#their scenes are so quiet and yet speak volumes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ailoda · 25 days ago

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˚☽˚.⋆ favourite writers

@moonstruckme

@ellecdc

@luveline

@sunnami

@crescenthistory

@unconventional-lawnchair

@iamgonnagetyouback

˚☽˚.⋆ favourite fics

Someone You Loved - @bobluvbot

Your relationship with Sirius hurt so much, that the only way forward was to forget.

This was the first fic I thought of when compiling this list. Words truly can't explain the feelings that I have, but I'll do my best :) It's absolutely breathtaking in its emotional depth and storytelling finesse. From the very first line, it draws you into a world of tender vulnerability and aching love. It's so beautifully crafted and executed, with each scene building on the last to create a narrative that feels as natural as it is compelling. The pacing is also spot-on, giving the emotional beats the room to land while steadily moving the plot forward. And don't get me started on the storyline; it's so heartfelt and bittersweet, weaving themes of loss, healing, and love in a way the feels so deeply personal. It doesn't shy away from the complexities of emotions, instead embracing them fully to create a story that lingers with you long after you've finished reading (I say this after MONTHS of failing to get over this fic). One thing that makes it so captivating is the way it captures the quiet moments—the unsaid words, lingering touches—that speak volumes. Additionally, the characterisation is stunning. The emotions of the characters are so raw and real that you can't help but be swept up in their journey. The way Dani balances the pain and hope is truly masterful, creating a dynamic that feels authentic and deeply moving. It's in the smallest details—the expressions, the gestures, even the silences—that the characters truly come alive, making their emotions feel almost tangible. Overall, this fic is a masterpiece of quiet intensity. It's not just a story—it's an experience that grips you by the heart, breaks it, and then carefully stitches it back together. I can only pray to the heavens above that there is a part two.

The Way I See You - @g1rld1ary

You're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. They finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper.

Again, one of the first fics I thought of when compiling this list. It's a beautifully tender exploration of love, self-perception, and quiet acceptance. From the first moment, it captivates you, drawing you into a story that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. The pacing is gentle yet purposeful, allowing each emotional beat to resonate fully while weaving together a narrative that keeps you wholly invested until the very last word. The storyline is a masterclass in subtlety and emotion, perfectly capturing the struggles of vulnerability and self-doubt while showing the transformative power of love (sappy, I know, but true). The way Gia is able to build the relationship is nothing short of magical (hehe)—it's not rushed or overly-dramatic but instead grows organically through meaningful conversations, thoughtful actions, and quiet moments of connection and vulnerability. Remus is portrayed with such depth and nuance that you can't help but fall in love with him, and the reader's perspective is equally as compelling, making their emotions feel raw and real. The dynamic between them is so beautifully balanced, filling with an unspoken understanding and a tenderness that feels comforting and inspiring. What I love most about this fic is its ability to convey so much through the little things—soft touches, lingering looks, and words that carry weight far beyond their surface meaning. It's a story that feels intimate and personal, like it was written just for you. It's the kind of fic that stays with you, a quiet reminder of how love can be a healing force. It’s heartfelt, gorgeously written, and brimming with the kind of warmth that makes you want to read it over and over again—which I have :)

We Can't Be Friends (wait for your love.) - @sunnami

A joke about Remus having cute kids gets away from you in the best way.

An absolute masterclass in the subtle tension and emotional complexity of a poly relationship. The slow-burn of this story is one of its greatest strengths, and the way it unfolds allows each of the Marauders to shine individually while also showing the deep connections between them. The alternating dynamics between the reader and each of the Marauders—whether it's the tenderness, the playful teasing, or the quiet understanding—feels organic and never forced. You get a real sense of their relationships with the reader, as well as the unique chemistry each character brings to the trio. The storyline itself is deeply emotional, masterfully exploring each character and their own fears and hesitations, but ultimately supporting one another. Not only that, but the pacing is flawless, allowing space for the characters to work through their doubts and understandings, making the eventual culmination of their feelings all the more satisfying. The emotional stakes of this fic are heightened by the poly dynamic, and it’s this aspect that gives the relationships such rich depth. The way the characters handle their growing feelings for each other—dealing with jealousy, communication, and discovering how their bond can work—feels real and raw. But what really stands out to me is how each Marauder’s unique traits complement the others. Whether it’s James’ boldness, Sirius’ charm, or Remus’ quiet understanding, their interactions are electric, and you can feel the genuine affection they have for one another. There’s a sweetness to how they come together, each step in their journey feeling more intimate and grounded in trust and understanding. The ending is the perfect balance of emotional payoff and hope. It captures the essence of relationships—complex, imperfect, but filled with love—and leaves you with a sense of warmth and contentment. I re-read this fic so many times it's unhealthy.

Bless the Telephone - @777heavengirl

James Potter is positively useless with muggle technology, doesn't matter how much Remus tries to teach him, James cannot seem to grasp it— even the telephone. It’s not so bad though— At least he met you

This series is just an absolute gem—sweet, nostalgic, and just brimming with charm. It's barely just begun, but I'm so excited to read what's next! It strikes the perfect balance between lighthearted fun and deeper, emotional beats, creating a story that feels complete yet leaves you wanting more. Every interaction feels meaningful, whether it’s the playful banter that leaves you grinning, or the quieter moments of vulnerability that tug at your heartstrings. James Potter as a character is written to perfection; his charisma practically leaps off the page, but it's his softer, more tender side that truly shines. His and the reader's dynamic is so well-crafted that you can't help but root for them from the start. What I love most about it is how effortlessly it captures the warmth and excitement of falling in love. It's the little moments—the playful teasing, the stolen moments and unspoken emotions—that make it feel so real and relatable. It feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

You Woke Me Up For This? - @crescenthistory

Barty is bored in the middle of the night, so of course he goes to you.

Carina is a favourite for a reason—showcased by how difficult it was to choose only one fic. But this fic is an absolute delight— a perfect mix of humour, tenderness, and moments to give you butterflies. It's sharp and intentional, with a pacing that keeps you engaged from start to finish. Each scene is crafted so well, creating a soft and seamless flow that pulls you into the story while allowing the humour, emotion, and vulnerability to shine. The storyline is simple but so brilliantly executed; thriving on the charm of its characters and the intimate hilarity of their interactions, building a warm undercurrent of affection. What I adore about and serves as a testament to Carina's writing ability is the way it turns a seemingly mundane situation into something so endearingly extraordinary, layering humour and and heart in a way that feels both naturally and deeply satisfying. It has many strengths, but one of the fic's greatest is its character dynamics. The banter is somehow sharp and witty while perfectly balancing with the moments of genuine vulnerability that catch you off guard in the best way. The dialogue also feels so alive in a way that it manages to capture the personalities of the characters so vividly that you can practically hear their voices and guess their next reaction. What truly sets it apart is how it manages to intertwine the comedic and the heartfelt so seamlessly. The humour serves it's purpose masterfully without undermining the emotion, and the tender moments never feel out of place amidst the humour. It's a story that leaves you smiling—not only because it's funny, but because it's brimming with an endearing warmth and charm.

Morose Manatees - @ellecdc

James is told to leave barty x potter!reader alone.

Difficult to choose only one from Elle, but it has to be a Barty one for me, and this one is my favourite. It's a perfect mix of humour, affection, and heartwarming emotional beats, all centred around an unlikely yet perfect pairing. It moves so seamlessly between lighthearted banter and deeper, meaningful conversations while keeping the tone playful and engaging. What I love is how the dialogue showcases the character's personalities and quirks so effortlessly, especially the way they interact with each other—light, teasing, yet full of care. The storyline itself is full of charm and unexpected sweetness. The absurdity of the manatee discussion serves as a perfect backdrop for showcasing the growing affection between Barty and the reader, and as a wider representation of their relationship as a whole. James' perspective adds an extra layer of humour, with his frustration and eventual reluctant acceptance adding a perfect contrast to the lovey-dovey moments between Barty and the reader. The interactions between James and Regulus are just as compelling, with Regulus providing the right balance of humour and emotional depth as he offers his candid observations on love and loyalty—almost like a reflection of reader and Barty. What makes this fic so special is the way it portrays love—quiet, patient, and tender (the kind of love I want). Barty’s devotion to the reader is so evident, and the fic never shies away from showing how truly devoted he is, even in the smallest gestures. Whether it’s holding hands, softly kissing knuckles, or engaging in a bizarre but sweet conversation about aquatic creatures, the emotional connection between them is palpable and heartwarming. An adorable representation of tender love that leaves you smiling and wishing for your own Barty.

A Christmas Special - @moonstruckme

After Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you.

