't even given it a try. is it, like, that bad? people love it; you can love it too.

zam shakes his head.

– did you really come to convince me to love what I hate?

– i came to invite you to my thing.

– not this time.

in the end, mapicc still leaves. only after that zam takes his floor apart to find a secret passage under the boards. it leads to a dug-out underground room filled with anything. there are books everywhere. an unmade bed. and a pot with a dandelion in the middle of the makeshift countertop.

mapiccs room, says the sign. he adds a glow ink to it and looks around again.

for an infinitely long moment he considers just starting to live here.

[mollyrolls]

stop the clock 𖦹 matsukawa i. x reader

day 8: the name drop

in collaboration with get ugly by @eggyrocks @warlocksoup

an: if you guys haven't seen my rampant screaming, eggy's new phenomenal fic get ugly is in the stc universe!!! you must go read it and give eggy love otherwise ill eat you

uquiz 𖦹 pinterest

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“You broke my heart, you know that?”

Issei calls out to the expanse of the store as he enters, foot barely past the threshold before he speaks.

“Uh, sorry?”

Suddenly, his blood runs cold. The voice coming from the desk is not the one he’s come to love, but a completely new one. He turns slowly, preparing himself for the embarrassment he will have to endure.

Sitting in her perch was a shorter guy, with a streak of blonde cutting right through his hair. He’s looking at Issei like he knows him, which is confusing because Issei’s sure this is the first time he’s seen him.

Upon seeing his face, the guy from the counter breaks into a huge grin.

“Oh my god, you must be Mattsun.”

Adjusting slightly to appear more relaxed, he gives a tentative smile.

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

The guy leans forward on his elbows, watching him like a TV show.

“How much money have you actually spent on cherries? It’s got to be like ¥4000 at this point.”

This peaks his interest significantly. He hasn’t told anyone but Makki and Suna about the cherries, because he had to explain the new business expense he’d been logging, so it must have been her.

This of course means-

“She talks about me?” He can hardly contain his glee at this news.

“Yeah. It’s not-”

Issei puts a hand up to stop the guy. He doesn’t care to hear what she’s been saying, for better or for worse. Since it’s likely worse, the knowledge that he consumes the tiniest bit of space in her brain is enough for him.

As he does so, the guy splits into a huge grin.

“You’re just like I imagined. Can I please watch you flirt? I need this for science.”

Before he can do anything, the guy behind the counter yells out to the store. 

Yells her name. Something in Issei’s head starts to spin. 

He wanted to know her name. So badly that he was chastised relentlessly by Makki for spending his whole shift on his phone with Suna. They had scoured every corner of her spotify account, looking for anything to identify her.

Tragically, she’d prepared for him. Her username was just a bunch of numbers, she had no profile name or picture, and all the playlists were simply numbered 1-16. 

So yes, knowing her name was like fireworks sparking in his head. But this was not how he wanted to learn it. He likes that she makes him work; he wanted it to be a prize that he’d earned.

At the sound of her name, she appears behind the little isles and looks over at where they are. Issei can’t help but notice she’s in his corner. Where the cherries are. 

As she makes eye contact with Issei, her facade cracks. Surprise, embarrassment, realization, embarrassment, collected, all in the span of a few seconds. She comes around to round out their circle, not really looking at Issei. 

He thinks it’s weird seeing her from this angle. She’s not different, maybe a little nervous, but not enough to really change her demeanor. Yet, without the safety of her counter she looks more vulnerable. 

“Is something wrong, Noya?” She asks the guy behind the counter, seemingly unprepared to handle Issei. 

Noya grins cheekily, and gestures to the space between them as if inviting the show to begin. She glowers at him but he seems unaffected. Issei’s impressed; if he was on the receiving end of that glare he’d need some new pants.

Noya beams wider before turning to him again. “Cmon, let’s see it! Lay on the charm man.” 

“You’re gross. And stealing from me by still being clocked in,” She bites back before Issei can even start. He just stands back and watches their exchange, like a spectator at the zoo. 

Something in him is jealous of Noya and the way he can get her to shed her skin. Regardless, he takes what he can get. Despite his nasty gut feeling, he’s seeing a side of her he’s never gotten access to. What she’s like with her friends, when she’s not putting on her facade. Who his mystery girl really is.

Noya eventually concedes after being threatened short of death and is pushed out of the store. Before he disappears into the dusk, he whispers something to her that makes her eyes roll all the way to the back of her head. 

She watches him turn the corner and disappear into the night, and Issei notices the steadying breaths she has to take.

Upon re-entering the store, she looks more collected. As she tucks her hands in her back pockets, she rocks a little on her feet. He looks down and notices the boots she’s sporting, and the tiniest little streak on the toe.

“So.”

His attention is brought back up when she addresses him, still swaying slightly.

