#staring at you with enormous glittering eyes

[ianthewife]

Lyctor!Faulkner is having a normal one

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62200915

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”

[misswynters]

𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎

jinx x fem!bombshell!reader

synopsis: You are a model for (victorias secret equivalent but in arcane universe) and jinx becomes infatuated with you. Known for you bombshell persona and explosive personality, you are the most well known model in all of piltover and zaun. Possibility even watching noxus and the other regions.

warnings: 18+, smut, kissing, smut, wlw , the use of a toy, jinx calls you sugar,

a/n: my first jinx fic <3, also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)

note | pls give me feedback (and don't only just like but also reblog and comment) this was supposed to be short but it went overboard

𓏲 ˖. ♡ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐱 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 for Piltover. Too clean, too polished, too boring. The people were all fake smiles and ridiculous hats, and she preferred the chaos of Zaun to its glittering streets. That all changed the day she first saw you. She’d been in Piltover on a whim, loitering in the shadows as she planned her next prank. Explosives in a fancy clock tower, maybe? She hadn’t decided yet. But her chaotic thoughts screeched to a halt when she looked up at the enormous neon screen in Piltover Square and saw your beautiful face.

You were walking down the runway in a show so glamorous it put Piltover’s polished spires to shame. Wrapped in a shimmering, barely-there gown that hugged your curves, you strode with an air of absolute confidence. Your bombshell persona was magnetic, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the music as the crowd erupted into applause. You gave the camera a cheeky wink and blew a kiss, and Jinx’s brain short-circuited.

“Holy… Who the hell is that?” she muttered, her wide eyes glued to the screen.

A vendor passing by glanced at her. “That’s her. You don’t know? The biggest model in all of Piltover and Zaun. Hell, even Noxus and Ionia are crazy about her.”

Jinx didn’t respond, too transfixed by the image of you flashing across the screen. You were a living firework, a walking explosion of charisma, beauty, and sheer presence. Your bold, flirty persona was a match for her own chaos, and it wasn’t just your looks that had her hooked—it was the energy you carried, the way you owned every moment. From that point on, Jinx was utterly captivated.

Back in her lair, your face became a constant presence. Jinx scavenged every poster, magazine, and billboard she could find that featured you. Her walls were covered in them, glossy images of you smirking, posing, and looking like you owned the world. She couldn’t get enough of you, and it drove her mad in the best way possible.

“Look at her,” she’d whisper to herself, lying on her bed and staring at a magazine cover where you lounged in a shimmering gold corset. “She’s a walking explosion.”

Whenever one of your commercials aired on Piltover’s big screens, Jinx made a point to watch. She’d perch on the rooftops, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you spoke directly to the camera, your voice sultry and teasing. Sometimes, she’d mimic your lines, laughing to herself at how ridiculous she sounded compared to you.

The first time Jinx saw you in person, she nearly short-circuited. You were in Zaun, of all places, stepping out of a sleek transport at one of the fancier underground clubs. It was rare for someone like you to venture into the depths, but you carried yourself with the same confidence that lit up your photoshoots. Heads turned as you walked through the crowd, a knowing smirk on your lips as if you knew exactly the effect you had on everyone around you. Jinx’s pulse quickened. This was her chance.

She darted through the crowd, weaving between gawking onlookers until she was standing at the bar beside you. Up close, you were even more stunning, your beauty almost overwhelming.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you in a dump like this,” Jinx drawled, leaning casually against the counter. Her nerves were on fire, but she masked it with her usual cocky grin.

You turned to her, one perfectly arched brow raising as you took her in. Your gaze lingered on her bright blue hair and manic energy, and a small, amused smile played on your lips.

“Maybe I like a little chaos,” you replied, your voice smooth as silk. “And you certainly look like the chaotic type.”

Jinx grinned wider, her confidence surging. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not just chaos—I’m a full-blown explosion.”

The two of you spent the night trading flirty remarks and playful banter, the tension between you crackling like a lit fuse. Jinx couldn’t believe her luck. You weren’t just a pretty face. But you had a fiery, explosive personality to match. You were bold, unapologetic, and just as dangerous as you were beautiful. At one point, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she murmured, ��So… what’s it like knowing the whole damn world’s obsessed with you?”

You laughed, the sound low and sultry. “I don’t mind the attention,” you said, turning your head so your lips were almost touching hers. “But right now, I’m more interested in you.” Jinx’s heart nearly stopped.

Back at her lair, were things escalated rather quickly. Jinx couldn’t keep her hands off you, tracing every curve and line of your body like she was memorizing you. Her fingers lingered on your hips, her lips trailing heated kisses along your neck as she whispered breathless praises. “You’re even better than the posters,” she murmured, her voice filled with wonder. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

You teased her with your signature confidence, your voice dripping with flirtation as you pulled her closer. “So you’ve been staring at my posters, huh? What did you think about me?”

Jinx blushed, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she grinned wickedly, her fingers tightening on your waist. “Thought about all the things I’d do if I ever got you alone,” she said, her tone low and rough. “And now, I’m not holding back.”

The tension was electric, charged with the crackling hum of her inventions and the intensity of her gaze on you. She had been teasing you mercilessly all evening, brushing her hands against your skin, dropping flirty remarks that sent heat pooling low in your belly. You could feel the mischief radiating off her as she twirled one of her newest creations in her hand. It was a bright, colorful pleasure device she'd been gushing about for days. Jinx loved experimenting, and tonight, you were her favorite subject.

She grinned at you, her sharp, mischievous grin that made your heart race every time. "Alright, Sugar," she purred, tossing the toy between her hands like it was some casual gadget and not something designed to make you lose your mind. "You trust me, don't ya?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your usual flirty composure. "You mean to tell me that thing isn't gonna explode?"

Jinx cackled, tossing her head back. "Not this time, babe! Well, probably not. But hey, if it does, at least we'll go out with a bang!" She winked, and despite your hesitation, you couldn't help but nervously laugh. "You're impossible," you murmured letting her guide you to the mattress piled high with pillows and blankets.

"And you're irresistible," she shot back, pressing you down onto the bed with a surprising gentleness for someone so wild. Her hands were steady as they traced over your skin, her fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let me take care of you, Sugar," she whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness and heat. "Promise I'll make it fun."

The first sensation was the gentle hum of the device she'd created, a soft vibration against your folds that made you arch into her touch. It was colorful and whimsical, much like Jinx herself, with blinking lights and playful patterns painted across its surface. Despite its toy-like appearance, the way it worked against your body was anything but innocent.

Her free hand skimmed over your inner thigh, her touch featherlight and maddeningly slow. The wetness pooling between your legs became impossible to ignore, and Jinx took full advantage, sliding the toy up until it pressed directly against your bundle of nerves. A slick, wet sound began filled the room, the vibrations amplifying the noise as your arousal spread. Jinx froze for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Oh, look at you," Jinx teased, her eyes bright as she watched your reaction.

"Didn't take much, huh? Bet I could've just touched you, and you'd be melting for me." You tried to retort, but the words caught in your throat as she pressed the device lower, her mischievous grin widening as your body jerked in response.

"Aw, Sugar, don't hold back," she crooned, tilting her head to the side as if studying you. "I like hearin' you. Makes it more fun for me."

Your head fell back, a moan slipping past your lips as she adjusted the settings, the vibrations intensifying. She laughed softly, her free hand stroking your thigh as if to ground you. You buried your face in your hands, mortified but too overwhelmed by the pleasure to stop her. The toy’s vibrations grew stronger, and the obscene wet noises only intensified as she moved it against you, her laughter turning into a low, appreciative hum. “Damn, you sound so good,” she murmured, her tone dipping into something more serious. “Bet I could make you scream just with this.”

Your hips bucked against the toy, your slick arousal coating it and making the sounds louder and wetter with each movement. The lewd squelching only seemed to spur Jinx on, her grin growing wider as she adjusted the settings, sending sharper bursts of pleasure through your body. “Listen to that, Sugar,” she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re a fuckin’ symphony for me. All wet and messy, just how I like it.”

The embarrassment of her words was quickly drowned out by the mounting pleasure, your moans growing louder as the toy worked you closer to the edge. Jinx’s free hand slipped beneath your thigh, lifting your leg to spread you open further.

“Look at you,” she said, her eyes dark with hunger as she watched the toy glisten with your slick. “So damn pretty like this. Could stare at you all day."

Her words made your cheeks flush, though you couldn't focus on embarrassment for long. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation of her toy paired with her teasing kisses and caresses driving you to the edge. And then she pulled it away, grinning wickedly at your gasp of frustration. "Not yet, Sugar," she said, clicking her tongue. "I'm not done playin' with you."

She shifted her attention, leaning down to press her lips against your neck. Her kisses were hot and open-mouthed, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt her grin against your throat when you whimpered, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. Her lips found your collarbone, her teeth sinking into the delicate skin to leave another mark.

"Gotta leave my mark," she murmured between kisses, sucking a particularly dark bruise just below your jaw. "Let everyone know you’re mine. My perfect, messy little bombshell.” Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but you hesitated, your modeling career flashing through your mind. "Jinx, I..."

She pulled back, her wide, manic eyes locking with yours. "Aw, don't worry about all that fancy-shmancy stuff," she said, her voice teasing but with an edge of sincerity. "Bet they'll just airbrush it or whatever. C'mon, Sugar, lemme have my fun."

Your protests melted away as she kissed you again, this time harder, deeper, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. The way she looked at you, like you were the most precious thing she'd ever seen, made your resolve crumble. "Fine," you murmured, breathless. "Do your worst."

Her grin was feral. "Oh, babe, you asked for it." Jinx worked her way across your body, leaving a trail of marks in her wake on your neck, your collarbone, and the valley between of your chest. Each one was a testament to her possessiveness, her need to claim you in a way that went beyond words. "You're gonna look so pretty tomorrow," she murmured, her hands and lips everywhere at once. "Walkin' around all marked up, like a damn work of art."

You couldn't even bring yourself to care about the consequences anymore. Her touch was overwhelming, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure through you. She alternated between using her toy and her hands, keeping you teetering on the edge but never quite letting you fall. "Beg for it," she whispered, her voice dark and playful as she hovered above you. "C'mon, Sugar, lemme hear it. Tell me how bad you want me to finish you off."

Your pride wavered, but the need coursing through you won out. "Please, Jinx," you gasped, your voice shaking. "I need you. Please."

She chuckled, clearly satisfied with your quick surrender. "That's more like it," she said, finally pressing the toy back against you. The sensation was overwhelming, and this time, she didn't stop, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered, a cry escaping your lips as you came undone beneath her. Jinx didn't stop right away, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, your body spent and your mind hazy.

When she finally set the toy aside, she crawled up beside you, pulling you into her arms with surprising gentleness. "See?" she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Told ya it'd be fun."

You tilted your head up to meet her gaze, a small smile playing on your lips despite your exhaustion. "Guess I'm stuck with you then," you teased, your flirty nature peeking through even now.

Jinx grinned, her signature chaos in her expression, but there was something softer there, something that tugged at your heart. "Damn right you are. You're mine, babe. Every last gorgeous inch of you." Her fingers danced across your body, tracing the bruises she'd left, her eyes filled with pride as she admired her handiwork. You shivered under her touch, the sensitivity from her earlier teasing still lingering.

"Look at this," she mused, her tone somewhere between awe and glee. "You're a freakin' masterpiece, Sugar. Better than any of those shiny posters they plaster all over Piltover and Zaun."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound weak but genuine. "You think so?"

"I know so," she said firmly, leaning down to nuzzle her face into your neck. "They see the bombshell, the glitz, and the glam, but I get this. I get the real you, all wrecked and perfect just for me." Her words sent warmth spreading through your chest, the vulnerability beneath her usual bravado making your heart ache. You reached up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

Jinx snorted, pulling back just enough to smirk at you. "Too good? Babe, I'm a menace. But I guess l've got a soft spot for you."

"Lucky me," you teased, letting your fingers trail down to the nape of her neck. She leaned into your touch, her grin softening into something sweeter. "Damn right. You're the luckiest gal in all of Piltover, Zaun, maybe even Noxus." Her playful boasting earned another laugh from you, and she kissed you again, slower this time, her earlier fire giving way to something gentler. The kiss lingered, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

When she finally pulled away, she flopped down beside you, pulling you into her arms as if she couldn't bear to let you go. You rested your head on her chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat as your body relaxed into hers.

"Y'know," Jinx murmured, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back, "I used to look at those big, fancy posters of you and think, ‘She's way too good for someone like me!"

You tilted your head up to look at her, surprised by her confession. "Jinx..."

"But then I thought," she continued, her voice growing steadier, "what's life without a little chaos, right? And lucky for me, you're just as explosive as I am." Her words brought a smile to your lips, and you reached up to brush a strand of blue hair from her face. "Guess we make a pretty good match then, huh?"

She grinned, her manic energy shining through even in this quiet moment. "The best, Sugar." As the adrenaline from earlier began to fade, you let yourself sink into the warmth of her embrace, her steady presence grounding you. Despite the chaos that always seemed to follow Jinx, moments like this reminded you why you'd fallen for her in the first place.

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[alastor-simp]

Caught In The Fluff - Angel Dust X Reader

Its time to write for the hot spider now. Enjoy Everyone!

It was a slow day in hotel today. Compared to the ongoing chaos that usually happens with either fights or Sir Pentious blowing up a portion of the building with his inventions, it was a normal chill day. Laying on the couch in the lobby, your eyes roamed around the room and gazed at the other residents, as staring at your cell phone was not aiding with your boredom. Charlie and Vaggie happened to be constructing more advertisements for the hotel, as the table was covered with glitter and colorful stickers, yep this was definitely all Charlie's idea, but watching her and Vaggie being couple goals was wholesome. Husk was shuffling a bunch of cards in his hands, wearing a smile for once while Niffty was watching him in awe, eye sparkling with amazement. Alastor resided in the chair next to yours, humming a catchy tune as his focus was drawn to the newspaper in his hands. Sir Pentious was in the corner of his room, assembling a puzzle as his Egg Bois were watching and helping him look for the proper pieces. After scanning the room a bit more, there was a lack of a porn-star demon in the room. Odd? Usually Angel would be flamboyantly chatting away, which caused many eyes to roll at his antics, well, mostly Vaggie and Husk. Slowly rising from the couch, you waved your hand in front of the two females in front of you, hoping to draw their attention. "Yes, Y/N? Is something wrong?" Charlie said, looking up at you with a bright smile, while her hair was covered in pink glitter and some traces of crayons on her red-dotted cheeks. "Sorry for bothering you while working on your project, but have you seen Angel since this morning?" Worried eyes stared at Charlies as you saw her smile fall and she shook her head no. Vaggie, on the other hand, was quick to answer your question, clear frustration on her face. "That estúpido is probably still sleeping the day away in his room! UGH! You think he get off his lazy a** and help around a bit!" Vaggie blared out, drawing the attention of the others in the lobby before continuing with their activities.

A cough was heard next to you, as Alastor had folded the newspaper on his lap, before looking at the three of us. "Now my dear Vaggie! While I don't approve of many of Angel's antics! He does work for another employer! So while he may not be pitching in with this ridiculous redemption process! He certainly has his hands full with other business!" Wow, you weren't expecting Alastor to defend Angel a bit. Maybe he does care about the others a bit, despite his enormous ego. Vaggie's eyes glared with rage at Alastor, probably for jumping into the conversation when nobody asked for his opinion, but she relaxed once she felt a soft hand touch her shoulder. Thinking more about it, you remembered that Angel had to work for the gross moth guy, Valentino. That man was so creepy and his actions towards Angel made you sick to your stomach. Honestly if you were as strong as Alastor, that man's head would be mounted on the wall. But, Angel has been in his room since 8 AM. He didn't even have breakfast. "I'll go bring him some food and check on him" You announced, as you got up from the couch and started to head to the kitchen. The sounds of tap shoes appeared from behind you, as you turned and realized Alastor was following behind you! "AH! I will help you my dear!" His smile was outstretched across his face, while he walked with a slight jump in his step and hands folded behind his back. Smiling back at Al, you both headed to the kitchen to make something for Angel.

