#t: descent of the moon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyseokmins · 4 months ago

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ash and cinders • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, royalty!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting 💃🏻 which just means a minor power play between them at first okay 😬 i promise it's not that bad lmao i'm just paranoid, lots of making out, oral (fem. receiving), lil bit of temp play tbh, little bit of choking, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? it's just basically me attempting to write prettily uwu WC: 4.24k A/N: soooo, this has been rotting in my drafts FOREVER!!! but yeah seokmin is my most darling, favorite boy i've ever stanned anyways ofc i couldn't help but use his elle magazine photos (yes that's how long this has been ROTTING) ahhhhh - ahem anyways this goes hand-in-hand with Mischief Maker so definitely recommend checking that one out too! heheh <3

He only stayed during the night.

When the blanket of darkness covered even the moon with a hazy layer of clouds, leaving tiny twinkling stars for a traveler’s guide. The fire once dancing in the hearth dwindled down to scarlet embers barely emitting enough heat to fill the large quarters.

Not that it mattered.

Even as you lay naked amidst the silken sheets strewn upon the grand bed, the thought of your lover’s return alone was enough to engulf your body in a flame of burning anticipation that settles and simmers between your legs.

He had been gone far too long. A lengthy patrol around the surrounding territories had taken him away from your embrace. Although every morning the sun’s rays tickled your face as a sweet greeting and bathed you in a radiant light through the day, nights without him were by far the worst.

Cold.

Lonely.

Dark.

On usual accounts, it was a grievous crime to keep the queen waiting. But you would forgive him for anything, wouldn’t you? It’s exemplified in the way he bursts through the doors without so much as a courteous knock that even your most trusted servants must abide by, water droplets dripping from his auburn bangs.

Despite the eagerness to see you as soon as possible, he refused to step foot into your chambers when reeking of blood after fierce combat and soiled with dirt from travel. You always protested. The gilded throne you reigned from, the heavy crown upon your head, and even the bed you shared — all were built upon those very foundations. But your lover insisted on only showcasing the glorious side of things to you.

The gold.

The diamonds.

The luxuries.

All which adorned you by day. Glowing, glistening, and shining. Gems and jewels, fabrics woven from the highest quality quickly reduced to layers that only became a hindrance once it came time for his descent upon you. For you were absolutely beautiful clothed — this he very well knew — but when your whole body was bared naked for him and him alone? You were truly the definition of divine.

Those who dared to speak ill of you tried to foster ridiculous claims. Critical of the wealth in your possession. Mocked what they presumed was a lack of ambition. Wailed that you were a witch. A young monarch on an undeniable downfall to tyranny, one that would lead them all to hellfire and ruin.

Anything to validate that you were not worthy of the royal seal emblazoned across the lands in honor of a valiant leader with a royal bloodline still running through your veins.

Hypocrisy at its finest when you were the reason that they were bestowed or able to retain property linked to their names, money in their pockets, and a legacy to live by under your prosperous reign. Arrogant to cast down the very thing that elevated them to their current standing. But their greed would eventually come back to bite them. One day.

Even the religious sect whispered lowly, hidden in the shadows of the grand temples. Doubts that the king actually held a shred of affection for his partner — if the seldom visits seen visiting your chambers only when night falls were of any substantial evidence to go by. That he only lay with you out of duty, shackled and bound to an imposter who was never a faithful servant to the gods like they were.

Because not one of them truly believed that a god could ever favor, let alone love, a human.

You knew you were a savior to as many as you were also an enemy. A hindrance and a threat. A bold refusal to control or be controlled. There was nothing more to do other than lead your people as fairly as you judged.

All the preposterous assumptions infuriated him — your devoted knight, unorthodox husband, and scandalous lover. But he manages to temper his fiery rage out of respect for you. Behind your ruthless, steely intent is a righteous and kind heart that always calls out for him, now fully vocalized and embellished by the sweet voice he's missed hearing dearly.

“Seokmin,” you murmur, grasping his warm hand once he's within reach.

An entity of many epithets with an existence worth a millennium beyond comprehension and full of worship. Yet his favorite phonetic combination he'd ever heard was the one that fell breathlessly from your lips. The closest the human tongue could get to a god’s true name. And his second favorite would be yours, the syllables rumbling in his chest like a song and you smiled in contentment.

He was back, he was home, and he was yours.

Even in the darkness, Seokmin glowed. The ethereal radiance surrounding the broad expanse of sinewy muscles easily proved his lofty status as the great god of the sun. But it was also his eyes, flickering with the unmistakable presence as one of many deities. The kind of power that has managed to refrain from turning you into ash and cinders.

Whether it's attributed to your resilience, a ruler born to stand out and lead, or an entirely different reason — or a mixture of all — Seokmin isn't really sure. He's not the first to appear in a human vessel nor the last, with at least twelve of his known brothers wandering the mortal world for various reasons.

He wonders if he's the first to bow his head willingly, though, holding back his more devious and destructive tendencies. To pay back tenfold the worship he's received since the beginning of time all to you — a mere human — yet nonetheless, his queen.

The event of swearing his undying fealty feels like it was yesterday. For a being that persists forever, it may as well have been that short ago. Every memory he etches and sears into his mind for eternity consists of you, and only you.

How could he forget? How was he supposed to bury away the confident smirk that graced your lovely lips? Would he ever not recall the first time he bent the knee in such desperation? Not for a trick or as a dark seduction that tumbles into a dreadful demise, a conquest for carnage, and an abuse of his powers. But instead for the good of humanity — however short of an era it may be.

And maybe… for more. One that his heart fears to admit, for it does not beat within his chest, but in a plane beyond the reach of mortals.

"Would you kill for me?"

"For you, anything," the god affirms. "I have laid waste to kingdoms, countries, empires, and even continents themselves. There is nothing I'm incapable of."

"And if I asked you to behead the entire entourage that has traveled with you?"

"… If it is what you will, then it is simply my command to follow. For you, I am a lone knight at your disposal."

Silken skirts flare out as does your anger when you turn away from the large windows in the tower's tiny excuse of a throne room — hardly fit for the heir — showcasing a brief flash of the lethal dagger strapped to your thigh. "Do you wish for my downfall before I've even risen to the throne? You expect me to be a tyrant, despised by the people I am meant to save? To lead?"

"Do you think I, a god, care what thoughts others conjure up in their silly little minds? I am to act on your behalf, get my hands dirty in lieu of you. No matter how morbid your desires may be."

Stepping closer, you lift his chin with the tip of a dull sword intended to be ornamental. But it may be even deadlier than the one hung at his side, metaphorically sharpened and honed by a rebel princess's innate rage.

His little show of bowing means little with the way he stares straight at you without a shred of respect in those galaxy-filled irises. However, it is the mighty sun god who is taken aback by the hellfire burning in your gaze, hungry and powerful enough to rival his own as you scoff.

"I will show you what kind of queen this land needs, the methods we will follow, and the morals I wish to uphold. You will learn in order to understand them and enforce my will. Not only to help guide the vision I desire but to keep me accountable lest I stray. A critical misstep such as that is when I'll ask you to cut me down. Will you swear to do that for me?"

"… You dare question a god of what he can do? Your tiny, impudent human mind couldn't fathom a sliver of my capability."

"I dare to question what you can't or won't do."

"I told you, there is not a thing beyond my realm of —"

"Leave."

"… Your Highness?"

Painted lips curl in a snarl at the first address of your proper title since his arrival. "Begone, I said! Return when you feel like acting like the god you are, not simply a tool to be harnessed and used at will. Until then, I have no need for you."

Seokmin's jaw drops as you seat yourself back on the throne with a sneer and flick of your wrist for the guard to usher him out.

A challenge.

He's been abandoned many times. Discarded and tossed to the side once his usefulness has been expended. He's left before betrayal can even be thought of — for no one points a blade at a god's back — but never has he been rejected.

It was only the beginning of how you would become many of his 'firsts' and all of his 'lasts'.

Seokmin is lost deep in the memory even with the feeling of your lips curling in a gentle smile against his — a stark contrast to your initial meeting. A nail grazes his chin, digging lightly into the skin to fully bring the god back to the present.

You'd be offended by the habitual spacing out if he hadn't admitted to only getting lost in thoughts of you. Something he'd picked up during the routine patrols away. Though you strive to bring the god out of dwelling in the past when you're sitting right in front of him — the present — and deepen the kiss.

Yet he pulls away to tilt his head. "Do you remember what you offered to me?"

"Have I not offered you my all, my king?"

Charcoal lying dormant in the hearth flares back to life, emitting playful sparks when he chuckles. "After I returned to pledge my loyalty to you."

"Ah, even though I had you wait outside the gates for five days."

"Unfathomable for a god to hang around at the whim of a meager human, isn't it?"

"Meager?"

"To me? Yes."

His warm exhale of amusement feels just like the breeze that fondly brushes your cheeks every morning despite the eternal humidity. It may very well be him because no matter how far away physically from you he is, Seokmin's essence radiates in every sunray that stretches across the grand skies and below.

He is everywhere and everything all the time. But he is here with you tonight once again, kissing the palm you'd placed on his cheek. With mischief flickering like a teasing flame in his eyes, the god brings your hand to his throat, encouraging you to splay your fingers across his Adam's apple.

You free yourself from his light grasp to run them ticklishly up and down the bumps of his vocal cords. The movements of swallowing ripples beneath the light scratch of your nails until he halts you by replacing a veined hand over yours and murmurs, "Squeeze."

"Ah — but I…"

He repeats it again louder when you fail to do as asked, not even daring to move a muscle. Simply staring in almost awe-filled hesitation until he guides you to tentatively do exactly as he states, "You would have done anything to strangle me back then, what has changed?"

"… You know what."