You cannot have a Marauders 2024 favourites list without including Mae, it's just which one to choose! I'm settled and happy with my choice—one that represents Mae's writing brilliantly. Now, where do I begin with this fic? It's pure magic. What truly stands out is the narrative flow—it feels like one big scene as each one flows seamlessly into the next, which creates this beautiful narrative that feels cohesive yet dynamic. Not only that, but the pacing is masterful, giving the moments of quiet intimacy the room to breathe while keeping the plot moving forward so brilliantly. Similarly, the storyline itself is a beautiful blend of festive fluff and heartfelt emotion. It balances that carefree happiness with deeper, more personal connections, making each interaction feel layered and meaningful. But Mae's attention to subtle intimacy and overall detail is what makes this story truly shine. From the small gestures that speak volumes to the way the setting is described with such vividness and clarity, it feels as though you're in the story with them. What I love most, however, is how the character's dynamics are brought to life and feel more than words on a page. Their chemistry radiates—not in a forced or overly-dramatic way, but through the kind of subtle, unspoken moments that leave you smiling and kicking your feet like an idiot. There's a particular sweetness in how the characters navigate their feelings, blending playful banter with quiet and tender vulnerability that is written so excellently it feels like you're moving along with them. All of Mae's skills I feel are fully encapsulated in this one fic—to the point where I've just barely scratched the surface as to why I love it so much (I could write an essay with references and everything), but I think I've put my point across enough for now :)

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earthtooz · 1 year ago

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x : QUIET LOVE :*+ﾟ

in which: neuvillette doesn't understand human emotion, but a quiet night after a bustling gala with you might help him.

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, pining neuvi but he doesn't know it, quiet walks along the beach at night, gentlemanly flirting bc it's neuvillette, hand kisses lol

a/n: sacrificial fic because neuvillette is not coming home, so i poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this, even if it's not all that. ALSO, this was inspired by a wip on @gum-iie's page (hi gumiie >_<), so i hope you all enjoy !! i tried my hand at the vision i saw.

Gatherings in Fontaine are nothing short of magnificent. The nation of justice will never shy away from a party that reeks of grandeur and extraordinaire, with crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, flowing gowns, and slicked-back hair. With an archon as dramatic as Furina herself, what else can the citizens of Fontaine expect?

Except for a long life such as Neuvillette himself, he has seen this scene one too many times. Gazing out amongst the sea of people, there is an ocean of unfamiliar faces, a sight that doesn’t bring him much peace. It’s not that Neuvillette does not enjoy interacting with humans- even if he’s not so good at doing so, but being amongst so many at once is the unpleasant part.

Despite his distaste for these kinds of bustling environments, he still thinks it’s good manners to attend, even if he will leave after an hour or two.

Yet, it has been half an hour past the two hour mark, and yet the Iudex still has not seen himself out because there is a particular someone that he is hoping to catch the eye of. Someone who is worth all this extra trouble and socialisation.

The melusines frequently run back to Neuvillette, concern and curiosity animated in their expressions as they ask their beloved father figure why he is still present. Their questions get brushed off by the Chief of Justice, who merely thanks them for checking up on him before telling them that there is no need to be worried, he is merely waiting for something. Or rather, someone.

Only at the third hour since the party’s commencement, does he get what he wants: your attention.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” A voice cuts through the crowd and straight to him, causing him to turn around, eyes dancing wildly around the room to search for the source. He effortlessly finds your gaze and watches as you come closer to him, outfit flowing behind you and he decides that the crystals of the chandelier are no match against the ones that dance in your eyes. You are more radiant than the purest diamond and Neuvillette can’t find it in himself to glance away.

You are perhaps the most ethereal being he has ever seen in his long life.

What Furina promised him has arrived. Neuvillette can enjoy the night happily now.

“Y/n,” he greets, curt and polite, but the smile on his face speaks volumes. It tells a tune of subtle delight and enthusiasm mulled over for the sake of appearances and composition, and it is a melody that you are deaf to. In fact, the melusines are perhaps some of the only souls who can read his silent song of adoration but instead of meddling, they have resigned themselves to the corner of the hall, watching their beloved Chief Justice.

“I did not expect to see you tonight,” you murmur, placing your empty glass of wine onto the plate of a passing waiter. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He wants to say something charming, perhaps something like telling you how lovely you look tonight or how absolutely magnetic you are, but the words fall short and Neuvillette panics briefly, scrambling to continue the conversation. “It is important to keep up social relations, after all. Not attending would be problematic.”

“An utmost scandal for the Iudex, no less.” There is a teasing glimmer in your eye, one that most people keep away from him but you are an exception; you always have been with how you regard him. Many respect him but also fear him, he is revered but avoided by the public, people speak of him but never would do so causally to his face. It is a particular dance that Neuvillette has become accustomed to, and you have slotted yourself in a position that none usually take: right beside him.

He doesn’t completely understand human emotions just yet, but you evoke one that he cannot describe.

“How has your night been?” Neuvillette asks.

“Tiring, fleeting, boring,” you murmur, expression melting into something more fatigued. “I want to leave, monsieur, is that too frank of a confession?”

“No, not at all,” he sees an opportunity and scrambles to get the words out, “may I accompany you or will I be overstepping?”

You blink at him before a small, cheery smile pulls on your lips. “I would love your company, but I only ask that we leave at this very moment because it is getting far too stuffy in here.”

“Then time is of the essence.” Neuvillette extends his arm for you to take and he relishes in the feeling of when you do.

Leaving the venue and helping you down numerous flights of stairs, the lighting and allure outside is far more romantic than it is inside. The street lamps of Fontaine were made for functionality so that no citizen could walk around unassuming and unaware of the darkness, and never were they made with the intent of illuminating anyone’s beauty. Yet here you stand before him, radiant under the warm tones of the lamp with the evening breeze flowing through your hair.

Moreover it is quiet out here. There is no one to bother the two of you, no melusines, no meddling Archon who lives for drama, no loud music and chatter, just you and him, together. It is a contrast so stark that he fears reality will shatter any second.

Naïve to his internal turmoils, you tug at his arm gently. “Let us go for a walk along the river,” you propose. A muted feeling of enthusiasm flows through Neuvillette and he readily agrees to your suggestion, more than happy to indulge in the gentle kisses of the sea breeze on his face.

The stroll is peaceful and quiet, neither of you speak too much but it is not awkward in the slightest. Your gowns trail behind the two of you with each step, dancing in sync with the wind as your slow pace allows the two of you to bathe in the light of the moon.

Although Neuvillette does not want the night to end nor to let you go, the amount of yawns you’ve suppressed since leaving is alerting him of your fatigue, and he’ll feel bad if he keeps you from your sleep any longer.

Finally, with one long yawn that you were not able to shut away, he stops you in your tracks. “Tired?” The Iudex asks.

You look up at him with eyes forced open, wider than they usually would be. “Just a little, but the night has been lovely so far, I’d hate for it to end.”

“Please, if you need the rest then you should rest.”

“Thank you for your concern, however-”

“There will be no objections. Let me walk you home.”

The moonlight casts a shade of melancholy over your features and the last glance you give to the ocean is nothing but full of longing. You surrender reluctantly. “Alright.”

You two make it back to the last aquabus just in time, and you’re the only passengers onboard. There is occasional chatter with the conductor, as well as private conversations, but Neuvillette has no qualms just spending the ride in silence, admiring you whilst you gaze out at the beautiful landscape of Fontaine.

“There are so many stars out tonight.”

He glances away from you. “So there are.” Then he makes a brave leap. “There is one right beside me, too.”

“Me?” Your voice is strained with disbelief and your hold on his arms tightens just a little. There is momentary silence before laughter- a quiet sort of laugh, shy and not at all mocking or condescending. “Thank you,” you whisper, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I’m very flattered you think so highly of me.”

It becomes quiet again after that but your hand never leaves his. If anything, Neuvillette feels you even more now, your warmth pressed up against his side is addicting, he cannot help but want more of it; he cannot help but want more of you. He wants more nights like this with you, days even- just as long as he can spend some more time with you, he’ll be grateful.

Humans and the complexity of the emotions they feel are something Neuvillette still can’t get a grasp of, but you fill him with something so inherently humane. Sitting beside you on an aquabus that is minutes away from its end is a bittersweet reminder of how little time there is until the evening ends, and this mesmerising evening becomes nothing but a memory. How irrational it is to yearn for something so temporary, but that is what makes it beautiful.

The walk back to your neighbourhood is quick, too quick for Neuvillette’s liking, but the smile you give him when you stop before your door is heartwarming. “Thank you dearly for walking me home, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you begin. “You have been the best part about this lively evening.”

The Chief Justice has never had a way with words, rather, they have always been his enemy, so instead of speaking to convey what he feels, Neuvillette takes your hand instead and places a kiss on your knuckles. A gentlemanly act to many, but he holds and kisses you with such firm intention that it makes you dizzy. It makes you think deeper about whether or not there are underlying intentions to address, and it’s exhilarating questioning what exactly you are to the Chief Justice of Fontaine.

For now, you’ll find contentment in the moonlight dream that was this evening, and he’ll engrave the feeling of you so close to him into his memory.

#neuvillette i am on my knees pls come home #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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amirasainz · 10 months ago

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Hello I am a huge fan of this fanfic your doing, but can I please request, the grid watching a spicy scene of her show? Or her in a body suit type like the picture below? I think Carlos reaction would be funny

Of couse! I had so much fun writing this! My request are OPEN and feedback is always welcome.

-XoXo

The unexpected red-flag

The conference room fell into stunned silence as the rain drummed relentlessly against the windows. The TV murmured in the background, its volume turned low, but it was the soft, melodic voice of Amira Sainz that cut through the quiet.

News had spread like wildfire: Baby!Sainz, the beloved sister of Carlos, would grace the third season of the renowned Netflix series “Narcos”. The drivers, usually a rowdy bunch, now sat in hushed anticipation. For Carlos, this was more than just excitement; it was a lifeline. His sister’s return to the family was long overdue, and the chance to witness her artistic brilliance on screen made his heart swell.