Angel was Italian from what you recalled during one of your conversations as he was ranting about a client and calling them multiple Italian curse words. Deciding on an Italian dish for him, both you and Alastor agreed to make some Penne Alla Vodka. Alastor was helping with the vodka sauce, adding in the tomato paste and crushed pepper flakes while you were cooking the pasta to al dente. Gazing at the pasta cooking, your thoughts wondered back to what Al said in the lobby. "Um, Alastor?" You asked, while your hands kept stirring the pasta in the pot. Alastor was humming a tune, before he stopped and gazed at you, listening to what you had to say. "Thanks for what you said back there about Angel." Softly gazing at him, Al continued to stare at you, his signature smile dropping down to a soft one. "He is a valuable patron of this establishment! While I don't really care much about him and the others, I prefer him more when he is in a jovial mood then a depressed one!" Alastor answered with an aloff attitude, yet you could see in his red eyes that he somewhat cared about Angel, despite his strong dislike of him always attempting to get touchy with him. Focusing more on Al and leaving the pasta for a minute to continue boiling, your feet carried you over to where Alastor stood. "I assume you say you don't care because of your reputation, yet here you are cooking a meal for Angel Dust with me. Seems like your actions contradict your words Alastor." Silence filled the kitchen as both you and Alastor were having a stare-off, wondering which one would speak first. Crimson eyes gazed into yours, as they glanced down back to the cooking sauce.

Maybe you overstepped it a bit. Stepping back from your position, you eyed the pasta pot that you left unattended. A warm hand had caught your wrist before you could leave, and you turned to see Alastor gazing at you, smile still prominent yet his eyes were stern. "Angel my dear, is under contract with one of the three V's, Valentino! I don't know or care about how he conducts his business! However! His actions towards Angel are something I do not particularly enjoy! While watching the scum of hell suffer through torment and despair is quite enjoyable. Seeing Angel suffering from that p̸̨͎̏͜i̶̛̼͉̚g̵̢̒̓ ̴͓͓̂͊̐m̵̟̔̑̌ỏ̶͎̻͇͝ṭ̵͆̂̈́ḥ̸̱͌ ̷͍̫̰̉ȯ̵̲̙͍͒ü̷̧̗ͅț̸̜̟̆͂r̶̯͌a̴̜͆̽g̵̩̓̍̾ē̴͎̪̚s̴͍͍͇̒ ̷̬̣͊̃̋ḿ̸̦̞̥e̷͕̋!” Radio dials flickered on Alastors face for a split second, then turning back to normal . Observing all of this through your eyes, you apologized to Al if you spoke out of turn, but your apology was cut off when the hand on your wrist made its way to your cheek. Alastor said there was no need for apologies, and gestured back to cooking the meal, as burnt pasta wouldn't be very appetizing for Angel. The both of you stood back at your pasta creation, feeling proud that it looked incredible. With a snap of his fingers, the plate was then transported on a tray and topped with a metal cover. Alastor picked up the tray and handed it to you. "Run along now my dear!" Two hands were placed on your back, as they pushed you out of the kitchen, and leaving you alone with the tray in your hands.

Heading over to Angel's room, you knocked on the door and called out his name. No response was given back, so you tried to open the door. Surprisingly the door was unlocked and you made your way inside. Angel's room was shrouded in a neon pink glow. Numerous posters covered the walls, and various clothes and wigs were scattered all over the room. His room smelled like sweet cotton candy along with smoke that was coming from the ash tray. In the corner of the room was Fat Nuggets, Angels pet pig. It was sleeping on its back, while covered in a soft pink blanket. Next to the small bed was the large queen sized bed that a certain spider was laying on. The blanket was half off the bed, leaving some part of Angels legs uncovered while his back was facing you. Placing the tray near the nightstand, you slowly approached Angel and placed your hand on his shoulder. Calling out his name and giving him a little shake had no effect on him as he continued to sleep. "Angel? Come on. Wake up. Me and Al made you some food." Angel still remained asleep. "Angel. The food will get co-" Your words were interrupted as four pairs of arms grabbed you and pulled you closer. Your face landed in something fluffy, as you realized that Angel had pulled you into his fluffy chest, and his legs began to wrap around you, locking you in place. "Mmph! Angel!" Calling out his name, you tried to remove yourself from the fluffiness, but Angels arms were holding you in place. "Oh~! Do it harder!" Angel was sleep talking, as he squeezed you tighter like a plushie. Great! He's hugging you while having a dirty dream. Wiggling a bit more, you realized that Angel wasn't wearing a shirt. Oh lord! Please tell me hes wearing pants at least. Luckily you looked down and saw that he was thankfully wearing underwear. You couldn't imagine the awkward situation if he was fully naked and hugging you like this.

Trying to move one of your hands, you resorted to poking Angel's belly, seeing if that would be able to wake him up. Angel soon let out a groan and began to slowly wake up. "Ughhhh. Huh?" Angel was slowly beginning to realize he was holding someone. Looking down, he saw you wrapped in his arms, face full of his chest fluff. "Heh~ Heya toots~. Were ya that desperate for my services~?" Angel wiggled his eyebrows at you, as he continued to smirk at you. Moving your head a bit from the fluff, you shook your head no. "I came to see if you were okay? You have been sleeping since the morning and missed breakfast. The others and me were worried. Alastor and I also made you some pasta to eat." Angel's smirk quickly disappeared and he looked at you in shock, before gazing at the clock on the wall, which read 2:34 PM. Damn he slept for that long? Figures after all the services he had to perform at Valentino's club. His body was tired out and his mental state deteriorated a lot yesterday. He was honestly surprised that the others actually gave a f*** about him, and wanted to see how he was doing. He ain't use to all that mushy s***. Still it warmed his heart a bit. Heaving a sigh, Angel slowly released you, allowing you to moved and stand back up next to the bed. The blanket was still covering his lower body as he began to sit up on the bed. "Had a busy day last night toots. Lot of pole dancing and what not." Angel moved his hair fluff with his hands, attempting to soothe the hairs that were out of place. He was still smiling, but the sadness in his eyes was visible. He was exhausted beyond belief and you knew who was to blame for that. Moving your hand towards him, you placed it on his cheek, startling him a bit as he stared at you confused. "Are you really okay?" Your voiced was laced with concern, as you continued to stare at Angel, waiting for him to respond. "Pfft! I'm fine toots! Doing all that dirty stuff is no problem for me given my amazing stamina~. Hell! I could last a whole day and wouldn't break a sweat! HAHAHAHA!" He was putting on an act. You could tell based on how he was smiling that he was forcing it. "Angel. Don't lie to me." Your voice raised a bit higher, letting Angel know you were being serious. Angel caught on to that and removed your hand from his cheek. "What the f*** is your problem, toots? I told ya I'm fine so deal with it." His face turned away from you, as he waved his hands at you, telling you to piss off. That was the last straw.

Grabbing both of his cheeks, you pulled his face to look back at yours, as his eyes were filled with shock. "YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY NOT FINE! STOP LYING TO ME AND TELL ME THE WHOLE TRUTH! Anger filled your eyes as you continued to stare into Angels own. His multicolored irises continued to gaze at you, as his mouth was left agape. Slowly, those eyes staring back at you began to fill with tears. Seeing his tears, you pulled Angel closer to you, and placed his head on your chest, hugging him close to you. His body moved off the bed, to where he was standing on his knees, and his arms wrapped around you tightly, almost as if you would disappear in front of him. He was bawling his eyes out on your chest. You hugged him closer and moved one of your hands to his hair, patting his white floof. The both of you stayed like that for a full 5 minutes before Angel's loud bawls slowly began to turn into soft sobs. Moving from his position, Angel moved his head a bit so he could look you in the eyes. "S-orry toots. I think I got your shirt wet." Chuckling, you patted his head and told him it was alright. Lifting him up from his position, you carried him back to sit on the bed. Grabbing the plate from under the tray, you walked back and sat on the bed and handed Angel the plate. "Its penne al vodka. I remembered that you liked Italian food so me and Al whipped this up for you. Wiping the tears on his face, Angel grabbed the plate and stared at it, before looking back at you with a soft smile. "Heh, if Smiles and you made this together, its going to taste incredible." You continued to watch Angel as he slowly began to eat the pasta, mumbling how good it was with his mouth full. Once he finished, you grabbed the plate and placed it back on the night stand, and returned back to Angel. Grabbing a napkin as well, you cleaned his mouth to help remove the extra sauce that remained there. Angel's face actually turned a shade of red at your actions. Damn, how sweet can you be?

"You feeling a bit better? Want to head down to the lobby?" You asked Angel, as you stood in front of him, smiling kindly at him. His eyes turned to the ceiling in thought, contemplating it. "Hmmm~ Nah~!" Angels arms surrounded you again, as he pulled you back towards him. His back hit the bed while his head was cushioned by the soft pillows while you were placed on top of him, right back into his chest fluff. "What?! Angel?!" Mumbling into this chest floof, you tried to push yourself off, but his arms had you trapped again, and he tangled his legs with yours. His eyes were gazing at with mischievously, and his sharp-tooth smile was in front of your eyes. "Come on, toots. Ya never had a lazy day before? Ain't against the law to sleep all day." Angel squeezed you closer, pushing your face more into his chest fluff. My lord, he was so soft! Not only was he soft, but he smelled amazing. You were going to get addicted to this. Seeing you stop resisting, Angel continued to smile down at you, as he moved one of his arms to pat your head. "Ya should consider yourself lucky! Not everyone gets to experience my chest fluff service~. Ya should enjoy it while it last toots~." Winking down at you, Angel continued to smiled down at you, as you felt your face heat up while laying on his chest. You continued to stare at him, and saw that he actually looked a lot better, as his eyes were a bit brighter and the smile on his face seemed more genuine. Your eyes were slowly beginning to close as the sensation of Angel patting your head and his cozy fluff was making you sleepy. Pretty soon, your eyes drew to a close and you fell into a deep slumber. Angel watched as you had fallen asleep, before bending his head down, to give you a peck on the forehead, before placing his head back on the pillow. "Thanks, y/n." He whispered to himself, as he squeezed you a bit more, and went back to sleep.

Peeping through the crack in the door, Charlie and the others had seen the whole thing. Charlie was hopping up and down, like a rabbit as her eyes were beaming with heart eyes. "Ohh! They are so cute!" Vaggie was shaking Charlie to try to get her to calm down, and also to lower her voice, so she wouldn't wake the both of you up. Husk was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, appearing not to care, but he did smile a bit at both you and Angel on the bed. Niffty was zipping back in forth in glee, matching Charlies energy. Sir Pentious was gazing at the both of you with a soft smile, while his Egg Bois were crying, finding the moment in front of them super sweet and adorable. Alastor was standing with his microphone in hand, smiling as always as he observed both you and Angel. Snapping his fingers, his powers had slowly closed Angels door and locked it. Looking back at the others, he placed his one finger against his mouth, letting out a quiet shush as he gestured for everyone to go back to the lobby and let the both of you rest.

Tagging-

@91062854-ka

[dark-moonlust]

Bound by the Rose Mark

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: beast oc (Alaric) x f!reader

Summary: This is a story with Beauty and the Beast vibes. You live in a grand castle with a beast named Alaric. One day, you accidentally touch him and a glowing rose tattoo appears on your skin. Alaric explains that the tattoo is a sign of a curse that binds the two of you together. You can't get more than a few steps away from him without feeling pain and arousal. Forced to stay close, you both succumb to your feelings and the deep connection between you.

Warnings: 18+, mid-eighteenth century story, true love curse, beauty and the beast vibes, magic tattoo bonding, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), foreplay and stimulation, p in v sex, big 🍆, belly bulge, knotting, lots of 💦.

I completely forgot to post this commission! Enjoy!!

Château d'Azay-le-Rideau, France - 1750

“Make it stop!” you groaned, wide eyes on the Beast, who stood calmly by the fire, his large, furred form casting long shadows over the walls. “Please, just… make it stop!”

“I cannot do that.” Came his voice, steady and infuriatingly husky.

The moonlight shone through the castle's grand windows, pouring glittering beams across your body as you paced back and forth, the tap of your boots echoing on the sleek floor. Your fingers moved nervously against the mark on your wrist, the delicate rose pattern twisting and developing, shimmering softly against your skin. With each passing second, the flower vines extended further up your arm, emitting a sweet warmth.

It all began a year ago with a professional agreement. The Beast was Lord of the Castle and needed someone to govern it. You were that person. You lived in his huge fortress and worked as his chamberlain. But what began as a rigid work agreement quickly turned into closeness. 

In the past months, you’d grown used to his company, you were after all, alone in a huge castle with no one but a few servants to talk. He’d gifted you his enormous library, a beautiful haven of literature. He also spent time with you every day, taking you on walks to the gardens, organizing big dinners, music nights, and theatrical nights. You’d been foolish to allow yourself to get comfortable, to hover close enough and be tempted to touch him.

But his fur had appeared so silky and inviting. What was one touch?

You'd succumbed to the temptation and touched him, curved your small palm over his massive arm. 

A moment later, all order unraveled. 

A weird tingling sensation had begun to emerge from your wrist, and as you looked down, a red rose began to light softly, its delicate petals winding up your wrist, its thorny vines snaking out, tracing your skin with intricate detail. The tattoo was enchanted and even now— it continued to spread on your arm.

Oh, how foolish and naive you had been! To approach him so carelessly, hovering so close that his mere presence seemed to draw you in. It was foolish to give in to your curiosity, reaching out to touch him despite the warnings. And now, this—this thing—was strangely connecting you to him in ways you couldn't fathom.

The Beast—no, Alaric, as he was once known—kept staring at you like an idiot, his sharp features unreadable. He didn’t even look troubled. Why would he be? For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He rather enjoyed it, wicked Frenchman that he was. Yet as you glanced at him, you felt another spark, a liquid warmth in your belly. His form, massive and imposing, stood out against the moonlight, making the entire hall feel smaller, more intimate.

Alaric had been cursed long long ago, cursed to find misery, coldness and no love. His face was no longer that of a beautiful Prince but of a beast with horns, sharp teeth and lion’s mane. He was massive and muscled, with strong legs and a wolf-like tail. His clothing was still royal, tailored to fit his form. He looked as elegant and well-groomed as possible.  

With an exasperated groan, you stroked your wrist harder, the glow intensifying with each stroke of your fingers. "Damn! Why doesn't it stop?! Please, stop it!"

He spoke with a long sigh, his voice low and rumbling. "I told you I cannot do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"It's the mark of the curse…" His glance swept across your wrist. "There is no undoing it."

Your heart sunk at his words. You were aware of his curse but had no idea it could be transmitted through touch. Damnation! And damn the warmth of the mark, affecting your whole body. It felt warm and wet between your thighs as if a fire was spreading beneath your skin, connecting you to him. Every pulse of fire reminded you of your error.

“I… I didn’t ask for this!” you protested, rubbing at the mark as if you could wipe it away with sheer willpower. “I was just—just curious! I did not want to be cursed.”

“You touched me, therefore now you will pay. You are bound to me.”

You shot him a sharp look, waving your pulsing wrist in the air. “You could have warned me that I’d get cursed just by touching you!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “But I did warn you not to touch me, didn’t I? You were simply too curious.”

“I thought you were goading me, challenging me! You didn’t mention the part where I’d be magically tethered to you like a pet on a leash,” you snapped despite the lingering warmth in your chest. 

“You are wild and untamed. Always speaking back to me, always doing as you please. It’s your fault, little one.”

“Still…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“Oh, yes, this is so hilarious. I’m cursed with a pulsing tattoo— it glows like a freaking beacon by the way—and you’re not in the least concerned.”

“The mark will stop glowing once you accept it.”

“I’ll never accept it!”

Alaric sighed. “The curse cast upon me ensured I would never be loved. I was cursed to live as a beast, hated and feared... alone."

You gazed at him, the weight of his words hurting your heart. His formidable, imposing frame suddenly appeared fragile.

“However,” he continued, “there is a way… for the curse to wane. Not to break it entirely, but weaken its grasp. The curse weakens—forever— when I am touched by someone who genuinely loves me.”