"Tell me," he says it like it's a command, eyes brightening and swirling with an authoritative amber hue though it's all in jest. "Tell me what it is, my queen."

Never one to be deterred, only Seokmin could render you motionless for so long. You do as you're instructed, the gentle pressure applied by your hand around his throat causes auburn eyelashes to flutter. The slight restriction to an airflow that isn't all that necessary for a god's survival has his eyes rolling back before they re-focus on you, half-hidden by hooded eyelids.

"Love," you murmur. For it is the answer to everything, is it not?

"Love," is echoed with a resounding voice that doesn't fully come from the tongue of the man beneath you, but bellows out from an otherworldly essence that surrounds the entire world and beyond. And at the same time, he speaks it so fondly because ultimately, he's addressing it as a title for you.

The god of the sun, as immortal as he might be, has died before. Mortal vessels manage to persevere for a fixed number of years and a feeble human body can only endure so much wear and tear. Yet Seokmin's soul still shines steadily onwards despite the memory of death over and over again lingering… and he unsurprisingly realizes that he wouldn't mind dying like this — by your hand.

Was that love?

But the amount of power, energy, and time, along with the unpredictable wiles of the creator would never guarantee him returning to you. Preservation of this human shell was of the utmost importance, the first time he's ever handled a vessel with care before.

Perhaps that was love.

Rather than be swept up in unpleasantries, he entertains the amusing thought of how much fragility you exercise with him. Having already released your grip far too quickly and instead, fiddle with the untied laces on his loose shirt.

"Love," he repeats, this time as a call in a raspy drawl of his own voice.

"Hm. Or maybe it was… pity."

An eyebrow raises and the corners of Seokmin's mouth twitch upward. "Only my queen would dare to pity a god."

"It was for what you were. And who you weren't. I despise those uppity, repetitive displays of unwavering loyalty that either party can easily discard."

"Like the former king's imperial court."

"Yes."

Your angered hiss is exactly the same as the first time you informed him of your plans to take down your father and his cult. The disgust and rage have barely ebbed even after all the progress made for a better future and as many years that have passed.

Seokmin scans your expressions. He's always admired your spitfire that could rival his own flames. But in times when it burns long enough to possibly exhaust or hurt you, he worries. You're strong — he knows that — so many times he simply becomes the safe space where you can seethe aloud without interruption.

"Would you rather grow dull and be poisoned because someone is not even worth keeping an eye on or the thrill of unpredictability? A constant sword dance that keeps each other on their toes, never deviating gazes from one another."

He smirks. "That sounds familiar."

You think back to earlier days with him. A stubborn royal and an even more stubborn deity. When did the challenging, pointed glares at one another change to simmering looks of desire?

Instead of your swords tangling together in an angry clash over a small matter, it was your tongues after a heated sparring session. How condescension switched to respect to something more passionate… more primal… more intimate.

"Perhaps so. But look at you now — look at how you shine."

His skin indeed glows a bit brighter as he melts further into the soft touch of your palm returning to his cheek. Thumb tracing constellations between the pair of moles on his cheek while your other finger follows the nearly invisible scar below his eye.

"Little blemishes," he had once told you, "even the body of a god bears its flaws after fighting on a battlefield."

You thought they only made him all the more perfect.

"And look at how I've fallen."

As if to demonstrate his murmured words, Seokmin moves at the speed of light — his normal pace — to lie on his back, umber strands of hair spread out like flames of fire against the grandiose bed's silken sheets.

Somehow, he'd positioned you on top of him. Much accustomed to the tiny displays of omnipotence here and there, you remain unbothered. Affectionately, you brush back his bangs. Fiery wisps of hair that seemingly move on their own accord with the amount of power that ripples through their thin fibers.

He might just be the most powerful among his fellow deities and you could wield all of that as your own because he sits obediently in the palm of your hand. Lays dociley among your silken sheets. What he's trying to prove to you — the hold you have over him — immediately enthralled under your spell as you play with his locks and softly whisper, "You're Seokmin. My Seokmin."

Despite your bare chest quite literally in his face, the god waits. Fully clothed in soft linens where he can feel every tempting pulse thundering in your precious mortal body on top of his.

And still, he waits.

His hands don't even reach out as you unlace his shirt. Though he has wrecked and ruined your body in a thrillingly sensual, blistering, and passionate heat of love-making before, tonight he gives himself over to you. Vulnerable and all yours for the taking, watching with faint amusement as you impatiently urge him to shed the rest of his garments.

"My queen."

"My king."

"There is no rush. We have all of eternity."

"Do we?" you breathe out and look him in the eyes as your fingers dance along his inner thigh. "Or is it only you, divine ruler of the everlasting dawn and never-ending night?"

"My graceful moon," Seokmin sighs and distracts you from grasping his weeping shaft, urging you to straddle his legs. You follow his will despite the object of your desires lying neglected between your bodies, coating your stomach in the molten saltiness that drips from it.

"My stars, my sky, my galaxy, my universe." Each title of affection is seared into your skin with a burning kiss to brand your body. Your cheek, your ear, your neck, your shoulder, and your hand. "Without you in it, the world ceases to exist."

"My sun, my warrior, my knight, my shield, and my sword." You repeat a version of your own display of worship and what he means to you — mimicking the same actions across his lithe body. "My love, it would do you good to live in the present with me. Must you think of a dire future so soon?"

"Each inhale of life thus returns an exhale of death. I dread every moment that brings me closer to your end."

"Such morbid thoughts you carry, my darling. Where is the fearless god that took a poisoned arrow to the heart and pulled it out without so much as a flinch?"

"You think me weak when I'd take the blow of any weapon as long as it does not harm you."

The irony when you'd both been struck by invisible, non-lethal darts fired from the god of love's feathered bow. But the terrifying memory of Seokmin taking the assassination attempt in your place causes a rare, but true, fear twisting in your gut. The flash of life before your eyes changed the trajectory of your tactics and your relationship with the god. And as always he reassures you with what he knows to be the truth — for the most part.

"Nothing can hurt me as long as you're alright."

"Then make me your goddess in return so that I will be invincible enough to protect you from harm's wrath too."

"But that… you know I can't," he whimpers, "no matter how much I long to."

A tear trickles down his cheek, crystallizing when it falls. Like many before and well after, all bodily fluids of the god will be found transformed as various tiny diamonds and gems. Tangled within the bedsheets the following morning as they always are and stored away in the queen's treasury.

Seokmin cries, not just at his frustrations, but at how you gingerly hold his hot and hardened length. Heavy in your palm that rubs and strokes it lovingly before sinking down with practiced ease, having already stretched yourself out earlier while waiting. Undulating your hips in slow, controlled circles that make him dizzy with desire. Your words pierce his chest, paining him like no sword that sliced him open could ever compare.

"If fate will not let it happen, then bury me in the ground so I can thrive beneath your warm rays that whisper sweet nothings. Let me smile up at you after winter passes while I bloom brilliantly through spring and long into the heated days of summer. Weave my soul among the stars so I may greet you in the morning and kiss you goodnight every evening. Scatter my ashes into the windy gusts of the north and down the silver rivers flowing south so I may laugh and dance in the skies alongside your sunbeams."

He sobs at the poignant emotional tug of your words, every poetry waxed by your breathy voice punctuated by a tantalizing undulation of your hips. You reassuringly clench around him, foreheads and bodies pressed together, hands clasped tightly in each other's grasp.

The god's chest heaves and the mountains on the eastern border shift to the left. Sometimes the air cools when this occurs but tonight, it shimmers and glistens as if straining against his commands. A hot wave that threatens to distort the very seam of reality itself.

"I will always be yours," you kiss the corner of his trembling lips, "and you mine, my darling god."

"My sweet goddess, my everything… my love."

Seokmin's hips buck up anxiously and you let him lead the pace. Wild thrusts take over as he chases that high, wanting and needing to take you over that peak with him. Your body lays prone against him, along for the jostling ride as the god seeks his own pleasure through and with you. Praises and worship fall from his lips, never failing to be in awe of how your cunt molds and works his cock like a blacksmith shapes an iron rod yet he can bully it as he wants to fit him. Only him.

You were made for the god of the sun.

Golden ichor thrums through his veins, lighting his skin in flashes like the sparks of embers. He's beautiful. Otherworldly. Your lips capture each glowing pulse of godliness that erupts beneath his flesh with a tender peck. He's all yours.

And he was made for you.

When Seokmin plunges into your welcoming warmth that is his alone to claim before he finally succumbs, it's blinding. On the other side of the earth, the sun shines a little brighter. A harsh glint that already emits a sweltering heat from its fiery nature flares even hotter in the blue sky. A blessed priestess looks up in contemplation, waving away the worried maidens who tend to her every need.

You feel his large hands — one presses in a bruising hold between your shoulders, the other on your lower back. Keeping you flush against him, holding your body to his while you welcome inside the scorching spurts of his seed within your womb that feel like lava. Your walls flutter around him and he basks in the feeling of them pulsating as you jerk your hips

"Come," he begs out. It's loud and resounding. More of an instinctual command if anything and your body almost obeys unwittingly, unaware of his intent before he lifts you up with inhuman strength and clarifies, "Up here," and sits you on your rightful throne — his face, "where you deserve, the queen of queens. My queen. My love. My goddess."

He laps at you like a dehydrated dog. Both cleaning you up and creating an even bigger mess. Your thighs squeeze tightly around the sides of Seokmin's head, one hand tugging harshly at his hair and the other mercilessly wrinkling the silk bed sheets. His moans are sweet songs of praise but muffled as he sucks his release out of your cunt only to push it back inside with his tongue. The addition of globs of spit accompanying the still-hot, smeared mess causes your own sounds to grow much louder, writhing on top of him from the sloppy sensations.