Yet, their busy lives as racers left little room for leisure. Days blurred into nights, filled with data analysis and the adrenaline rush of the track. But fate intervened during the red flag at Spa, where the heavens unleashed torrents of rain. The perfect opportunity arose: why not start watching “Narcos” during this unexpected break?

Surprisingly, it was Yuki who suggested it. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he proposed the idea, met with a chorus of enthusiastic “yeah’s” and “omg, yes!” from the other drivers. Carlos and Oscar, absent at the moment, would soon join the impromptu viewing party.

And so, they embarked on their journey into the world of drug cartels, corruption, and intrigue. They skipped scenes where Amira wasn’t present, eager to witness her talent firsthand. But little did they know that the next scene would unravel secrets and twists they never anticipated.

Let's just say Amira Sainz looked good with and without clothes. Throughout her spicy scene, the drivers were so silent. They all looked at her dreamily on the TV when she kissed the guy and started taking of her clothes and-

"¡Eh, estúpidos idiotas! ¿Qué demonios estáis haciendo? ¡¿Por qué demonios estáis viendo a mi hermana desvestirse?!" questioned an angry Carlos. As soon as he saw his little sister on the TV he went into full overprotective big brother mode.

Instantly, Logan shot back, “It’s not what it looks like,” while Fernando chimed in with a soothing “Hermano, you have to calm down.” Meanwhile, Lance attempted diplomacy: “Carlos Boy, we can talk like adults.”

The other drivers rallied, attempting to quell the hot-blooded Spanish driver. But amidst the chaos, Oscar slipped away, drawn by curiosity. He cornered Lando, who was practically bursting with excitement.

“I can’t believe I missed this. How was it?” Oscar leaned in, eager for details.

Lando’s eyes sparkled. “Oscar, you should have heard her speak Spanish. And her hair—oh, her hair falls down her back like—” His words were cut short.

“LANDO NORRIS! STOP TALKING ABOUT MY SISTER, YOU CREEP!” Carlos’s voice thundered across the room, drowning out the rain and the TV.

From the commentator box outside, a muffled sound reached their ears—a high-pitched scream. Lando Norris, usually unflappable on the track, had met his match in Carlos’s protective fury.

#carlos sainz x sister!reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #lance stroll x reader #pierre gasly x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #baby!sainz!sister

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 years ago

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The One where Soap finds Himself in an ✨ Awkward ✨Situation. [ Ghost x Reader ]

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Soap Being Confused, Occasional Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except for ‘You’.

Summary: Hiding out at your house, the 141 are settling in for the evening. Soap ends up hearing something he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t have on his way to the bathroom. But why can’t he seem to stop listening ?

“Gah! Fuck–”

The voice splintering through the door made Soap jump – near caused him to soil his favourite pair of jeans as it rumbled through the wood, practically taking it off its hinges with how the nails shuddered in their slots. The voice was baritone, deep. Grizzled. A carnality slumbered in its tone, rearing its waking head.

Ghost.

“Shh, Simon ! You’re going to get us caught !”

Yours followed soon after, a reprimand Johnny would never dream of dishing to the most lethal man he’s ever known. And yet here you were, doing God-knows-what, speaking to him as if you were in control.

When all went quiet again, just for a moment, Soap stopped and wondered if it had all been a hallucination. One second, then two. A low moan slipped beneath the door. Johnny jumped.

He was just going to walk away. Truly, he was ! He – and the rest of the 141 – saw how much chemistry – history – you and Ghost shared. Although, he’d just never imagined you’d be sharing it with the rest of the house, too.

Well, if Simon’s volume was anything to go by.

Johnny’s eyes drifted from the end of the hallway – where the beloved bathroom was – to the door beside him. He bit his lip, heart beating, still recovering from the fright. His curiosity was far from piqued – it shot through the bloody roof and left an impromptu skylight in its wake. And as imaginary sunlight filtered in through the hole, Johnny begged that divine intervention would tear him away from the scene unfolding beside him so he wouldn’t have to.

“God, don’t stop,” came Simon’s pleading tone, any harshness that was custom to it having melted away. Soap, against all better judgement and higher power, inched closer to the door. He cast a glance over his shoulder, once, twice. Nobody lurked behind. His ear was almost pressed to the wood. He could hear Simon panting, hear you humming as you did…something.

“I won’t – not until you’re finished.” There was little to be heard in the way of shame in your voice, especially in your gentle whisper: “I promise.” Soap swallowed thickly, then, blinking, began rubbing his ears. He couldn’t be hearing this right. He just couldn’t !

Only, when he had thoroughly cleared the imaginary poison from his ears, the issue remained.

“Shit–! That’s it, right there–”

“God, you’re so stiff, Simon. What have you been doing while you were away ?” There was almost a purr to your voice. Ghost only let out a moan as his response, muffled by what Johnny could only guess were pillows.

Why am I still here?! he all but screamed, remembering that he was no Pinocchio, trapped on this stage, bound by strings. He could have been a free man if he so wished. And trust, he did. So why was it that, when he went to walk away, to scour his ears with bleach, to finally embark upon his uninterrupted journey to the bathroom, that he found himself glued in place ?

Perhaps it was the primal instinct to know all that there is to know, to discern danger wherever it lay. Or, perhaps, he was so eneamoured with the idea of whatever could be happening on the other side of this door – Ghost being human for a change – that he couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity to see him so…vulnerable.

That sounded about right.

“(Y/N),” Ghost’s voice husked, no longer dampened, restricted, by an unknown force. He groaned, long and unfiltered. The way he spoke your name was almost in the tone of love, its softest and most carnal form, as if tasting the gradient of your syllables, vowels and consonants upon his tongue. He all but growled. You gasped.

“(Y/N), you’re so close–”

“You want it there, Simon ?” You didn’t miss a beat. Soap’s breath caught in his throat. He looked over his shoulder to the imaginary camera filming his ordeal.

“Yes, yes, God – yes–”

“Doing so well for me, Si,” you said, soft and encouraging. Ghost’s breathing was at its heaviest now, heaving breaths as if they were bricks, building a tower from which he may never come down. A high he will never beat.

“We’re almost there,” you told him, to which he only let out a thick, strangled noise, bulging beneath invisible chains as he tried to conceal it. His moans only grew longer and more frequent, his jaw presumably dropping open to let them pass when he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Soap began to wring his hands, thankful for the lack of a keyhole in the door so to spare him the intrusive desire to spy on the situation visually, too. Trapped in his own daze, his hurried, sweating, anxious contemplation was torn open by a sound so sharp and brilliant he never wanted to hear it again.

Ghost moaned.

Straight-up howled, roared, as he came to an end.

Soap’s soul clung to his body as the sheer calamity Ghost’s booming voice brought with it shook the very ground he stood on. Johnny’s hands flew to his racing heart, trying to catch it as it jumped up his throat.

Simon’s voice tapered, muffled after most likely burying his face into a pillow. With every exhale, a sliver of euphoria would follow, eventually baying out like the tide, his breathing returning to a shallow rhythm. And all the while, you paid him words of comfort.

“Well done,” you said, the smile in your voice evident. “Took it so well, Simon,” Your voice was feather-light, belied the illicit nature of all Soap had heard you do.

Though, even in this dazed, mortified state, he couldn’t fathom how you sounded so…normal. As if you’d exerted no energy.

Perhaps (Y/N)’s just…strong…? Johnny’s reasoning left much to be desired, that much he knew. Even Ghost was winded, and he was by far the fittest of the 141.

In amongst his rampant thoughts, the idea to flee the scene came too late as, upon hearing you dismount Ghost, your footsteps fast approaching the door, Johnny’s eyes widened, the state he’d be in if either you or Ghost found him unintentionally spying flashing before his eyes as his life no doubt would later.

He couldn’t scramble away in time. He ran on the spot, a cartoon, his impending doom facing him head-on as you swung the door open. His eyes all but watered as he caught sight of you wiping your hands on a towel. You smiled.

“Oh, hey, Jo-Jo !” You said, his nickname rolling off your tongue as if Simon’s hadn’t been just minutes ago. You gave him a brief nod before walking past him, a spectre. A harbinger of death. Johnny stood, body reeling, mind freezing, as nothing became clearer to him except your blase manner. He released a short, puffed breath.

He saw the inside of your bedroom, your bed just out of sight, hidden by the door.

Breath quivering, Body shaking, Soap knew this was his chance.

His last chance.

He turned. Didn’t even make the floorboards creak as he did so.

“Fuck’re you lookin’ at, Johnny ?”

Ghost’s voice rolled across Soap’s mind like thunder clouds, despite the laxity of it, the slowness. He froze, ice rain slipping down the back of his shirt and making him stand up straight. Rigid.

“Uh…I–” He winced, his voice cracking, showing the uncertainty that lay below his usually obsidian tone.

“N-Nothing, Sir !”

Sir ? We’re not at base now, you daft fool–

“Somethin’s obviously botherin’ you,” came Ghost again. He let out a breath. “So come on.” His voice was free from the cotton-mouth effect of the pillows.

“Say it.”

Johnny swallowed, his voice prickling either with dehydration, tears, or an unsolvable mixture of both. When he said nothing – did nothing – Ghost sighed.

“Come on, Johnny,” he said, stark as ever. “Haven’t got all day.”

“W…Well–”

“And come out from ‘round that door. S’impolite not to face the person you’re talking to.”

Johnny’s heart stopped.

No, he couldn’t have heard him properly.

“Are…you…sure…?”