“So… this mark…”

Alaric nodded. “It means you are the one fated to love me. And because of that, the curse has loosened its grip on me. Though I can never return to the man I once was, I can have love.”

Your eyes welled with emotion, but you refused to cry in front of him. “So… this is permanent?" 

Alaric hummed and stepped close, his towering frame suddenly feeling much too close. “I’m sorry… but you are now bonded to me, my thorny rose,” he purred. “Alas, you could have worse company, no? And the mark… I think it’s quite beautiful.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s so big and so… damn hot!”

“That temper of yours…” he sighed softly, in a way a beast like him never would. “Of course it makes you hot. The closer we are, the more it will affect you. It’s a sign that our bond is… flourishing.”

You blinked, rubbing your thighs together at the effect of his deep voice, presence and scent. “Flourishing? My wrist isn’t a garden, Alaric. This is my skin. And I assure you, it’s not supposed to glow.”

“We are connected. The curse… it has tied our fates together. The more we fight it— both of us— the more painful it will become."

You swallowed hard. “And if I… don’t fight it? Will it stop and leave my skin?”

“No. Never, little one. The mark will just settle there, binding you to me, fully and irrevocably. But… I’m afraid we cannot stray far from one another without feeling pain.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips curled, showing just the barest flash of sharp teeth. “Immensely.”

Stupefied, you spun around, intending to get some fresh air but the moment you moved away, a sudden, scorching pain went through your chest, making you gasp. He was there instantly, steadying you with a large, clawed hand. You curled into his body, sighing pleasantly at the feel of his fur against your skin. It felt so good, warm and inviting, his musky scent tantalizing your senses. You hadn’t realized it but your hands were buried in his forearms, holding him to you.

“Foolish one,” he muttered, his breath warm against your temples. “What did I just tell you?”

“Alaric…” you sighed, meeting his eyes with reluctant acceptance. “Make it stop, please, make this ache go away.”

A low chuckle escaped him as he rubbed your wrist, feeling the warmth pulsating beneath your skin and tracing the delicate rose mark. The rose's delicate vines had wrapped themselves around your forearm, growing faintly. You bit back a moan, despite everything, you felt the pull—the odd bond that bound you to him, pulling you nearer to him with each breath.

“Ah, yes… it can be intense. Every step you take away from me will only bring more pain, more desire pooling deep inside.”

“Deep inside?”

Alaric raised a brow, a glint in his eyes. “Hmm, deep inside your cunt. I can scent your sweet arousal. Always could scent your need for me.”

You looked away. His words made you wet. Tenderly, he turned your face back to him. There was no hiding your blush or emotions.

“The curse bound us together. Two halves meant to be one. And if we give in…” he trailed off, his huge palm framing your face. “Would it be that bad?”

The tension in the room shifted as he stood there, with you in his arms, the strange pull between you palpable. Were you truly the one for him? Your heart stuttered. The idea of being physically and emotionally bound to Alaric—a beast of both grace and power —was captivating.

And the more you thought about it, the more your heart and body betrayed you. Oh dear… Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him with every ounce of your soul. Right on cue, the tattoo—its once glowing petals and vines now settled into a permanent black design that curled up your forearm. Becoming a part of you.

You didn’t resist when Alaric scooped you up, carrying you through hallways to his private chamber— a huge, opulent bedroom with polished wood and velvet furnishings, tapestries hanging on the walls, and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The bed was the largest piece of furniture in the room; it had a dark purple canopy covered in silk and velvet covers making it appear incredibly soft and inviting.

Alaric lowered you on the plush bedding and he came to rest beside you, his body half-looming over you, massive yet tender and protective. His eyes, golden and intense, settled on you then down to the rose mark. His fingers, clawed but surprisingly gentle, traced the rose before his tongue brushed a petal of the tattoo, feather-light, sending a shiver of electricity racing up your spine.

You watched, breathless, as he nuzzled and licked every petal, every vine, every thorn, his muzzle soft against your skin. The heat of his breath warmed you as he worked his way up your forearm, his mouth following the intricate lines of the rose, savoring every inch of it. With each kiss, your pulse quickened, your body shamelessly hot, your pussy dripping slick.

“Alaric…” you said in a sultry voice you could hardly recognize.

“Easy. We’ll take it slow, my thorny rose.”

As he said that, his lips hovered just inches from your collarbone. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate indentation at the base of your neck. A sweet gasp escaped you as he licked a slow, tortuous trail down the round tops of your breasts, pulled up by your corset and your bodice. The laces on your bodice came undone, the corset disposed of in seconds as he skillfully drew the fabric down your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Your body arched closer to his, your nipples hardening into tight, aching buds. His eyes locked onto yours before he bent down and let his tongue trace the underside of each mound. You whined, burning so fiercely with desire as he licked the around your areolas. Teasing and exploring. Never quite getting to your sensitive nipples.

“Alaric,” you warned, thrusting your chest to his mouth.

“How I love it when you call my name.”

And with that, he licked one tiny bud, causing your body to shiver with want. Your hands gripped his horns, keeping him in place as he lapped one nipple, sucking wetly, his saliva and scent mingling on your skin. He did the same with the other nipple, and your body melted into his, hips arching up, breasts thrust sweetly into his lips.

You were lost in passion and he was only touching you.

You craved more. You wanted to touch, feel, and own every part of him.

Boldly, your hands slid up to his jacket, tugging at the heavy fabric, feeling its weight between your fingertips. You dragged his jacket away and he helped you remove it along with his shirt, without quite taking his tongue and hands off your breasts. Furry broad shoulders were revealed and a powerful, sculpted chest and stomach.

Large hands encompassed your tits as he growled softly and angled his head, his tongue trailing the curve of your neck. His fingers pinched your nipples, careful of his claws. Your breath hitched and you tilted your head back, offering him more.

“Oh god… yesss,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Blindly, you brought his mouth to you, needing to feel his kiss. But he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His golden eyes met yours, darkened with desire but shadowed with worry.

“I’m afraid… of hurting you,” he drawled. “I have no lips and my teeth… they’re sharp. I don’t want to—”

“Use your tongue,” you whispered, breathless, gone was the shyness in you. “Please.”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then, as though unable to resist any longer, he surged forward. His mouth opened, and his tongue, hot and insistent, swept across your lips before plunging deeply. Deeper still. He tasted you, swallowed your breaths, and pressed his moist and burning tongue against yours, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you with each stroke. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the sheer intensity of the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders.

The sound of fabric tearing and garments hitting the floor was the only indication of what was to come.

The flickering light in the room danced across your flesh, both naked and unashamed. His body enveloped yours, his weight pressing down on you, his thighs spreading your legs apart. The sheer size of him caused your pussy to clench. His shaft was a massive veined rod of flesh, long and thick, with a knot at the base. His cock throbbed and leaked moisture, and his balls thick and heavy, hung like ripe fruit.

You couldn't help but reach out, a little bashful as your fingers stroked the silky warmth of his shaft. It was both firm and tender, as hot as touching a blazing flame. Alaric snarled and watched your small hands. You trailed the protruding veins and bulbous head all the way down to the bulging sac. He growled, his entire body tense.

“Such soft gentle touches. But I can’t—little one. I need to taste you, have you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but whined instead when his tongue licked the delicate folds of your pussy. Your body ignited, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Spine arching, you opened your legs obscenely wide, his head buried in between, wet tongue consuming your depths. He thrust his appendage inside, snarling primitively, and you sighed delightfully, your cunt pressing against his mouth as you shut your eyes tightly and surrendered to the passion.

“Mmmmm, so breathtaking,” he drawled, his tongue gracing your cunt. “I love the rose mark on your skin but even more so the petals on your wet cunt… so lovely and wet. I love to tease and lick them.”

Eyes holding your own, he hooked his large hands around your thighs, bringing them around his furred torso. His dick, massive and twitching, stroked against the wet petals of your cunt. He lubricated himself; you were soaked and ready to receive him. You wiggled and squirmed, impatiently attempting to guide him inside. Finally, with a gentle nudge, he growled, and the broad popped in.

Cupped your ass, he pushed inside, his cock gliding into you in one smooth thrust. You were incredibly tight, untouched and you gasped at the slight discomfort of the invasion. Despite his size, he somehow fit, his body seemingly designed to mold itself to yours. Your cunt was stretched wide, only his knot showing, and your belly bulged slightly, revealing the curve of his shaft beneath your skin.

Alaric caressed your belly lovingly as if marveling at the sight. “Yes, mine. It will be alright. I promise you. Does it hurt, little one?" 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. Please… hmmm—move. Need to feel you so desperately.”

“As you wish, my rose.”

His eyes never left yours as he thrust out of you, all the way out before slowly filling you up. This time there was no discomfort, only building intensity. His shaft slid in and out of you, the friction reigniting your desire. Your body flexed, your walls squeezing around his dick as he increased the pace. His thrusts became faster and more urgent, and you held him, rocking against him as his tongue stroked yours, making you dizzy with desire. 

Alaric was unstoppable, unrelenting and soon you were both shuddering in climax. He thrust one final time, bottomed out inside you till his swollen knot had popped inside. You whined, muscles contracting around him, your cunt snug around his knot, tying you together. You saw stars, thrashed wildly in little aftershocks as he released, a flood of cum filling you up. It didn’t help that he let out those delicious growls, tongue devouring your mouth.

Time seemed to stand still. You lay there, with him atop you, his dick still pulsing within you, his knot throbbing with a slow beat. It had been minutes and he was still spurting, though slower this time. You basked in the afterglow of your passion, felt so utterly at peace. Your bodies had become one and the tattoo on your wrist had never felt so right.

You were his, completely and utterly his.

“How are you feeling, my thorny rose?” he asked after he’d rolled over so you were draped over his chest, his knot still hard inside you.

“I feel loved,” you said as you rested over his chest feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fur. “I have never been kissed or loved by anyone like this before—have never felt anything like this before.”

“There is no going back now,” he said possessively. “You gave yourself to me. What I feel for you is raw, primal. It cannot be stopped or contained.”

You grinned. “So, what? I’m just stuck to you for the rest of eternity?”

“Figuratively and literally, I’m afraid,” he said, groaning at the feel of his knot tucked inside your warm cunt.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Alaric’s eyes softened. “I will never be the charming Frenchman I once was. That man’s appearance is gone, replaced by this… beast.”

Smiling, you let your hand reach up to touch his face, tracing the firm lines of his jaw, his fur silky beneath your fingers. “The appearance might be gone,” you whispered, “but your heart isn’t. Besides, I think I’m past wishing for a handsome prince on a white horse. French or not.”

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things.”

“And you’ve got a strange way of doubting yourself,” you shot back teasingly. “You might not be the Prince you once were, but you’re more than enough for me.”

“Don’t you regret it?” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “Mating with me? That I’ll always be… like this?”

“Oh, I am surprised but this is so lovely,” you murmured, hands caressing his shoulder. “It’s so lovely because I always wanted you to be mine. I've always felt attracted to you but was frightened to admit it. I was also scared you would reject me heartlessly."

“Never. I could never do that.” He took your hand, kissed the rose tattoo on your wrist.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love. “You are thoroughly mine, Alaric.“

For a moment, he stared at you and a soft, almost amused rumble escaped him. “You really are something,” he drawled, his free hand brushing the curve of your ass. “You’ve given me something I thought I could never have again." 

“I am yours,” you whispered. “I love you. All of you, my Beast.”

“I love you more, my thorny rose,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.

Smiling, you kissed and made love again —harder, hotter, and wetter.

THE END

[leeyoomisdoll]

Behind Closed Screens.

OF user!Se-mi x fem!reader

𐙚₊˚🪷⊹ ᰔ

synopsis: When you discover Se-mi’s secret OnlyFans account, your world shifts.

word count: 836

a/n: my next fic is definitely gonna be either Nana Osaki or Kang No-Eul :3

warning(s): suggestive

Your first clue was the late nights. Se-mi used to disappear into her office, shut the door for her job, and would not be heard from for hours. You'd imagined she was working on something important—a project at the office or one of her endlessly creative side interests she didn't actually share so often.

But now, as you "picked up" after her, you found out the truth.

Her laptop was on, the screen buzzing with a soft glow, displaying a website that made your heart skip a beat. OnlyFans.

It wasn’t just any profile—it was hers.

Sleek promotional photos of her in a bra and panties, soft videos with her voice topping the captions, and tens of thousands of likes and comments thanking her.

You felt your cheeks burn as you realized just how many people had watched her this way while leaving enormous amounts of tips and pleading for more.

"Enjoying the show?"

Her voice sent a jolt through you. You turned quickly, finding her leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. She wasn't ashamed—in fact, she seemed to have been looking forward to this moment.

"Se-mi," you stammered, stepping away from the desk. "I—this isn’t what it looks like."

Her giggle was soft mumble as she approached you. "It’s exactly what it looks like," she teased. "You found my page."

"Y-you’re on OnlyFans?" You held it together, absorbing all flood of data.

She pressed back into the desk, out arched her finger across the laptop computer monitor and shut it down. "It’s a little hobby of mine," she admitted. "Something to keep life interesting."

You blinked, your heart pounding. "And you didn’t think to tell me?"

"I was waiting to see if you’d figure it out," she said, her smile widening. "You’re clever. I knew it was only a matter of time."

You weren’t sure whether to feel shocked or impressed. "How long has this been going on?"

"A few months," she said. "It started as a curiosity—something fun. But people really seem to like me." Tilting her head, she fixed her eyes in the darkness of her gaze. "You’re not mad, are you?"

Mad? No. Flustered? Absolutely.

"I don’t know," you admitted. "I just… I didn’t expect this."

Her hand found yours, her touch warm and grounding. "It’s not a big deal," she said softly. "It’s just me having fun, expressing myself."

"Expressing yourself?" you echoed, glancing toward the closed laptop.

She giggled and her other hand continued to hold it firmly on the arm, and so on. "You’ve always said I’m good at being confident," she murmured. "Turns out, other people think so too."

You choked, and your heart raced as it hit the sweet spot. "And what exactly do you… do on there?"

Her smile widened and she edged in, her breath warm under your ear. "Why don’t I show you?"

Her cheeks flushed as she flinched, the stare glittering with dark whimsy. "Unless, of course, you’re too shy."

I'm not shy", you blurted, to which a cute laugh escaped from the girl.

"Good," she murmured. "Because I’ve been thinking about involving you."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Involving me?"

She nodded and, using fingertips, lightly stroke over your chin to lift the head upwards to meet hers. "You’ve always been my biggest supporter," she said. "Why not let everyone else see what I see?"

You couldn't help but be drawn to her, the strength of her voice, which began to run down your back. But, it was a beginner's trip, a somewhat exhilarating and a somewhat overwhelming journey.

"I don’t know if I’m ready for that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s okay," she said, her tone softening. "There’s no rush. But maybe… you’d like to see how I work?"

You blinked, your pulse quickening as she grabbed her laptop, flipped to the next page of her notebook and logged in. She managed the page without difficulty, retrieving her drafts.

"Here," she said, tilting the screen toward you.

The video was simple but captivating: Lying in bed in a silk robe. She wasn't making much progress—just fiddling with the hem of the robe, letting it fall off of one shoulder, her voice a bit of whisper every now and then, something you couldn't quite make out.

"People pay for this?" you asked, incredulous.

"Of course they do," she said with a grin. "It’s not just the visuals—it’s the attitude. The confidence. That’s what they’re here for."

"Still think it’s weird?" she asked, her voice low.

"No," you admitted, glancing at her. "I think it’s… incredible."

Her expression softened and she took your hand. "I’m glad you think so," she said. "Because I’ve got plenty of ideas—and you’d be perfect for them."

with Se-mi, life would never be boring.

[irisintheafterglow]

"don't wanna watch the fireworks?"

"not the biggest fan of loud noises," you mumble from the darkest possible corner of the enormous house. the nearest clock reads 11:55.

"yeah, me neither," touya replies. "mind if i sit?" you shrug and make room for him on the black leather couch. something sharp digs into his back and he curses under his breath, pulling a gold party popper from between the cushions and tossing it aside. "such a waste."

"at least the glitter makes everything shimmer." the sarcasm in your voice isn't lost on him.