Back and forth he repeats this a couple of times, the firm point of his nose stimulating your sore clit in his efforts. And finally, you come undone — spasming on top of Seokmin's chin and suffocating him just like he likes. Breathing and drowning in your essence, the very elixir of life.

"I shall make you mine," he whispers later, dutifully laying your deliciously aching but clean body onto freshened sheets. Your lover is ever so attentive, rarely nearly needing the same amount of aftercare he showers upon you.

For he is a god from the heavens to bestow blessings upon his desired mortal.

"I am already yours."

"But for all of eternity, it shall be so."

Satiated and content, you reach for him. He lovingly takes your hand and presses a kiss to the tip of each of your fingers. "How?"

"The Mother. She's the closest thing we have to the Creator and might be older than the universe itself. There's nothing she doesn't know so I'm sure she'll have the answers I seek."

"Must you leave so soon?"

Seokmin smiles as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. "The sun never fails to rise, my dear. I will be back before you know it bringing with me tidings of great news."

"I'll be waiting."

Your shared kiss is soft and gentle. Sweet and full of sentiment. Indeed, you always wait for him and the sun god leaves with a full heart of hope. Little does he know, and little do you suspect, the true one lying in wait was the shadowed figure holding a poisoned dagger beneath their cloak.

And so, with the death of a queen so loved by the god of the sun… the prophecy begins.

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #seokmin smut #dk smut #lee seokmin smut #lee dokyeom smut #smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut

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seokminfilm · 3 months ago

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baby girl | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader

warnings: non-idol au, boyfriend!seokmin, hurt/fluff fic, reader is implied to be female (mentions of menstrual cycles), period cramps, kissing, just a feel-good fic with seokmin taking care of you

"Seokmin." You whisper, curled in on yourself as you shuffle under the duvet. The quiet hum of the air conditoning in your room and Seokmin's heavy breathing mix to become one, and you wait for an answer, sadly, with no response.

The moon hangs overhead in the darkened sky, and you glance at the analogue clock on your bedside table: the screen reads 2:52 a.m., and you whimper as another dull pain hits your abdomen.

This was the time you were dreading—your menstrual cycle was always one of the worst times of your month, and you were craving your boyfriend's touch even more than usual.

"Minnie," You moan, curling in on yourself as a wave of nausea hits you; pushing yourself, you turn around on the bed, tapping Seokmin's bare back as you snake your hands around his bare upper body. Seokmin snuggles into your front side, sighing as he steadies his breathing again.

The warmth of his body eases your cramps a bit, but it's not enough, and you tap him again as you whimper at the feeling stirring in your abdomen. "Minnie?" You question, and Seokmin finally snaps awake, eyelashes fluttering against his skin as he sits up, turning on the lamp on the bedside table.

He turns to look back at you, and you can swear you see his heart break when he meets your gaze: he knows how much pain you go through during this time, and it hurts him to see you like this—puffy eyes and a shivering frame stare back at Seokmin, and he runs a hand through his damp hair, pulling you into his chest.

"Ah, baby, I'm so sorry." Seokmin hums deeply, voice still rough from disuse. You sniffle in his muscled arm, and he stares at you with affection in his eyes as he pushes back your hair which was clumped together by your salt-filled tears.

"I don't feel good, Seokmin," You mumble, and he places a hand to your head, noticing the warmth spreading to his hand. He juts his bottom lip out, pouting as he stands from the bed and shuffles to the closet.

He brings the heating pad to your side of the bed, plugging it in and turning it on as he hands it to you. Two blankets land softly on top of you, and you sigh at the weight on your body. Seokmin smiles at your face now buried under the covers, chuckling as he turns on the fairy lights lining your shared room.

"Do you want some water, baby girl?" He asks, and you nod, burying your face deeper into the blankets.

"Yes, please. Can it be cold too?"

Seokmin frowns, walking up to you as he presses a small and chaste kiss to your burning forehead.

"Of course, baby girl. You don't even have to ask for cold water, I hope you know that," He scolds, and slips on a jacket as he cracks open the door and peers into the dark hallway, slipping into the darkness as the creak of the stairs proves his descent to the kitchen. The dim light in the room is comfortable, and you take Seokmin's side of the duvet into your hands, practically humming in his scent. It's calming to you, and it distracts you from the dull pain in your lower body.

Shuffling comes through the door after a few minutes of silence, and it closes seconds after as Seokmin hands you a mug of water, small, starshaped ice cubes and straw sticking from the lip of the mug.

"Drink it quickly, okay?" He questions, and you nod, doing as you're told before handing him the cup as he turns off the lamp and puts the two of you in complete darkness.

"Thank you, Minnie." You hum, grabbing his hand as you pull him under the blankets with you. He chuckles as you feel up and down his muscled arms, and sighs in contentment as you do that thing he thought was the cutest thing in the world: grabbing his wrists and placing his arms around your abdomen.

"Can you hug me tighter? It eases the pain a lot." You frown, and Seokmin scoots closer to your back, squeezing you comfortably as he kisses the shell of your ear.

"Is that better?" He asks, voice cute as he buries his face in your collarbone. You giggle at the feeling of his defined nose on your bare skin, and you nod, hands still on his as he peppers your shoulder with kisses.

"I'm sorry for waking you up, Seok. I didn't mean to disrupt your sleep." You sigh, and Seokmin shakes his head, lips spreading into a sheepish smile as he places another kiss to your bare skin.

"That's why I'm here. I'm your boyfriend after all. I want you to feel okay at all times, and I'll be more than happy to help you if that's what you need. I want to be your home." He hums as the two of you lapse into silence.

"You are my home, Seokmin. Plus—we live together." You giggle, and he blushes, laughing with you anyways. "Shush and let me take care of you," He teases, and you nod, falling quiet as the two of you exchange small talk, gossip, and whispers as if the two of you are teenage girls at a slumber party.

After a few minutes of talking—probably almost 45 in reality—your eyelids become heavy, and Seokmin notices this, pushing the blankets farther up under your chin as he presses his front side into you.

A smile graces his features as he hears your little snores, and he can't resist giving you a small kiss on your lips. You smile slightly at the feeling of his soft lips on your, and he can't help but blush at your little smirk, drifting away with his thoughts on you.

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rosieethor · 11 months ago

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Aromantic Books Let's Go!

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Summer Bird Blue by Akemi Dawn Bowman

Loveless by Alice Oseman

Take Me To Your Nerdy Leader by Hailey Gonzales

Being Ace edited by Madeline Dyer

Queerly Loving edited by G Benson and Astrid Ohletz

Common Bonds edited by Claudie Arseneault, C T Callahan, and RoAnna Sylver

Beneath the Citadel by Destiny Soria

Godly Heathens by H. E. Edgmon

The Grimrose Girls by Laura Pohl

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The Ice Princess's Fair Illusion by Dove Cooper

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Not Your backup by C. B. lee

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Natural Outlaws and Fractured Sovereignty by S. M. Pearce

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Two Dark Moons by Avi Silver

The Bruising of Qilwa by Naseem Jamnia

An Accident of Stars by Foz Meadows

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace

Archivist Wasp by Nicole Kornher-Stace

Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel

Syncopation by Anna Zabo

Dear Wendy by Ann Zhao

The Loudest Silence by Sydney Langford

Lord of the Empty Isles by Jules Arbeaux

Our Deadly Designs by Kalyn Josephson

The Final Curse of Ophelia Cray by Christine Calella

#aromantic #aromantic spectrum #aroace #aromantic awareness week #aromantic books #aroacebooks #queer books #lgbtqia books

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esotericpluto · 2 years ago

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where is your future spouse from

from left to right; intuitively choose the pile you feel more connected to. To make it easier, you can take a deep breathe, close your eyes and ask for guidance to your deities or guides. These are all general messages, so just take what resonates and leave what doesn't. This reading is timeless. If it resonates, feedback is always appreciated and motivates to keep doing pick a card readings. You can donate here.

dividers: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

pile 1

I feel like for most of you who picked this pile this person is of Asian descent. Keep in mind that Asia is a big country with many countries and ethnic groups, so I will try to break it down more.

I do feel like for some of you who chose this pile, your future spouse might be of korean origin, but I feel like they will be half white and/or live in the west, like Europe or North America. This message seems to be more true for those of you who have strong scorpio, aquarius and possibly aries influences in your chart. If your name starts with C, E or P or has a more vintage vibe to it, it can still be for you.

For another group who chose this pile, I'm sensing someone of indian origin, I'm getting they could be kashmir and, for some of you, even telugu as well. This feels especially true for those of you that have a strong sagittarius or leo influence in your charts or if your name starts by A, L or U.

I am getting for a minority of people who chose this pile, your fs might be of levantine origin, mainly lebanese and/or palestinian, living most likely in Lebanon, for some of you, or in Southern Europe as of now. I feel like this message is especially true for those of you with strong scorpio, taurus or libra placements. Especially those who get M, S or V as first names.

pile 2

For this pile, I'm specifically getting southeast asian, most likely indonesian and/or malay. I feel like they might be living in Singapore right now. If you are a capricorn, a virgo or a cancer or have strong influences from these signs, this might be the ethnicity of your fs.

I'm getting potentially someone is of sub-saharian african descent mixed with european for some people who picked this pile. I'm getting this person might have ancestors from different parts of Africa and Europe and I'm getting difficulty pinpointing some exact places. I feel like for some of you, they might be west african and partially british. For others, this person could be afrolatino from the caribbean. Signs for this one I'm only getting scorpio and pisces, but I'm also gettingthe initials C, M and D.

