#suggestive theme

[yuki2sksksk]

[ Trollhunter Guardian (Y/n) ]

Centuries ago

(interpret this however you want (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠))

A few notes of you living with Angor Rot:

TW: slight suggestive

You first didn't stay directly in his living space, being given a small spot on your own when you were allowed to live with the trolls.

But you often go over to his place and one sleepover after late night talk leads to numerous visits that often have some belongings of yours in his place.

The other trolls talked amongst them of how close you and Angor Rot were.

You helped them a lot with your magic and pretty much got along with most of the residents so they had no problem with you.

So when everyone finally found out about your relationship with Angor Rot, they were mostly baffled by the idea of their warrior being in a relationship.

Angor Rot didn't always stay in his quarter, often going around to patrol and help any trolls in need.

But ever since you came, he found himself coming 'home' more than often.

His living space now had some soft texture objects like mattress and curtains because of your influence

It also smells like herbs and you. He liked that a lot more than he thought he would.

So. Did the two of you ever sleep together?

More than laying on each other's side?

Yeah, but that stage took around a year and a half after you two were official.

It had been in your mind for sometime, mostly in a curiosity of how compatible your bodies might work despite the differences

Then it just happened one early morning.

You and Angor Rot came back from some hunting together, drenching from the sudden heavy pouring rain.

Clothes sticking to your skin, you had trouble getting off your gears and he offered to help.

Close proximity contact + shown body curves + had been thinking about it.

And that happened.

There was a lot of discovery happening.

[generalsdiary]

he's a keeper, he's a believer (he's on the ground on his knees in a theater)

Sunday x Aeon!gn!reader

word count: 8.5k

description: Aeon reader inserted in Sunday's life story, soulmate au, fluff/angst, hurt/comfort, with a suggestive ending

a/n: this has been a long time coming and I finally wrote it out, big thank you to my beta readers: mochi, ricecake, and citrus!

The day he became aware of an Aeon of humanity, Sunday prayed to them every evening. 

Those prayers became more frequent the older he got; more frequent with the rise of his awareness of all the pain in the world.

And at a certain, older age, those prayers subsided. He'd only pray when he was pleading for those around him. 

Becoming enveloped in the Order and the... wrongdoings of the one who was supposed to be his caretaker, made those prayers stop fully. 

However, on some odd days—an extra day of the month which comes by every few years. Or the one of a blue moon. Sunday would gaze up at the artificial stars of the Dreamscape with a longing look in his eyes, not daring to even think a prayer. It proved meaningless. Yet it still, be it habit or the need for comfort, brought him solace, to whisper in his head, your name. Your name itself, as a prayer. 

You showed up in his dreams. Of course you did. Which other way could you do it without scaring... scarring... or even killing the poor Halovian. This was the one thing Sunday was sure he was delusional about. You must have been a fragment of his imagination. As for a reason why he remembered every dream so clearly, he did not have one.

Lush green gardens, pearly white beaches, blood red wines. You only took him to the prettiest of landscapes. Or perhaps he had control over that. The nature of the dream’s background never matched what you two talked about. Or rather, never matched what Sunday spoke of. Complaining about the universe, laws, the authorities, the will to change things, and the hopelessness in his wish to help everyone.

That hopelessness reminded you of another human. The yearning to reach everyone and heal a sickness called idiocy.Except, Sunday is much more sensitive, and felt true physical pain over this conundrum. 

Why did you decide to come into his dreams? Into his mind? What could persuade an Aeon? What could ever draw an Aeon close? Questions to which you did not have answers to. 

It is of no matter. You are here now. You are deciding to let those questions go. 

“I am me.”

“It would be foolish of me to trust someone in my dreams.”

“The level of thinking you're capable of right now matches the one of the waking world. No ordinary dream would be able to do that.” 

You mean to guide him with your words, purposefully sounding soft within the boundaries of his subconsciously created dream.

“I'm certain you can understand my doubts, no?” The gentle smile, one would assume he’d have on at this moment, is not present. Within the compounds of his dream, he doesn’t force that mask on. Letting the pure judgment, the slight narrowing of his eyes, and the tilt of his head be clear indicators of his inner thoughts.

“If you can reassure me that you'll be safe and collected, I can visit you.”

Sunday pauses, the sharpness of his eyes falling for a moment, “...visit?”

You nod, a graceful smile dancing on your lips. “Visit.”

The dream dissipates.

Meeting him in reality resulted in everything you expected it to. His golden eyes flashed shock, delight, surprise, sadness, and finally, anger. Words of blame and accusatory statements were thrown at you; how can you sit idly as people suffer, do you not have any sympathy for your own people, why would you not do anything as the Aeon of humanity? And so on. 

Finding the eternal patience within you, you explained that it isn't that easy, nor was it your place to meddle. From that point forward, any physical meetings turned to Sunday complaining and mourning all the injustice.

The man who listened to everyone's confessions and complaints turned to you to confess. To seek solace.

Green leaves begin inside a vernation; they grow big and sway in the wind on the tree branches throughout summer, and in the fall they turn brown, dry, and crisp, falling down to kiss the dark soil from which they came. Your mutual interest and adoration grew, while the internal harboring hatred towards you festered. Sunday understood your reasons, alas, he was unable to choke out any blame for your lack of action. Luckily, you had noticed how your feelings and care for the Halovian grew and blossomed, and therefore you came to visit him much less. Drifting apart, for different reasons. 

Perhaps the slight clench of a jaw escaped your eyes, and the smile that grew rotten out of the blame that he refused to speak up on again. A shiny red apple of love, that seemed to be growing, poisoned with your fear of the attention you were giving him, and his internal battle.

Push and pull. A game of tug-of-war and unspoken words. A flower that grew in your chest told you enough: you had fallen in love. Slowly, over time. Sunday drew you in like a bee to the blossom that he is.

There are rules against this; defenses, this isn’t a possibility. Therefore, you distanced yourself from the beautiful feelings he filled you with, the kind eyes that felt like a hug, the melodic voice that caressed your ears. A feather that caressed your forearm, leaving in its wake goosebumps along your skin. Imagining how it would feel to touch his hand, brush your fingertips against his wings—you had to stop.

Space was overdue to be created between you two. He didn’t speak your name and you didn’t show up in reality nor in his dreams. Days turned into months, and eventually into years.

The communication was lacking. Your words were colder. His prayers turned to something he’d dare utter in absolute privacy, in moments of weakness. At times, he hoped no one was looking at him or listening, no Aeon’s gaze on him or any bird that might’ve been eavesdropping.

A dark figure appears before him, a voice that he can hear only in his mind. Your voice. “You keep speaking my name in the late night.”

He didn't feel frightened by the sudden appearance, maybe just irritated at you for interrupting his time alone. “Ah… hello, Aeon.” Sunday’s eyes didn’t raise from the notebook in his lap, refusing to provide you the grace of acknowledging your presence in front of him.

“Is there something that urges you to preach my name like a lustful lover in the deaf hours of the night, Sunday?” Your voice revealed a certain sharpness to it. A silver knife that shines with the reflection of light falling upon it, with which you do not need to test to check if it will cut.

Sunday ignored you, dismissively gesturing with his hand. Pretending to be uncaring and unbothered by your presence. Acted like he didn’t call upon you while he was alone… away from the eyes of the Order. “I have work to do.” He entertains you with an uninterested tone, sending the message that you’re boring him.

“Then stop pleading my name.”

“I was doing something.” Sunday exhaled, placing his pen on the notebook and letting his hands rest. His expression turned to a tired annoyance when his eyes finally raised to look at your figure.

“Yes, indeed you were. Praying, complaining, begging, moaning,” you accuse him. You were blessed and cursed to hear him uttering words of prayer, his cusses of complaint, his pleading for help, and his moaning of pleasure.

“That’s not the whole story.” Sunday slowly stood up, getting himself ready to depart, giving the illusion that he wasn’t in the mood to argue or fight. A desperate man who rarely ever dares to call your name because of the mess that he is in right now. You know damn well that the powers of Order surround him. … It is not your place, nor your right to meddle with it. The fear in his eyes tells you stories that would break a human’s heart if they ever heard it. The smallest tremble of his hand, only visible for a mere second, is another confirmation. Not that you needed any, given how he still steals moments away from the eye of the Order to speak to you.

You smiled at his words and took a step forward, “You forget who I am, Sunday. I know the whole story. Your prayer wouldn’t let me sleep. Pleading, praying, bargaining, and offering… the climax of your… alone time as a gift. An offering—”

“Stop.” 

There it was. The acting. You remembered his panting and whimpers of your name very clearly. What an interesting way to pray, or rather, what an interesting way to make an offering. To offer one’s pleasure. 