"including your asshole if you happen to sit in it," he deadpans. you make a noise between a chuckle and a snort, and his mouth turns up in a smirk. you'd never been this close to touya, despite seeing him often because of your work with his agency, and find yourself mesmerized by the mottled purple tissue of his face.

"you know, i thought i'd be happier." you decide to examine the glitter under your fingernails to stop yourself from staring at his scars, but are met with intense blue eyes when you look up in the silence. "this time, the new year. i thought it'd be better."

"what'd you imagine?" 11:56.

"i don't know," you admit sheepishly. "just not..." you gesture vaguely to the empty living room, all of the guests having filed out to celebrate the time striking midnight. "this. i wanted to be alone but then i realized just how sad it is being alone on new year's." you were rambling--probably a flute too many of champagne--but you imagined touya had tuned you out.

he didn't.

"at least you made it." there's a sort of pride in the molten burning of his eyes, but you can't tell if it's for him or for you. "you got through the year. it's a big ol' fuck you! to anyone who thought you couldn't do it, even if you're alone."

"but i'm not alone, am i? i've got you here with me." 11:57. the crowd in the backyard's murmurs turn to cheers of excitement. their new beginnings were just around the corner.

"sure, though i don't imagine you want me to kiss you at midnight," he drawls. "i wouldn't blame you, with all the--"

"i do." your answer shocks you both and you're not sure whether you even thought about the words you were uttering. "i think your scars make you more handsome." he's equally as surprised by your praise but hides it quickly.

"that makes one of us, sweetheart," he says coolly, but you can tell his ears had turned the slightest bit pinker under the shining white locks of his hair. "hope you don't think i came over here just to get a midnight kiss."

"i don't, but i also don't know why you came over here in the first place," you admit. 11:58. the rave-worthy strobe lights in the yard dim in anticipation.

"would you let me explain over breakfast?" there's only the slightest nervous waver in his voice. outside, the crowd begins counting.

"you didn't strike me as a morning person. i was thinking black coffee and three raw eggs in a blender for you." he huffs a laugh through his nose, his eyes sparkling at your antics. you didn't notice how close you'd unconsciously brought your bodies together.

"i'm not, don't get me wrong," he amends and you smile. "i'm talking about ditching once it's midnight and grabbing soba. hopefully with you accompanying me?" you hum in fake thought.

"depends on how well you kiss me."

"i do love a challenge." you're close enough to count the flecks of cerulean in his irises. he radiates heat, drawing you in like a fireplace in a winter storm. it's the warmest you'd felt during the entire party.

11:59.

when the clock strikes midnight and touya carefully presses his lips to yours, cradling your head with unexpected gentleness, he tastes like your own new beginning. it starts with a hand slipping into touya's large palm, continues with a few rounds of soba noodles and numerous belly laughs, and ends with one more kiss just outside your apartment as the sky starts to glow a new orange.

it's more beautiful than any fireworks.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

The Dragon's Mate

A/N: Written for @nanamiscocksleeve's Monster Mash event. I miss him. Like physically miss him. My first fictional love. I lost Nanami last year and now Ukitake. Make the pain stop. Pairing: water dragon! Ukitake x Fem! Reader Warnings: MDNI, shapeshifters, monster love, concept of mates, sex Word Count: 3.7k

Bleach masterlist | Taglist

The rivers were protected by fearsome guardians, you were told. Terrifying beasts with wild eyes and teeth that were as long as your fingers and could rip your body into shreds if you weren’t careful. They were territorial beings and did not enjoy human company. You were taught to never wander to the riverbank before the sun was at least more than midway into the sky, and to never go after dusk, for that was when the monsters would come out of their watery abodes to survey the mortal beings on land, gobbling up the ones foolish enough to approach.

You followed the rules staunchly but what the people hadn’t accounted for was the ethereal music that only you could hear. It floated into your ears just before sunrise, a sad and longing tune that made you yearn to meet whatever was producing the beautiful sound. One day, you quietly slip out and follow the melody. It seemed to resonate in your heart, pulling you forward in a predetermined path until you realized where you were headed. The riverbank loomed through the mist of the early dawn, and it sounded like the music was coming from its depths. You should have been more wary; you knew better, but the overwhelming curiosity pulled you like a magnet until you stood at the very edge, looking at your reflection in the watery depths. The surface looked still, not even a fish visible beneath it; it seemed almost laughable that a monstrous creature lived here. It took a moment for you to register that the music had stopped. Not even the sound of the small morning birds could be heard.

You glance back at the water and see the water rippling, then stare transfixed, as a pair of green eyes observe you from under the surface. They were beautiful, like a pair of lost emeralds that were being recovered from a treasure trove that no man could swim to. You should have been scared but you can’t bring yourself to look away as the submerged eyes begin to rise, part of a face with a long snout that had slits for nostrils, the scales all shining in shades of cerulean and seafoam green. The head of the dragon is enormous, at least the size of two cottages pushed together, and it gives way to a long, flexible body, the front legs clawed like a tiger’s. You see the tail emerge some feet away from the edge of the river bank, pointed and thin. 

The dragon towers over you yet all the muscles in your body root you to the spot. You can’t tell if it’s from fear or fascination. There’s a keen interest in the dragon’s eyes, a fine ring of amber fading to black surrounding its enchanting irises. As it moves closer to you with the elegance of a crane taking flight into the sky, you can feel its breath on your face. Now a small lick of dread enters your stomach. Was this the last thing you’d see before being swallowed whole by that enormous maw?

However, to your surprise, the creature draws closer to you, its chin now resting on your shoulder, almost like it was smelling you. Was human scent particularly delicious to dragons? Your eyes squeeze closed as you wait for the inevitable. The dragon leans back, its scales glittering from the water on its body, considering, then rests its snout against your forehead. Your eyes crack open a fraction, not daring to move, lest those teeth rip you open from a careless movement. You dare to look up and hold its gaze once more.

The tender look in the dragon’s eyes takes your breath away, and then before you can process what’s happening, its scaly body wraps around you and plunges you under the water. The chill hits your bones, and you open your mouth to scream but all that issues are streams of bubbles. You choke, feeling water fill your lungs, and it sears your flesh, and you are certain the last thing you will see are those mesmerizing emerald eyes. 

Something slick enters your mouth, and it takes a second to realize it’s the dragon’s tongue. Your body jerks in shock as you fight for air, the sensual appendage sliding across your tongue like a lover’s kiss, and suddenly, your body stops resisting, allowing it to do as it pleases. You suddenly realize you’re able to breathe. Your vision, so blurry moments before is now crystal clear, and as the dragon’s smooth tongue slips out of your mouth, you gape at it. It didn’t look like it wanted to eat you, but instead, it grasped your hand in one of its front feet and started to swim toward the dark depths of the river. You had no choice really, but there’s relief in the knowledge that you weren’t going to drown. 

Time passes by and you enter a world of aquatic beauty, small little river plants coming into view as you swim alongside the serene creature, little fish darting here and there, occasionally spotting larger catfish and salamanders, the river silt kicking up at their movements and clouding the water as they darted away. The world here was eerily silent, just swooshes of liquid passing by, weak sunlight passing into the unknown.  You steal glances at the dragon next to you, and can’t feel like there’s a strange connection, like there was a reason it had called you to the river.

Eventually, to your astonishment, a large mansion blooms into view through the murky water, and the sheer size is a vision. The dragon smoothly swims in between the large marble columns at the entrance and once inside, settles you down on the floor. The interior of the mansion appeared to be in an air pocket because there was no water there; it was dry, like being on land. Adjusting to the friction after being weightless in the water was strange and you crouch, trying to reorient your senses. 

“Where am I?” You ask no one in particular because you were sure that dragons couldn’t speak. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” a deep male voice responds and you jump, turning with a yelp and see the dragon morphing in front of your eyes, shrinking, the tail and claws disappearing, until a tall, leanly muscled man stood before you, his yukata made of shimmering material similar to the dragon’s scales, his long white hair flowing down his back. The sharp emerald eyes you’d become familiar with gaze at you. 

You retreat a few paces, your back coming into contact with the wall. “Who- Who are you?!” Your voice trembles as you take in the handsome man now standing on two legs, his limbs looking quite pedestrian without their talons. The man chuckles at your shock.

“All in good time. But for now, let’s have some tea and snacks. You’ve had a long journey.” He vanishes through an archway and, after pinching your cheek to ensure you weren’t dreaming, you follow him, your footsteps echoing off the high ceiling. You find him in the kitchen where he’s expertly handling a kettle, the pleasant scent of mint lingering in the air. A platter of sweets rests on a simple table near a window. You peek outside and see nothing but water, turtles and snails lazily gliding by. 

“Aren’t we still underwater?” you ask as the man brings over the kettle and two mugs on a tray to the table. 

“We are. My place happens to be an oddity.” He pours the tea and offers you the cup. You look at it warily until he sips from his own. “I promise I haven’t brought you here to poison you. Now please drink. I imagine there’s much you want to ask me and you’ve had a long day.”

You clutch the mug for comfort and sip, relishing the taste of the strongly brewed tea. “Who are you? And why didn’t you eat me? All the stories said that dragons never spared humans who came too close to the river.”

“And how many of your stories said that dragons have a human form?” He smiles kindly at your thoughtful expression. “To answer your questions. My name is Ukitake Jushiro. This is my residence. As to why I brought you here well. It’s a rather complex story and I’m wondering how to explain it without making it a long-winded tale. Where to begin, where to begin…” He sips his tea and looks directly at you, and for the first time, you notice how attractive he is despite being an older man, the pleasant curve of his lips inviting and soft. 

His eyes gaze outside his window, watching a monitor lizard dart through the water, its tail smoothly flicking to propel it forward. “Dragons only find a mate once every several centuries. And once they are born, we spend our entire lives waiting for them to hear our music. When they do, they become part of the river, just like us. And our mates are not always dragons.” He leans back in his chair and sips his tea, waiting for you to process the information he’s given you. Your eyes flicker in astonishment at his revelation. 

“Wait. So it was you. You were the source of the music.”

He nods, looking at you tenderly. “It was. Despite you being born nearly 2 decades ago, my music didn’t reach you until just a few weeks ago. I was hoping you’d be brave enough to approach the river soon.”

“And you said…only a dragon’s mate could hear their music?”

“That is correct.” He looks at you expectantly and you feel an epiphany strike you. 

“I’m your mate?” You push away from the table, shocked, and begin to pace. “ That can’t be right. It just can’t be.”

He seems remarkably patient with your reaction and lets you wander around, then when you finally come back to the table, you look at him warily. “Dragons eat people. How can a human be a dragon’s mate?”

Ukitake shakes his head, chuckling. “My dear, you humans always assume the worst.”

“But so many people went missing over the years! Pulled into the water and never to be seen again!”

“All women. All mates to various dragons that inhabit the waters of this region. I assure you all the women that were taken are in good health, living happily with their respective mates.” 

“But-but-“ you sputter, suddenly unable to form words. “Why live in secrecy? Why not just seek out your mate?”

“Humans are greedy. And who would willingly give away their daughter to a creature that lives so far away from the surface? Humans took things from us in the far past. Our lives are best lived in secrecy, stealing our mates whenever we get a chance. I suppose I’m lucky. Many sing, echoing their melodies of longing, but their mates are too afraid to approach the water. They live and die alone.”

His words are like an arrow in your heart and you feel for him. Several centuries alone sounded truly awful. “But…how does a human become part of this world? How do they adjust to life under the water?”

Ukitake’s expression softens. “To truly claim a mate so that she will survive underwater is a simple act in its essence but it’s the emotional depth that truly ensures she will thrive here.” He sets down his cup and looks at you intently. “We would need to consummate our relationship so that the water bond becomes part of you. It will flow from my body into yours and then, you will truly belong here.”

Your eyes bulge at the mention of the word “consummate”. “I’m sorry, what?” The color rises in your cheeks and you avert your eyes, unable to look at the brilliant green orbs gazing at you with the keenness of a falcon that had spotted its prey. You had been with men before, you knew what happened but this…was he truly a man or a beast?

“I am both.” He answers as though he heard your question float out of your head. “I belong to an ancient clan of dragons who once roamed the earth in human form until the real humans discovered our secret. I assure you we don’t engage in such activities in that form.” His smile is kind but amused, and it does nothing to ease your flustered state.

“I wasn’t thinking about that! It’s just…this is so sudden. I was on land a few hours ago and now I’m the mate of a dragon!?” You put a hand on your forehead, trying to calm down. 

“I understand how overwhelming this can be. And I want you to know that if this truly isn’t what you want I’ll take you back to the surface.” His words are said calmly, and you feel your panic lessen. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’d never keep you here against your will. If you don’t want to stay here I can’t force you. Although, it should be noted that all the women who disappeared never went back to the surface. They remained here on their own volition.”

You considered his words and your curiosity piqued. “I would assume they were happier here than up there.”

“Perhaps. Being a dragon’s mate is a blessing after all. You’re rare my dear. One of a kind.” You take a long look at him, observing the handsome features; the long straight nose, the kind eyes, the smooth firmness of his lips, and the way his broad shoulders curved and led into a solid, masculine chest. You were his mate. 

The words sink into you, tugging at your feelings. You hadn’t considered such things. People found other people, they married, and eventually started families. The word mate somehow carried more weight, more meaning, knowing you had come into this world, not alone, but with someone waiting for your existence. You recall the haunting notes of his music that had called you earlier and you feel a pull inside your chest, like your heart was begging for the connection. 

“And if I choose to remain here…How long can I be here before the water bond becomes a necessity?”

“A few hours at most. The kiss I gave you earlier provides a temporary bond but it doesn’t last long.”

You remembered the smooth slip of his dragon tongue against yours and now that you weren’t fighting for your life, you recall how soft and tender it was, the way he’d known how to hold you and ensure you weren’t thrashing and falling to your doom. “And if I accept to be your mate?”

Ukitake’s eyes grow brighter at the words. “The water bond ensures you’ll live as long as a dragon does. And I know it must seem dull to spend your life in this residence in the river but my dear, I am a water dragon. All bodies of water are available to us. We can escape wherever we want to, as long as there’s a major water body nearby. Lakes, oceans, seas…anywhere. And we can venture onto land if you wish. All the adventures in the world will be at your feet. And you will be the sole object of my love and desires.”

He gets up from his end of the table and walks over to you, kneeling in front of you and taking your hand. “Dragons love obsessively. It makes sense since we only get one mate and often wait centuries for them.” His thumb runs over yours, as though he’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin. “And I’d be yours just as equally. To love, to command, and to simply be.” The quiet conviction with which he says the words have your heart pounding in your chest. 

You’re drawn to him, and the way he looks at you now, like he’d move heaven and earth for you, was making you yearn. His hands move to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, then softly brushing against your lower lip. 

Heat gathers under your skin as your eyes flutter closed, savoring his touch, so comforting and gentle. The pull between you two was magnetic and you yielded to the overwhelming desire building inside you. Leaning towards his kneeling form, you lay your lips over his. The soft sigh that leaves him is addicting and your hands card through his long white tresses, which pass like silk between your fingers. He tasted like rain, his mouth firm and the kiss relatively chaste. He draws back, gazing lovingly at you then scoops you up in his arms before walking out of the kitchen. You don’t resist him, allowing yourself the giddy pleasure of being carried like this, cradled against his chest like precious cargo as he walks to his bedroom. 

He deposits you on the sheets, which feel cool and welcoming on your skin before pulling you against him, his lips coming back to yours. There was so much passion and emotion in his kiss and it felt like you were drowning in his arms. Shyly, you offer your tongue which he accepts with a strangled groan, sipping and sucking the small offering.

Ukitake’s hands undo your yukata, revealing smooth skin. His movements are unhurried as he unwraps you like a gift. Once all the layers of clothing are shed, he drinks in the sight of you laying bare on his bed and presses his nose into the crook of your neck savoring the way your skin smells, hearing your pulse, your breath, like they’re flowing into him. 