“So?”

She shifts her shoulders back reflexively, like she’s ready for a fight. “You know my name now.”

He looks back at her, saying nothing. She doesn’t take the bait.

“What, you aren’t gonna berate me to death? Wax poetic about how beautiful it is and how it suits me and how when you heard it, angels sang?”

He tries to hide a smile. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “What happened to you?”

He gives a tiny shrug.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m still the same old Issei.”

Unconvinced, she glares at him a little longer. He takes it on the chin. When she presses, he stands firm.

Issei thinks she’s sorting things out in her head. He’d give her whatever she needs, even if it makes his knees a little weak, and right now that means a silent dressing down. His hands are sweaty.

“This is unnerving.” She admits after a few moments, then turns on her heel to walk back deeper into the store.

Issei waits a couple moments then follows.

“What is?”

“You.” She reaches her destination, and starts to restock his cherries.

“Haven’t I always annoyed you though?”

“Yeah. But this is different.”

She continues picking up the pots from the box, rotating them around and sliding them into their place. There’s about 20 little jars, only taking up a single shelf.

Issei lingers nearby, leaning on the doors of a fridge. His back radiates enough heat to make some condensation. “How do you mean?”

She stops for a second in contemplation; looking over her shoulder to peer at him again, turning thoughts over in her mind. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it just as fast. 

In her hesitancy, Issei notices a touch of vulnerability in her eyes. It’s hidden deep behind her irises, but he knows her now. With a blink, it’s gone.

 Instead, she lets out a deep sigh, a bit of frustration and a drop of disappointment.

“I dunno. Never mind.”

“Hey, cmon.” Issei tries to probe her again, keep her talking, but she grows resolute in her decision. She quickly emits an energy that is impenetrable. He doesn’t have the tools yet to identify a crack.

He stands and waits for an opening, one that she doesn’t give. The condensation from the fridge starts to drip down his neck. 

He feels a buzz in his pocket, and sees a text. 

suna [9:57 pm]: ur gonna b late. get some salt while ur there, quit harassing women, and hurry up

He can’t help the small grunt of annoyance he lets out, resentment growing at everything around him. 

When he looks back up, she’s staring at him in a way he’s never seen. There’s not a lack of emotion, there’s too many to sort. He expects her to glance away, and she does.

The whirr of the fridges is louder than normal.

“I’ll uh… I’ll see you around,” Issei starts, feeling oddly small. He scuffs his shoe, hoping she’ll ask him to stay, or ask him a clarifying question, or anything other than this suffocating silence. When nothing comes, he pushes off the wall and starts down the aisle.

He really does try to leave, but sometimes he can’t help himself. He pauses, and she watches.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s lame your friend ruined that bit. It was kinda fun having the mystery.”

She takes the peace treaty gratefully, but still doesn’t speak.

“If you want, we can agree to forget it? I’ll earn it fair and square?”

There’s a little chuckle, mostly to herself, before she replies.

“Are you even capable of forgetting that?”

He laughs, somewhat from relief that he had managed to salvage whatever he’d fucked up.

“Nah, probably not. I can try though.”

She dismisses that with a wave of her hand.

“Why bother. I’ll just… put bleach in Noya’s shampoo or something.”

He grins at her, easy and open. She doesn’t return it, but stands up a bit more casually. 

The unspoken words between them weigh heavy in the air, but it’s returned to a level that Issei can manage. They’re closer than he’d thought.

He realizes he’s been staring, trying and failing to place her perfume. Issei ducks his head quickly, before turning and walking out more intentionally.

Right before he reaches the door, he turns around one last time. To his surprise, he meets her eyes. 

“I- I hope the concert was good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He can’t hear her from across the store, but sees her mouth ‘bye.’

By the time he gets to work, he’s distracted. Anytime a woman tries to flirt with him, all he can think of is the melody behind her eyes, and what was going through her head. 

Issei doesn’t make that many tips that night.

She’s hunched over her drawing table, various trashed doodles surrounding her. Her phone is plugged into the wall, just above 14%. It always dies faster when she’s on the phone.

“I don’t see what the big deal is?”

Seven’s voice is breathy over the speaker, she’s out in the cold. She fills in the background of her strip with haphazard crosses.

“So he’s a little dorky guy with a crush. Is he threatening?”

She lets out a half-there chuckle. “No. He likes batman band-aids.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Her pencil tip breaks from the pressure. 

“I-”

Instead of sharpening it, she fishes for another.

“I think he actually likes me. Like, not as a bit.”

Over the speaker, some rock radio comes over from Seven’s side. It’s loud enough that she can hear it. It makes her cringe.

“Is that so bad?”

The response takes so long that Seven has to ask if she’s there.

“Yeah. It is.”

She hangs up before she’s faced with the next probing question.

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