It brought a small smirk to your face, to think that his façade was slowly crumbling. The Order could go kindly fuck themselves and leave this precious Halovian alone. You felt your protectiveness flare up, but it shouldn’t. You treat everyone equally. Just what is this feeling?

“You didn’t hear right,” Sunday protested calmly.

“Shall I replay my memories for you then?”

“…No” With flushed cheeks, he shook his head, and his wings fluttered. He knew he had no chance to win, not from an Aeon, so he didn’t continue arguing. And he definitely didn’t need to see his… alone time from your memories.

“Exactly.”

“Just leave me alone, please.” Sunday fidgeted with the pen in his hand, subtly glancing around. There’s a bigger, bad wolf in the forest of his mind, and it isn’t you.

“Nonetheless, you pleaded for me,” you try once more. Helping mortals isn’t something you can do. You’re not an actual god. A concept of one, sure, but you are an Aeon. Meddling isn’t within the rules or your nature. You wanted to help him, yet it isn’t within your power. This one’s fate had been sealed a long time ago. It was written as so. Anyone else, and perhaps it could have been within your hands to try and aid. Not him though. Not Sunday. He was out of your hands and out of your reach.

Moreover, he would need to say it out loud. That he wanted saving, needed your help.

“Shut up,” Sunday whispered.

“So, you do not need me? Very well then, stop praying when I’m trying to rest.” Shadows in the garden started pooling around your legs as you began to depart. 

It was rather peculiar. Anyone else’s prayers—although people do not pray much or if at all to Aeons—you were always able to tune out, or silence them for peace of mind. His, on the other hand, never. It felt like he was whispering directly into your ear, sending shivers down your spine, a feeling you have never felt before. Unescapable. 

The fact that his voice was always soft, smooth, and gentle made it seem like a lullaby, you found yourself wishing to hear more of it, wishing for this little bird to sing for you.

“That’s not the case.” Sunday said quietly, before his thoughts caught up with him—before he could deny it. He does need you… in more ways than one.

“Cease your prayer if you talk to me with such disrespect.” The shadows around your form got thicker. Sunday paused, slightly surprised by how quick you were to change your temper. Rainbows and cotton candy aside, you were still an Aeon. He shall respect you as such… despite the extremely special treatment he gets from you.

A light broke apart the shadows and you were gone.

Sunday decided to pray to you less. Invoking your wrath wasn’t something he wished upon himself. 

Sunday’s prayers became fewer in number over the years. The grand plan for Penacony was bubbling under wraps and keeping him busy. But his fascination with you didn’t end. As the one and only hobby he had, he spent hours upon hours researching about you, about your Path, about how in some other universe, you were viewed as a God. A God who is prayed to properly, worshipped, with temples in your favor, written work and art made in your image. Perhaps in those universes, you had more power to help your people, he hoped.

Sunday found himself dragging his fingers over the digital screen portraying an art piece meant to represent you. It looked nothing like you. That did not matter to him, if he hadn’t known any better he would have assumed someone used the power of Harmony on him. Sunday felt drawn to you, enamored by any word that was written about you, overwhelmed with emotions he could not explain, silenced with secrets of the heart he would not dare utter.

Sheets rustled against his restless body. Sleep proved to be a distant friend, and insomnia a familiar foe. He glanced towards the clock beside his bed, it only showed the hours which had passed since he had laid his weary head down on the soft pillow. Sunday spent the next hour staring at the ceiling, tired golden eyes getting sore. There was an internal fight inside him between calling upon you, and not daring to do such a thing, which made him feel numb. Only by lying even to himself did he manage to get up and go to the balcony. By telling himself that he wanted fresh air. Even his thoughts were not safe from… well, anything. Hence, he didn’t have the privilege to think it through, to prepare. He could only fool himself in the hopes of dealing with one of the two things that trouble his mind. 

Sunday stepped out into the cold night air of the reality part of Penacony. He looked toward the sky above him. As he closed his eyes, he felt himself shiver a little as a chilly gust of night wind went by. He looked down towards the railing, where he placed his hands. They quickly lost their warmth, only to be replaced with an aching chill as his thoughts drowned out his mind again. At that moment, he dared to whisper your name.

You, on the other hand, were asleep, and once more he awoke you. You sent thunder through the sky the moment after his pleading and nothing more. 

Sunday spoke the words that simmered below the surface: below the blame of your inactions, his guilt of not doing more, his worry about the Order’s plans, his worry for his sister. They spilled out like water from a dam, finally running free, unprepared, messy, and uncontrolled. Letting them fly out as free doves. “I can’t sleep. All I think about is you. I know I said I was going to pray less…” He bit back the thought in his head which called him needy; reminding him this is an Aeon he is talking to and continues, “I’m sorry.” He muttered. Uncertain if he was saying it to himself or you. He stayed as such for a while, unsure of what to do, feeling cold and a little stupid.

As more minutes passed, he knew it was dumb to keep trying, but he couldn’t help it. He stopped holding it in. He opened the dam, and there was no closing it back. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You consume my very existence, and I don’t even understand it.” Sunday dryly chuckled, “Please, come to me again. I’m begging you. I… I need you.” Sunday felt his heart sink as no response was given. The wind that blew past him stopped. He wasn’t the first to beg an Aeon. Apathy. He stood there for another moment as a feeling of disappointment rushed over him. He felt selfish and outright crazy for being this way and acting like a desperate man. Sunday whispered your name once more along with, “Please… I’m begging…”

“Begging for what?” You spoke into his mind. Frankly, you couldn’t sleep. But if you were actually being honest with yourself… you couldn’t stay away. This Halovian felt like a magnet, something you couldn’t control or run away from.

“For you,” Sunday answered; he was being selfish. So selfish. “I just want you to be here for me. To listen to me, to… comfort me. Just please tell me that everything is going to be alright…” He lowered his head, he sounded desperate. He was desperate. His soft grey hair brushed his cheeks, hiding his face, wings fluttering as he exhaled.

“That is not how it works. I am not your lover, Sunday.” You rejected any and all thoughts of comfort he pleaded for, and shook your head. Why would you? Of course you wouldn’t, despite the feeling in your abdomen which urged you to do all of that. You were above such a feeling, and would not succumb to it.

“I know…” Sunday looked back up to the thundering sky, his eyes slightly watering, “Then what am I supposed to do? You consume me. I am stuck praising another one—following their Path—“ 

His voice breaks, out of fear of saying too much and the pain of his life right now. His reality. “It isn’t even about following a path, I just want you. I cannot find the words to explain when I don’t even understand it myself.”

“Obsessed with your religion,” you commented on his thoughts, despite your own not differing as much from his. How hypocritical.

“I am.” Sunday confirmed. It was the truth after all, or rather, a form of the truth. “I do not know what I can do… to please you. Or hold your attention, much less catch it in the first place.” Tears started to stream down his face. How long has it been since he’d cried? Sunday closed his eyes, unable to look at the night sky that seemed to mock him.

“Don’t cry.” You have seen humans cry before, however it never made your chest ache. It never forced your hand. 

“I’ll try,” he sniffed. A weak attempt to get himself together, thinking it was pathetic to appear like this in front of you. The shadows appeared in a blink of an eye and surprisingly warm hands cup his cheeks and wipe the tears away. You couldn’t help yourself, could you?

“You kept begging and woke me up. Again,” you said harshly in a quiet voice, clashing with your feelings of worry. Feelings? … That is a new one for you. This has all been growing more and more precarious with every passing day.

Sunday looked down, embarrassed by the fact that he made an Aeon come to him, not to mention the many times he had bothered you already. At the same time, he felt happy that you were him, your presence gave him a sense of comfort. “I apologize, I was selfish. Just so, so selfish. And undeserving…”

“What do you beg for, Sunday?” Your words brushed against his lips, mingled with his breath.

“I just want you to comfort me. To say something. To help the thoughts in my head quiet down so I can get some rest.” 

The fact you showed up in the physical realm, in reality, for the first time in front of him didn’t seem to faze him at all. If anything, his eyes softened like he was seeing an old friend after many years had passed. His requests were unclear even to him. He didn’t know how to express what he was feeling. “I am not your lover, mortal.” You kept your voice soft with the words that were meant to sting and remind him (and you) of his place.

“I know that. And yet… it still doesn’t stop me from craving your attention. It doesn’t stop me from needing you… yearning for you.”

With a sigh, you shook your head, “You don’t know the first thing about me, Sunday.”

“Tell me about yourself, then.” Sunday looked up towards you, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He felt like he knew plenty about you, but he wanted to know more. He wanted you to keep talking. He wanted to drown everything out, but the thoughts in his head just kept getting louder and harder to ignore. The plans of the Order continued consuming his mind.

“This isn’t a date underneath the starry sky. I am not like you.”