Your body feels like it’s floating from his tender ministrations, eyes gazing dreamily up at him as he disrobes, revealing his well-muscled body, his hair flowing down in waves and curtaining you both as he lays down next to you. Ukitake’s mouth finds yours again and his warm hands cup your breasts, squeezing enticingly, and a quiet moan escapes from your mouth into his. His fingernails flick lightly across the very tips of your nipples sending ripples of pleasure through your body which are mirrored in your already moistening sex.

His tongue trails down your neck and collarbone before coming down the swell of your breast and taking one of your pebbled nipples captive. He suckles the little bud and your body responds to him, arching closer in need as your hands cradle his head of flowing white locks. His lips pull playfully, bringing forth a noise of want from your throat as you cling to him. His free hand palms your other breast and feeling bold, you start exploring him with your mouth, planting wet kisses on his neck. 

His breath catches momentarily as he processes how wonderful your lips feel on his skin, his mate, claiming him in this intimate manner. Possessiveness fills Ukitake’s being and he leaves your nipple and draws you tightly against him, squeezing you so firmly like he was worried you’d vanish if he didn’t. The skin-to-skin contact was setting him aflame, feeling like he might disintegrate into bits of glowing embers. 

You had no intention of leaving. Because you were his, weren’t you? Thoughts of returning to the surface appeared like peeking into the wrong end of a telescope in your mind, getting further and further away as you lay in his arms. You push back strands of his white hair, see yourself reflected in his emerald eyes, and feel a primal tug deep within you; this was where you belonged.

He draws in a deep breath as your hands trail down his body, stroking his pecs and abs, stopping just short of where his erection pressed against your thigh. Your fingers curl around the hot column of velvet and stroke. His eyes begin to smolder, the irises growing darker until the rings of amber and black consume the space. He growls your name against your ear, his breath sensitizing your warmed skin, his teeth nipping the shell, his pants becoming more and more feral before he quickly grasps your wrist. 

“Not like this. Not yet,” he gasps, and your hand drops. You let out a squeak of surprise as he moves between your legs and his lips press a kiss to your wet sex before his tongue delves into your folds, licking a line from cunt to clit and teasing the swollen bud peeking out at the top of your folds. You can’t look away from his face, his eyes watching your every move, seeing the way your face contorts when his tongue gives you a particularly delicious lick. His eyes have a feral quality now, like a wolf when hunting in the night. Little moans fall from your lips but you don’t dare break your gaze, letting him nakedly watch you in the throes of pleasure, at his mercy. 

Tension gathers in your belly, a throbbing need for everything to explode and take you away into that sweet oblivion. Your pussy spasms from need and your clit pulses, signaling your impending climax. A shuddering moan leaves your lips as he pushes you to the peak, your eyes flying closed as your orgasm rips through you. Your vision turns white for a moment and as his tongue gives you a final lap. He crawls over your body and pushes away loose locks of hair that are sticking to your temples with sweat. 

“Mine,” he whispers over your lips before he slips his body into yours. The passage occurs with no resistance as he allows you to adjust to his size, watching you for signs of discomfort but you’re floating on a cloud of ecstasy as you feel him stretch out your walls, filling the space that you had been craving. Your walls clench around him welcomingly, further pulling him into your warmth and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his teeth bearing down on the delicate skin as his hips start to rock against yours, stroking your walls with his veiny cock. 

Your sighs mingle and float into the air as he claims you, your hands holding his waist firmly as his body rises and falls over yours, his hair in disarray as he chases his climax.

His movements begin to grow sloppy and he pants into your ear. “The water bond. You’ll become permanently part of this world. This is your last chance to back out.”

Your response is to wrap your legs around his waist and draw him in deeper. He hisses as your pussy conforms to him like a glove and his body shivers, a sexy moan falling from his lips as he allows himself to spill into you, marking you in the most ancient way as his. 

all dividers by @/ cafekitsune

Taglist:

@kr0wu @kryptoniteforsale @pernesophe @whatshernameis @hunnie-lily @the-hoetei-13

[lookingfts]

Dialogue Game - Prompts #5 and #6

#5 - "I’m pretty much fucked…" (@ottovastra)

Anthony was exhausted. Back-to-back meetings, a hysterical phone call from Hyacinth, plus he’d forgotten to eat all day, so his head was pounding and his energy was sapped. His delivery order arrived only minutes after he did, and he was preparing to tuck in to his Pad Thai when there was a knock on his door.

That wasn’t unexpected – not with his enormous family. But the woman standing on his front steps was decidedly not one of his siblings.

“Hey,” she said sheepishly. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but my car broke down and your light was on and the tow truck is taking forever, and I’m pretty much fucked without a car – sorry, that’s not your concern – but I just really need to use your loo if that’s not too much of an imposition?”

For a long moment, Anthony didn’t respond, thoroughly distracted as he took her in. He wasn’t exactly starving for pretty women, but someone this gorgeous literally landing on his doorstep still felt like a bolt from the heavens. Tall and lithe, glowing deep skin and diamond-sharp cheekbones. Thick winding curls and eyes that seemed to glitter gold.

She arched a brow, and he realized that his silence was probably reading a bit creepy. “Oh, sorry, of course. Please, come in. Second door on the left, there.”

“Thank you so much.” The woman disappeared down the hallway, and Anthony stood there stupidly, unsure what to do. But in the few minutes it took her to return, he’d resolved. “I won’t trouble you any longer, thank you again for-.”

“Do you like Thai food?”

Super smooth, Anthony. The woman stilled, sinking her teeth into her lip. “Um, yeah. I do.”

“Well, I just had some delivered,” he explained, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen. “And you’re welcome to wait in here for the tow truck and have some dinner, if you would like.”

She simply stared at him for a moment, and then she smiled, sending a surprisingly strong current through his blood. “I- yeah, that would be nice,” she said. “I’m Kate, by the way.”

“Right,” he laughed. They were standing in his living room, and he hadn’t even thought to introduce himself. “Anthony.”

“Anthony,” she echoed, rolling it around on her tongue, and he quite liked the way that sounded. “Well, maybe I broke down in the right place.”

He grinned, all his earlier exhaustion dissipating. Strange, how quickly his day could change. “Maybe you did.”

#6 - "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that." "I do-- almost as long as I've been waiting to say it." (@mimix007)

She was such an idiot.

Truly, she didn’t know. All this time, she thought it was Edwina. The way he tried to ingratiate himself into her family; sending them flowers, asking Kate questions about them, inviting them to Aubrey Hall. Why else would he do it, but to woo her lovely, sweet, worthy-of-being-a-Viscountess sister?

And so she hadn’t meant to hurt him, hadn’t thought she was hurting him, when she brought her coworker Ian to the Bridgerton holiday party. She thought he would ask Edwina and Kate just didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be heartbroken and pathetic in the corner. Or at least, she didn’t want everyone to see that she was heartbroken and pathetic. Feeling it was probably inevitable.

She didn’t go home with Ian, of course – he was only a friend, and one who had agreed to accompany her for the legendary buffet and gift bags in addition to friendly loyalty. She had been laying on her sofa, relieved that the night wasn’t a catastrophe, when Ben texted her. Are you dating that guy?

Kate didn’t want to admit anything – even to Ben, who would surely understand but might tell Anthony, and then what was the point? Why are you asking?

Look, I know Anthony is an idiot, and a dick most of the time. But if you didn’t want him, you could have just told him that instead of showing up with someone else. That really hurt him.

She read the text seven times before she could stop believing that she’d read it wrong. What the hell are you talking about? Anthony has been chasing Edwina, not me.

Oh, Christ. I say this with love, but you’re just as stupid as he is.

A few seconds, and then another message. He doesn’t want Edwina.

Something tightened in her stomach. If he wasn’t interested in Edwina, then either he had a thing for older women – Mary was still gorgeous, to be fair – or…

Or she’d really fucked up tonight.

She hadn’t bothered changing out of her red sequined dress, and she threw her coat back on before hopping on the tube. This was absurd, completely absurd, but she knew she had to look Anthony in the eye when she asked him for the truth. Even when he lied, she could always tell. His face betrayed him.

He started a little when he opened the door, clearly not expecting her, and Kate swallowed. “I’m not dating Ian.”

There was a dip in his shoulders as he relaxed. “You’re not?”

Kate shook her head. “You didn’t want Edwina?”

Anthony’s eyes widened, and he closed the distance between them by a step. “No, I never- I never said that, why would you-?”

She shrugged, feeling stupid. It wasn’t hard to puzzle it out, if she really thought about it. “Everyone does.”

“I don’t,” he sighed, and she held her breath. They were standing right on the edge of something, the truth that could consume them whole, and the idea of falling terrified her. But a lifetime on the edge sounded even worse. “Your sister is great, but you were the only one I ever wanted. Ben witnessed a pretty embarrassing meltdown when I saw you with that guy tonight. I just…I’m in love with you, Kate. I thought it was obvious.”

All the tension melted from his body, and he looked…free. Kate pressed her lips together, tears pricking hot at her eyes. Maybe it was obvious, or it would have been, if she hadn’t been so blind. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Anthony said, a wide smile forming on his face at the confirmation that his feelings were reciprocated, or at least welcomed. “Almost as long as I’ve been waiting to say it.”

Feeling bold, Kate stepped through his doorway, and Anthony took a step back to make room for her. “I’m in love with you,” she confessed, and the joy on his face stole all the air from her lungs. “And it’s not too late to take this dress off me tonight.”

Anthony chuckled, low and rich, shutting the door behind her and backing her gently up against it. “That,” he murmured, sliding her coat off her shoulders. “Is a brilliant idea.”

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello! I hope you are doing okay :)

I am not sure if requests are open, but if it is;

Can I please request Stronger Reader x Gojo, where the reader is almost perfect with everything (beauty etc) and comes from another universe? It would be funny if they were annoyed with each other at first, but then slowly became friends and then maybe Gojo having one side crush xD?

Close win for your great idea, so there you go! Please let me know what you think as I'm not 100% satisfied with how it turned out...Enjoy <3

Golden girl

Pairing: Gojo x stronger!fem! reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: Satoru Gojo really hates everything about you, especially the fact that you are stronger than him. Is it even possible to get along with you, let alone like you?

Warnings: Language, Gojo is pretty mean from time to time, kinda enemies to lovers, but no real fluff

He fucking hated it with every fiber of his heart. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you looked, the way you smiled, the way your powers are so enormous. Why on earth do you have to be so fucking perfect in everything you’re doing? You came into his life like a meteorite, crushing his confidence in an instant with your outstanding abilities, charm and beauty. Like a supernova, you emerged everything that he stood for and just made it…better.

“This is way too funny”, Yuji gasps while clinging onto Nobara’s sobbing shoulder for dear life.

“I’m telling you it’s true!”, you demand, your very own voice shaking in laughter.

Even Megumi can’t hold back a little laughter for any longer. Gojo’s eyes darken as he crosses his arms over his chest. You have some fucking nerve, coming in here “from another continent” like you said, almost surpassing him in everything he’s been doing for years. Fuck, he is the strongest, he has always been the strongest. Who do you think you are to steal his life away from him?

“Actually not, no”, he grumbles under his breath, eyes darted towards your perfect falling hair.

“What’s up with that face, Gojo? Did you not sleep well?”, you questions, gaze of innocence piercing through him.

His blood begins to boil in an instant, he sees nothing but red. The way your big round eyes seem to stare right through him with a slight hint of tease glittering in them makes him want to shoot a bit of hollow purple your way.

“Since you’re here, I’m actually feeling bad all the time, golden girl”, he remarks sharply.

You can’t help but let out a little giggle. You have nothing against Gojo Satoru. In fact, you really do admire him, his abilities and personality. However, it seems like he isn’t so keen about meeting you. You’ve been here for a while now and his behavior towards you is as terrible as always.

“Evil tongues could say that you are…jealous of me, Gojo-bear”, you reply with damped voice.

“Jealous of you!?”, he breathes out.

His fast and enormous steps close the distant between your bodies in an instant, his hateful gaze hollowing above you like a fatal shadow.

“Time to get going guys”, Megumi murmurs.

“I am the strongest, remember that brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“You were the best, Gojo. Now I’m here. So get out of the sun for me, will you?”, you bite back, very own words dripping in venom.

If he’s treating you like shit, you’ll definitely do the same. You’re way too fucking tired to let him do this to you.

“We will see”, he spits at you.

With one last hateful glance in your direction, he turns around and simply walks away.

Wow, what an asshole. __________________________________________________________

“Would you mind getting out of the way so I’m able to do my job?”, you snap at no other than Gojo Satoru.

“You can’t do this alone, (y/n)”, he shouts over the deafening noises of battle.

Bullshit. You’re slaying curse by curse so effortlessly that it hurts his eyes. He hates to admit it, but you make it look so damn easy – too easy for his liking.

“I’m doing perfectly fine Gojo. Are you worried about me?”, you tease him while demolishing a curse with the blunt force of your little finger.

“Worried about you, that I don’t laugh. I give zero shits about you”, he screams into your direction without hesitation.

“It’s actually mutual, asshole!”

“Why are they so mean to each other? I have never seen Gojo-sensei leash out like that, but when it comes to (y/n) he seems like a different person”, Nobara comments, eyes hypnotized by your moves.

“I think it bothers him that she’s stronger than him. I mean, being told you’re the strongest your whole life just for a random woman to show up and steal your spotlight sound pretty rough to be honest”, Yuji guesses.

“Why the hell do you have to be so damn mean? I did nothing to deserve your hate towards me, what is your fucking problem?”, you yell at him, body trembling in pure rage while still fighting off curses.

“Everything about you is disgusting, that is my problem!”

His words hit you like a wall. How on earth did it come this far? What did you do to make him this upset? Jujutsu High is your refuge in a world that failed to understand you for so long, you thought you finally made it. But this? This…is not fair. In fact, you are too good to keep up with this bullshit.

“Listen up Satoru.”

Gojo’s heart skips a beat when you call him by his first name. You’ve never done this, always calling him by his last name or stupid nicknames. He was never Satoru to you except for now, when your voice is dripping in venom and your dangerous eyes are darted towards him in a way he has never seen before.

“What the hell is your problem, huh? I’ve never done something to deserve the way you treat me like shit. I came here because I thought I’ll finally find people that understand me, who accept me the way I am. It’s not my fault that I’m stronger than you, you hear? Instead of making me feel like shit, you should think about training in order to become better than me, don’t you think? Being the strongest also means being able to admit your weaknesses. It pains me that you reject me so vehemently.”

For him, time stands still. Your glistening eyes show nothing but sorrow, his very own reflection staring down at him in guilt. Fuck, why do your words cut through him like a knife? Why does it have to be so true? Is there a reasonable explanation behind the way he acts towards you? He can’t put a finger on it. Damn, all of this just because you broke his ego so violently? He shakes his head, gaze drifting away from your intense stare.

“Whatever. Seems like you don’t need me here anyway. I’m leaving.”

You can’t help but sign heavy as you watch him leave in the matter of a split second. Why does it have to be so damn hard to like him? Everything would be so much easier if the two of you would just get along.

You clench your hands into fists, gaze hardening. It’s not your fault though. You tried and tried to get to him, to show him that you are better off as a team, that there is absolutely no reason to fight. This is ridiculous. And you’ll do hell to beg him on your knees to fucking like you.

“Let’s get this over with and go home”, you shout towards your students.

Fuck Satoru Gojo for now. After all, you’re still having a job to do. ___________________________________________________________

“Efficient as always”, Shoko comments while stitching up a small wound on Megumi’s forehead.

“Don’t flatter me, that’s my job”, you quickly reply.

“Seems like you’ve got hurt yourself.”

You desperately fight against the urge to roll your eyes at the sound of his damp voice behind Shoko. What the hell is he doing here?

“Yeah? I didn’t even notice”, you remark dryly, gaze fixed on his shamelessly attractive face.

Why does he have to be such a decent looking man, especially when you know that deep down, he has a good heart?

He crosses the room in just a few steps and stretches out his index finger.

“Right here”, he mutters, touch brushing against your forehead tenderly.

“Oh, he’s right. Just a little scratch though”, Shoko confirms casual.

You can’t help but hold your breath. This is the first time since the two of you met that he didn’t insult you after one normal sentence. Even his face isn’t twisted in disgust. On the contrary, his features are gently outlined. It almost looks as if he…cares.