Better safe than sorry.

“What’d’you– course I’m bloody sure. Now stop messin’ about and get in ‘ere.”

Taking a deep breath, and a leap of faith, Johnny rounded the door, the corner. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying.

He heard Simon sigh.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake – at least open you eyes, you daft prick.”

Begrudgingly, hesitantly, Soap cracked one eye open, then the other.

His brain almost couldn’t fathom the dissonance between all that was there, all that wasn’t, and all that he’d expected there to be.

Simon was chest-down on your bed, arms surrounding a bundle of pillows, holding them as if they were collected sticks, his head resting atop one. He watched Johnny from the corner of his half-lidded eye. He was dressed from the waist down, and his back, wet with what Soap had initially come to the horrifying conclusion was sweat, was actually bronzed with what permeated the air: a soothing oil.

Lavender.

Soap’s gaze jumped from point to point, trying to find something – anything – of the reality that had played out behind the door.

“Well ?” Ghost said. “I’m listening.”

Johnny, for the last time, swallowed, rubbed the back of his neck. His frying nerves cooled, though electricity still ran through them.

“I thought–” he gave the room another once-over.

“I thought you and… (Y/N)... were…”

Simon huffed.

“Were…?”

Johnny let out a breath, an almost-laugh. He gave a feeble smile.

“Nothin’ Sir–”

“No, go on,” Ghost prodded, getting up onto his elbows and turning over, now facing Johnny. “I’m curious now.”

John bit his lip, trying to quell the incessant itch there. He could taste the sweat collecting on his top lip.

“I just thought that…” He couldn’t look SImon in the eyes, his gaze bouncing around the room. He could feel Simon’s eyes narrowing, his patience waning.

He sighed. The jig was up.

“I…thought– that you and (Y/N) were…” He looked to Ghost, who gave no indication of understanding what Johnny was getting at, his disposition monotone as ever. Even without the mask, he was no less imposing.

Johnny made a gesture with his fists, bumping them together.

Simon’s eyes widened by a fraction of a fraction.

He said nothing. Soap’s fight-or-flight instinct re-activated. He glanced at the door. The hallway. His narrow chance of escape.

“How–” Ghost’s voice drew Johnny back to the land of the living.

“How loud were we ?”

Johnny grimaced.

“Not really (Y/N), Sir,” he said. “Just…” his hand grew into the shape of what he was trying to say. “You.”

Upon seeing Simon’s eyes widen even more, Johnny’s gaze dropped. And found another, damning detail.

Quick, use your natural humour and charm !

“Though,” he smiled, crooked, sided and small. A start. “I can see something’s made you somewhat excited,”

Simon’s eyebrow raised, and following Soap’s gaze, his shoulders went rigid.

Oh no.

A tent had been pitched in his sweatpants, plain as day for all who looked to see. Johnny’s top set of teeth grappled with his bottom lip, trying to purse his lips shut.

A snort sneaked past, and he slapped a hand over his mouth immediately, as if trying to scoop it back in.

Ghost’s gaze hardened. His eyes concrete.

“Tell (Y/N), you die tonight.”

Soap, smiling widely, simply turned in the beginnings of his departure.

“Course, Lieutenant,” he said. “Aaanything you say.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 x you #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 ghost #soap mactavish #soap mctavish #soap mw2

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lxndonorris · 1 year ago

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racing surprise for Lando - Lando Norris (SFS24)

fem!reader x Lando Norris Theme: Smut (you've been warned) in the midst of pre-season testing, Mclaren invited you to surprise Lando x word count: 2710+ taglist: @game-set-canet another edition to the suit fitting saga 2024 (SFS24). Quite similar but I hope you like the added twist. Oh and I needed that picture so dont blame me. Next one will hopefully be este, and if you have any request, for SFS24, testing or simply something else, dont be shy and hit me up!

The air crackles with anticipation as the new season of Formula 1 looms on the horizon, heralding a fresh chapter in Lando Norris's illustrious career as a professional racing driver. With the promise of new gear, a state-of-the-art racing suit, a meticulously crafted helmet, and a gleaming Mclaren race car awaiting him, excitement pulses through his veins like the roar of an engine.

Amidst the flurry of activity in the Mclaren garage, you stand, a silent observer disguised as one of the team members. Dressed in the team's iconic orange shirt, dark pants, a cap, and sporting a headset, you blend seamlessly into the backdrop, your heart aflutter with anticipation as you await Lando's arrival.

He initially invited you himself to join him here, but you had to decline. Unbeknownst to him, his team has already reached out to you, preparing a surprise for your boyfriend.

And then, like a whirlwind of energy and charisma, he enters the scene. Clad in his new racing suit, adorned with sponsor logos, he cuts a stroking figure. The fabric hugs his form in all the right places, accentuating his athletic build with precision and care. His curly locks framed his face, adding a touch of boyish charm to his rugged allure.

As Lando moves through the garage, his presence commands attention. There is confidence in his stride, a swagger in his step that speaks volumes about his self-assurance. He greets everyone with a warm smile and a handshake; his enthusiasm infectious. There is a genuine camaraderie between them, a sense of unity forged by their shared passion for racing.

With the assistance of two friendly mechanics who shield you from view, you watch as Lando prepares for his testing session. The air is thick with excitement and tension, a tangible buzz of anticipation that electrifies the atmosphere. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, a subtle reminder of his proximity that sends shivers down your spine.

Each step Lando takes seems to echo purpose, his eyes alight with a belnd of determination and curiosity.

You watch from your vantage point, hidden in plain sight among the team members. As a conversation turns to the upcoming training session, Lando's demeanor shifts slightly. A curious, shy smile played on his lips as he listens closely. With a hand on his hip, he leans in slightly, his posture relaxed yet attentive.

There is a quiet determination in his gaze, a hunger to extract every ounce of potential from the testing session. He understands the importance of these moments, recognizing them as opportunities to fine-tune his skills and familiarize himself with the nuances of the new car.

You can't help but admire the way the fabric hugs his body tightly, emphasizing the curves of his backside and the strength of his arms. His movements are fluid and purposeful, each gesture imbued with quiet confidence.

With each glance, your eyes trace the lines of his suit, lingering on the subtle details that hint at the layers beneath. You know that beneath the sleek exterior lies a network of tight undergarments—fireproofs designed to protect him.

This knowledge adds an extra layer of allure to his already magnetic presence, heightening the intensity of your admiration.

As the conversation draws to a close, Lando offers a grateful nod to his mechanics. With a sense of purpose, he turns his attention toward the track, eager to put their plans into action and unleash the full extent of his talents.

With practiced ease, Lando slips into the remaining racing gear—his gloves and a tight balaclava—each movement deliberate and precise. The helmet, adorned with beautiful colors and logos, completes his ensemble, its glossy surface reflecting the glow of excitement in his eyes.

With a playful twirl, he settles into the driver's seat, his grin widening as he prepares to start testing. With a loud roar, the engine comes to life, and slowly but steadily, he makes his way out of the garage. Your stomach tightens in a mixture of anticipation and pride.

Through the crackle of the radio, his voice rings out, a symphony of exhilaration as he tackles each corner with precision and finesse. You listen intently, your heart swelling with joy as he pushes the limits of his Mclaren. You know he is so happy to be back, and you can actually see him smiling when you close your eyes. His voice is a little rougher, yet it carries his joy and passion through the radio.

Once his session is over, he returns to the garage. As Lando emerges from the cockpit of his Mclaren, he lets out a jubilant cheer with a triumphant flex of his arms. Shaking your head, you can't believe him actually doing that. Licking your lips, you still can't tear your eyes away from his arse, filling his suit fully.

The testing had been a success, and he surpassed all expectations. Running a hand across his chest, he can't help but revel in the rush of adrenaline that still courses through his veins. The fabric of his racing suit clings to him, damp with sweat from the intensity of the session—a sensational sight that you missed during the winter break.

In one swift movement, he reaches up to remove his helmet and balaclava, revealing a mop of tousled curls and a flushed complexion beneath. His lips part slightly with a satsified smirk, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he licks his lips, sending shivers down your spine. He looks so happy and excited, and you smile seeing him like that.

As he moves through the garage, shaking hands with his team members, he can't contain his joy. His tongue darts out playfully, a gesture of exuberance that shows his satisfaction with the achievements so far.

Lando chats with a few mechanics for a while, and you can tell the residual excitement from the testing session continues to surge through his veins, pulsating with every beat of his heart. He keeps stroking his chest, touching his arms, and subconsciously, he touches himself through his suit—just barely, yet it catches your attention.

It is as if the adrenaline of the track has infused his very being, filling him with an exhilarating energy that seems to amplify with each passing moment.

Entranced by his every move, the sound of his voice, and his cologne's scent still hovering all around you, you miss the opportunity to reveal yourself—Lando has already left for his private quarters.

Leaving your headset and cap behind, you rush after him and spot him strolling through the paddock. Unable to tear your eyes away from him, captivated by the effortless grace with which he moved, you follow him. Every step seems to exude confidence, joy, and self-confidence.

As he runs a hand through his messy curls, you can't help but notice the way his hair fell in disarray, framing his face in a way that is both endearing and alluring. There is a rawness to his appearance—a sense of vulnerability—that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, he runs a hand across his chest, a subtle gesture that speaks volumes about the excitement still running through his body. You can almost feel the electric energy radiating off him, a tangible reminder of the thrill of driving an F1 car.