“We are different, I know that.” Sunday looked away for a moment, closing his eyes as he tried to compose himself once more. He felt himself shiver from the cold night wind. Sunday looked down towards the tile floor of the balcony, trying to find something else to focus on, to no avail.

“What worries you, Halovian?” Your warm hands left his cheeks. He seemed unsurprised by your physical appearance, that which he had seen in his dream before. Perhaps he already came to a conclusion that, of course, the Aeon of humanity would have the form of a human in reality. Or, that your Aeon form would be too much for any mortal’s eyes.

“The fact that, how I feel now, I can only describe with the words: I am in love with you.” Sunday puts it plainly out on the table. Granted, he is clever enough to draw that conclusion.

“Well, dear Sunday, that is not possible. A mortal cannot fall in love with an Aeon. There are protections for such things,” you say, shaking your head. Under any circumstances, it is simply impossible.

“Why do I still feel this way? Why can’t I get you out of my mind?” Sunday asked, seeking answers. He needed them, he needed something to make sense. 

He looked back at you. You were frowning. None of it made sense.

“You cannot… You—It isn’t possible. So, it isn’t true.” You were quick to deny it once more. 

“Then why… Why is it so hard to move on? I want to, I really do. But every time I try to, you’re there! Filling all my senses, shushing my every thought so there can only be you…” Sunday’s voice filled with frustration while his last words turned into a whisper. It was impossible, however; his eyes looked at you like you were the sun itself, and he were but a mere sunflower gazing into you with adoration.

That left only one thought in your mind. An idea. More like an idea wrapped up in indulgence, but an idea nonetheless. “I can find out.”

“You can…?” There was a hint of relief in his voice and a hope in his eyes.

“I can look into you, into your… life.” The words you meant to say died on your tongue; your timeline.

“Yes, please!” Sunday pleaded once more. “Anything. Just please, do it.”

You nodded to yourself. Here goes nothing. A hint of, what humans would call butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you stepped closer to him. In the next moment, your lips were on his. It was genuinely a way to find an answer. Sadly, you couldn’t enjoy the kiss, like the small voice inside you begged you to, and the answer to your shared questions came too quickly. 

Upon seeing his future, you pulled away. Your eyes showed surprise which you couldn’t possibly hide at that moment. Feeling rushed, you spoke on instinct, “Oh. We… We shall meet again. I know why.” In the next moment, you were gone in a poof of dark shadows.

By disappearing so quickly, you missed out on the rosy cheeks your kiss caused, the small gasp that left his lips when you pulled away, and his blown-out pupils. Sunday was too confused and dazed by the kiss to even comprehend what you said. Your disappearance left an emptiness behind, a hole which he was too well aware of. Whispers of the Harmony, the powers of which he neglects, whispered to him that this one was final, in spite of what you said.

The following years made him more numb, focused only on the plan for the revival of Ena, on the eternal dream – where he will live outside of it as the ultimate sacrifice. Sunday would never make his sister take that spot, no matter what lies he had told that he would.

Your name vanished from his mind like the memory of a deceased loved one that becomes grey over time, with the sound of their voice turning fuzzy until it is unrecognizable. The first few months, he’d mumble your name with warm water running down his body, across the tears that ran down his face, concealed by the shower stream. 

A whisper, a prayer, an utter, until he would speak it no more. His hobby of researching you also ended. His entire personality became the grand act of playing the Head of the Oak family, with him as the lead actor and only performer.

The curtain shall never fall, the theater will never close.

Even when the Astral Express had come, he begged them to argue against him, to prove him wrong, to do anything to show him that there is another way. The Nameless couldn’t understand him, nor the points he was making. Unknowingly to him, he had incapacitated the only man who would be willing to argue him and approach it as a debate or a conversation, Welt Yang. Possibly the only one who would have heard him out and openly debated him with an objective approach.

The artificial wind of the dream blew against his back in his slow fall from the mech he built. Ena was almost revived. Sunday almost ascended to Aeonhood. The embrace of his sister was the only moment he had felt something other than pure focus on the goal. Something other than the shell of a Halovian he became with the goal of being more humane.

Sunday didn’t learn actual love, nor how it feels to be loved. His sister is the one and only expectation, along with the love he has for his mother when he visits her grave with fresh flowers.

Comfort isn’t Sunday’s thing. He is like a match, he needs to burn and burn out till the wooden wick turns black and ashen.

The head of the Oak family… Former head of the Oak family. “What a joke…” he chuckles dryly. His wrists and ankles are marked red from the shackles and chains they held him in. The cold metal against his soft skin is still fresh in his mind, chaining a Halovian… An angel in chains—so much like the archangel Lucifer—except Lucifer was never a bad guy, and nor is Sunday. That's what he believes at least. Or, perhaps Sunday is more like Icarus; he got too close to the sun—touched the hand of a god, of an Aeon.

This ‘freedom’, if he can even call it that, given by madam Jade—it will surely be short-lived, like a firefly in the summer, burning out his life. What deal did Robin make with that woman? The worry for his sister made him feel powerless—he should be the one saving her and making sure she is happy, not the other way around. Sunday should find her. He needs to see his sister to make sure she is okay.

Behind his heavy eyelids, Sunday recalls how she caught him, held him… Silently murmured prayers to the Harmony fall from his lips in hopes that she is alright. He would forsake anyone, anything, even himself, his pride, and his beliefs, and fall on the ground to pray to any Aeon if it meant his sister would be safe.

Sunday’s steps are heavy, silenced by the carpet in the empty hotel room. The door clicks as it closes, and he chuckles once again, a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve failed. At… everything. I couldn’t protect her, I couldn’t give everyone a happy life in the dreamworld—I couldn’t—” Sunday’s words get stuck in his throat and he chokes on them, feeling the flower petals bloom inside his throat, constricting his breathing and making his mouth dry. His gaze raises to the ceiling. Is he seeking a remnant of Ena? No… Sunday is regretting his failure. “I was never enough. I didn’t do well... enough.”

Gold, sun-like eyes fill with hot tears that slowly tread down his cheeks and he falls to his knees. He softly shakes his head and stands back up. “No… no.” 

Sunday, even in his fall from the sky, doesn’t allow himself to tread so lowly that he���d weep on the floor. Instead, he walks further into the room which, in his gaze, looks distorted, in the same way the world looks when one’s eyes are full of tears threatening to overflow.

Sunday’s eyes are now dry, his hands calm without a tremor as he slowly takes off his jacket, and another one… and his shirt. The wings usually wrapped around his waist relax and sit behind him, long, light, never seen by another. The gloves come off his hands and he continues stripping down until he stands without any restrictions. Troubled mind with troubled eyes focused on the clothes laid out on the bed. Why are his clothes the only thing he can control right now? Sunday turns his back to the bed, frustration washing over his body. 

“What’s next… What is it that I can do next? Where… where would I even go?” Sunday’s voice turns to soft mumbles while his back remains straight and shoulders square. Even after everything, he holds himself up high, elegant, and firm, as if he is always being observed by a silent shadow of his past that judges his every move.

With heavy steps, he walks into the bathroom and towards the bathtub. A sour sight; the wound’s still fresh. Sunday sits in the normal bathtub—unlike the Dreamscape’s entrance. Water fills it slowly,  his head hanging over the edge. Sunday sighs, the match has burnt out and the hot water brings him no comfort. Sunday’s mind takes a short pause, a mere breather full of regret and knives pressing against the hill of his throat, as he struggles to swallow the mistakes, the failures, and thoughts of what he could have done differently.

Mere moments later, his head raises again, the vulnerability in his eyes gone, the tundra cold inside once more while he organizes the information in his head and creates a new plan for moving forward. 

It is all chaos, his mind an image of books that fell off the shelves, shredded paper flying around with crossed out writing on them, furniture thrown, flipped over; a complete mess. Sunday made this mess and now he must sit in it. He, a previous follower of the Order.

His overconfidence lasts only so long as he comes to the conclusion he cannot stay the same. He has to change and heal… and leave.

Once he’s dressed in new, different clothing, he realizes the hopelessness of his situation once more. In his loneliness, his wants and needs which have been ignored for years, his wishes and desires had been stomped on and left in the dust, and the pain of this realization hurt. The pain envelopes him. Sunday desperately searches his mind for the last time he was himself: not under the effects of the Order, or any man, or any plan. Just him.

Your name resurfaces in his mind, and with the flutter of butterfly wings, it blossoms like a lotus flower, its petals opening up with a soothing scent. The memory of your hands holding his face, your warmth, your lips, your words, a melody he wishes to hear more of. It all calms him down, holding him, the memories caressing him like the autumn sun against his skin.

There is nothing here. No one of ulterior motives, only him and you in his mind. So he, once more, after years of silence, utters the name of the Aeon he used to pray to, the Aeon he loves in inexplicable ways, yearning to see them. At a time when he just needs comfort while hiding in a hotel room, away from the authorities trying to punish him for his wrongdoings in Penacony, despite the years of no answer… the Aeon appears in front of him once more.