“Thanks for noticing. One of the attacks probably hit me slightly when I wasn’t paying full attention.”

“So you too are fallible, huh golden girl?”, he teases you mildly.

“As we all, Satoru”, you reply with a sly grin.

You can’t explain why it suddenly feels so different, nothing happened between your last fight and now. But something definitely changed. You can tell by the way he wears himself and the unusual softness that radiates from his voice that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t hate you as intensely as he did anymore. And this observation fills your chest with nothing but warmth.

“Hey um…Would you mind…Training with me?”, he stutters.

Your ears must play tricks on you. Did he really ask you that? Are you dreaming? The Satoru Gojo is standing in front of you and talks to you very nicely. And now, to top it all off, he even asks you about a training session? What the hell has gotten into him?

“I mean…Sure thing we can. I already asked you about that for over a year…”

He shifts his weight while avoiding your gaze, a slight brush creeping up his cheeks. Satoru Gojo is embarrassed. This is too good to be true.

“Meet me at 4. See ya.”

And with that, he turns on his heels and leaves the room as fast as he came while you stare at the door without moving an inch. Somebody has to pinch you. What changed? How did he go from “I fucking hate you more than anything in the entire universe” to “I might consider to spend time with you”? You shake your head out of your trance. Doesn’t matter why or how. What matters is that this might be the chance to finally get along with him after months of spitting venom at each other. You really still dislike him, the thought of his annoying voice alone makes your body shiver in annoyance, but someone has to be the bigger person.

And that person is you. ____________________________________________________________

“You’re late”, you comment while stretching your back.

“Good things take time”, he replies with a cheeky grin.

He takes off his blindfold and you can’t help but take in the gorgeous sight of his striking orbs. You don’t see them often, to be exact you only catch a glimpse of them when he fights. To a neutral eye, Satoru must be the man of every woman’s dream: handsome, well educated, mischievous and flirty. But to you, he is nothing but irritating. Even though you can’t deny the fact that he looks good as hell.

“Enjoying the view (y/n)?”

You let out a disregarding snort before you are able to stop yourself.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gojo. I’m not one of your girls and I’ll never be.”

“I wouldn’t want you as one of my girls anyway, you’re way too feisty.”

Something inside you snaps at the sound of his stupid comment, facial expression dropping to the floor. He has some nerves, talking to you like that when he’s supposed to train with you in a few minutes.

“I will wipe the floor with your ass.”

A swift motion is enough to knock him off his feet. Good, that’s exactly where he belongs.

“You know that was pretty unfair, right?”, he mumbles and rubs his butt.

“Life is never fair I guess.”

“Trust me, I know that better than you.”

You can see the way his expression drops after throwing his words at you. The first thing you feel is…sorrow. It must have been hard for him to give up his place as the strongest to the hands of a random stranger. You came into his life so fast that he didn’t even have time to get to know you.

“I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, Satoru. I just want to let you know that I never hated you.”

He stops in his tracks, fist only inches away from your face with his eyes widen in visible irritation.

“Satoru, I…I don’t want you to hate me. I see the way you treat all the others and it makes me kind of jealous…”, you confess.

“You’re a pain in the ass, (y/n)”, he replies dryly.

Silence hangs between the two of you, your eyes are glued to the concrete underneath. How stupid it was to think that something might change after over a year of him hating and avoiding you. You tried over and over to win his heart, to show him that you are a lovable person, but it seems like none of this matters.

“But maybe giving this a chance won’t hurt.”

Your eyes lock with his bright blue orbs, a grin creeping up his face. He never smiled like this at you before, your heart begins to flutter uncontrollably in your chest. Does this mean…?

“So you don’t hate me?”

“Woah, easy there. I’m only here because I want to learn from you. Nothing else”, he responses along with shaking his head vehemently.

You can’t help but gift him with a wide grin. That’s more than enough.

_____________________________________________________________ Bonus

“(y/n)’s coming”, Megumi mumbles between two bites.

“What? Do I look good? Does my hair sit right?”, Satoru frantically hisses while pulling at his uniform.

His heart beats out of his chest. Over the past months, he got to know you better, to catch a glimpse of your heart. Turns out you aren’t only shamelessly gorgeous, smart and powerful, but a wonderful person in general. All the negative feelings he had towards you turned into something completely different.

“And you say you don’t have a crush on (y/n), huh? That I don’t laugh.”

“Hi Megumi and Satoru! How are you doing?”, you greet them both with a welcoming smile.

“I’m fine, but Gojo-sensei has something very important to tell you.”

Satoru’s head darts towards Megumi, hands clenched into fists. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What is this about? He doesn’t have anything to tell you. Expect…That little shithead.

“Oh really?”, you question, your gaze now fixed on Gojo.

“Oh, y’know…It’s not that important anyway and you just returned from a difficult mission. I might as well just get going”, he responses and is already on the way to turn around when you grab his hand and force him to face you.

“Satoru”, you warn him.

“Just tell me what you want to tell me.”

“I was wondering if you…Want to grab something to eat with me”, he presses out.

Silence. Satoru swears he can hear his own heart hammering against his ribcage, not daring to look up at you. Did he really say that? Did he really ask such a stupid question?

“So, like a date?”

“Oh hell no, absolutely not!”, he cries out.

“Huh, too bad. Would have said yes in that chase. But if you don’t want to, I will leave now and get ready for the next lecture. See you around, Satoru.”

“W-wait, (y/n)! I didn’t mean it like that!”, Gojo calls after you.

“Wow, first you go from hating to crushing over her and now you’re even too dumb to talk to her. I thought someone like you is good in talking to girls all the time”, Megumi comments.

“Just wait until you fall in love, Megumi!”

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

The real insult, Edgin thought, as the rest of his mind turned to jelly, was how fucking small the dragon was.

This was his first encounter with a faerie dragon, and he hadn't taken the whole thing very seriously. A bright green dragon no larger than a cat, cooped up in some miller's chimney? It barely felt worth the coin, not that he told the miller that.

The dragon, however, had other ideas. They'd managed to wrangle it outside thanks to some keen shapeshifting from Doric, but as soon as she'd gotten it through the front door and into Ed's arms it had hit him with an enormous blast of glittering fae magic.

Ed was no stranger to Euphoria Breath - there were bars in all the seedier spots of Neverwinter that sold a concentrated hit of the stuff for a reasonable fee - but he'd never had it straight from the source.

The last lucid thought that passed through his head before his knees hit the floor was oh, this is pretty good.

They gathered around the stricken bard, no one keen to get too close. No one had any idea what to do.

“I’m sure Xenk has something up his sleeve,” Simon said, pleadingly. “Right, Xenk?”

Xenk gave him a long look. “I assure you,” he said, “the only thing up my sleeves is my arms.”

From the floor, Ed made a choking noise.

“He speaks!” Xenk was beside him in a blink, grabbing his shoulders. “Speak to me, my dearest friend, or has some foul scourge taken thy tongue?”

Ed stared at him, unfocused. Behind Xenk’s shoulder, Holga rolled her eyes. Ed opened his mouth.

“Speak!” Xenk commanded.

“Wh—”

It was no more than a broken whisper. Xenk moved closer. “What is it, my friend?”

“Where—” Ed took a deep breath that collapsed in upon itself. His eyes had gone red, watering with the effort of speaking. “Where does— where— Xenk—”

“Yes, Edgin?”

Ed hauled himself to his elbows unsteadily. “Xenk…”

“I am with you.”

“Where…” he took another, gasping breath, like a man drowning. “Where does Xenk keep his armies?”

Xenk blinked at him. He had never had the honour of command, nor did he have the inclination.

“Your mind has been rattled by the scourge,” he said. “You must rest, and hope that you may—”

“Up his sleevies!”

Holga burst into snorting laughs. Ed looked thrilled, laughing until tears rolled down his cheeks. Even Doric began to giggle.

“I—” Xenk was lost. “I am not sure I understand your riddle, Edgin.”

Edgin clapped his shoulder, gripping tight. “Up his sleevies,” he breathed. When Xenk did not respond, he slumped back down with a groan.  “Fucking harp—”

And then he swooned clean away.

[devi1sange1]

The Cruel Prince: My Favorite Jurdan Moments

A selfish compilation because I want to look at this and smile in the future (it’s like, all the moments.)

Ch. 3

Prince Cardan, sixth-born to the High King Eldred, yet still the absolute worst, strides across the floor towards us.

As Cardan walks past the boy, apparently done with him, I am grateful that Cardan has five more worthy brothers and sisters; it’s practically guaranteed that he’ll never sit on the throne. I don’t want to think of him with more power than he has.

Ch. 4

And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest, with black hair as iridescent as a raven’s wing and cheekbones sharp enough to cut out a girls heart. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him I can hardly breathe.

Ch. 5

Cardan’s gaze catches mine, and I can’t help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth. His eyes are bright as coals, his hatred a living thing, shimmering in the air between us like the air above black rocks on a blazing summer day.

Ch. 7

Cardan watches me. Although he doesn’t lift a finger, I know this is all his doing. In his eyes, I see all the vast alieness of Faerie. “Is this fun?” I call to the shore. I am so furious that there’s no room for being scared. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” “Enormously,” says Cardan.

Ch. 8

I leave my books and cross the grass towards them. Cardan half turns and I shove him so hard that his back hits one of the trees. His eyes go wide. […] For a moment, Cardan just stares at me with stupid, crow-black eyes. Then one corner of his mouth curls. “Oh,” he says. “You’re going to regret doing that.”

Ch. 9

I keep thinking of the lazy blink of Cardan’s lashes over his coal-bright eyes. He looked gleeful, gloating, as though my fist tightening on his shirt was exactly what he would have wished. As though if I struck him, it would be because he made me do it.

“Get down on your knees,” Cardan says, looking insufferably pleased with himself. His fury has transmuted into gloating. “Beg. Make it pretty. Flowery. Worthy of me.”

“I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this” —I throw his own words back at him—“this is the least of what I can do.” Cardan looks at me as though he’s never seen me before. He looks at me as though no one has ever spoken to him like this. Maybe no one has

Ch. 11

Abruptly, Valerian is kicked off me. I roll onto my side, coughing, Cardan is looming there. […] “Enough,” Cardan says. He has an odd, wild expression on his face and a muscle is jumping in his jaw.

Looking up at Cardan though, something strikes me wrong. His eyes are glittering with fury and desire and maybe even shame. A moment later, he blinks, and it’s just his usual chilly arrogance.

Ch. 12

My stomach lurches. They’re going to beat him. I should be glorying in seeing Cardan like this. I should be glad that his life sucks, maybe worse than mine, even though he’s a prince of faerie and a horrible jerk and probably going to live forever. If someone had told me that I’d get an opportunity to see this, I would have thought the only thing I’d have to stifle was applause. But watching, I cannot help observing that beneath all his defiance is fear. […] It doesn’t make me like him any better, but for the first time he seems real. Not good, but real.

Ch. 14

I take the folded-up paper from behind my pillow. Smoothing it out, I see Cardan’s furious, arrogant handwriting scrawled over the page, taking up all the available space. In some places he pressed the nib so angrily that the paper tore. Jude, it reads, each hateful rendering of my name like a punch to the gut. Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude…

Ch. 15

And my own name, written over and over and over. I thought I knew how much Cardan hated me, but looking at that paper, I realized I had no idea. And he’d hate me even more still if he knew I had seen him on his knees, beaten by a human servant. A mortal, for an extra bit of humiliation, an extra dose of rage. “Jude?” Oriana says, and I realize that I’ve been staring off toward a window and the fading light. […] “And just who are you thinking about with a dreamy expression like that on your face?” Oriana asks, which makes Vivi laugh again.

He looks well practiced in hiding pain.

Ch. 16

His eyes narrow at the blood, and he points the wooden stick at me. “You seem to have cut yourself.” […] I take the knife out from under my tunic and show it to him, stained a flinty red. I smile “I could cut you, too.”

At that moment, Cardan’s gaze goes to me. His eyes are barely open, but I can see the shine of them, wet as tar. He watches me as the girl kisses his mouth, watches me as she slides her hand beneath the hem of his silly, ruffle shirt.

Ch. 18

“Do you know what he said when I told him you’d stabbed me? He told me it was no more than what I deserved.” That’s impossible; Valerian must have misunderstood, Cardan must have been mocking him for letting me under his guard.

Ch. 20

His hand slides lower on my hip. I narrow my eyes at him. “You really hate me, don’t you?” He asks, his smile growing. “Almost as much as you hate me,” I say, thinking of the page with my name scratched on it. Thinking of the way he looked at me when he was drunk in the hedge maze. The way he’s looking at me now.

Ch. 21

“You’re moral,” he informs me. […] “It’s not safe for you here. Especially if you go around stabbing everyone.” “Not safe for me?” Absurdity if the statement aside, I have no idea why he’s acting as though he’s ever thought about my safety for a moment, except to endanger it.

Right now, he doesn’t even seem to care about himself.

“Get down here before you’re recognized.” “Playing hide-and-seek under the table? Crouching in the dirt? Typical of your kind, but far beneath my dignity.” He laughs unsteadily, like he expects I am going to laugh too. I don’t. I ball up my fist and punch him in the stomach, right where I know it will hurt. He staggers to his knees.

My heart is hammering from the bloodshed, from Cardan being so close, from striking him without consequences.

With a sigh, I take down my braids, rubbing my hands through my hair until it hangs wild in my face. “You look…” he says, and then trailing off, blinking a few times, not seeming able to finish.

When I return, Cardan is swilling down more wine, his gaze burning into me. I have no idea what he sees, what he’s even looking for.

And then, once we’re in the empty hall in the upper level of the palace, I turn and press the point of my knife directly underneath his chin. “Jude?” He asks, up against the wall, pronouncing my name carefully, as though to avoid slurring. I am not sure I have ever heard him use my actual name before.

Ch. 22

I press the top of the knife against his skin so he can feel the bite. His black eyes focus on me with new intensity. “Why?” he asks. Just that.

“I suppose you were right after all.” He studies my face, giving nothing away on his own. “I suppose I didn’t know the least of what you could do.”

My lip curls, but otherwise I keep my expression as mask-like as I know how, as cruel and cold as the face that reoccurs in my nightmares. It is only as I do it that I realize who I am aping, whose face frightened me into wanting it for my own. His.

I hate how I feel around him, the irrational panic when I touch his skin.

As I watch, the tail forms one wavering curve after another, snaking back and forth, betraying his cool face, telling its own story of uncertainty and fear. I can see why he hides that think away.

Ch. 25

Cardan grins at me as though we’ve been great friends all our lives. I forgot how charming he can be—and how dangerous that is.

It occurs to me that if I kill him, I can finally stop thinking about him, I won’t have to feel like this anymore.

He holds up his hands in protest, long bare fingers splayed. I am the one with the royal ring. “I’m nervous, he says. “I smile a lot when I’m nervous.”

“You are terrifying.”

I draw down the collar of my shirt so he can see where Valerian tries to strangle me. […] He reaches towards me, as though he’s going to run his fingers over the bruises.

He leans in and closes his eyes. “Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.” I am shocked into silence. “Maybe you should shoot me after all,” he says, covering his face with one long-fingered hand.

I lean toward him, close enough for a kiss. His eyes widen. The look on his face is some commingling of panic and desire.

“You really do want me,” I say, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. “And you hate it.” I change the angle of the knife, turning it so it’s against his neck. He doesn’t look nearly as alarmed by that as I might expect. Not nearly as alarmed as when I bring my mouth to his.

Ch. 26

But kissing Locke never felt the way that kissing Cardan does, like taking a dare to run over knives, like an adrenaline string of lightning, like the moment when you’ve swum too far out in the sea and there is no going back, only cold black water closing over your head.

I can feel the moment he gives in and gives up, pulling me to him despite the threat of the knife. He kisses me hard, with a kind of devouring desperation, fingers digging into my hair.

It’s like fighting, except what we’re fighting for is to crawl inside each other’s skin

That’s the moment when terror seizes me. What kind of insane revenge is there in exulting his revulsion? And worse, far worse, I like this. I like everything about kissing him—the familiar buzz of fear, the knowledge I am punishing him, the proof he wants me.