There is a smaller group of you that could have a fs from a eastern african country too, potentially Ethiopia or Somalia. I'm getting this is likely true for you especially if you always enjoyed cultures and foods from different african countries, if you like the color red or if your name starts by J, F or E. Potentially if you like orange or are a capricorn rising/sun/moon.

pile 3

I'm getting a strong european influence here. I feel like this person might be italian and, for some of you, of a similar background like iberian, balkan or greek. You will meet them while on a trip to their country or city, if you are from the same country. This might resonate the most with those of you who like the color green, to wear t-shirts or whose name starts with B. If you are a cancer, leo, libra or taurus, this might also be true for you.

For others of you, I'm getting this person might be mexican, likely of a mestizo background. I feel like they might be in the US living right now, although for some it could even be Canada. This might resonate more with you if you like green vegetables like spinach or broccoli, if you like coke, if you like the colors red and pink, if you like mermaids or are of strong aquarius, aries or gemini.

For some of you, although a larger minority, your fs might also be argentinian or brazillian. This can be true especially if you like soccer (I think this one are my guides joking), cinema, romance movies/books, the color white and pink, lana del rey. Alternatively, if your name starts by N, A or Z and your signs are leo, virgo or cancer.

#pac #pick a card #pick a pile #fs pac #fs pac reading #fs pick a card #future spouse readings #future spouse pac #future spouse pick a card #free readings #intuitive readings #tarot readings #love readings #love pac readings #free intuitive readings #free tarot readings

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y-rhywbeth2 · 8 months ago

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Naming Systems

For the humans and tieflings of Baldur's Gate (and half-orcs and half-elves who follow human naming systems rather than that of their non-human culture) Dwarves, elves and others will be done another time to save space.

Obviously I imagine you've all named your Tavs and Durges by now, but idk, I felt like doing this and maybe you've got random background OCs to name.

Sometimes people like to name their kids after gods. Like "Helm" and "Torm".

Chondathan

By far the most common names and surnames in Baldur's Gate (including non-human names).

Quite often people have no official surnames and use locations and vocations as surnames, like in real life (Blackgate, Cliffgate, Tumbledown, Tailor, Gardner)

Families of Cormyrean descent usually favour portmanteau surnames: Evenwood, Breakwood, Ironwinter, Summergate, Amblecrown, etc.

Residents of the Dalelands who move abroad often use the name of their Dale and shorten it. For example, Barantra from Tasseldale upon moving to Baldur's Gate would call herself "Barantra Tassel" and her descendants might continue to use that as a surname.

Dales: Archen, Scar, Tassel, Deeping, Harrow, Battle, Feather, High, Mistle, Shadow, Moon*, Sessren*, Tarkhal*, Teshen*, Dagger, Merry* *These dales have fallen to history. In the case of Merrydale, the name was changed to Daggerdale after an incident involving a brutal vampire infestation that led to a lot of violence and made everybody suspicious and hostile, so these surnames would indicate it's been a long time since your ancestors left the Dalelands.

Sembian families like to invent newer and grander surnames, in an attempt to make themselves look rich and important. This is less likely to be seen in the Western Heartlands, but I suppose it still may occur. Families often hyphenate their names so you might meet "Shandri Clarandal-Tarlroyal", or "Roakyn Dauncrown-Sardar"

Canon common given names: Masculine: Darvin, Dorn, Evendur, Gorstag, Grim, Helm, Malark, Morn, Randal, Stedd. Feminine: Arveene, Esvele, Jhessail, Kerri, Lureene, Miri, Rowan, Shandri, Tessele. (Plus a few dozen more I'm not typing out)

While the following isn't exactly canon I feel like you can get a name that "sounds about right" by breaking the syllables down and shoving on a syllable that goes on the end.

Like with the names "Lureene" and "Arveene", the ending is "eene" and you get the syllables "Lur" and "Arv". Then you could get new names by taking, idk, "Kerri" and "Miri". Ker+ri, Mi+ri = Lurri and Kereene and Arvri. Mieene doesn't really sound right, but idk.

Syllables Dar, Dor, D, Even, Gor, Gors, Gr, Mal, M, Rand, Ran, St, S, Arv, Esv, Jhes, Ker, Shand, Bev, Tes, Al, Ald, Alvae, And, Gal, Galag, Cath, Coran, Bold, Bol, Elbas, Ind, Jath, Ont, Prend, Baran, Coel, Dar, Em, Shar, Galiy, Hael, Saldv, Dal, Torv, Varan, Joy, Sar, Pip, Nan, Zor, Nok, Rorn, Far, Soor, Mi

Endings Masculine: -in, -vin, -orn, -dur, -ur, -tag, -stag, -im, -ark, -al, -dal, -edd, -arl, -rel, -rus, -us, -or, -ion, -stion, -ond, -dor, -yn, -dyn, -yk, -ryk, -ke, -il

Gorion, Darvin, Malryk, Tesor, Jathstag...

Feminine: -eene, -ele, -sail, -ri, -dra, -tra, -ra, -la, -ria, -ara, -arra, -one, -ue, -due, -syl, -ala, -ys, -ae, -naem, -ice, -e

Shandra, Miele, Darla, Arvone, Sarice, Cathtra, Bevra...

Alzhedo

The second most common group of names heard in the Gate, although early in the city's history I suspect Calishite and Illuskan names were more common. I note that "Jaheira" is likely an Alzhedo name (which makes sense, she's from Tethyr).

So, Calishite filial piety and subsequent naming standards are very detailed and specific: "A person is worthless without the identity gained by his name and that of his family."

A slave will have their given name and the name of the family that "owns" them. A large part of the population of Baldur's Gate are descended from former slaves, exiles and dissidents of the Calishite Shoon Empire, and would likely have originally borne names under that system.

In this case it's [name] adh [master's surname] So for example, Hamlil adh Tahandral. It's possible that it Hamlil had migrated northwards with her family that one of her descendants might be Miri Tahandral or something.

A freeman would list their title/s, their given name, their matronym or patronym, their family name, and their home town.

So if your name is Aseid, your father is Haseir, you're of House Dumein and you live in Baldur's Gate then: your full name, in the traditional manner, is "Aseid yn Haseir el Dumein yi Baldur's Gate," while if you have a sister, Ceidil daughter of Atala is called "Ceidil yr Atala el Dumein yi Baldur's Gate."

Adding your hometown onto the end is usually not necessary, and using it all the time is a sign of civic pride.

Diaspora, such as the Baldurians, usually drop the articles. Aseid Haseir Dumein Ceidil Atala Dumein.

Aseid may chose to use a matronym, Aseid Atala. This deliberately draws attention to her identity over her husband's which is unusual. It implies that his mother is particularly high ranking or infamous. Likewise Cidil may name herself Ceidil Haseir.

Clergy traditionally replace their family with their god, so if Aseid decides to go to the Rose Portal shrine and take up life in service to Lathander, he will be "Aseid el Lathander" or "Aseid Lathander".

Syllables As, Am, And, Bard, Has, Khem, Khe, Meh, Sud, Sudei, Zash, At, Ceid, Cei, Ha, Ham, Jah, Jas, Mei, Meil, Seip, Sei, Yash, Bash, Dum, Jas, Khal, Kha, Most, Mos, Pash, Amj, Tah, Tahan, Bhal, Mjo

Endings: M: -eid, -eir, -ed, -med, -en, -men, -man, -ad, -id, -al, -ein, -an, -ar, -ein, -san, -ir

Amen, Mehsan, Khemad, Zashein...

F: -ala, -edia, -eira, -eda, -il, -a, -ma, -al, -lil, -ida, -eina, -ana, -ara, -eina, -sana, -ira

Jaheira, Bhalil, Yashana, Tahma...

?: -sha

Canon common names: Masculine: Aseir, Bardeid, Haseid, Khemed, Mehmen, Sudeiman, Zashtir. Feminine: Atala, Сеidil, Hama, Jasmal, Meilil, Seipora, Yasheira, Zasheida. Common house names: Dumein, Jasan, Khalid, Mostana, Pashar, Rein.

Illuskan

Third most common group.

I can't find much of anything about how naming systems are supposed to work for Illuskans.

Some don't use them at all.

Some go for patronyms and matronyms: -sson and -sdottir, so you get like, Malcersson and Cefreysdottir. These do not seem to be common. Some surnames are: "Kurth", "Helder", "Rethnor", "Stornar", "Rhuul"... This is entirely headcanon/guessing, but maybe they're patronyms and matronyms with the suffix removed? Luthin Cefreysdottir -> Luthin Cefrey?

Some gain names for themselves, self-bestowed or bestowed by reputation, based on aspects of themselves or their deeds that they're proud of or that give them fame: Nimoar "the Reaver", Ornar "of the Claw".

Most have surnames of some kind, some are portmanteaus: "Tenfeather", "Hornraven", "Windrivver", "Hathwinter", "Brightwood", "Lackman", "Stormwind", "Gnarlybone." This seems to be the most common form of surname. I'm entirely hypothesising, but Illuskan cultures value bravery and strength (particularly in battle) so I'd assume those are deed-names, possibly inherited from a famous ancestor?

Syllables: And, Bla, Bl, Br, Fr, G, Lan, Land, L, Mal, Malc, Sto, Tam, Am, Ama, Be, Beth, Ce, Keth, Mar, Ol, Sili, West, Wes, Or, Alas, Aga, Jaun, Von, Oj, Ost. Uth, Nash

Endings: M: -er, -ath, -ran, -eth, -uth, -der, -or, -an, -nar, -gar

Nasher, Oruth, Landgar, Ander, Vonor, Westran...

F: -frey, -tha, -ra, -ga, -tra, -da, -in, -ya

Agatha, Ojya, Malda, Stoya, Ceda, Luthin...

Canon common names: Masculine: Ander, Blath, Bran, Frath, Geth, Lander, Luth, Maler, Stor, Taman, Urth. Feminine: Amafrey, Betha, Cefrey, Kethra, Mara, Olga, Silifrey, Westra.