His failure to ascend to Aeonhood echoed through the universe… your universe. You couldn’t peel your eyes away, actual physical pain filled your body every time that train crashed into him. His one mumble was enough to make you appear.

Finally free of his shackles, you get to come to him. You have the opportunity and you jump on it. How could you not?

The moment his eyes fall on you he steps forward. Despite all these years, you are still you, and he is, finally, once more, him.

“Please,” he uttered in a broken voice. The droplets of tears looked like diamonds as they threatened to drop. There had never been a man who looked more beautiful crying than him. No one who has looked more ethereal. It took the air out of your lungs. Like a living painting, a moving statue. Moving towards you with big sad eyes, the stars reflecting in his tears and the last glimmer of hope—the very last. The one to be held by you. To be comforted. Hold him. Please.

Your voice sounded as cold as ever, unable to help the pretense for a few moments. “Sunday.” 

Too many years have passed, are you even allowed to touch him anymore? To approach him? To talk to him as you usually did? Did you not lose that right after you left without a word?

As a clear tear overflows and falls down his cheek, you can barely hold your body back from holding him. 

“Sunday.” You manage to repeat in a softer tone. Alas, he offers no response. Stuck in the paused stance, waiting for a clear yes or no.

You manage to barely nod. He steps forward and so do you—and then you’re embracing him, holding him, and the air once more flows through your lungs. It felt like you weren’t fully inhaling air for years after leaving. This is how it feels when a planet starts rotating again. A crisp, refreshing, winter air. It awakens you. 

Hot tears wet your shirt and the same fabric muffles his sobs. Sunday breaks down like shattered icicles that children throw on the ground. Be careful to not get cut on the shards. Something inside you makes you doubt his sides are that sharp. In your arms, falling apart, he feels as soft as a marshmallow, but you hold him like he is a glass figurine; careful yet tight. Fearing he will fracture.

“I’m here,” you whisper into his hair, your free hand pressing the back of his head into you.

You can only imagine how he feels. How it feels to escape the control of the Order, to give up powers of the Order and the Harmony. To fail at his one goal for which he was willing to sacrifice his whole life, wishes, and wants for the good of others. To fall and live as a mortal. He was mortal beforehand and brushed the precipice of Aeonhood, yet now he claims he will walk among mortals to learn what that truly means for him. Sunday lost everything he was. Everything he is. Hence, you can only imagine how it must feel to not know who you are, what you will do, how to talk, interact, and how to walk down the street.

His arms wrap around you, hands scrunching your shirt into his fists, afraid you’ll disappear. Or perhaps hanging on to you as to not drown, to not sink beneath the waves.

“You’re here,” Sunday mumbles between sobs, hanging more onto you, clutching your body in his arms – terrified you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I won’t go this time. I promise,” you whisper into his hair; not even a war between Aeons couldn’t pull you away from him now.

What more could you say to the one who believed the ends justify the means? The one who was willing to use himself as the ultimate sacrifice so that everyone could be happy? For who would not wish to live in eternal paradise…?

Days passed with him in your embrace. You couldn’t bear to leave his side. And now, you didn’t have to force yourself to on the basis of him being a Halovian and you being an Aeon. It was time for him to learn the truth you found out the day you kissed him. No guilty whispers in your consciousness saying that you had to leave him, that this is improper and forbidden and against every law and border and anyone and anything who might say something. Nothing. In your head, there was only silence.

You listened to his sobs and soothed his regrets. During quiet moments, resting in your arms, he’d come to the conclusion of needing to change by himself. You needn’t intrude. Only after he came to, felt like the man that he never got to know, and dressed in new attire, did he question you about the day you left.

“Did you figure out why?”

“I think so. I think I figured out why I feel the way I do… towards you.” Sunday’s eyes fell onto you, portraying the softness of the most fragile flower. His heart was pounding, and a level of nervousness was still there.

“You… almost ascended to Aeonhood. In your attempts, you failed to do so and that is why you were able—you are able to feel these things towards me.” In simple words, you begin to explain. As Sunday stepped towards you, he felt somewhat regretful of his actions, with a small rock in his shoe being his failure to ascend.

“I care. You claimed it wasn’t possible…” He held back the urge to hug you, fearing your next words.

“An Aeon can only love one ever and forever. And it is always matched. When I kissed you, years ago, I confirmed why you could care for me. I saw you failing to reach Aeonhood, but almost succeeding in it. That explains why you were able to feel obsessed even beforehand. It isn't like mortal love. It isn't linear. You bent the rules of the universe and fell in love with me. Aeons’ love is predetermined.” You reached out to brush his cheek as you spoke, the velvet skin under your fingertips grounded you in this moment with him.

“Only one. But who?” Sunday got lost in your words, scared of unrequited love, terrified of your rejection, and blinded by his feelings to truly hear what you were saying.

“Which part confuses you?” You smile, willing to take all the time in the universe to explain it to him.

“Who is your… only one?” Sunday whispered. His bottom lip trembled for a moment, and his wings shook—if asked, he’d probably blame it on the wind blowing from the open balcony doors.

“The only one that it could be.” You nod with a soft smile.

Sunday gazed at you. Suspicion and worry flashed in his narrowed eyes as he took the time to scan your body language.

“Only in pairs. I’m your pair, Sunday. Yes, you may have failed to reach Aeonhood, but you almost succeeded. And the ability to love an Aeon bled through the cracks and spilled over your lifetime, making you love me earlier than it was physically possible, taking a toll on your mortal body, and ending up with you feeling obsessed.” Sunday stepped closer, and he gently took off one of his gloves and hovered his hand above your cheek.

“You’re mine? You… care for me?”

“I always have. I rejected it because I deemed it impossible. I no longer reject it. I am… I look forward to eternity with you, my beloved.”

Sunday’s wings fluttered and both of you blushed, him out of shyness, you out of happiness. Finally, you are able to be frank with him, after years.

“Well then, my love. Shall I make a joke?” You attempt to ease the air, so as to not pressure him into anything too suddenly.

Sunday smiled, his left wing twitching at the sound of you calling him such a sweet word. “Yes… please.”

Here goes your attempt to mimic actual human humor—the bad kind. “What did the sushi say to the bee?”

“Hm, what?”

“Wasabi.”

Silence. Sunday’s nose scrunched and he cringed slightly, “That was…bad. Really bad.” He softly laughed.

“Then I have achieved what I wished. I never said it would be good.” Both of you laughed warmly and let go of the weight on your shoulders.

Sunday’s mind ran away and worried in the background. What if all of this was a dream and he’d wake up having to face the harsh cold reality?

“I wouldn’t mind spending an eternity with you.”

“Good. You’re doomed to spend it with me.” 

“That’s fine by me,” Sunday replied in a light tone. He felt giddy about the whole situation.

“Couples formed by Aeons are the only ones that will stay alive and never fall. Currently, there’s only us.”

Sunday let the information sink in, it felt overwhelming. “So it’s just us, until the end of time?”

With a nod you confirm, “And neither of us have a choice.”

“Even if we did, I still would have chosen you. I’ll always choose you.” The tension has fallen and he finally cups your cheek with his bare hand. It brings a smile to your face. “You’re pretty when you smile.”

“You’re flirty,” you answer with an even bigger smile. “I want to kiss you more.”

For a moment, Sunday felt unlike his usual self, perhaps leftovers of Wonweek which pushed him to tease, “I thought Aeons didn’t stoop that low.”

“You’re tied to me until the end of time. I’ll be whatever I wish.” You raise your chin and smirk.

The scenery around the two of you changed with every touch of your lips. The heat of the summer sun, the salt of the sea, the cinnamon scent of tiger lilies, violins playing a waltz. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. 

The closeness of the two of you expanded over the following years.

You were pacing around your now shared home. Sunday never had a home, not really. And you grew up mortal, so a house, a home was something you both wished for. Especially with his wishes to travel and stay within the mortal realm. Hence, you two live together.

A weak mumble of your name made you practically teleport by the side of your bed. Sunday sat there, face in his hands, flushed, crying. You sat beside him and cupped his face. “My precious, why are you crying?”

Sunday felt pathetic. He tried to speak, his voice but a whimper of sobs that he tried to settle down before saying, “I—I had a nightmare.” His chin trembled from the effort of holding back his tears. He leaned further into your touch, somewhat ashamed of his state, “I’m sorry I—“ A sob that escaped his lips cut him off.

“I curse the lord of the dreams for sending you a nightmare,” you utter, wiping his tears away. You moved to sit on the floor in front of him. “My treasure…” Sunday was in awe of your display of devotion. Despite feeling unworthy of your love, your actions spoke loudly and it was all he needed to ground himself.