“Is that what you imagined?” I ask, and am relieved to find that my voice sounds harsh. “No,” he says tonelessly. “Tell me,” I say. He shakes his head, somewhere chagrined. “Unless you’re really going to stab me, I think I won’t. And I might not tell you even if you were going to stab me.”

“After our kiss, I am such a fool over you that I can hardly contain myself,” I tell him with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “All I want to do is nice things to make you happy. Sure, I’ll make whatever bargain you want, so long as you kiss me again. Go ahead and run. I definitely won’t shoot you in the back.” He blinks a few times. “Hearing you lie outright is a bit disconcerting.”

When I look back, I see Cardan’s hands are deftly splitting the deck of cards, but his glittering black eyes are on me.

“I’m going to stay here, with you. You’ve got a plan right?” […] “Cardan said that you did. That if you were just making a trade, you would have done it already. And if you were going to betray us, you’d have done that by now, too.”

As the Bomb said, Cardan is stretched out on one, looking sickeningly handsome.

“Go away. You told me you wouldn’t kill me if I answered your questions, and I did.” He doesn’t sound like the boy who kissed me, sick with desire, just hours ago. He sounds sleepy, arrogant, and annoyed.

He stands, shouldering on his jacket, and then follows me into Dain’s office. Once we’re there, he leans against the doorjamb. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his hair messy from the bed. Just looking at him makes me feel hot with shame. “You sure you brought me here just to talk?” It turns out that having kissed someone, the possibility of kissing hangs over everything, no matter how terrible an idea it was the first time. The memory of his mouth on mine shimmers in the air between us.

He tips his head back, looking at me through dark lashes. “Maybe living together is the reason we don’t get on.” “I don’t like you either,” I remind him. “So you’ve said.” He gives me a lazy grin.

I think of all the strangeness of his being here, sleeping in homespun sheets, wearing the same closes for days on end, eating bread and cheese, and not complaining about any of it. It almost seems like he prefers a nest of spy’s and assassins to the splendor of his own bed.

Ch. 27

“So I am to sit here and feed you information,” Cardan says, leaning against a hickory tree. “And you’re to go charm royalty? That seems entirely backward.” I fix him a look. “I can be charming. I charmed you, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes.”

Despite myself, I smile. It’s bizzare to be in this with Cardan, of all people. And weirder still for him to talk with me this way, as he might to Nicasia or Locke.

He grabs hold of my wrist. I am shocked by the sensation of his skin warm against mine.

I frown at him. “But they’re not part of the High Court. They haven’t sworn to the crown.” “Exactly,” Cardan says, reaching out a finger to trace the shape of my ear. The curve, I realize. I shudder, eyes closing against the hot spike of shame. He keeps talking, but he seems to realize what he’s been doing and snatches his hand away. Now we’re both ashamed.

Ch. 28

“It surprised me,” I say honestly. “I wanted to think Dain was different.” Cardan snorts and takes the silver cup that was meant for me as well as his own.

We go over the plans again, and Cardan helps us map out Hollow hall. I try not to be too conscious of his long fingers tracing over the paper, of the sick thrill I get when he looks at me.

Ch. 29

“My prince,” it says. “My door,” he says in return, with a smile that conveys both affection and familiarity. It’s bizzare to see his obnoxious charm used for something other than evil.

Cardan tucks my arm firmly through his before striding into the entryway, and I feel a rush of warmth as I match his step. I can’t afford to be less than ruthlessly honest with myself. Against my better judgement, despite the fact that he is terrible, Cardan is also fun.

He’s supposed to look regal. I helped choose the clothes, helped make him this way, and yet the effect is not lost on me.

“Jude here made me her prisoner,” he says, and I have to fight down the urge to step heavily on his foot. “She ties very tight knots.”

Her eyes widen, taking in whom I am standing with. Something passes over her face, and it looks a lot like resentment. She has locke, but I am here with a prince.

Ch. 30

“Have I told you how hideous you look tonight?” Cardan asks, leaning back in the elaborately carved chair, the warmth of his words turning the question into something like a compliment. “No,” I say, glad to be annoyed back into the present. “Tell me.” “I cannot,” he says, then frowns. “Jude?” I may never be used to the sound of my name on his lips. His brows draw together. “There’s a bruise coming upon your jaw.”

“Phase four,” Cardan whispers to me, still believing we’re on the same side.

Cardan looks at me with helpless rage. Then, the full minute of my command up, he rises slowly to his feet. The fury in his eyes is familiar, the glitter of them like banked fire, like coals burning hotter than flames ever could. This time I deserve it. I promised he was going to be able to walk away from the court and all its manipulations. I promised he would be free from all this. I lied.

Yet I am surprised when he turns to me, eyes blazing. It feels as though the room is empty but for us. He lifts his glass anew, mouth curving in a mockery of a smile. “And to Jude, who gave me a gift tonight. One that I plan to repay in kind.”

Epilogue

He rises from the throne. “Come, have a seat.” His voice is replete with danger, lush with menace. The flowering branches have sprouted thorns so thickly that petals are barely visible. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He asks “What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It’s all yours.”

[drinix]

A Vow for Eternity

01 - Before it all began

Pairing: General Kirigan X Female Reader

Part 02

Warnings: None at all. This series encompass mainly romance, fluff, angst.

Summary: A Princess embroiled in an arranged betrothal to the most feared General Aleksander Kirigan, the leader of the Second Army in Ravka. Would this be a mere political alliance or something more than it meets the eye?

Bonus: I couldn’t stop listening to the soundtrack while writing this chapter.

General Kirigan stood skimming the map of Ravka which was laid down on an enormous table that ran almost half of the space in the room, immersed in his thoughts. The sound of firewood crackling is the only thing that could be heard in his dark-lit war room. The room was cramped with cabinets loaded with maps, artifacts, paintings, books and whatnot. Beside him was his untouched Kvas, in front of him, on the wall was a black banner showcasing his coat of arms, embellished with glittering intricate silver details, which depicted the Sun in Eclipse but not a single star was there to adorn it.

He had found his Sun Summoner whom he had been looking for centuries after making many endeavors. He had made sure to keep an eye on her every step of the way because he wanted to make sure nothing goes awry so that everything could be executed according to his whims and fancies.

His eyes rested upon the banner of his symbol for a while. “It feels empty and lonely, just as my soul”, He thought to himself. He was too adamant to admit that he was lonely in this world after spending centuries on his own.

General Kirigan’s train of thoughts was interrupted by subdued knock on the door.

“What is it, Ivan?”, the General asked in his husky voice.

“The King’s brother, Prince Richard is here for an audience with you, General”, Ivan replied. He was one of the General’s Oprichniki and most trusted soldiers.

General Kirigan knew why the Prince requested an audience with him that evening. Few weeks ago, the King himself communicated to him about his betrothal to the Princess Y/N, which was indeed considered as an emblematic union that benefited both parties by the King and his advisers with the intention of bolstering the alliance between the Grisha and the people of Ravka. Even though, the General didn’t have a speck of an hope to get married, it was not his position to defy the King. Whether he wanted or not, he was deprived of any choice but to concede.

“Ah yes. I was informed about this meeting. Don’t keep him waiting, Ivan.” said the General while fixing up his kefta.

Ivan opened the door for the Prince to enter.

“Moi tsarevich, it’s an honor to have you in my chambers.” The General bowed to the Prince.

“It’s pleasure meeting you, General. I wanted to meet you myself here because of the gravity of the matter I intend to discuss with you.” The Prince said glancing at Ivan.

“Ivan, you may wait outside” Ivan bowed to the General and the Prince and took his leave, closing the doors behind him.

“A glass of Kvas for you, moi tsarevich. Let me send a word to the kitchen to bring some refreshments for you” The General offered a glass of Kvas to the Prince.

“Thank you, General. No need for other refreshments. Let me cut to the chase.” The Prince uttered with a grave expression on his face. “ I hope you’re aware that my daughter will return to the Grand Palace on the day of the Winter Fete.”

“Yes. The King informed me about her arrival few days before” The General nodded in agreement.

“There’s something about her that others are not aware of, specially the Royal Family which puts her safety at peril” The Prince muttered, turning towards the General.

The General furrowed his brows. “ What is it, moi tsarevich? If it concerns her safety, it must be a grave matter.” Anything that would put his prospective bride’s life in harm’s way, would affect him as well, at least remotely.

The Prince stared at the fireside for a while, swirling the glass of Kvas. “This is a secret that should be kept between us, General. Otherwise, the Princess’s life will be at an immense stake”

“I give you my word, moi tsarevich. You have always been an ally and a pillar of support of Grisha.” General bobbed his head respectfully.

Your father had been supportive of Grisha in many respects for many years. He always believed that they should live in harmony without being downtrodden or marginalized. As a matter fact, he had played a integral role in holding discussions with the Fjeardan government on behalf of the royal family of Ravka regarding the Grisha held in custody at the Ice Court of Fjearda and even gone out of his way to help them escape from the Fjeardans. Therefore, your father was a well-respected royal by Grisha. You, his only child, well, there’s a saying that an Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“ I trust you, General and you’re her fiancé. It is the reason for me to have this conversation with you” The Prince stepped closer to the General. “My daughter, Y/N is capable of wielding the powers of Small Science”

The General was astounded by what the Prince just said. He found himself dumbstruck for a moment as a pin-drop silence loomed over the room for a minute or two. He couldn’t believe his own ears for moment. A Grisha in the Royal family was such a rare occurrence. It had never been known for Grisha to have a Royal descent; A Grisha Princess.

“You mean, she is a Grisha, moi tsarevich?” General Kirigan broke the silence. There was a scintilla of uncertainty in his voice. “Was she tested when she was little?” The members of the royal family were hardly tested by Grisha examiners as the chances of a Royal being a Grisha was minimal. Until this moment, it was reckoned null.

“No. We got to know it few years ago, before she was sent to Ketterdam” The Prince added. “Now that she will be here, I want to ensure that her life is not at stake. I have heard many rumors about attempts to kidnap the Sun Summoner.” He paused for a while before uttering what he really wanted to say. “You will not, by any means, use her as one of your Grisha soldiers, General.” It sounded more as if the Prince was commanding the General, rather than engaging in a typical conversation between soon-to-be father in law and his son in law. “It will only transpire more chaos than what our family already has”

“You have my word, moi tsarevich. I’ll personally see to her safety concerns. She’ll be safer here than being at her home. Don’t worry” The General’s assuring words appeased the Prince’s doubts about your safety to some extent. “As far as this alliance goes, I don’t intend to make her one of the soldiers.” Besides, his focus was mainly centered on Alina Starkov in that period of time.

“It’s a relief to hear those words from you” The Prince placed his hand on the General’s shoulder. “Thank you, General Kirigan. From the day of Winter Fete onwards, she will be one of your prioritized responsibilities, in addition to, leading the Second Army of course” The Prince chuckled, looking at the war table which denoted the current positions of the army encampments.

“It’s my honor and duty to you” The General said reassuringly.

“Then I must take my leave, General Kirigan” The Prince walked toward the door with the General to his left side.

“ Looking forward to meeting the Princess, moi tsarevich” General Kirigan paused for a while. “Before you leave, do you know what order she belongs to ?”

The Prince turned back to face the General.

“An etherealki, technically.”

General Kirigan’s eyes gleamed as a smile settled on his lips.

The General sat on the edge of his war table after the Prince left. A prickle of excitement went through his skin, engulfed with impatience to meet the Princess. He was never fond of this alliance, until he heard the word that you were a Grisha, just like him which piqued his enthusiasm to see you and get to know you. The crowning glory was he was the first to know and nobody else in the Royal family knew about it. At least, he knew he didn’t despise the idea of being introduced to you.

There’s not any dull moment nor rest where youth and pleasure meet.

[wrenaspun]

Just wanted to tell you that I love your writing so much — I reread “one way or another” like once a month at least. And any fic where you write from Laurent’s perspective is automatically incredible showstopping never been done before etc. in my eyes. Nobody gets the depths of his horniness for Damen quite like you :)

Anyway for the prompt, how about Laurent and Damen trying to figure out the best way to tell Auguste (alive) about their relationship

Aw anon, thank you, that's very kind!! I'm so glad you enjoy the fic(s) enough to return to them <3 For the prompt, this ficlet ended up taking place in the same 'verse as burst the sky in my head, but it should also stand alone just fine! -

“You could hire a skywriter,” Damen suggested lazily. He had one arm behind his head and was staring drowsily up at the clear Ios sky, his sun-browned skin glistening in the sunlight, looking like some artist’s wet dream of a classical painting.

Laurent scooped up a handful of sand and threw it at him.

None of it landed above his shoulder, but Damen’s face scrunched up anyway, and he brought his free hand up to brush fussily at a few nonexistent grains on his nose. Then he reached out and took Laurent’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You could have one of those parties,” he said, while Laurent tried not to melt under the combined force of the sun and Damen’s sheer charm. “With the glitter, and the announcements — what do they call them?”

“Gender reveal parties?”

“That,” said Damen. He mimed a balloon popping. “Congratulations, it’s a boyfriend.”

“That is not what Auguste would say if I burst a blue glitter balloon in his face,” said Laurent, but he spent a few minutes thinking about doing it anyway, just for the look they would get.

The problem was, there was no good way to tell one’s older brother that one was seeing his nemesis-turned-friend. More — that one was in love with said friend, wanted everything that came with that, to get married, to spend their lives together. Laurent curled his toes into the sand.

Not for the first time, he wished Auguste was a little less straightforward. But that was unfair, because he loved his brother’s unflappable straightforwardness, his easy candidness. It wasn’t really his fault that it made things difficult for Laurent, who had come out to his mother at the age of fourteen by saying well… in a delicately sceptical tone when she talked about his bringing girlfriends home. The next week she’d said the same thing but about boyfriends and he hadn’t corrected her and they’d understood each other quite perfectly ever since.

Auguste, good-natured and oblivious, would not pick up on such a hint. He was quite useless at picking up any hints at all, as a childhood full of poorly-coordinated cover stories for Laurent’s attempts at mischief would attest.

But if Laurent couldn’t hint, the only alternative then was to say it aloud: Auguste, I’m in love with Damen. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Laurent wanted it so much that it became impossible to say. His desire was so ravenously enormous that it looped back around to being mortifying. He felt as though he had a very large, very poorly behaved dog behind him all the time, trying to get at Damen. He’d never felt like this before about anyone.

“You could hire a musician,” said Damen. And opened one deep brown eye to peek up at him, his merriment poorly disguised. “To sing it at him.”

“Will you please take this seriously,” Laurent grumbled, but even his voice was conspiring against him, refusing to sound sharp. He sounded disgustingly smitten.

Damen sat up, brushed off his torso, and then in a single graceful movement of rippling muscle he manoeuvred himself onto Laurent, pushed him down into the warm sand, pinned him bodily in place. “Believe me,” he said; Laurent’s whole body was flushed and thrilled, “I’m taking this very seriously.” He drew his nose over Laurent’s jaw, and even that minute touch sent sparks down Laurent’s spine. He turned his head and pressed a vicious kiss to Damen’s neck, applying his teeth, revelling in the laughing groan this wrung from Damen’s chest.

“Laurent,” he said breathlessly. Laurent hummed, and Damen said his name again, his smile audible. “I have another idea.”

Laurent broke reluctantly away. “Tell me.”

“Auguste texted me ten minutes ago asking where we were.”

“He what?” Alarmed.

“Well, he’s on break too,” said Damen, in an eminently reasonable tone.

“Is he coming down to join us?”

“He said something along those lines,” said Damen. “I didn’t want to interrupt your lecture on Professor Euandros’ shortcomings.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Laurent muttered. Teaching Professor Euandros’s third-year course on classical poetry had been a nightmare that he would need the whole summer break to recover from. The man hadn’t met an organisational system he didn’t hate with a violent passion. “So Auguste — but what was your idea?”

“Oh,” said Damen. He rolled off Laurent and sat up — a poor start. Laurent said so and watched as Damen’s teeth showed in a dazzling grin. “Here, sweetheart,” Damen said, tugging Laurent closer to him. “Let him find us like this, and you won’t have to say a word. I’ll do all the talking.”