Rashemi (Gur)

The Gur still speak a variant of the proto-Rashemi tongue amongst themselves in private, so depending on how much they assimilate or not I imagine at least some of the names might be similar?

I can find even less about Rashemaar surnames than I can anyone else right now.

Surnames used by Rashemi are: Chergoba, Dyernina, Itazyara, Murnyethara, Stayanoga and Ulmokina. Names like that might be Gur tribe names?

Syllables: Fyev, Bori, Bor, Faur, Hulm, Hul, Jand, Jan, Im, Kanith, Kani, Kan, Madi, Mad, Nav, Madis, Ralm, Shau, Shaum, Vladis, Vlad, Dyna, Min, Tam, Yul

Endings: M: -vik, -gar, -ik, -ar, -islak, -ak, -evik, -insk

F: -arra, -mith, -ith, -zel, -el, -dra, -ra, -heir

Canon common names: Masculine: Borivik, Faurgar, Jandar, Kanithar, Madislak, Ralmevik, Shaumar, Vladislak. Feminine: Fyevarra, Hulmarra, Immith, Imzel, Navarra, Shevarra, Tammith, Yuldra,

#Today I worked out that Jaheira's name is Alzhedo in origin #Which is a bit obvious in hindsight #...“The Dark Urge yn Bhaal el Bhaal yi Barrens of Doom and Despair” is a legit name #...“Durge Bhaal Bhaal”#Me: “Maybe today I'll talk about how the afterlife works”#Brain: “Nah research fantasy names instead.”#Me: “OK”#lore stuff

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moonlight-prose · 5 months ago

Note

"buying matching jewelry, but it doesn't mean anything, right?" WITH FRITZ PLEASEEE

LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME

a/n: so because summer is nearing it's last month and we have limited time i wanted to go full mamma mia vibes with this one. besides the friends to lovers vibes with him and this song...perfection. it was hot all week and that spurred me to finally work on this request. so i hope you enjoy babes!

summary: being best friends with fritz meant pretending you weren't hopelessly in love. it meant conversation on the beach, and friendship rings, and the utter shock of coming to the realization that...maybe he loved you too.

word count: 2.2k+

pairing: billy 'fritz' avalone x reader

warnings: fluff, a teeny bit of angst, romance, best friends to lovers, oblivious reader + obvious fritz, talk of marriage, mamma mia vibes, he's hopelessly in love it's cute, unedited + not betad.

The ring glinted in the sunlight, gold glimmering as the ocean did when the day hit the perfect hour. When the sun was slowly creeping along the sky, making a descent towards the horizon. That wouldn't come for a few more hours, but you couldn't stop yourself from sitting on the sand, eyes trained on how waves crashed to the shore.

You couldn't hear anything over the noise - the birds squawking in the distance the loudest echo along the empty coast. Somehow you managed to catch the beach during the week. When people weren't interested because they were tired from a long work day.

It rarely happened. Maybe once in a blue moon. And you soaked in the silence of humanity—nature calling you to her with a soft smile and even softer words.

"I wondered if I'd find you here."

A familiar tug pulled at your heart as you turned, seeing a familiar figure head towards you. He still wore his flight suit, his boots sinking into the sand with each step. But that didn't deter him from plopping beside you, a cold soda in his hand. An extra handed to you.

"Mav let us go early," he said, twisting the top off and gulping enough to down half the bottle.

"How did you know I'd be here?"

He shrugged. "You're always here."

"I'm not always here."

"Sure."

"I'm not–"

The smile on his lips silenced your argument—a knowing look glimmering in his brown eyes. There was no use in fighting him. He could see your different angles coming from a mile away. Giving up now would be easiest.

With a sigh, you turned back to the beach, condensation dripping onto your dress. "I needed some time away from the bar."

You didn't have to explain anything to him. Barely even had to utter a word before your discomfort was being teased out and noticed by him. That was the thing about Fritz. He could see your emotions before they even played across your face. Yet unlike others that came before, he somehow always managed to fix it before things got too bad.

"Did you want to come to my place for dinner?"

The grin played across your lips before you could even answer. "You mean your place filled with Yale and Harvard?"

"C'mon they're not that bad." He nudged you with his knee, taking another pull from his soda. "Besides, they're gone tonight. Something about free drinks at a sports bar."

You mulled it over—the small box in your jacket pocket practically burning a hole through the fabric. "Fine. Pizza, beers, and ice cream."

"Yes ma'am."

Clambering to his feet, he helped pull you up, the sun playing across his face and illuminating the grin he wore. If you could bottle up this memory and keep it close you'd open it every day. You'd take a peek of something so perfect—as if Aphrodite herself created him—just to hold this feeling in your chest. The way he looked at you left you confused, as if he saw you in a different light than just friendship.

But you never had the guts to ask him about it. So like a coward...you continued to let it go.

"I'll order in the car."

"Wait—" You gripped his arm, tugging him back a bit as you dug in your pocket. "I got you something yesterday. They had a jewelry stand in town and saw this..."

The box was brown, small and uninteresting. Until you pulled it open. A silver band etched with vines that matched yours lay in the center. You nearly left it behind—figuring he wouldn't want to wear something so dainty—but something screamed at you the second it appeared in your line of sight. The two were paired together.

Your size and his.

As if they'd been waiting for you to find them all along.

His eyes widened, breath catching in his throat, before he picked it out of the box carefully. "A ring?"

Heat spread rapidly along your cheeks, burning straight down to your chest. "You don't have to wear it. I just thought it was pretty and matched mine and..." With a cough you turned back to see another wave crash along the shore. Suddenly that's how you felt inside. "It's dumb I know."

"No it's not." Surprised etched into your chest, your gaze snapping back to him. Just in time to see how he slipped it on his left hand, smiling when it fit perfectly. Perhaps it was always meant to be there - resting along his skin, claiming his heart for yours. "I like it. Matches my dog tags."

You laughed. "I didn't get it cause of that."

"No, I know." His smile deepened. "But that's where it's going. So it'll match."

Warmth pooled in your stomach, curling around the base of your spine as he stared at his hand. A soft grin playing on his lips. And suddenly you were breathless—flutters filling your stomach as you realized what it looked like. What the others would say once they noticed him wearing a ring on his left hand. You didn't tell him where to place it, didn't offer up a certain hand.

He did it on his own without an ounce of hesitation in his body.

He wanted it there.

When you followed him to the car, you grasped the gold band on your right hand and subtly shifted it to your left. Matching him. If he noticed he didn't question you about it. And for that...you were grateful.

Turns out you were right.

Fritz was teased—rather ruthlessly—about wearing a silver band on his ring finger. Questions rose up around base. Who did he marry? Who had they not met yet? How on Earth could Fritz of all people be hiding a secret partner?

Until you served the group at the bar and Phoenix clocked the gold band on your hand. A knowing smile curving across her lips.

Thankfully she knew how to keep your mouth shut.

The same couldn't be said about Hangman.

"Where'd you get that shiny ring darlin'?" he shouted, reaching for your hand with a shit eating smile. "Lookie here gentlemen! It matches Fritz's."

"Fuck off Hangman." You yanked your hand back with a glare, twisting back to the bar.

It's not like you didn't know this was coming. The comments, the teasing. You knew someone would notice eventually, but that isn't what left you shocked and nervous. The fact that Fritz had yet to take it off sent your mind reeling. He wore it with pride. A smile gracing his plush lips whenever someone brought it up.

You'd even heard comments of it being looped around his tags as he flew—pressed close to his chest in the cockpit of his jet.

Was he wearing it to simply show you that this is how it would be? To prove that this was a silly gift. In the hopes that you would tell him he didn't have to constantly wear it.

That thought alone filled your stomach with dread. An ache forming in the pit of your body as you watched him from across the bar. You had half a mind to go over there—tell him to give it back so Hangman would get off his ass—but he looked at ease. As if nothing could bother him when the topic of conversation fell to you.

This shouldn't bother you that much, shouldn't leave you frazzled and on edge. And you didn't think it would get any worse.

Until the phone rang on a Thursday afternoon, echoing through the empty bar. You expected someone placing an order for lunch, perhaps a reservation for a table.

Hangman's voice filtering through the receiver is what floored you—his voice low and hoarse. Like he'd been shouting for far longer than he should have. And your stomach dropped.

"He's fine. Shaken up, but fine. Told me to call you."

"W–What do you mean? What happened?"

He sighed—shaky and breathless. "Engines gave out. Had to bail."

You didn't hear the rest, a shrill high pitched ring began pulsing in your ear. The words hit the ground hard and asked for you were all you could process before the phone was slamming back onto the base and you were running to the car.

Your breath was short, eyes dazed, but all that mattered was him. The image of him laying in the middle of a valley hurt tore you in half. So you slammed your foot on the gas, speeding through the streets without care.

An explanation would have to be given to Penny when she returned. You made a note to apologize later, but the airbase was in sight and you could see Hangman waiting by the front gate—a stern expression replacing his usual egotistical grin. That seemed to scare you more than what he said on the phone.

He waved you through, jogging to where you threw your car into park. Half out of the spot and crooked. None of that fucking mattered. None of it was real, because somewhere Fritz was hurt and the panic had started to eat you alive.

"Where is he?" you gasped, leaping out of the car. "What the fuck happened?"

His hands grasped your shoulders. "He's fine. Mav is making him sit on base until things level out. He's gotta see the doctor before heading home."

"Fuck," you breathed, tears pricking your eyes. "Can I–I see him? Will they let me on–"

He nodded, already leading you towards the familiar hangar. "Why do you think I'm here sweetheart? Mav had me wait for you to arrive."