“Deep breaths. It will pass. Only a nightmare.” You kept your voice mellow and soft.

Sunday focused on his breathing, feeling himself slowly start to calm down. The lump in his throat dissipated and he could breathe easily again, “It was just a nightmare…” he whispers, still somewhat anxious from the stress of his mind.

“Shall I hold you, my sun?” you offer, resting your hands on his legs.

Sunday nodded and you held him. You embraced him as you always do, pulling him up against your body on the bed. Rubbing his side, leaving fluttering kisses along his wings.

“It was only a nightmare. It will not happen again, I will make sure of it,” you whispered in a threatening voice. Sunday felt a sense of comfort and security from your words, reassurance that you will always be there for him. His eyelids felt heavy as he relaxed in your arms, slowly drifting off to sleep. “I love you…”

“I love you too.” You spent the duration of his sleep laying kisses on his temple and cheek, lacing blessed words, making sure a nightmare never occurs again. Sunday slept soundly for the following hours, dreaming of only the most pleasant memories.

Sunday still kept his goal of wanting to create a paradise for everyone. The first thing on his to-do list is to see other claims of such a paradise. Thus, the two of you traveled and spent months, years at a time, wherever you wished. There was no rush to leave a planet too soon. Sunday made notes, gave arguments, and expressed his thoughts to you, in which you indulged him and discussed anything he wished, amusing his whims and desires. Unlike him, you wished to only look at your loved one at these gorgeous locations. The ones you showed him in his dreams. Time is but a thread both of you weaved in your favor. A sword with which it can be cut has not been invented yet. Eternity, only a fidget toy at your fingertips. And your beautiful, wonderful, significant other.

It was on one of these remarkable planets that you were now staying at: Amphoreus. Problematic, yet breathtaking in its sights. An area of war and pain, however, the people in Okhema lived as if nothing was going on. It intrigued him. Your room was vast, with a private balcony, dark blue curtains, a bed softer than a cloud, and even a personal bath. It looked more like a pond to you than a bath but to each their own. You concealed your identity with the utmost care. No Aeons resided here. You ought to be careful and only play the role of visitors, tourists. While you pondered whether you had covered all your tracks, your train of thought was interrupted.

A soft hand pressed behind your thigh, pushed into the soft flesh, making you gasp in surprise. You draw your gaze away from the notebook in your hand, and before you can even fully grasp the situation, you feel lips press in the middle of your thigh and then you see Sunday kneeling in front of you.

“Sunday, love, why are you kneeling?”

“Are you not meant to be worshipped like this?” he says with a small smile, obviously flirting, looking up at you.

“Well, technically—“ Your words get interrupted by Sunday clarifying, “Am I not allowed to worship you the way you deserve?”

The sight alone, of him naked on his knees, freshly showered, is an intimate one, to say the least. You reached down to brush his damp hair, “My precious, you may, but I worry for your knees…” As you asked your question, he continued laying kisses along your thigh while maintaining eye contact.

“I assure you, I do not mind,” he muses and starts leaving kisses in which he also darts his tongue out a bit.

“Sunday!” you scold him, nudging him subtly to get up.

“My everything, allow me this much,” Sunday pleads and you cannot say no to those pretty eyes. A sigh escapes you and you nod. 

He continues kissing along your leg, moving towards your hip, where he stops to nibble a bit, along to the softness of your tummy, the hills of your ribs, the crook of your collarbone, licks and small bites following the column of your neck until he passionately meets your lips. Pulling you near him, making you fall on top of him on the bed. Your hand tangles in his hair, brushing past his wings, getting high on his taste.

Your other hand follows the trail of his spine, sprawling out across the plains of his back and moving to trail the soft valley of his stomach, brushing against his nipples and making his lips stutter in the kiss. Having a lover so sensitive to your touch excites you. Of course he’d be sensitive to any touch, with how he barely ever has any skin visible when you two walk around.

You part from his lips to leave open-mouthed, hot kisses along his jaw, nibbling a bit, teasing him until you actually decide to bite down and leave plum-colored marks in your wake. His melodic moans and whimpers only urge you to move lower and tease him more. Taking a nipple into your mouth, flicking it with your tongue, he lets out a choked noise, making you smile against his skin.

“My everything, do not part from me for too long,” Sunday breathlessly uttered.

“I am enjoying…”—with small pecks, you trail your way back up—“…my lover. And there’s more to you than just your lips” You smile, hovering above his face.

“You… are making me feel needy.” Sunday exhales, meeting your eyes.

“Good. I plan to fulfill those needs.” You meet his lips once more as a distraction before moving back down his torso, where he interrupted you.

His halo shines brightly every time you make him see the stars he loves oh so much. His whimpers of your name echo in your head like a prayer he moans them as. The gold in his eyes melts, occasionally crying from sheer pleasure. It is easy to say you are good at making him see the heaven he wishes to create. Taking your sweet time with every touch, worshipping him the way he loves worshipping you.

You dare claim he moves even slower than you in his worship. Unlike him, you’re not as sensitive and therefore can enjoy his slow pace of kissing every part of you and looking at you with eyes low.

Although it isn’t always that slow. The times when he gets really into showing you his love, to the point he makes lustful noises, lost in the pleasure he is giving you, drunk on your taste on his lips, that is when you lose your patience—tugging his hair and crashing your lips against his in a needy manner. His confidence is evident in his smirk against your lips. Despite being a gentle lover, with a preference for making love, sometimes he does want the heat and the rush, your thirst and your possessiveness over your significant other.

Wherever the two of you seek the heaven of your own founding, you leave beds of flowers blossoming around the building. No matter the planet’s season or concrete, stone ground. Flowers will bloom between the cracks and piles of snow, leaving the locals in awe, unaware of your own power.

Sunday’s whispers are only the sweetest things in bed, they make you dizzy with love. “I should have worshipped you sooner.” 

“Worship in the bedroom—” you utter with rose-dusted cheeks.

“Only if you command it. Even then, I’d disobey, only to worship the ground you walk on, and then you may judge me for my sins, my everything…”

The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you.

a/n: the title is a song lyric from Hot Gum by Sofia Isella and the last line is from Take me to Chruch by Hozier (and the inspiration for the last 3 lines)

divider cr: @milklemondrop

[beatriz-lioness]

Order what you want, girl, it ain't no problem

I'ma tell the waitress that my baby need a bottle

Order what you want, said it ain't no problem

Got a piece of candy and it's all for you

Do not repost. Reblogs are appreciated!

[bamsara]

Clearing out all the concept scene doodles I've made the last couple months, here's this possible scene(s) for Trod au later

This is during the pre-Shamura / sleeping in the same room part of the timeline so far. My Lamb doesn't like having their neck touched (save for someone) and Narinder knows that.

They are best friends again here but also they are incredibly stupid

[seventeendeer]

ppl are too quick to point to laios' disability as the reason his friends think he's a freak sometimes. so many instances of laios getting yelled at are, in my eyes, a case of "this guy had to emotionally mature very early in order to be there for his little sister" combined with "much older friends who never had to learn to manage their own emotions to the same degree"

a lot of the time he's right about needing to be more direct/deal with things in a way that may seem scary/needing to put your gut reaction aside. he tries not to make his friends uncomfortable and he puts up with a lot because he's trying to keep the peace, but he also pushes the others out of their comfort zones purposefully to try to get them to think more constructively. everyone else in the party is prone to acting on their gut instincts and avoiding uncomfortable situations even when facing them head-on is very much necessary. part of what makes laios such a great leader is the fact that he knows from experience how to put his own feelings aside to help someone else grow.

yes, he does make a lot of social blunders by accident and he does struggle to connect with others, but not all of his positive influence on others is accidental or "despite" making people uncomfortable. a lot of the time, I think it's clear he knows exactly what he's doing and he's trying to help the people around him process emotions in a healthy way as they all go through some truly harrowing shit. all the main characters support each other as well as they can with their unique emotional skillsets. laios' skillset just happens to be "gently talk child into eating her vegetables"

[remxedmoon]

triplets! cute!!! they must have some difference between them… but i can’t see any…

greyscale versions under the cut!

[muppetfreak]

Mr. Riordan, it is truly a pleasure getting to experience your second draft.