“Like this?” They were both sitting up now, leaning against each other, skin to skin. Intimate, but very innocent. Damen made an affirmative noise. Laurent hummed thoughtfully, then let himself slide down until his head was in Damen’s lap.

“Or like this,” Damen agreed, stroking his warm fingers through Laurent’s hair.

Laurent hummed again. Then, teasing, he turned his face and nuzzled in a certain direction. Damen jolted. Laurent bit down on a smile.

“Not like that,” said Damen. The beach was empty aside from them — it was small and relatively unpopular, and the vast majority of people had gone back to work last week — but there was still the little thrill of exposure. “Fucking hell, Laurent.”

“You said ten minutes ago,” said Laurent. Desire was swelling in his chest, as wild and as wide as the sea.

Damen said, “Yes,” very carefully. A man who knew exactly the kind of trap that was being sprung on him.

Laurent said, “It takes thirty to get down here from the university.”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Jellyfish sea creature reader? Yes please, keep cooking!

— 🕯️ Anon

oh moon and stars thank you, you will regret letting me rant

you live in the lonely open sea, drifting along the currents and the sea floor, occasionally swimming down to watch the coral. softly glowing, squishy and colorful, the delicate tendrils float around you like a veil, beautiful but deadly to anyone who dares try and harm you. sometimes you'll ascend to the surface, poking your head above the waves and staring up at the stars. what would it be like to touch one? hot? cold? they look like pearls and jewels you sometimes find, but so much brighter, friendlier- figures that the birds get to have all the fun. you'll find dots of bioluminescence at times, but can't really evaluate your own glow just by looking. a frown tugs at your lips as you slip back under, following wherever the water takes you

the sea dips and darkens, the moon and stars above slowly fading away as you idly swim deeper, everything turning black. but there's a flash of color in your peripheral vision, a scattering of gleaming, twinkling dots that shifts and twirls, vanishes and reappears over and over again. you blink, pushing a bit closer through the water, towards the dancing lights hesitantly- there are many who would use such lures to snag and consume new prey

indeed, you're met with the sight of a beast, enormous and several feet longer than you. but he merely tilts his head when you gasp and swim back, letting out disjointed trills and haunting whale calls

Foul Legacy's never seen something as lovely as you. he's lived in the dark his whole life, the only joy being the random patterns of stars over his gauzy fins, gleaming faintly blue. but you positively shine all over, bloopy and vibrant as Legacy swims curious circles around you. he chitters in delight, gently grasping your hands in his claws and turning them over, examining this way and that. he's monstrous- yet he's so careful with you, treating you more delicately than anything else in the ocean. eagerly he shows you a few stones he always carries around, smooth and glimmering and opalescent, placing one in your hand

a smile spreads across your features, and Legacy's crystalline eye glitters, overjoyed

[cyberball]

cair paravel

caspian x reader / no pronouns used / not rq

warnings: a couple swears, physical touch (as in not 18+ but still), mention of the word 'dress' but you can interpret that as any type of dress really

summary: you decide to reminisce on a select few memories of the beach at cair paraval in your room, one morning.

genre: yes it is fluffy but there's some slow burn/yearning thing going on, allusion to a modern!au in narnia, although u can assume it’s the same

notes: cyberball comeback! *crickets* anyway this is my highest word count thus far. ben barnes is actually fatal cuz now I'm obsessed with a character from my CHILDHOOD who I completely forgot even existed. alas, here we are, because caspian is a very very close second to Leo valdez, and I'm head over heels for that man. all this is to say, this will probably not be the last caspian fic and who knows, maybe I'll figure sth out for peter n ed as well!!! anyway enjoy i hope u like it / edit: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I MISSPELLED THE FIC TITLE

11:03 | 2896 words

11:45 AM

The spring breeze brushes against your face, and your eyes close in appreciation. From your balcony, the beach of Cair Paraval looks stunning; clear blue waters and a high tide to match. You let your thoughts linger on all the nights you’ve spent on said beach with a certain king of Narnia. You almost get up to try to find him, but you sit back down, realizing he must be busy. Your memories will have to sustain you for now.

4:23 AM – 1 month ago

Caspian’s hand came up to brush his hair out of his face for what seemed like the hundredth time that night – the sea breeze was relentless. You silently laughed at his efforts, as he leaned back into you, having given up on trying to tame his hair. His tall frame had somehow managed to sit snugly in between your legs, Caspian’s head resting on your chest. You were leaning against an enormous oak tree, the leaves swaying in tandem with the wind.

“Get up, you big goof,” you said, rolling your nightshirt’s sleeves up, determined to help him with his hair. He looked back at you for just a second before obeying your command. You loved his hair either way but you could tell it was annoying him right about now.

“What, you don’t like the unruly look my hair has taken on?” He asked, sitting up properly. You shook your head in amusement and looked away under his glance, pretending to look around for the clip you always kept on you, in case a predicament like this arose.

You gathered a little of his hair and tied it in place with the clip, letting a few pieces in the front fall out. The half-up-half-down look was his and your favorite.

He rested his head back onto your shoulder, looking ahead, the two of you still sitting. You had a ritual wherein you took one night each week to watch the sunrise. Now, even as the sun slowly woke up, the Narnian night sky glittered with tens of stars, and you wished you could look into his eyes. The black always reflected the light perfectly.

You two had been dating for about 2 weeks now. Caspian was your best friend and the person you trusted the most. Back when all you could think of on nights like these was your imagination of what it would feel like to have his lips against yours, looking into his eyes was a gesture far too intimate for two friends to share.

But now that it was a reality, you moved him off your shoulder and moved forward, so now you were facing him. On instinct, he picked you up by your thighs and placed you on his lap. Giggling, you took his stubble-covered face in your hands. After staring into your eyes for a length of time most people would find uncomfortable, he looked up at the sky. And there it was; the sky condensed into his eyes. He looked back up at you, and you couldn’t help but kiss him. You wondered how you ever lived without knowing the taste of his lips.

5:09 PM – 3 months ago

The sun filtered through your hair as you managed to push through it. It was setting, and the horizon looked particularly capturing today; pink and orange clouds shielding its light. Speaking of the sun, unbeknownst to you, yours had come up behind the spot you had claimed on the sand. Placing a kiss on your head – and consequently making butterflies fly around in your stomach – Caspian took the place next to you, as he often did.

More often, he’d only made rare appearances in your solitude, as the mantle of being king had taken its toll on his free time. You had found yourself reminiscing on the time when every other free second you both had, you would spend with each other. You would train together as well, and while that hadn’t necessarily stopped, he had significantly less time to do so. So you missed it, and you missed the close contact, where you could pass off the hitched breaths and stuttering glances as something other than what they were.

Caspian was your best friend. Nothing more, although you found yourself coveting the same. You don’t quite remember when it changed; when the way you looked at him turned from friendly appreciation to lingering on his smile. You felt that maybe he felt the same when he’d make you laugh and then drink in your reaction; when you showed him a new dress and his gaze lingered on you for far more time than was needed to look at the dress; when, a few days ago, you were playing with his hair, as you often did, and he unabashedly stared at your lips; and even now, when he kissed your head and instinctually rested his hand on yours. His thumb caressed your palm, and you had to physically restrain yourself from melting onto the beach.

At least then you could be washed away with the sea. You could feel his gaze on you. “What, idiot?” You asked him, not turning to look at him, a playful smile playing on your lips. “That’s no way to address your king,” he replied smoothly with a smirk of his own. You wanted to wipe it right off his stupid, pretty face.

As happy as you were with his presence next to you, you didn’t forget how your getaways to the beach were much frequent just you now instead of you both. “Sorry, Your Majesty,” you muttered sarcastically. You winced as his face fell at your tone, immediately regretting your words, knowing how he literally had no time for anything other than his duties. You couldn’t be mad at him for that. He beat you to the apology, “I am sorry. I know I have seen you less and less these past few weeks, and it’s not an excuse, merely a reason, but my work as king has taken up most if not all my time. Regardless, I could have made time for you. Aslan knows you’re much more important to me than anything else,” he spoke the last words under his breath, but you caught them.

You both had talked about this before – how much you meant to each other – but every time he brought it up, your heart beat just a little bit faster. “Cas, don’t be sorry. I know you’re busy and it’s selfish of me to be mad at you for that. I’m sorry,” you replied, looking away. “You’re not being selfish. You’re the least selfish person I know. You’ve done nothing wrong here,” he said softly, pushing your hair behind your ears. A hue of red dusted your cheeks at the gesture and you smiled up at him, “It’s okay, Cas,” you assured him and noticed his eyes crinkling at the nickname, “Just promise to meet me whenever you can,” you said, playing with his fingers. “Yes, I know, I will use all my free time on you. You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, a glint in his eyes. You laughed amusedly, “You’re a good king, you know,” and he searched your eyes for any sign of a lie. He didn’t find it, even behind your teasing tone. “Just because I dedicated my free time to you?” he questioned and you pretended to think, “Hmm… yes.” Laughing

, you rested your head on his shoulder. You were happy to have him, even if your affections could only be as intimate as best friends.

2:58 AM – 2 months ago

You had just made a particularly hilarious joke, and Caspian had been laughing about it for what seemed like ages. “My god, calm down,” you managed to say through your own laughter, and he silently brought his forehead down to your shoulder, his own shoulders shaking from laughter.

After finally calming down, he said, “Never do that again,” a smile still brilliant on his face, despite the dim moonlight filtering through the clouds. “What, never make you laugh again?” you grinned, sucking your teeth, “sounds like a challenge to me. I’m too funny,” you joked, running your hand through your hair. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Caspian roll his eyes at you, and you wordlessly shoved him for it.

“That cloud looks like your hair in the morning,” you pointed out, gesturing to a cloud by the sea line. Caspian looked at you with an unamused face, “Ha-ha. Very funny,” he replied deadpan, but a grin eventually broke out on his face.

A long, comfortable silence stretched out between the two of you. You carefully rested your head on his shoulder and tried to take this for what it was: two friends enjoying each other’s company, and not letting your thoughts wander to a hope where maybe, someday, you could be more than that. Because it could never be. Caspian did a great job of reminding you of the fact when he piped up, “Today was sort of terrible,” and in response, you looked up at him through your lashes, beckoning him to continue. “The court is back at it with the marriage proposals and potential alliances,” he explained, and your heart dropped.

Oh. “Any of the potential matches interest you?” you questioned, silently hoping the answer was no. Regardless, you braced yourself for the impact, but he replied, very softly, might one add, “No,” and ran a hand through his hair. “Really?” you asked in an unamused tone, “none of them?” you were a tad bit eager to know his true feelings. So he pointed it out, “Desperate, are we? Why do you want to see me married off so quickly?” he asked, a smirk playing on his annoyingly pretty face. There was a sort of desperation in his eyes that you didn’t quite catch, however.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” you teased, “Curse me for wanting to see my king happy,” and rolled your eyes. “And anyway, it’s quite the opposite,” you muttered under your breath, sure that he wouldn’t hear it, but he did.

Fuck. He understood what you meant by it as well; he always did, and now he looked at you with something newfound in his eyes. Shit.

Silence. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“That is the last thing that would make me happy,” he finally spoke, and you silently sent up a prayer to whichever god let him ignore whatever you had said.

“And what would?” you asked, a teasing tone in your voice, but you both knew you genuinely wanted to know. Were you a possibility?

He didn’t reply. You chuckled softly and slightly shoved him, “What? I asked you something,” you said, still giggling. Your laughter had brought a smile to his face and you wanted to evaporate.

He took one of your hands and started absentmindedly playing with your fingers, as he often did. “I just… it’s a little funny to me how many times I’ve asked you that same question and you’ve not responded,” he confessed, black eyes staring you down, and then moving away when you hesitated in responding. “We tell each other everything,” a pause, “Right?” he asked, and hundreds of unsaid feelings poured into the small gap between you two, which he was slowly but surely closing. All the while his hands were still on yours, and you wondered if this was it. The day you finally get to call him yours, or the day you part ways.

“Caspian…” was all you managed, a little choked. Had his face always been so close to yours? You swore you could feel the beat of his eyelashes on your face, which was no doubt painted deep red right about now. It didn’t matter, because so was his.

You never knew eyes could speak like this – albeit, Caspian’s had always been able to, but never to this degree – begging, desperation, and hope, all in just two pupils. You literally were choked now; words had left you. You always told him, in matters of romance, you would never be able to make the first move. He had always laughed at that, the irony of you being such a bold and fearless person, yet being afraid of showing vulnerability like this. Although he himself could never chide you about that; both of you knew his stubbornness, especially in affairs of the heart.

He was not a daft man. A little oblivious, sure, but he knew the way you looked at him. You hadn’t tried to hide it either; in some masochistic way, even though you had your doubts about his feelings, you still wore yours on your face. You regretted it sometimes, when if he ended up listening to his court one day, then you would feel like a fool for putting your heart out on the line.

But so had he. Later on, you would realize that you were much more oblivious than him. He had half the decency to never completely assume that you were interested in him romantically, but he knew you. And you knew him.

So it made sense now to you. His lingering glances, especially those on your lips; the forehead kisses, which he had started a long time ago before you thought of him this way – however, they had grown much more frequent and much less chaste; and, oh. The words he said to you just a couple of days ago, lounging in his bed, your head in his lap, when you had joked about him being in love with you, “I’m not going to deny it.” You knew when he was joking. This was not such an instance, even though, immediately after, he tried to play it off as such. You knew it. Why hadn’t you said something?

Your name fell from his lips now, once more, a silent plea.

His lips ghosted over yours once more. You closed your eyes briefly, as you did when in a predicament, and exhaled hard.

Caspian sent up a prayer to whichever god would take it and made to connect your lips. You met him halfway.

You remember the first kiss like the back of your hand. You just about whimpered when his taste reached your tongue; the taste of the chocolate you both had snuck just a few minutes earlier was fresh on his lips. His rather large hands steadied you by your waist, and you still felt like crumbling by his touch.

A few seconds later, you pulled away reluctantly, out of breath. His eyes slowly fluttered open and his face was redder than you had ever seen it. You grinned and pecked his lips once more, and he felt your smile on him. It wasn’t a feeling he thought he’d ever experience.

Giddy, he mirrored your smile and kissed you harder than the last time.

“I knew you had a thing for me,” you said, right after he pulled away, breathless and smiling. “I’m not going to deny it,” he gloated, and you rested your forehead on his shoulder, laughing.

You were going to deal with the court some other day. It was just you and him right now.

11:56 AM – Present time

“Enjoying the weather, my love?” Caspian’s voice sounds out as his arms wrap around your torso. You slightly crane your head to look at him, shamelessly staring at his frame; simple white button-up, black pants. A rather handsome look on him.

“Your pick-up lines have always been terrible,” you remark, turning your head back around, a smirk on your face.

“And yet you were just checking me out,” he shoots back, resting his chin on the top of your head. You roll your eyes in response. “Checkmate?” he teases.

“Whatever. You can hardly blame me when you look this good,” you respond smoothly, turning around to face him while raising a hand to play with the ends of his hair.

“Have you seen yourself?” he says comfortably. His hands are resting easy on your hips and his gaze is on you, focused like you hung the stars in the sky. He always looks at you like this.

You shake your head, silently laughing, and crane your head to look out at the waters. It’s true that no one loves the sea quite like Caspian does, but that’s the very reason you appreciate it. His eyes light up when he talks of his adventures and voyages. Interestingly enough, there have only been two instances when the joie de vivre shines in his eyes; once when he thinks of the sea, and twice when he thinks of you. You’ve noticed it. The thought gets you giddy each time.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you. He places a kiss on your head and leans down to kiss your lips. Every time he does, it feels like the first time. Your eyes flutter close, and you notice something more in the way his lips move against yours. A message.

And then you realize.

Three words.

He pulls away, exhaling softly. A pause.

“I love you,” he says, your name on his lips like it always belonged there.

You waste no time. “I love you too, Caspian,” and he grins.

You mean it. And Aslan knows he means it too.

tagging: @noorie101 @padfootagain (one of my fav cas writers <3) — if u wanna be tagged please send in an ask!