In this moment, you are struck by the sheer magnetism of his presence, even though you're just looking at his beautiful back. And as he disappears into his quarters, leaving you to ponder the whirlwind of emitions he had stirred within you, you can't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration.

As you knock on his door, a nervous anticipation grips you, your heart pounding with uncertainty—how is he going to react?

"Coming." Lando's voice echoes through the door before it swings open, revealing your boyfriend standing right in front of you. With an almost shocked expression, your breath catches in your throat.

"Y/N?" He asks, and in an instant, his entire face lit up with a radiant smile that reaches his eyes, filling you with warmth and joy.

"Hi." You smile shyly, your face flushing with heat.

Without hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms enveloping you closely. You melt into him, running your hands across his firm back.

"What are you doing here?" Lando smiles, separating himself just enough for his face to be mere inches away from yours. He places a hand on your cheek, tracing your skin with his fingertips.

"Surprising you." You motion for a few Mclaren team members to film the two of you from afar.

Both of you turn your heads and wave toward the camera.

"They offered to get me here; we just needed a few clips for their channel." You shrug, and he nods in agreement and curiousity.

"This is great," he leans into you, kissing you gently. You lock eyes with him for what feels like an eternity.

The film crew gives you a thumbs up, telling you that it's now time for some alone time.

As Lando welcomes you into his private quarters, a rush of excitement surges through you, mingling with the lingering traces of adrenaline from his testing session. Your gaze is drawn irresistibly to the contours of his chest, the fabric of his racing suit accentuating every curve and sinew.

He meets your gaze with a knowing smile, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes as he senses the admiration and desire in your gaze. There is confidence in his demeanor, a quiet assurance that speaks of his comfort in his own skin.

"So, how was I?" With a playful grin, he steps closer, closing the distance between you until the warmth of his presence envelops you.

"Amazing." You lift your chin slightly, meeting his confidence with your own. "And you look the part too." Smirking, you lick your lips.

Without a word, he takes your hand and guides it to the fabric of his suit, allowing you to feel the sleek material beneath your fingertips.

"I know how much you like this on me," Lando breathes, locking his eyes with your own. However, you're unable to withstand his burning gaze and lower your eyes, following the movements of your hands instead.

As your hand traces the lines of his chest and arms, you can't help but marvel at the strength and resilience that lie beneath the surface. The fabric is cool to the touch, yet it seems to hum with the energy of the track, a tangible reminder of the passion and dedication that fuel his every movement.

"This feels so good." You breathe deeply while you keep stroking his chest, feeling his biceps, and watch his chest move with every breath he takes, eliciting a low rumble of pleasure deep down his throat.

"Fuck," Lando can't hold back a low moan, his hand now following yours closely, his body yearning for so much more. He leans his head back, embracing both of your hands now on his chest.

You know how much he loves to be teased, touched, and stroked. Effortlessly, you push all of his buttons and his most sensitive spots—his nipples, pecs, arms, and most importantly, his member filling his suit.

"Good." You whisper, leaning in to him, tracing the outlines of his stubble just above his lips. A shiver races down your spine, the rough texture of his beard contrasting with the softness of your touch. There is something undeniably alluring about the way his beard frames his lips, adding a touch of raw sensuality to his appearance.

With each passing moment, the desire to feel the roughness of his stubble against your skin grows stronger—a primal urge that threatens to consume you completely. You lean in, brushing your lips against his in a tender caress. The sensation of his beard against your skin sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

With your hand on his crotch, he moans softly against your lips. Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrender yourself to the heady rush of emotions. Your lips meet in a fervent kiss, craving his delicious taste.

"Y/N." Lando murmurs, his hands now steady on your waist, holding you close.

"Care to give me a show?" You bite his lower lip teasingly, causing him to chuckle. "I want to see all of you in that." Tugging at the zipper of his racing suit, you stroke him firmer, encouraging him to show off.

"Of course." He giggles, and you settle onto the sofa, anticipation tingling in the air, thick with the electricity of the moment. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Lando takes center stage, spreading your legs to make some space. His movements are fluid and confident as he begins his private show.

With each flex of his muscles, his form seems to come alive, the contours of his body highlighted by the sleek fabric of his racing suit. He lets you feel his muscles tense, letting out more guttural growls.

"Very good." You smile, and with a playful smirk dancing on his lips, he turns around, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his firm back and arse. He bends to show off his butt even more, much to your amusement.

And then, with a sudden burst of energy, he begins to dance, his movements a mesmerizing combination of grace and athleticism. His hips sway to an invisible rhythm, and his body moves with a natural ease that shows off his innate charisma and confidence.

As he twirls and turns, the fabric of his suit seems to come alive as well, clinging to his form as he moves with effortless grace. With a slow and deliberate motion, he reaches for the zipper, his fingers tracing the line with teasing slowness.

As Lando slowly unzips his suit, his eyes never leave yours; their intensity like a flame igniting the air between you. His gaze is electric, a silnt invitation that sends shivers down your entire back. Hidden beneath his beautiful eyes lies hunger—a raw desire that mirrors the heat pulsating through your veins.

With each inch of fabric that melts away, inch by inch, he reveals the tight garments—a glimpse of the tight fireproofs. Easily, he slips out of the upper half of his suit, giving you a good look at his chest. His defined muscles barely conceiled, he flexes again, straining the fabric even more.

Lando closes the distance between you until you feel the warmth of his body radiating against your skin. His gaze is never wavering, pulling you so much closer.

"Fuck." You reach for his chest, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs, as he licks his lips. With the sleeves of his suit dangling down his waist, he stands before you, his form outlined against the soft glow of the room, a vision of strength and sensuality that takes your breath away.

In that moment, as you drink in the sight of him, you know you want him.

You motion for him to sit down right next to you, and right away, you lean in, kissing him passionately.

Lando embraces your body against his, and at the same time, your hand slips underneath his suit. His skin is warm and tight; all of the tension is showing its effect on his body.

"Mhmmm." He purrs into your mouth, one of his hands firmly on his length, bulging against his clothes.

In one swift motion, you manage to get into his pants and pull his member out of his clothes, causing him to moan in agreement.

"That would be so good, Y/N." Fully aware of what you're about to do, you keep kissing him while simultaneously running your hand up and down his length.

With every breath he takes, Lando lets out guttural groans before leaning his head back against the sofa cushions.

Looking into his eyes, you bend down and take him into your mouth.

"That's what I meant." He swallows hard, running a hand through your hair.

Together, you easily catch up to each other's rhythm, moving as one. His husky, rough voice echoes through your mind as more and more drops of his taste cover your tongue.

Then, his body gets stiff and rigid, and he holds his breath before letting go of all this tension, pressure, and desire. It feels so good. Letting out a long, breathless moan, he relaxes quickly, leaning back even more. You let go of him, licking your lips to savor the taste.

Lando fondles with himself for a while while you catch your breath.

"This was so good." You sigh deeply before a chuckle leaves your wet lips. He smirks, leans in, and kisses you.

"Thank you for being here." Lando rubs his nose against yours gently.

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anne-bsd-bibliophile · 5 months ago

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Spoilers for Thousand Autumns Volumes 3 and 4!!!

I didn't pay attention to it the first time I read Thousand Autumns, but during my reread it's obvious that Xie Ling and A-Yan knew that Yan Wushi loved Shen Qiao from the start.

Art by @_Konia_; reposted with permission.

It's fairly obvious that Xie Ling is infatuated with Shen Qiao immediately because his gaze never leaves Shen Qiao and Xie Ling trusts him completely:

Yan Wushi only looked at him, his eyes filled entirely with Shen Qiao’s reflection. “I’ll be taking your pulse.” Shen Qiao lifted his wrist, and Yan Wushi didn’t respond to that either, letting Shen Qiao handle him as he wished. But his eyes remained fixed on Shen Qiao—whether Shen Qiao was hunched over or sitting upright, Yan Wushi’s gaze never left him. ...Just as Shen Qiao was furrowing his brows and pondering, Yan Wushi suddenly smiled at him. This smile was different from those faint half smiles from the past, and lacked any sense of sarcasm, ridicule, or unbridled arrogance. It was simply a smile, nothing more, as if it weren’t Shen Qiao in front of him, but a beautiful flower. (vol. 3, pg. 85-6)

A-Yan tells Shen Qiao, "...I understand why my previous self treated you the way he did. He’s a paranoid person at heart, someone who’d never trust anyone else. No matter how good you are, he’d always want to bring out the darkness hidden within you. But he doesn’t know that you are you. There may be hundreds of thousands of Chen Gongs in this world, but there is only one Shen Qiao." (vol. 3, pg. 135)

Yan Wushi notices that, "There was still a hint of remaining warmth within his chest, left there by Xie Ling and A-Yan, from their feelings whenever they thought about Shen Qiao. But at this moment, Yan Wushi forcefully wiped it away..." He doesn't consider the the thoughts and feelings from the other parts of his personality to be his own." (vol. 3, pg. 142)

There's also the scene where Xie Ling tries to kiss Shen Qiao:

...Yan Wushi abruptly seized Shen Qiao’s neck, then he threw himself closer and bit down on his lips! In pain, Shen Qiao snaked his arm around Yan Wushi’s neck and struck hard. The other man fell limply on top of him. It was finally quiet. Shen Qiao let out a sigh of relief. He picked up Yan Wushi’s wrist and felt it, then let out a gasp of surprise. If the man had just been in the throes of qi deviation earlier, then now, only a short time later, his pulse had completely calmed. In contrast, his life force even seemed to be thriving? (vol. 3, pg. 225)

When Yan Wushi is back to his normal personality, he commented on the unskilled kiss: "What, did Xie Ling even forget how to kiss someone after losing most of my memories? He was so impatient he even bit you?" (vol. 3, pg. 232) Yan Wushi knows immediately that Xie Ling has feelings for Shen Qiao, but he doesn't realize his own feelings yet.