[n0-strings]

[peaceandlove26]

my ponysona of the month

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

finally at that age where i'm thinking i should get a tattoo. not bc i feel strongly about it, just seems like a waste not to. i've got so much skin i'm not using

[simp-ly-writes]

The First Thing You Hear

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.4)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: quiet morning and lab-time fun, all ruined by the power of one... and Jayce is willing to do anything for everything to go back as things were... anything.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective!Jayce, Fluff and angst, suggestive themes, kissing, kinda transitional chapter for season 2 (black outfit anyone?), mentions of blood and death, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,810

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: I really should be studying but all I can think about is THIS. Love and appreciate you all! *biggest virtual hugs*

─────── · ·

─ · · When you slowly blinked, opening your eyes to the sunlight coming in from underneath the door, you felt a weight on your stomach and looked down to see a sleeping Jayce, back exposed using you as a pillow. His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you tightly as if worried you would disappear.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, feeling the silky smooth texture mixed with a few dead-ends, I need to book him a haircut, you told yourself humming gently as you debated how to remove yourself from him but as if sensing your thoughts, Jayce stirred in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent before placing more of his weight on you. At the start, it was a comforting weight as if an anxiety-blanket but it soon became unbearable.

You wheezed, "Jayce," you called out softly even though you were struggling to breathe, he did not move. "Jayce," you said a bit louder, watching as he shifted slightly, his head shaking in a "no." You scoffed, "Jayce," you warned, please don't tell me this is going to be every morning.

You watched as Jayce's golden eyes slowly opened and met your own- pleading with a small frown on his face, his hair un-styled and falling over his face. You picked up your hand, moving it back as he leaned into your touch. "morning, Jay," you said.

Jayce smiled, your heart beating rapidly in his chest in how soft he looked, as if about to cry tears of happiness that you were not some dream but physically there with him, laying in bed. "I love you," Jayce said, his voice deep and groggy as you clenched your bare thighs in reaction - hearing him chuckle.

"No good morning back?" you teased, removing your hands from his head to rub your eyes. Jayce picked himself up slightly, leaning in to place light delicate kissing from your collarbones up to your neck and just underneath your chin were he lingered.

"I want the first thing you hear ever day is my love for you, so that you may not question it," Jayce says gently before capturing your lips. You groan, pushing him away. "Morning breath, morning breath," you joke, trying to pick yourself up again but Jayce is having none of it.

"No, please. Let's just stay here for now, everyone else can wait. I have waited a decade for this, don't go now," Jayce says, kissing you once more, "please," another kiss. You fall back with a huff, looking up to Jayce. "Pleased now?" Jayce smiles a wide toothy grin, "very much so."

You watch as he rolls over, blankets exposing more skin for your eyes before Jayce is pulling you on top of his chest, chin on top of your head with a hum, "You are so beautiful." You blush, "you're pretty too," you joke, drawing random patterns on his skin before settling on a tattoo on his forearm you hadn't noticed before with his long-sleeves. You feel Jayce's chest rumble with a laugh, "thanks."

Your fingers dance across the ink before looking down at your blank arm with a contemplative look. "Why did you get this?" You ask, feeling as he shrugs, "Don't really remember but I just wanted a piece of something we all made." we all made... always so quick to be selfless.

You close your eyes with a sigh, wait... what are we? fuck, do I have a job? Yet the feeling of his thumb rubbing circles onto your hip, the soft blankets and warmth of his skin against yours had you forgetting your train of thought and falling asleep once again.

─────── · ·

─ · · You both were rushing around, bumping into one another in the bathroom. Jayce for the last half-hour had been trying to tempt you to join him in the shower but you too busy cursing him out once seeing all the marks running up your sore thighs. "Jayce fucking Talis," you swore watching as he poked his head out with a smirk.

"You were screaming my name quite pleasantly last night, whats the difference?" You shook your head, doing your makeup with the little you has in your purse before tucking in an over-sized button up. "You look so good in my clothes," Jayce murmured, a wet head placing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. "You're getting me all wet, Jay!"

"Oh am I now?" he raises a brow.

"I'll leave now if you don't stop," you threatened, looking at him through the slightly foggy mirror, trying to hide a smile. "You wouldn't dare," Jayce glared at you back, taking your words seriously, zipping up his pants and leaning on the counter. You raised your chin, "I mean, you said it yourself... I do have an officer wanting my-"

The sudden rush to your head as you were picked up and you swatted his back, "We are going to be even more late! The meeting started an hour ago we really have to go NOW!"

"You're officially unemployed now, remember?" Jayce said back, hips pinning you to the bed, your hands trapped between one of his larger ones. "But what about you?" you said, albeit a bit breathlessly.

"You got me caught up yesterday, or did you already forget?" Jayce tilts his head, kissing you in between words.

"You didn't fuck me that good, Jayce," you chuckle before seeing the look that casts over his features before capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and letting it fall. "No? then allow me to try again."

─────── · ·

─ · · You were not leaving unless you ran, and run you did after flinging back on your clothes and dashing right to the lab leaving an angry Jayce back at his apartment. You opened and closed the door before bracing your hands on your knees and intaking deep breaths before looking around the space and finding Viktor asleep at his desk. His cheeks appeared hollowed, his eyes sagging with bags as your heart cried, you hated how he had to get worse before getting better.

You brought a hand up, placing it at his back to feel his shallow breaths before you shook him away feeling him startle and sway. You grabbed his shoulder's gently, keeping the man in place, a frown coating your features, "Viktor? hey, hey, are you doing okay?"

Viktor looked through you with dead eyes. "I have been fine, just need to figure this out." You nodded, removing your touch before moving back to the blackboards. "I got fired," you said with your back turned feeling his wide stare, now fully awake. "He is an idiot, I apologize. Consider yourself hired." You scoffed before sharing a laugh.

"Really?" you turned around with a smile, knowing that this was what you were going to do all along. Viktor rolls his eye before he nods his head once- turning back to his desk and observing the growing plant at his desk with newfound intrigue... as if he could listen to it...

You watched out of the corner of your eye before he snapped his head over and you looked back with a whistle. Picking up a piece of chalk, you rewrote parts with new numbers you had written on your palm. Hmmm, maybe a 4 instead Oh! but what if we... you lost yourself in the maze your text swirling in circles as did your head.

─────── · ·

─ · · Jayce had joined you both later that day after a meeting with the council, tensions appeared as high and tight as his shoulders. You stepped down from a stool, dusting your hands on your pants before waving to Jayce of extended his hand in a silent ask that you followed, sitting on his desk as he placed his head in your lap with a sigh, "All I want is for this to do good, to save people, to protect Piltover... I didn't want all these politics and-" Jayce sighs, "I sound ungrateful, I'm sorry."

"No, Jayce. Don't say that," you said to him, "It's a job that no good person like yourself wants and the kind of job only the worst people strive towards. I may not be able to hold the burden, but I can help ease it," you say, picking his head up as he kisses your palm in thanks, closing his eyes before you both turn once hearing Viktor's scoff.

"I thought you got fired. Now you are a therapist."

"Oh, Viktor," you laugh, shaking your head before shoving Jayce off you as he leans back in his chair, playing with a pencil between his fingers as he looks at your combined work with squinted eyes. You all were so close to finding the answer to all your issues... it would only take a matter of time...

─────── · ·

─ · · When you and Jayce stepped out of the lab and back onto the Piltover streets for lunch, you were shocked just as everyone else was on how excited everyone appeared while looking at you both together.

"See son, I told you so," a parent says to their child groans and rolls there eyes with a huff before smiling at you and looking down at your connected hands. Jayce raises his chin, not even trying to hide his smile as you bury your face into his arm. "Too many eyes," you mumble, cheeks warming in what appears a permanent blush.

Cameras flashed as you walked together, "Why couldn't I just stay back in the lab?" you question, "I'm sure Viktor is lonely."

"I'm sure he is, and is thankful for it. We did spend the afternoon annoying him" Jayce replies with a chuckle, moving you to his other side while walking further away from the street. "You know you can't just pick me up and move me around Jayce," you comment, still looking ahead, feeling his stare, "I just want you safe." The crowd aww's as you slap his arm. "You're doing this on purpose," you glare.

Jayce shrugs, leaning down to kiss your forehead, "I'm just giving the people what they want." And by that moment, a little girl had ran off and hugged each of your legs together before looking up at you both. "Are you alright?" Jayce asked, crouching down, extending his hand as you leaned down as well. The girl only looked at you, eyes wide and mouth agape in awe, "I always wanted to meet a princess!"

Your eyes are now equally wide as you laugh off your shock, "Umm, well, sweetie I'm really not-" She leaps into your arms, hugging you, Jayce looks at the image of you two together fondly and with a certain glint to his eyes, you narrow your own, no, Jayce. The man picks up his hands, showing you his palms before a father is rushing over, apologizing profusely to you both as he unlatches his daughter from your arms.

"I am terribly sorry, she has an overactive imagination and-and loves you two- and I love your both- together I mean and," the father shakes his head as you hold up your hand, "Its alright," you speak softly receiving an appreciative nod.

"Princess?" Jayce tests the name on his lips, looking down at you and you can't look at him in the eyes right now, catching the look of someone in the crowd who gives you a thumbs up, hextech help me.