On shaky legs, you did what he said when he said it. You flashed your I.D. to someone, said a monotone hello, and let Hangman take the front. A runway was to the left of you—jets lined up on the far side—but that's not what caught your attention.

The sight of a hunched over figure on a metal chair towards the front leveled the ground beneath you. The air suddenly rushed to your lungs as reality began to filter back.

He was okay.

"Avalone!" Hangman shouted. A head of dark hair snapped up, immediately setting his sights on you.

"Will?" you called.

A helmet dropped to the ground when he stood, rushing towards you quicker than he should have. And before Hangman could intervene, you started running. You sprinted with a speed you didn't know you had in you and met him halfway. Colliding against his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist tight enough to send an ache through your ribs. That didn't register, because the pain reminded you that he was still alive—still here to hug you.

"I was so scared," you gasped, digging your face into his shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief, his eyes falling shut. "I heard your jet crashed and just got here as soon as possible."

"'M okay," he mumbled. "I'm alive."

A sob broke free, tears streaming down your face, but that only made him tighten his hold. His breath warm along the back of your neck. Suddenly all the worries from the past week, all the anxiety you endured about what a stupid piece of jewelry meant didn't matter to you. How could it? When you nearly lost him today.

Living without Fritz wasn't something you wanted to know. It wasn't a future you wanted to have.

"I love you," you breathed, fingers curling into his hair.

He stilled, pulling back slightly until his face was directly in front of yours—nose nudging against yours. "Finally."

"What–"

The words of disbelief vanished when he kissed you. Because his lips were just as soft as you imagined, his touch was warm, and suddenly...the world around you vanished. He kissed you with a tenderness that had always existed in your friendship. A reverence he hoped you might notice one day. This wasn't due to injuries or fear. This was the final tie being knotted together in your relationship.

He didn't wear the ring to tease you. He didn't want to prove he shouldn't wear it.

He wanted to show you why he should.

"Marry me," he mumbled against your lips, the cold press of metal along your cheek sparked heat down your spine. "I've already got the ring."

Your eyes flew open to see his smile—bright and wide. "Marry you?" you breathed.

"Tomorrow."

"Will–"

"I'll take you to the courthouse. Call your mom. I'll do whatever you want, baby."

You clutched at his shoulders, searching his eyes for any falsity—any humor—and found none. "You're serious."

With a nod, he stole another kiss. His tongue swiped along yours far too quickly for your liking. "I almost died today and the only thing I could think about was that the ring around my neck wasn't real." He pulled back. "So I want to change that."

"By marrying me." The words didn't feel real, but somehow there they were.

"If you'll let me." His smile faltered slightly, hand stilling on the back of your neck. "Will...you let me?"

"Yes," you rushed out in one breath. Your eyes wide and hands pulling him close for another kiss. One he leaned into. "Yes. I'll marry you."

He smiled, tangling his fingers in your shirt - his palm sliding along bare skin. "Tomorrow," he mumbled against your lips.

"Tomorrow," you gasped.

#listening to the mamma mia soundtrack and writing this made me tear up #i love this man so much it's ridiculous #billy fritz avalone x reader #billy fritz avalone x you #billy fritz avalone x y/n #billy fritz avalone #billy avalone x reader #fritz x reader #fritz x you #fritz x y/n #top gun maverick #my writing

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vivaciousoceans · 8 months ago

Text

lovely daggers pierced my heart moons ago

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton / Cressida Cowper

Rating: T+

Warning (s): None

Word Count: 1,538

Genre: Fluff, Mild Smut (if you squint and blink)

Eloise is different from Daphne, she has softer features, darker tresses, and she's most certainly not as poised as the ’diamond’ of two seasons ago. Yet, Eloise possesses the same captivating Bridgerton blue eyes that could melt hearts in mere moments, assuming one was foolish enough to be ensnared by their allure. Once ensnared, no man nor woman could save you from yourself or the lengths to which you’ll go to keep those eyes in your life. Cressida concludes that this must be how Penelope Featherington found herself entangled in the unexpected predicament of receiving tutelage in the art of husband-hunting from none other than Colin Bridgerton. It would be quite amusing, were it not for her own precarious position—clinging to the Bridgerton in her life by any means necessary.

She’d long regretted her behavior with Daphne, and not just because the elder Bridgerton had ascended to the esteemed rank of Duchess. Once upon a time, they had been friends, a bond that now seemed to belong to another era entirely. The transition from girlhood to womanhood had created an unbridgeable chasm between their worlds, rendering their past friendship a distant, bittersweet memory.

When she’d extended a genuine offer of friendship to Eloise last season, determined to make amends, she’d been surprised by the rejection, nevertheless she tried to appear unaffected. In reality, she had pondered that moment every night until the summer, when Eloise finally decided to embrace society. Cressida couldn’t deny that she was a little disheartened at first, Eloise's spirit seemed to have been subdued by her scandal last season. She had secretly envied the younger woman, not just for her prestigious family name and connections. She wished she didn’t care so much about the tons perception of her; she wished the thought of being a spinster didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and goosebumps rise along her arms. The idea of being forced to marry one of her father’s older friends made her stomach turn, and she would do almost anything to avoid that fate.

Except give up one of her most hard-won possessions, although she knows she can’t truly call Eloise hers. One day, Eloise would probably belong to a man too, just like Daphne, just like all the girls before Daphne. The ones who made her heart skip a beat, and her fingers linger just a little too long, hoping they felt what she felt. She was never surprised when they didn't.

Eloise is different from Daphne though, different from all the girls after Daphne. Eloise doesn’t want to talk about men and titles, she doesn’t worry herself with matters of imported fabrics and lace, or even the latest gossip. With Eloise, when they’re alone, she’s not a spinster, she doesn’t have to want to be a wife or a mother; the world around them is endless, and their voyages are vast.

Eloise doesn’t want her to be anyone besides Cressida Cowper, a lady of witty banter and immense intelligence. It’s comforting to finally be enough after being told for so long that she needed to be more.

Perhaps that is why she decided to abandon her sanity, to succumb to the temptations she had long resisted. Perhaps that’s why she’d decided to throw caution to the wind, interrupting Eloise’s speech with a kiss. In that fleeting moment of passion, she'd come to realize she was willing to embrace whatever consequences came her way, even if it meant risking her reputation and defying societal expectations.

Part of her moved as if in a dream, every moment heightened as she leaned in, her slender fingers gently cupping Eloise’s cheeks, noting the constellation of freckles marking the supple flesh. Cressida had every opportunity to halt, to retreat, but she continued her descent.

Another part of her moves with the swiftness of a heartbeat, her lips finding Eloise’s with a passionate tenderness, enveloped by the velvet warmth of Eloise’s lips. Every part of her senses seemed intensified, heightened by the forbidden intimacy. She could feel each delicate ridge on Eloise’s lips, could taste the lingering essence of the mint tea they had shared earlier, and could hear the subtle hitch in Eloise’s breath as it halted to a stop.

The younger woman remained motionless beneath her, her body still in the same position, mid-ramble about some novel or another. Eloise’s words always seemed to cascade together when she was truly excited, and though Cressida struggled to follow sometimes, she could never resist the enchantment of the way blush spread across the brunette’s cheeks and the way her eyes seemed to widen with passion.

Cressida knew such a defense would scarcely be believed—that she somehow swooned and fell upon Eloise’s lips.

Suddenly a surge of fear courses through her, a stark reminder that she is far too intelligent to be this reckless, to allow herself to let the comfort of friendship and the passion of lust lead her to this forbidden moment.

She attempted to pull back, to apologize for her behavior, salvage whatever remained of her reputation or even their friendship.

Her efforts are halted by Eloise's firm grip, anchoring the hand that Cressida had cupped against her face in place. Cressida's gaze drifted down to meet Eloise’s, witnessing the dilation of her pupils, the darkening of her irises, and the gentle graze of her teeth over her bottom lip, as if contemplating her next move.

Time seemed to freeze, suspended in an eternal moment, though Cressida knew only seconds had passed before Eloise acted. With a swiftness fueled by fervent urgency, Eloise initiated a kiss that far surpassed the confidence of Cressida’s own. There was no hesitation as Eloise delved into Cressida’s mouth with her tongue, sweeping across her bottom lip, eliciting a tiny gasp from Cressida's lips. Cressida pondered whether Eloise had experienced this before, whether she had kissed a man or even another woman, or if Eloise was just eager, a student in all areas of life. Such thoughts were swiftly brushed aside as Eloise’s hands began to explore, tracing down Cressida’s sides, skimming the fabric of her gown until Cressida found herself reclining on her family's settee, her head grazing the armrest in surrender to the intoxicating allure of the moment.

Eloise didn’t break away from her, her soft hands deftly navigating through layers of fabric to discover Cressida’s smooth, pale skin that had only known the touch of daylight within the confines of her bedchambers. As Eloise's warm fingers caressed her calf, gently kneading and coaxing forth a string of whimpers from her lips, Cressida found herself contemplating the sensation. Would it feel the same with a man? If his fingers were tracing the contours of her thighs, inching closer to her heat, his lips upon hers, would her entire being ignite, writhing under his touch as she did under Eloise’s? She doubts it. Questions whether anyone could reduce her agile mind to such a state of bliss as Eloise effortlessly did.

How could she return to the life society and her parents expected of her now that she had savored true euphoria? The mere thought threatened to send her into a fit of hysterics, but the sudden absence of Eloise’s lips on hers snaps her back to reality. She doesn’t have time to yearn for Eloise's presence, she feels those same lips resurface moments later, tracing a path from the corner of her lips to just under her chin, and then to that spot behind her ears that catches her off guard, eliciting a louder response than she ever intended.

It sobers her, reminding her of her surroundings, of the company she keeps. At any moment, one of her maids or even her parents could intrude upon the sitting room, catching her in a compromising situation.