Later, Yan Wushi admits to himself that Xie Ling and A-Yan's thoughts where his own as well, and that's what leads to the confession scene:

Yan Wushi smiled but didn’t speak. Before, he’d loathed “Xie Ling’s” influence, thinking that those thoughts weren’t his own. He’d tried to suppress that strange feeling numerous times, and he’d believed that the moment he repaired the flaw in the demonic core, that feeling would vanish with it. He hadn’t expected that Shen Qiao’s smile would reawaken everything. He was unwilling to admit that he, who’d looked down upon everyone in the world, would one day find that a name had wormed its way into his heart. Human hearts were filled with malice. Some people were traitors, turning their backs on all integrity; some were ingrates, repaying kindness with enmity. There were also those who’d abandon their spouses, who were willing to do anything for wealth and glory. Yan Wushi had seen many, and he’d thought nothing of them because he, too, was a selfish, callous human. He only categorized things based on whether they deserved his notice, and to him, there were no actions that fell beyond a line that could not be crossed. However, now Yan Wushi was forced to admit that Shen Qiao was unique and that he couldn’t change him. Though the world was vast, there was still only one Shen Qiao. “My venerable self suddenly thought of something amusing,” he said. “Would you like to listen?” “No,” said Shen Qiao. Yan Wushi turned a deaf ear and started talking anyway. “Once upon a time, there was a man who found a stone in a heap of gold and jewels.” Shen Qiao’s mouth twitched. Didn’t he just say that he didn’t want to listen? “But he couldn’t believe that it was only an ordinary stone. He thought that since it’d been piled together with the mass of treasures in that room, it must also be a treasure. So, he brought it everywhere with him, and even had it examined and polished by many. But every single person, without exception, told him that it was only an ordinary stone, that there was nothing special about it. Guess what happened in the end?” Shen Qiao’s face was both lost and bewildered. “In the end, he finally believed that it was indeed a worthless stone. But in his eyes, compared to the room full of gold and silver treasure, even if it was only a stone, it was still one of a kind—a stone out of a million.” Shen Qiao was silent. Why did this story sound so bizarre? It was indeed unusual to hear such a normal story from such an abnormal person. He couldn’t help but say, “Even thousands of gold pieces cannot purchase happiness. Some people care little for wealth—they only wish to seek out things that other people find worthless. In my opinion, that man already liked that stone more than the other jewels and treasures, but he was trapped by his preconceptions and unwilling to admit it.” Yan Wushi laughed. “That’s true, you’re very correct. Thousands of gold pieces cannot purchase happiness." There seemed to be a deep significance within these words. (vol. 4, pg. 58-60)

#spoiler #thousand autumns spoilers #thousand autumns #qian qiu #yan wushi #xia ling #a-yan #shen qiao #yanshen #confession scene #yan wushi should have listened to xie ling and a-yan #xie ling was in love with shen qiao at first sight but it took him some time and suffering from a qi deviation before he finally kissed him #a-yan admitted easily that shen qiao was unlike anyone else and knew yan wushi wasn't willing to admit it yet

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soulofapatrick · 1 year ago

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Under the Mistletoe - Peter Hale x Femae Reader

Summary: Peter has to step outside during christmas celebrations and you follow him

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None, just some pure Christmas fluff

Y/N’s POV

The Stilinski living room is an embodiment of cozy chaos—warmly lit by twinkling lights and filled with laughter that bounces off the walls. We're all gathered, the whole pack, tightly nestled onto every available surface. Couches are claimed by some, while others opt for the floor, sharing pillows and throws in a haphazard but comfortable manner. It's crowded, but the festive cheer keeps us close, shoulders brushing and smiles exchanged.

From the doorway, Dad, Melissa and Peter stand, observing the scene with amused expressions. Dad’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he leans against the doorframe, a mug of something warm in his hand, as Erica and Liam bicker over who the gift in Malia’s hand is for. Melissa exchanges a fond glance with him, her lips curving into a soft smile, while Peter’s gaze holds a mixture of amusement and something else—a tinge of sadness.

Peter’s eyes meet mine across the room, a brief but charged connection that sends an unexpected warmth cascading through me. Caught in the intensity of his gaze, I can’t help but feel my cheeks flush, and I quickly avert my eyes, focusing instead on the gift being launched my way by Scott.

As I peel away the layers of wrapping paper, a soft chuckle escapes me when I uncover a hoodie. But not just any hoodie—its a simple yet heartwarming statement piece. In bold letters, it reads “Best Pack Mom Ever!”

The room erupts into laughter and cheers, a chorus of voices expressing their approval and amusement at the gift. I can’t help but grin, feeling a warm rush of gratitude and affection for this pack that feels more and more like family with each passing day. Without a thought I pull it over my head and melt with love as it’s so fluffy and warm and oversized.

Glancing up again, I catch Peter’s eyes once again, this time softened with a gentle smile that reaches them. There’s a subtle depth in his gaze, a silent understanding that tugs at my heartstrings. His subtle nod and the ghost of a reassuring smile sends a flutter of warmth through me, easing any lingering nervousness.

Despite the festive cheer enveloping the room, a lingering sense of melancholy in Peter’s eyes doesn’t escape my notice. His smile, though warm, carries a weight that speaks volumes, and I can’t shake the feeling of a hidden sorrow behind it. As the laughter and chatter of the pack fills the air once more, I see Peter swallow hard, a visible lump forming in his throat. Without a word, he turns and quietly slips away, his departure unnoticed amidst the joyful chaos.

Squashed between Derek and Jordan, I feel a nudge of worry from the latter as I shift to get up. Patting Jordan’s knee with a reassuring smile, I offer a quick “I’ll be right back Jor.” Before making my way out onto the small front porch, where Peter stands, cloaked in shadows.

The night air is crisp, filled with a serene quiet that contrasts sharply with the festive buzz indoors. Outside, the world feels different—quieter, more contemplative—and it seems to match Peter’s pensive demeanour.

“Peter?” I call softly, stepping closer, the faint glow of the porch light casting a gentle illumination around us. He turns slightly at the sound of my voice, the moonlight painting his features in soft contrasts. There’s a vulnerability in the way he holds himself, a rawness that I’ve seldom seen, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” I offer, feeling a pang of uncertainty about stepping into his private moment.

His age meets mine a mixture of surprise and something akin to gratitude flickering in those intense blue eyes, “You didn’t,” he assures, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation.

Feeling the unspoken weight between us, I cautiously move closer until I’m standing at his side. Peter remains still, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his forearms resting against the edge of the porch. Without a word, I lean in, resting my head gently against his shoulder, a silent offering of comfort.

There’s a momentary pause, a heartbeat of anticipation, before Peter slowly turns his head, his breath brushing against my hair. Without a word, he leans in, burying his face in the soft strands, a subtle but profound gesture of seeking solace in the simple closeness. The wolves of the pack seem to do it a lot, as if they’re memorising my scent. I don’t mind it at this point, quite used to it and just wanting to make Peter smile again.

His strong arms, once unmoving, now wraps around me, pulling me closer into a gentle embrace. I feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a reassurance admits the silent turmoil within him.

Gently pulling back after a moment, just enough to meet his gaze, I sense a shift in peter’s demeanour. The shadow of sadness is still present, lingering in the depths of his bright blue eyes, but it’s fading, giving way to something else—something that sends my heart racing and my usually eloquent words scattering like autumn leaves.

His features, usually etched with an air of intensity and determination, soften in this moment of vulnerability. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws me in, an unspoken understanding that feels like a whispered secret shared between us.

I find myself entranced by the subtle play of moonlight on his angular features—the chiseled jawline, the faint scars, and those piercing eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies within them. It’s a sight I’ve admired from afar, a magnetic pull that has stirred a quiet longing within me for longer than I can remember.

My throat feels dry as I wet my sudden parched lips, nerves fluttering like a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. Being this close to him, feeling the warmth of his embrace and seeing the vulnerability in his expression, stirs emotions I’ve kept carefully hidden—a rush of affection and an undeniable attraction that refuses to be ignored.

As the moment lingers, I feel the shift in Peter—a subtle but distinct change in his demeanour. His suave facade seems to resurface, a shield to conceal the vulnerability he had briefly allowed me to see.

His hand lifts, cupping my cheek in a gesture that sends shivers down my spine. The rough pad of his thumb grazes over my bottom lip, a barely-there touch that ignites a flurry of sensations. I catch the flicker in his bright eyes, the way they linger on my lips before meeting my gaze once more. There’s a hesitation in his expression, a hint of conflict that dances in those intense blue eyes. "I should stop," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and restraint, a self-imposed barrier he seems hesitant to breach.

The words hang between us, heavy with unspoken desires and emotions. My heart races, caught between the yearning to lean into his touch and the fear of misunderstanding his intentions.