─────── · ·

─ · · The following days leading up to Jayce's speech were filled with the trio loosing themselves in the laboratory like shadows of their past echoing in the present. You sat beside Jayce, feet swinging back and fourth off his desk as you jotted down findings in your table-charts and journals.

A record was playing in the background as Viktor shook his head gently side to side with the beat, mumbling the chorus as Jayce joined in as the other voice, you laughed, flinging your head back while watching them both share this moment; singing and dancing as you got up, Jayce picking up your hand and inviting you to twirl before pulling you into a kiss.

You pulled away laughing, placing your head on his chest as you stood there looking out to a sunset Piltover, "I have missed this," you say without expecting a response, just voicing out your thoughts as Jayce places a large palm between your shoulder blades, bringing you close before forcing Viktor to join the group hug with a sigh. "I have missed this," Jayce says, squeezing you all together as Viktor groans and gags before removing himself, a smile evident on his features as he casts you a wink.

You playfully fan yourself before exchanging an eye roll, Jayce grunts, "Are you stealing my girl from me Viktor?" he teases as Viktor tenses. "No. I wouldn't do that to you, but she is my new lab assistant," he says as you firmly nod, crossing your arms in a challenging stance as Jayce hums, "You were quick to find work, sweetheart."

You shake your head with a smile, "This was never about work," you repeat Jayce's word back to him watching as his eyes light up, "I love you," he says.

"If you two are going to be acting like this, I might have to fire you both," Viktor says, half mocking, half seriously. You and Jayce look at one another before looking back at Viktor, "we love you too, Viktor!"

Viktor pinches the bridge of his nose cursing you both out.

─────── · ·

─ · · Later that day, you all sat in front of the blackboard in your respective chairs, Jayce's arm around the back of yours as you all ate together, the conversation taken away from scientific's as you all catch up with one another.

"Jayce and I are... together now," you say. "I couldn't see that," Viktor firs back, fork pointing at the arm around your shoulder and the hand that twirls your hair in between his fingers. Your cheeks warm as you look away from them both and stare straight at the board.

Viktor leans forward into your vision, "I am happy for you both, truly." You smile as does Viktor before leaning back. You lean your head back on Jayce's arm, closing your eyes. "Don't fall asleep on me, will have to carry you back," Jayce says, your eyes open, head turning to look at your boyfriend. The term has your heart pounding to admit it to yourself.

"Like you would hate to do that, Jay," you retort with a snort. "You caught me there."

─ · · Jayce ended up carrying you to your bed, helping you out of your boots, putting down your hair as you leaned subconsciously into his touch, hands pulling to bring with warmth into your embrace as he chuckled and crawled in beside you before pulling over the covers.

You felt around with a frown before rolling over into his side and finding a smile. Jayce looked down at you resting on his chest, his heart aching with deep affection as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with a sigh, "I love you," he whispered to himself before looking up at your ceiling. and I hope that its enough for what it to come...

─────── · ·

─ · · You stood behind the curtain, watching off to the side as Jayce presented his second Progress Day speech. You didn't want to be in the crowd for his speech this time, a little selfish you knew but you didn't do well with crowds, happy to recite his words as he spoke them to everyone for the first time, you? the thousandths time.

You look to Viktor standing by yourself as he grips your hand, eyes scared yet proud of Jayce just as you were. "Thank god its not us speaking," you joke as the crowd cheers. Viktor laughs, squeezing your hand, "You know, I think we would put them to sleep." Its your turn to laugh before a voice shushes you and you both stand tall. Eyes gleaming in silent humour.

─ · · But with progress came set backs as you all stumbled back, a load distant bang rumbled through the backstage, you looked catching a glimpse of blue, but maybe it was just the fireworks? You told yourself feeling unease. Viktor tensed, dropping your hand and taking a step forward, he looked through the darkness while Jayce was finishing up his speech.

Your hands were shaking, you knew something was not right but you could not put your hand on it. So lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize Jayce was back, he grabbed your shoulders, shaking them slightly, "sweetheart? come back to me, whats wrong?" he asked, looking around the dark space to Viktor who just shrugged.

You looked up, a wary smile, "I-It's nothing Jayce," you told both him and yourself before reaching up and placing his hand on your cheek. "I'm alright... let's go and-" a scream sounded and you could smell smoke but by the time you looked back, the gemstone you all were saving was gone, shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

─────── · ·

─ · · The next series of months that lead into years were from hell. Those beginning quiet mornings with Jayce were now all-nighters as you both pulled your hair out and fell asleep atop one another, too tired do anything else, minds racing with work and endless life-altering decisions.

─ · · You could feel how much pressure the council was putting on Jayce, how this missing gemstone in the wrong hands was only going to be the first card falling in a series of failed hands you would be forced to play. And just when you thought yourself to be out of politics, that Viktor was doing okay, that your relationship was going alright. It all came slamming into you.

─ · · You and Jayce were without sleep, you nearly in tears from stress as Jayce yelled out his frustrations to you but it felt like at you by how stressed he was. You gripped your head, knees being pulled up into your chin as you rocked yourself for comfort. Someone just made a threat on our lives, someone wants to-to kill me! was all you could think and Jayce was already loosing his mind long before you were at the news he did his best to hide from you... people knew how much you meant to the councillor, how easily he would crumble without you. How did this all happen so quickly? You asked the sky, blinking away tears... how did warm mornings and long days in the lab result to this? The sky said nothing in response, just staring blankly back in its blue hues, crying at the loss of innocence alongside you.

─ · · You watched Jayce in the forge, sweat dripping down your back even when you stood far away from the fire. You would think your partner to be highly attractive in the current moment if you were your younger more clueless self as he worked himself to the bone, making what he promised never to do before... weapons. You hated that your combined life's work was not working out, that Viktor's health was failing and that Hextech was to be used this way but what little choice did you all have? The gates were up, your time was limited and being peacekeepers didn't work in the past... you felt disgusted with yourself as did Jayce, the tattoo burning against his skin, the embers hotly kissing your cheeks- burning into your skin like freckles. past self, please forgive me... for I am not the person I want to be...

─────── · ·

─ · · One night when you sat alone in your dark apartment besides a singular lamp, tea in hand as your floor was covered in a carpet of blueprints, a sudden knocking at the door had you grabbing a knife from the kitchen as you shook before seeing a broken Jayce at your doorstep, not speaking a word. You opened the door, allowing him to fall into your arms- his hammer leaving a permanent mark on the tiles in your entry-way. You didn't ask what happened, you didn't want to know. You had visited Viktor earlier that day in the hospital, your heart couldn't take much more and as Jayce kissed you for the first time in months, emotions overcame you both with a need for comfort in one another, in a remembrance of a past time where the stresses were at least manageable. A time where it was easy to love one another.

Your hands shook as you exposed skin, you sobbed against his shoulder as he silently cried into your own. His hand gripped your hips, pleading as you bit your quivering lip, listening to his whispers near your ear as he repeated, "I love you, I'm sorry," endlessly as if to repent. And that night you left permeant marks on one another as others would fade over time.

─────── · ·

─ · · You and Jayce held one another in the morning, the light appearing cold as the breeze as you thought of an empty lab, a sense of deja vu washing over you both. You grasped his hand, closing your eyes again to keep in the moment, to keep the tears at bay, you were going to lose a friend today, slowly you would watch him fade away as you have been but this time... there was no hope.

Viktor would take his last breath, he would solve his last equation with you by his bedside, crack his last insult in your face and then... nothing. You felt sick, a hollow feeling in your stomach, your blood cold.

Today you would watch from the corners as Jayce spoke with the council in a desperate attempt for solution; something you both always used to be good at... cracking numbers, drawing diagrams, you could smile, cry, laugh, plead- with your past self yet they were never returning back to help you now.

You thought back to your first days working alongside Jayce, just how scared you were then as you were now. You remember meeting Jayce's mother, her cooking on your tongue and her sweet and welcoming words in your ears as she hugged you dearly, as if one of her own. You think of Jayce drawing on your skin, whispering into his ear during early council meetings, of the passion that burned in his eyes as he pulled you down the hall and the love in his eyes as you screamed and yelled at him.

You don't realize yourself to be silently crying as you think about the first night you shared together. His touch, body draping over and protecting your own while bruising your skin with his love before kissing over the marks. You felt as Jayce's chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, he too was struggling as he pressed his head to your shoulder.

"I love you..." I want the first thing you hear ever day is my love for you, so that you may not question it... you thought back to his past words, "...It'll all be over soon," Jayce whispered seemingly to himself as you nodded along. You hated every string attached to those words, you were not ready to say goodbye just yet to it all but it was what had to be done to save so many...