Cressida gently pushed at Eloise’s shoulders, barely containing the whine threatening to escape her throat as Eloise withdrew from their intimate embrace, her gown swiftly falling back into place. She could sense the unspoken questions swirling behind the veil of lust in Eloise’s eyes, scrutinizing every inch of her being. Had Eloise always regarded her with such fervent intensity? Unable to bear the weight of the brunette’s gaze, Cressida averted her eyes and cleared her throat, her fingers smoothing out the wrinkles in her gown as she spoke.

“I shall instruct my maid to prepare my chambers for our deliberation on gowns for tonight's ball,” she declared, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within her. Was she being presumptuous? What would Eloise think of her? What would they even do once they got to her room? So many questions, so many feelings, and yet, none of them made her want to reconsider this for even a moment.

“Very well, Miss Cowper,” Eloise murmured, her voice husky with formality and an undertone of amusement that did not escape Cressida's notice. When their eyes finally met, Cressida detected a teasing glint dancing upon Eloise’s pink lips, and in that moment, she realized that Miss Eloise Bridgerton may just be the harbinger of her downfall. Perhaps it was a hereditary trait, passed down from Bridgerton to Bridgerton—the uncanny ability to be both someone's salvation and their greatest frustration.

#teya creates #bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #cressida cowper #eloise x cressida

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erenriu · 6 months ago

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To the beat of your hands

It’s an old post I’ve shared on Twt and cross-posted on ao3, but I HC that Ratio definitely knows sign language, and that Aventurine would be fascinated by it. I’ve written a short story about it!

Aventurine has always known Ratio is a scholar who explores various areas of knowledge. He does this to gain a deeper understanding of people, ultimately aiming to help them develop into self-sufficient and capable individuals. However, he wasn’t previously aware that Ratio knows sign language. This fact only came to light by chance when Aventurine happened to be passing by the intelligentsia guild to deliver a message to Ratio.

Aventurine’s footfalls faltered, his errand momentarily forgotten upon noticing Ratio engaged in a conversation with someone he assumes is a student. From a distance, he watches a silent concerto unfold. Though Ratio’s lips dance in silent conversation, his message flows through a different channel.

A slow descent, Aventurine’s gaze dips, captivated by the ballet of Ratio’s hands. He tunes in to how the notes play through the movement of his fingers. Each gesture builds upon the last - a rise in tempo, a fluttering phrase - composing sentences as lyrical as any aria.

Traditionally, knowledge flows through the melody of shared language. Yet, it’s the very thing that also hinders it. No doubt, with a heart as big as Ratio’s, he will always take the time to learn and understand new ways of communication so that knowledge is truly accessible to everyone. This genuine compassion is one of the things Aventurine admires most about him, though he will never admit it openly. Perhaps someday, though…

As the conversation settles into a soothing cadence, Aventurine steps forward, his message for Ratio regarding the IPC waiting. Yet, his mind remains tethered to the silent symphony just witnessed. The way Ratio’s hands dance, each movement a note in harmony with the invisible song of language. Though strong and broad, they move with a surprising grace, their gestures as light and fleeting as whispers on a breeze. The image lingers in his mind, one that refuses to fade.

At first, it starts from genuine curiosity. When Aventurine checks in for the night, dressed in silk pajamas, he stands before a mirror. In a single decisive moment, Aventurine raises his hands. Tentative at first, like a hesitant musician testing the notes, he begins to mimic Ratio’s movements, carefully recreating them from memory.

But like a young fledging, Aventurine’s attempts are clumsy. His hands fumble for the proper shapes, the sensation of air instead of brass beneath his palms. The graceful movements he’s witnessed become awkward tangles, like discordant notes struggling to form a melody. Learning the mechanics of musical language has never been easy.

A genuine curiosity turns into growing interest. In the hushed evenings, as the world outside lulls into a gentle murmur, Aventurine surrenders his hands to the rhythm of song. What begins as a hesitant scattering of half-notes coalesced into full, resounding chords. He experiments with textures, the staccato splutters giving way to legato’s smooth flow.

Two moons has waxed and waned since Aventurine’s first clumsy attempts. With each dedicated practice session, the notes Aventurine can string together grows richer and more complete. While his fluency doesn’t match that of a native speaker or Ratio’s skill level, a harmony, however simple, takes shape. He can now communicate; a bridge built fingertip by fingertip.

In the secluded corner of the IPC cafeteria, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby window, Aventurine finishes his lunch a while ago. Across from him, Ratio meticulously dissects his sirloin, his brow furrow in concentration. Is he simply deep in thought, or nearing the edge of blunt honesty regarding Aventurine’s latest business venture? Neither prospect is unwelcome; still, with this newfound skill in his repertoire, Aventurine feels compelled to put it to the test.

Taking a deep breath, Aventurine raises his hands, posture poised. He holds his gaze until Ratio finally glances up from his plate. Seizing the opportunity, in that brief intermission, Aventurine’s fingers strum the opening notes: “That’s quite an interesting look on your face, doctor. Is something on your mind?”

If Ratio isn’t surprised before, he certainly is now. Aventurine can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes this unexpected development. A low chuckle rumbles in Aventurine’s chest as he watches Ratio struggle to regain his composure, savoring the moment - Ratio, the ever-collected doctor, rendered speechless. It’s almost comical, and quite a rare sight to see.

Ratio still flounders for a response, his voice falling flat. He catches himself, his expression softening as his hands slow to a more measured pace. “Nothing particularly pressing.” He signs. “Although you’ve piqued my curiosity. When precisely did this interest in sign language arise? Given the demands of your position, I wouldn’t have necessarily categorized you as someone with the leisure for such pursuits.”

“Well, I certainly love to give credit where it’s due. Let’s just say your dedication sparked a curiosity in me to explore this avenue. Additionally, I also see this as a strategic opportunity to broaden my skill set and ultimately increase my value to the IPC. After all, versatility is a powerful card to hold. And as they say, in this game of life, it’s always good to keep your opponents guessing, my friend.”

Ratio’s fingers dance a question. “And exactly how is that going?”

Aventurine’s smile widens, and his own hands rise in response.“I think I’m sort of getting the hang of it.”

It’s as if Aventurine has transported to an auditorium, occupying the very front row at a grand symphony. Yet, it’s not the enthralling interplay of violins and cellos, nor the booming pronouncements of the brass section, that holds him captive. No, his gaze is drawn to the maestro on the podium, their hands a conduit to the manner of which music should be played. The artist who breathes life into the score, coaxing meaning from thin air. With each precise gesture, a polyphony of notes flutter out from the pages, dry ink metamorphosing into a breathtaking cascade.

There is always something intricate about the way Ratio signs. His hands move with the tempo of a silent orchestra. Yet, there’s a surprising gentleness to his movements. A raw honesty that spoken words can’t always convey. It’s transparent, a message truly spoken from the heart.

Ratio signs, his hands continuing their graceful movements until the final note fades, a slow and sustained ending. “That, you truly are, dear gambler.”

It’s quite self indulgent, but I genuinely really love sign language, and I truly find it fascinating. So I conveyed that same interest onto aventurine too. There’s a musicality in the way hands move, just like in every spoken language. I really do think there's something beautifully intricate about it.

However, it’s quite difficult to show the beauty of the language without the prose sounding flat and repetitive through fiction, so I went quite heavy on the poetic prose and metaphorical language route. Perhaps in hopes y’all see what I see. (Or at least the infatuation aventurine has for Ratios hands!)

#aventio #hsr #honkai star rail #love the idea of Aventurine having a thing for Ratio’s hands

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 10 months ago

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15 Beautiful Lover-to-Enemies Dialogue Prompts | Betrayal Prompts

"Do you remember the vows we made under the moon's gentle glow? How quickly they turned to ash, scattered by the winds of deceit."

"Your words were once my solace, but now they cut deeper than any blade forged in malice."

"In the labyrinth of our love, I found myself lost, only to realize you were the minotaur lurking in the shadows."

"Every kiss we shared was a dagger coated in honey, sweet yet deadly."

"The stars witnessed our passion, but they now mock our folly as we stand on opposite sides of a war we ourselves ignited."

"Our hearts beat as one, once upon a time. Now they drum the rhythm of discord and resentment."

"I thought I knew the depths of your soul, only to find abysses of betrayal waiting to devour me whole."

"Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I emerge from the ruins of our love, reborn as your adversary."

"You were the melody to my symphony, but now your discordant notes shatter the harmony we once shared."

"We danced on the edge of oblivion, oblivious to the precipice that awaited our descent into enmity."

"The echoes of our laughter haunt me, mocking the innocence we thought would shield us from the venom of betrayal."

"Our love was a tapestry woven with threads of gold, now unraveling into a tangled web of lies and deception."

"I offered you my heart on a silver platter, only for you to feast upon it with the appetite of a ravenous beast."

"We were poets of passion, crafting verses of devotion with every whispered promise. Now our words are weapons, dripping with venomous intent."

"The sunrise that once painted our love with hues of warmth and hope now heralds the dawn of our animosity, casting long shadows of regret across the battlefield of our hearts."

Short Note From Me!

Many fans of Enemies to Lovers often overlook the possibility of exploring Lover to Enemies. This underrated trope is one of my favorites and I believe it has the potential to make a novel truly stand out. If you have space in your story for this unique twist, I assure you it will result in an amazing read.

I created these dialogue prompts to inspire writers to explore the theme of lovers turning into enemies, showcasing a different form of betrayal.

Happy writing - Rin T.

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 1 month ago

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Hello. I watched the show the haunting of hill house on Netflix recently. And I am really impressed with Oliver Jackson-cohen and then I remember he was a popular fancast for moonknight. he lowkey looks like Smallwood's MK and he's a great actor and he's Jewish. What are your thoughts on him as Moon knight?do you think he can do better than Oscar Isaac? Most of comic mk fans who doesn't like the mk show prefers him than Oscar isaac.