Caught in the charged atmosphere between us, my heart pounds louder in my ears, an erratic rhythm matching the intensity of the moment. With a surge of boldness fuelled by emotions I can no longer suppress, I act on impulse.

Without a second thought, I rise onto my tiptoes, closing the distance between us. My hands find their place on his shoulders, seeking support and anchoring myself as our lips finally meet. There’s a tender urgency in the kiss, a mingling of hesitance and longing, a culmination of unspoken emotions and desires.

Peter’s arms, strong and reassuring, wrap around me in response—one securely around my waist, drawing me closer, while the other cradles my head, holding me gently but firmly.

The touch of our lips sparks an electric current that courses through me, sending tingles down my spine and causing my entire being to tremble. His lips are soft against mine, a perfect harmony of warmth and reassurance, igniting a fire that spreads through every fibre of my being.

In that moment, there's a convergence of emotions—a sense of familiarity mingled with the exhilaration of something new and exhilarating. The kiss feels like coming home, yet exploring uncharted territory, a blend of comfort and passion that leaves me breathless.

I feel the tension in Peter's embrace ease, a silent affirmation of reciprocation. His kiss holds a tenderness that speaks volumes, a silent confession of emotions that words fail to express. It's a moment suspended in time, a revelation of desires and an acknowledgment of a connection that had silently thrived between us.

With a gentle breath against my lips, Peter murmurs, his voice barely audible yet carrying a weight of amusement, "There's mistletoe above us.”

A soft chuckle escapes me, muffled against the warmth of our lingering kiss. It's a rare sight, seeing a genuine smile grace Peter's lips, a fleeting but captivating moment that feels like a precious gift.

Breaking the kiss, we share a brief, lighthearted glance upward, confirming the small sprig of mistletoe hanging just overhead. It's an almost serendipitous detail, adding a whimsical touch to this unexpected but undeniably cherished moment. Our gazes meet again, and the air between us crackles with a newfound energy, a playful warmth contrasting the depth of emotions we've just shared. There's a silent understanding, an unspoken agreement to cherish this rare moment of vulnerability and connection.

Peter's thumb brushes over my cheek, a tender gesture that holds a promise of more unspoken conversations yet to come. His gaze lingers on mine, a silent reassurance in those intense blue eyes.

"I didn't expect this," he admits softly, a trace of vulnerability coloruing his tone, a rare glimpse of the man behind the walls he usually upholds, “I didn’t expect you to want me back, to feel the same way with our age gap.”

“I don’t care about that Creeperwolf,” I reply, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips, feeling the weight of the unspoken but shared sentiment between us, “Now come back inside and celebrate with me.”

“The others…”

“Peter Angus Hale, when have you cared what others think of you?”

“Alright Love, lead the way.”

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

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qqtxt · 2 months ago

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[🐯] automatic off-switch

✿ pairing: beomgyu x reader / idol!txt / employee!you / minor cursing (none with ill-intention!) / fluff, silly 🌸 / 792 words ✿ beomgyu’s known to be someone who constantly runs his mouth but the boys discovered you’re an automatic off switch for him... (the boys never knew this day would come) ✿ honestly, idk where this came from!!! i kinda saw a scene from crash course in romance and it’s just a little spinoff from there! (i think it’s episode 16 towards the end and you cannot convince me that is not beomgyu-coded) [masterlist 🌸] / @kflixnet 🔦

beomgyu knows that sometimes–lies, all the time. yeonjun’s said it about a million times now–that he tends to run his mouth further than his mind can think about it. it’s not that he wasn’t sensitive to the words he was saying; he was. it’s just that he wants to take the weight of something that may appear heavy and make it... lighter, than it was before... even if it means saying things that may borderline to rubbing salt into the wound.

it wasn’t a good day, or it doesn’t seem to be a good day when the boys could hear telltales of your supervisor hounding your entire team from where they were in. keeping their volume down, peeking past the blinds, beomgyu spots you lowering your head as the reprimanding continues.

perhaps a minute or two goes by, but in reality it had been fifteen minutes before beomgyu excuses himself out of the dance practice room. “five bucks he’ll make things worse,” yeonjun whispers, nudging soobin by the arm who takes the deal with a scoff, bumping elbows as a sign of you’re on.

in the quiet of the hallway where you’re standing by one of the cooler machines, getting a cup of water, you’re left with your thoughts. not the best thoughts, but not the worst, either. it’s... just so-so, really. the flop with what had happened wasn’t your fault but considering you’re under the same department, oftentimes the rebuking happens as a whole for... reminder purposes.

as the machine clicks and you’re settled with a cup filled with water, you take a sip only to have your shoulders jumping at the voice that reverberates the walls, gently shaking your heart in the process. looking up, you’re met with beomgyu’s smile from about twenty steps away, his bright eyes sparkling at you despite going through hours of training.

"staying hydrated, i see.” he breaks the quietness with his completely obvious remark, that’s used as a way to ease himself next to you with a small smile. you lift the cup at his direction with a mustered up smile to your best ability, but even you know you’re not fooling anyone when beomgyu carefully reaches down to put his hand in yours, mindful to remain hidden despite being out in the open yet shielded in your own bubble together with how quiet this hallway usually is.

“i kinda saw what happened,” beomgyu murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, “you okay?”

you nod with a soft sigh, “yeah, i’m okay. it was nothing big, really.” your eyes gaze from your half-sipped glass of water, up to beomgyu’s shifting eyes that you know have more than meets them.

“then...” he trails off.

"then...?” you echo.

“just how on earth did something like that–”beomgyu notices how you’re gripping onto his hand, narrowed eyes as a warning“–okay, i’ll shut up.”

you still don’t let up on the façade, knowing that he’s got a bit more–“...but just, y’know, things like that don’t just happen out of nowhere–”beomgyu yelps a little at how tight you’re squeezing his hand with your jaw clenching that he’s quick to rephrase his words“–i’ll pull my lip right over my head so hard i can’t ever speak again.”

with the way he switches up so fast, it makes you snort, making use of your interlocked hands so you can nudge his thigh. he chuckles along with you and sways your hands lightly, knowing the gesture would soothe your erratic heart... and it does. slowly. gently. delicate and as soft as the look beomgyu gives you.

“better?”

“...would be much better if i had ice cream,”

“aren’t you just a sneaky little–”beomgyu’s words rephrase quicker than he can stop himself when you raise a brow at him, threatening to squeeze his hand that”–of course the ice cream is crucial. how could i possibly leave that out?”

you shake his hand off and lightly shove at his chest, reeling out a couple of laughters before beomgyu points with his head, “gonna let me walk you back?”

“depends,”

beomgyu tilts his head with a slightly raised brow.

“are you gonna keep running your mouth?”

“what?” he huffs, clearly trying to hold back he’s being a bit sulky, “you actually want me to shut up?”

the quiet pause that fills between the two of you is what makes beomgyu squint his eyes at you, more so when you begin backing away from him with a grin threatening to form on your face. it only makes him furrow his brows as he moves closer towards you and soon, it’s him chasing you down the hall with hearty laughters filling the corridors on your way back.

well, mission failed successfully (?) in beomgyu’s mind.

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #txt scenarios #txt x you #txt x reader #txt stories #txt imagines #txt reactions #beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu fluff #beomgyu fluff

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doormatty3 · 1 year ago

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Ocean Eyes: Chapter 4 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands. You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour. After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4721

A/N: If there some mistakes, I had a major surgery and am currently high on Oxycodon...

As the day unfolds in a gentle rhythm, you and Orm find solace in the simplicity of lazy kisses and unhurried walks along the shoreline. The connection between you two is palpable, a subtle energy that defies explanation.

It‘s akin to the unspoken bond you have with the sea – a presence that exists without the need for words or rationale. It just is.

The lazy kisses are a sweet punctuation to moments of shared silence. Each touch, each caress, carries with it absolute bliss.

The slow walks along the beach with the sand beneath your feet, warmed by the sun, create a soft pathway for the two of you. The play of light on the water, the shifting hues of the sea mirroring the ebb and flow of emotions between you and Orm. The horizon stretches endlessly, a metaphor for the boundless potential of the connection you share.

The day progresses at its own unhurried pace, mirroring the unhurried nature of your connection. It‘s as if time itself has slowed down, allowing you to savour the simplicity of being in each other‘s company.

As you spend more time with Orm, you find yourself wanting to get to know him better - to unravel the layers of the person beneath the surface. However, you sense that it doesn‘t make sense to push him - he has to approach you,

Sometimes, his eyes betray the storm within him. There‘s a depth to Orm that intrigues you, a narrative etched in the lines of his expressions.

And so, you tread gently through the storm in his eyes, offering a steady presence without demanding entry into the tempest.

In the ebb and flow of days, you find a quiet rhythm with Orm.

The days are punctuated with laughter, conversations, and shared silences that speak volumes. You explore the nuances of his likes and dislikes, weaving the tapestry of your understanding of each other. In the simple joys of companionship, you find a happiness that surpasses even your most cherished expectations.

Waking up next to Orm becomes a source of comfort, a tangible warmth that permeates your mornings. His presence beside you is a reassurance, and falling asleep in his arms at night feels like being cradled by a serenade of tranquillity.

As you navigate the passage of time together, the bond between you and Orm deepens with shared experiences, mutual understanding, and unspoken affections.