─────── · ·

─ · · You both slowly got dressed in separate corners of the room and walked side by side, un-touching on your way to the council room where Viktor stood waiting for you both. Guards nodded towards you all before opening the doors to the room already in shambles. Fingers were being pointed, hair pulled, wine spilled over the stone like blood dripping off the jagged edges.

You and Jayce looked at one another, foreheads pressing together in a lingering kiss of minds but just as you took a step back, watching as Jayce began to walk up the steps, the room stirring to silence. Jayce paused, hand extending and flexing in a silent ask, and how could you refuse after it all?

You took small strides before grasping his hand in the support he needed with his head hung low. You reached your hand out to grasp Viktor's as you all moved towards to the head of the table and took your seats. The words were spoken to yells and shouts. It was war, the screaming, the stares and then the peace as hand by hand rose and just as Jayce moved your connected hands up... the last thing you could hear was a scream.

─────── · ·

─ · · Jayce woke up, his arm killing him as he quickly turned around the room, hearing vicious laughter echoing in the back of his mind. He was in hyper-drive, hands shaking as he faced the broken window at his back before feeling something roll down to touch his foot, half of a spray-painted broken smile mocked him on a piece of metal that he kicked aside with a shout before looking at the rest of the destruction and corpses before him.

Floodlights entered the space, enforcers yelled for support and to lock down the city as Jayce staggered seeing his old mentors, peers, Viktor... all dead but still no sight of you. Mel shook herself, shoving a scrap piece of metal off her body with a shout before standing with a wobble, she looked towards Jayce as the man looked to be loosing himself.

Jayce started to laugh, tears streaming down his face as he searched desperately for you, I was supposed to protect you, Jayce felt besides himself in sickness, no, no, no, you could not be dead- he wouldn't allow it, he refused.

"(NAME)!" Jayce shouted in a panic before feeling a hand on his arm, his head snapped over, eyes hopeful before disappointed that rocked Mel to her core. "Jayce," she said softly before Jayce was ripping her touch off of him and shouting your name again and again.

Mel cupped her hands to her chest, her heart aching for her friend and peer as he gripped at his hair, he started to smile, turning to face her with wide eyes, "she's not here," Jayce laughed having officially lost it, "She-she's not here," he laughed so hard, falling to his knees before crying and rocking himself. I need her, I need her, my girl, mine, where are you? Please, you are all I ask for, ever have, I never wanted any of this...

His head flicked back over to Viktor's lifeless self as he felt numb, just staring blankly as Mel knelt in front of him, tears streaming down her own cheeks as she didn't know what to do, how to help. "Jayce, he's gone, Viktor's gone... please, we have to get to safety." Jayce shakes his head, "No, she deserves to be here with us, she did nothing wrong! It should have been me!" Jayce shouts, the cold touch of morning air caressing his cheek.

"You can't save her if you are still here, Jayce. Please, we can go find her right afterwards, we just have to leave now," Mel's words appear to knock sense back into the man before her as he picks up Viktor's hand one last time, pressing it above his heart, his eyes widen feeling a light pulse and next thing he knows... he was running

─────── · ·

─ · · The first thing you could hear was a chainsaw that had your brain and heart kickstarting away. Your eyes opened, hissing from the swinging light above your head. A green goo slipped down your cheek and onto your pant legs. You could feel their heavy breath on your head as they yelled into your ear, "I can't wait to watch the life slip from your eyes so that he knows what he took from me, he feels my pain."

You shook in your seat, trying to escape your bindings but with no use. You cried, trying to shake the chair side to side yet it was welded to the floor. "Jayce!" you called out begging, their cackles carved out your heart as they mocked you, "Jayce! Jayce!" they wined and pleaded in your face, the moving blade catching a part of your shoe as you screamed.

"Save your voice for the show, little one. You are going to need it for when every topside member see's there beloved (first/name) (last/name) die right in front of them. Oh what a show it will be!"

─────── · ·

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff

─ · · A/N: please don't hate me! I gave fluff right... right?

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[aventurineswife]

Request:

(Keeping your inbox nice and stuffed)

IL Dan Heng bites you all the time.. one time you bite him back 😏

Tell me is this gonna come out in late november of the year 3071 (md reference because yes)

A Bite for a Bite

Summary: Dan Heng, in his Imbibitor Lunae form, has a peculiar way of showing affection—playfully biting you at the most unexpected moments. You’ve grown used to it, but one evening, you decide to turn the tables and bite him back. What starts as a teasing gesture quickly turns into a charged moment that blurs the lines between playful intimacy and something deeper.

Tags: Dan Heng IL x Reader, Established Relationship, Playful Banter, Suggestive Themes, Power Dynamics, Light Angst (if you squint), Soft Dan Heng.

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Light Biting (playful and consensual), Minor References to Dan Heng’s internal conflict and past trauma.

Dan Heng’s usual quiet demeanor could easily be mistaken for coldness, but to those who knew him well, there was warmth beneath the surface, albeit hard to reach. His feelings were often concealed by the weight of his past and his natural tendency for introspection. Yet, the moments where that reserve slipped—often when no one was around—were precious, and his affection became evident in the smallest, most unexpected ways.

It was one of those rare moments when you found yourselves alone in the dimly lit corner of the train, sharing a quiet evening together. Dan Heng’s presence was soothing, a comfort in the chaos that sometimes enveloped the universe. He sat beside you, his long hair spilling over his shoulders, an ethereal glow emanating from him as usual. His eyes, however, were softer than usual, watching you as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

As always, his hand reached out, and before you could react, he gently bit the side of your neck. It wasn’t painful—more like a playful nip, something he’d done countless times before. It was his unique way of marking his affection, a small, mischievous gesture that never failed to make your heart race.

You chuckled softly, more out of habit than surprise, “You really enjoy biting me, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his lips still lingering near your skin. There was a brief flicker in his eyes, as if he was considering your words carefully. Then, with his usual quiet confidence, he bit you again—this time a little harder, as if testing the limits of your tolerance.

"Dan Heng," you murmured, half-exasperated and half-amused, “You’re lucky I love you.”

His lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Lucky... Yes,” he murmured, and for a second, you saw a flash of something deeper in his eyes—something far more intense than you were used to seeing.

But you weren’t about to let him get away with it this time.

You tilted your head just slightly, a mischievous glint in your own gaze. Without a word, you reached up, fingers grazing the side of his jaw before pressing your teeth gently into the exposed skin of his neck. It was a playful move, but you bit just a little harder than he might have expected, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

The reaction was immediate. His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, you could sense his surprise. His eyes widened as he turned toward you, the unspoken challenge clear. There was a moment of silence between you two, heavy and charged with an unspoken question—what would happen next?

You pulled back slightly, a small smirk on your lips, and watched him carefully. His expression had shifted, caught somewhere between intrigue and something deeper—something more primal.

“You don’t always get to be the one in control,” you teased, your voice low and suggestive.

Dan Heng’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, you could have sworn he was about to bite you again, this time with more force, but something in his gaze faltered. He studied you, his lips parting ever so slightly, as if he was trying to find the right words. His past had taught him restraint, caution—qualities that had once defined him as the Imbibitor Lunae. Yet, in the quiet intimacy of the moment, that restraint seemed to waver.

“You’ve been biting me for so long,” you continued, your voice still soft, but with a playful edge. “I think it’s time I return the favor.”

Dan Heng let out a breath—slow and deliberate, a rare chuckle escaping him. “Perhaps… I should let you have your fun this time,” he said, a touch of affection lacing his words.

For a moment, the space between you felt electric, the air thick with anticipation. You weren’t sure what would happen next. You never were with him, not fully.

But you knew one thing for sure: the cycle of playful biting had just shifted, and now, you were both caught in the unpredictable dance of power, affection, and something much deeper than either of you had anticipated.

As the silence stretched between you two, you leaned in, this time capturing his lips in a soft kiss—a kiss that was at once tender and full of the unspoken promise of more.

[bamsara]

suggestive narilamb doodles, mainly memes/shitposts. some of this is not trod au canon and/or out-of-context on the timeline. Part 1/?

[syndrmes]

Feminine name ideas .. ❤︎

lei, emi, mira, kiki, Josephine, emire, kika, kayla, leila, ximi, miri, semy, yui, lorelai, nari, angel, jamie, amalia, suni, aaliyah, mei, fleur, dailah, aeri, iseul, mikah, michi, hikari, nevaeh, hani, blair, vita, belle, eden, ivy, isis, claire, layla, nova, jinae, aisha, aaliah

[lucabyte]

i CANNOT stress enough how incompatible the themes of these two pieces of media are. i promise my media literacy ability is actually good im well aware that these character mappings are absolutely nothing. that said. play with me in this space. in this sopping wet miserable space. its bad luck to kill a piou piou

original screenshots (and hypnosis 1904) for reference

[lazysunjade]

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