So I have not watched Haunting of Hill House and know nothing of Oliver Jackson-Cohen except what I just looked up. He looks alright. I'm sure he's amazing.

When they announced Oscar Isaac, I was skeptical because I only knew him from Star Wars as Poe, which I enjoyed very much, but I didn't know the man's range.

I've mentioned many times that I am always skeptical of any Moon Knight media until I can take it in for myself (Marvel has hurt me far too many times).

I think for the story they told, Oscar did an outstanding job and his need to do his own research and advocate for certain groups was amazing.

I am… Mildly... miffed that Marvel has put Oscar in other roles. (Don't get me wrong. I adore him as Spider-man 2099 Miguel. And he was in that role first before he was Moon Knight). What annoys me about it is that the re-use of an actor is taking away from someone else of that culture to get exposure, work, and representation.

Oscar Isaac is of mixed Latino descent and fits the Latino Miguel role nicely. He can use his accent and his Spanish! Full love!

Now, here's the problem. Was Marvel going to cast someone Jewish to play Moon Knight?

Did they cast someone Jewish to play Magneto? What about Billy Maximoff?

What about upcoming Ben Grimm? Arguably THE most Jewish Marvel character they have?

Ebon Moss-Bachrach is an American Jewish actor from New York (I am not going to get into any patrial lineal arguments). Baruch Hashem! It can be done!

They gave a Jewish role to a Jewish actor. THE most Jewish character they have (I'm not going to argue about Magneto here but I feel like Ben Grimm and Magneto are their own different sides to the same coin. ask me more about that later).

I feel like Marvel bit off a lot of attempted representation with Moon Knight and jumped in half cocked.

Grief stricken, Traumatized, PTSD former soldier, D.I.D,, Jewish, Avatar to an Egyptian Moon God, Autistic, anger management problem… I'm sure I'm missing a few…

If they gave this role to a Jewish Actor, it would have been purely by accident.

Moon Knight was SO underrated in the Marvel universe I just about had a heart attack when they said they were going to give him a live action series!

So now they had to take a VERY unknown character who has a history of being seen as "The Crazy face ripping off Egptian God Worshiping guy" and make people want to watch the show. People who probably didn't even read the comics as well as die hard comic fans.

How do you do that? You give them a well known and well liked Actor who will draw people in just to see that actor.

And it worked.

The number of people that started watching the show who had never done ANYTHING Marvel before SPIKED thanks to Oscar. It was a VERY smart play.

What I am VERY happy they didn't do? Cast some white guy.

Oscar Isaac's casting opened up the possibility of Sephardic Moon Knight. Comic Moon Knight is VERY Ashkenazi jewish Orthodox. Up until this point, there were people who had no idea that there were other types of Jews! Hispanic Jews? Whhhhaaaaat?!

I think that is an amazing conversation to have! And man I wish they had explored THAT prospect! Make my Moon Knight Sephardic! Heck yeah! See my boys getting down to Ladino music! A little Salsa in the club and a little gefilte fish veracruzana on Friday night!

So, yes... we could have had more comic accurate Moon Knight... But is it more important to get a guy that looks like the character or someone that can play the character and open new doors?

I would love to see Ladino Jake. The sass. The attitude. The swears.

But back to the original question: Moon Knight played by an actual Jewish Actor. I'd love to see it. Again, I don't know anything about Oliver, but I'm not a comic purist and don't need the characters to LOOK like the characters. As long as they can show up and make me believe they are the character, I'm happy.

Did you know they invented Marvel Ultimate because of Sam Jackson? White Nick Fury was so ingrained and popular in 616 that when Sam Jackson got the role, and was GOOD at it, they immediately went "How do we marry the comics with MCU so we can have Sam Jackson comics without going "Ignore all that white guy stuff"?!? And now we have Marvel Ultimate Universe.

I plan to watch the Haunting series someday (I started the other one but had to stop because life happened and I never got back to it), so maybe I'll be sad they didn't cast Oliver. But I'm not sure his role would have fit in with the style of what the show was trying to do. Maybe if they had put out a Moon Knight movie, it would have needed a different guy.

#ask away #Talk to me about Moon Knight #I have a lot of opinions on Sephardic Moon Knight now that I didn't know I needed before #We do need more Jewish rolls being put in Jewish hands #I wish I could ask Oscar if the repeated rolls he gets as Jewish Characters has let him look into his own family Jewish heritage #I wonder how he feels about it now #He did the roll very respectfully #There will always be unhappy fans #Thank you for the ask it made me look into the new Fantastic Four and now I am curious #If they don't give us Yiddish Ben Grimm I'll riot

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kanekoii · 1 year ago

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hear me out.. xsoleil one bed trope 👁

like, imagine reader and xsoleil member on a school trip, and the room they booked had to be changed to a one-bed room :3

lyra’s notes -> i will in fact hear you out on this

pairings -> xsoliel x gn! reader

genre -> fluffy scenario + silly little hotel things cuz lowkey why is staying in a hotel so much fun

song -> pink cheeks - eldon

warnings -> not established relationship, food mentions, reader wears a swimsuit in melo’s but no body types or anatomy is mentioned for reader :), why does this take place in such a fancy hotel lol

VER VERMILLION ->

due to the sudden change in arrangements with your room in particular, it left poor kaichou insanely flustered and wondering what the hell he was to do in that situation. he’d end up walking shyly back into the shared main room in his black and red pajama pants and grey t-shirt, hair taken out of its usual side-swept style and tousled, hanging slightly over his rose colored eyes. in an attempt to make it less awkward, he’d make a small divider using blankets between your bodies. but before either of you went to bed, ver heard your stomach grumble and suggested you go to the small in-hotel café downstairs in your pajamas together. the elevator ride downstairs was full of giggles and some looks from the people around you, wondering why students were at a hotel, not knowing it was for a counsel trip.

the downstairs café was very calm in atmosphere, ver ordering a pastry and a hot tea while continuing to talk and crack jokes with you. god, he was adorable. as the night went on, he quietly encouraged you to head back to your shared room to rest, and you obliged with sleepy eyes and an equally quiet voice.

you had no idea what had went on while the both of you were asleep, but you woke up in the counsel president’s arms as he slept so peacefully, as if you were simply a plushie. you were wrapped in warm blankets and so was he, ver’s warm body drawing you ever closer to him. you couldn’t help but drift into a deep sleep again with his warmth as your company.

MELOCO KYORAN ->

she figured it would be a good idea to go to the hot tub for a bit to de-stress. she invited you to go with her with a smug smile on her face as she adjusted the deep purple silk bathrobe she wore over her swimsuit. meloco was more than happy to have you accompany her, it was just an excuse to get even closer to you. seeing as her hair was very long, it was tied into a loose bun high up on her head so the chlorinated water didn’t interfere with its softness.

you sat in that hot tub with her for what might have been hours as the sun finished its descent under the horizon and the moon and stars took its place. she was so enthusiastic when talking to you, in stark contrast to her usual stern and sarcastic manner.

she would flop down on your now shared bed in her adorable and soft, lavender colored nightshirt that hung over her body like a dress. her long hair hung flat to her head since she had taken a shower after the hot tub. a glance at the clock would tell you that it was far past midnight and time to sleep. meloco wouldn’t mind holding you in her sleep, in fact she would really like it if given your consent cuz consent is hot. you’d wake up with your head on her soft chest as if it were a pillow (booba 🤤).

DOPPIO DROPSCYTHE ->

why is bro so enthusiastic about this. it’s almost like he has a crush on you or something. he’d get pizza or something of the like that you enjoy delivered to your room while you watch reality tv with him. please watch 90 day fiancé with him he will become even more infatuated with you as he munches on his pizza while making the silliest comments on the show. his hair would be tousled and messy, his pajamas would be black sweatpants and a dark pink-purple shirt with a white design on it saying “#1 cheftecfive”. you couldn’t help but giggle at his shirt and how cute he looked in it.

you’d stay up with him late into the night until you fall asleep and end up resting your head on his shoulder. piochan would gently wrap a blanket around you and turn the tv’s volume down until he was ready to go to bed. he’d wrap his strong arms around you and hold you like a little teddy bear.

ugh imagine his deep and slightly raspy morning voice as he wishes you a good morning, holding you so tightly.

KOTOKA TORAHIME ->

she’s so precious. girl will be so excited to share a room with you and watch movies long into the night, so excitedly exclaiming how happy she is to be with you for your time together. she’d eventually decide to keep the movies playing even if she’s about to fall asleep, which ended with you holding each other, fast asleep by the time the sun began riding.

kotoka would wake up first, not wanting to leave your arms or let go of you and letting herself fall asleep. her onesie was so cozy to snuggle her in, you just couldn’t help but hold her tightly in your sleep.

you’d awake so happily in the morning too, just so excited to have kotoka by your side in her adorable cat onesie. she’d get breakfast delivered to your shared room, filled with giggles on the cool morning.

HEX HAYWIRE ->

oughhh he is so teasing about it. he won’t hesitate to hold you and be your big spoon in his sleep, brushing your hair after your bath or shower at night or morning (personally i’m a night bath kinda guy but yk) and saying affirming things to you in his naturally deep and gravelly voice. he’s so. ugh.

hex will wake you up in the morning with your favorite caffeinated drink and something you’ll eat for breakfast with a gentle smile on his face as he adjusts his glasses.

the way he looks when you wake up before him though…god. his hair will be more tousled than usual, his normally sharp eyes closed in soft sleep and the most small and gentle smile on his face as he presumably dreams a happy dream. you can’t help but fall asleep to the sound of his gentle and calm breathing.

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