_____

In the gentle embrace of morning, you awaken to the warmth of Orm‘s body pressed against yours. The soft light filtering through the curtains paints a tranquil scene, and as you open your eyes, the first thing you feel is the steady rhythm of his breath, a comforting lullaby in the quietude of the dawn.

Orm‘s arms are securely wrapped around you, creating a sense of safety and intimacy. The rise and fall of his chest against your back form a soothing cadence, a heartbeat that resonates with the peaceful stillness of the early morning.

With eyes half-open, you take in the contours of the room, the subdued light of dawn casting a gentle glow. Cradled in Orm‘s embrace, you savour the quiet beauty of these morning moments, where time seems to stand still, and the world outside is yet to fully awaken.

But it‘s late enough to get up you think, so you slip out of Orm‘s embrace, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. With a gentle touch, you rise from the bed, leaving behind the warmth of the covers.

You steal a final glance at him, a quiet affection swelling within you for his peaceful, sleeping form.

You make your way to the kitchen to brew coffee for yourself and prepare tea for Orm. While he really doesn‘t like coffee, you found out that he has a rather sweet tooth and likes fruity teas.

As you walk through your living room, your gaze shifts towards the window overlooking the terrace.

To your surprise, a tall, bulky figure captures your attention - A huge man stands on your lawn.

His long brown hair and beard contribute to a rugged appearance. As he stands there, the rays of the morning sun dance upon intricate tribal tattoos that tell a silent tale on his well-defined arms.

Instead of looking lost, he seems like he belongs - like he is waiting.

Reacting instinctively, you grab a fire poker, your heart pounding with a mix of caution and adrenaline. The sturdy handle feels reassuring in your grip as you cautiously open the door, the brisk morning air brushing against your skin.

The stranger meets your gaze as the door swings ajar, and you waste no time asking, “What do you want? And who are you?”

“I‘m Arthur,” the towering man responds, his eyes locked onto yours.

His sheer size renders him an imposing figure, dwarfing even Orm in comparison. In hindsight, you realise you should have called for Orm instead of venturing out on your own.

Thinking logically, you surmise that if he intended to harm you, he would have struck by now, so you inquire, “And what do you want, Arthur?”

“I‘m Orm‘s brother. I need to talk to him, please,” he explains, hands raised in a gesture of non-aggression.

Your scepticism persists as you lower the fire poker and remark, “What? I‘m sorry, but you two don‘t exactly look alike.”

Amused, Arthur lets out a hearty laugh, “I know. He‘s my half-brother.”

“How do you know he‘s here?” you inquire, unable to shake off the scepticism. Orm‘s family is uncharted territory, and Arthur‘s sudden arrival stirs a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Oh, he told me,” Arthur replies with a nonchalant smile.

The revelation that Orm talks about you to his family brings a pleasant warmth to your cheeks. It‘s a subtle affirmation of the connection you‘ve been building with him. It‘s a vulnerable yet comforting feeling, knowing that you hold a place in his thoughts outside the moments you spend together.

However, Arthur‘s unexpected appearance and claim of urgency cast a shadow of doubt and wariness.

“But if you talk to him regularly, why not just ask him directly?” you press, your tone carrying a note of suspicion.

“It‘s urgent – please,” Arthur implores, his gaze holding a sense of sincerity. The urgency in his voice hints at something pressing, and you furrow your brow - you‘d really like to know what‘s going on.

“Arthur, he never mentioned you – he never said anything about his family,” you assert, your words carrying a mix of confusion and caution. The unexpected nature of the encounter prompts a wave of doubt about Arthur‘s intentions. “For all I know, you‘re gonna murder me because you don‘t know him and just pretend.”

Arthur lets out a hearty laugh, a sound that echoes across the terrace. “If I wanted to hurt you, don‘t you think I‘d already have done that?” he retorts, the humour in his tone attempting to diffuse the tension.

The acknowledgement of your shared perspective brings a momentary alignment of understanding. “But you get why I‘m sceptical, right?” you press, seeking reassurance in the face of the unknown.

Arthur‘s laughter rumbles through the air again, seems inconsistent with the seriousness of the situation. “Sure, alright, listen. I can just prove to you that I know my little brother, alright.”

“Okay, go ahead,” you say, a glimmer of curiosity mingling with your scepticism.

“When he drank coffee at your place, he almost spat it out – he told me it was one of the most vile things he‘s ever drunk, and he really doesn‘t understand how we can drink it - and how you can call your coffee a good roast ,” Arthur reveals, a grin playing on his face.

A surprised chuckle escapes you, realising that Arthur‘s story is an accurate retelling of your and Orm‘s first breakfast together. “I didn‘t know he thought it was that bad,” you admit, laughter bubbling up at the unexpected revelation.

“Oh, he hates it,” Arthur laughs, his deep voice resonating with amusement. “But he really likes that fruit tea you have,” he adds, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He finds it funny that you and his brother are so smitten with each other.

You smile, feeling a warmth spreading through you. Clearing your throat, you say, “Well, Arthur, you just earned yourself a cup of coffee in my humble home. Come in.”

You head inside, leaving the door ajar for Arthur to accompany you.

He follows you into the house, his gaze wandering around the living room and open kitchen. As you prepare coffee for both of you and a cup of tea for Orm, Arthur‘s attention is drawn to the aquarium. Colourful fish gracefully move through the water, creating a captivating display.

Setting the mugs on the table, you join him by the aquarium. “It‘s a passion of mine,” you say, gesturing toward the fish gliding through the water. “Helps bring some life into the place.”

Arthur nods, his eyes still fixed on the mesmerising dance of the aquatic life. “I can see the appeal. Orm never mentioned you had such a lively home.”

You chuckle, “Well, surprises are always good, right?”

Arthur smirks, “Indeed. So, where‘s Orm? Still asleep?”

“He is,” you reply, “I didn‘t want to disturb him. Plus, I wasn‘t sure if waking him abruptly for a family reunion was the best idea.”

Arthur chuckles, “Fair point. I appreciate you being understanding about this.”

As you lead Arthur to the table, both of you take a seat, the morning light streaming through the windows casting a warm glow on the room. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the comforting scent of tea, creating an inviting atmosphere.

The conversation flows smoothly, and you start to feel more at ease with Arthur‘s presence. He talks about his life, sharing snippets of his experiences - you find out that he‘s married with a kid.

It becomes evident that despite the differences, there‘s a shared thread of love for the sea that ties the siblings together.

After a while, Arthur‘s eyes wander to the sea glass on the table. “Interesting choice of décor,” he remarks, picking it up and examining it.

You smile, recalling the moment when you found it on the beach. “It‘s a little souvenir. Reminded me of Orm.”

Arthur nods, his gaze thoughtful. “You know, he‘s not one to easily let people in. Must‘ve seen something special in you.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a mix of warmth and appreciation.

As the conversation progresses, you discover more about Arthur, finding him to be not only funny but also kind. He delves into anecdotes about his child‘s antics and shares tales of odd jobs he‘s worked.

The warm atmosphere changes when Orm enters the kitchen. You eagerly go to greet him, excited to see him, but his expression stops you in your tracks.

Instead of the usual calm demeanour, Orm is seething with anger.

His brows are furrowed, and his normally serene eyes now burn with an intense fury akin to a storm raging beneath the surface.

The soft blue eyes that you love looking into have turned into a cold and cloudy hue. It feels as though you are looking into the heart of the storm, waves of fury rising and falling with a savage rhythm, crashing against each other like warring titans engaged in an eternal struggle.

The lines on his forehead deepen as he directs a stern gaze towards Arthur, whose presence has triggered this unexpected reaction.

You have never seen him like that.

Orm‘s anger is palpable, radiating off him like waves of heat. His clenched fists and completely tense posture speak volumes, signalling a storm about to unleash its wrath. His broad shoulders are rigid, every muscle coiled with tension.

You feel your heart beating in your chest, a mix of concern and confusion enveloping you. You‘re not sure how to react.

But before you can even utter a word, Orm curtly nods towards Arthur, his jaw clenched. The silent message is crystal clear – this is not the time for pleasantries. Without further ado, Orm guides him outside, the door closing behind them.

As you stand in the kitchen, you can‘t help but notice the drastic shift in the atmosphere. The air feels tense, and you can‘t help but wonder what transpired to provoke such a reaction from Orm.

You observe them through the glass door, the transparency offering a distorted lens into the unfolding scene.

Orm‘s expression has contorted into a visage of frustration. His brows are furrowed, and the anger etched on his face transforms him, turning him into someone feral.

On the other side, Arthur appears to be caught off guard by Orm‘s reaction. He stands with a mix of surprise and contrition, facing the verbal onslaught from his brother.

Through the closed door, you catch fragments of Orm‘s voice. The tone is heated, and you can sense the palpable tension in the air.

You hear his voice, sharp and reproachful, berating Arthur for showing up unannounced. The words come in bits and pieces, like the distant echoes of a conversation carried by the wind. The door muffles the sound, leaving you with only intermittent snippets of the exchange.

“Arthur, you can‘t just...” Orm‘s voice pierces through the door, each word laden with reproach.

You see Arthur talking back but can‘t understand what he‘s saying.

“...eat a cockroach, Arthur!” Orm‘s voice surges, and you can almost feel the exasperation in his shove when his hands press against Arthur‘s chest, pushing him back a step.

Arthur‘s reaction is a mix of shock and indignation. His eyes widen, and he instinctively recoils from the force of the shove, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before finding his footing again.

Orm‘s voice escalates, slicing through the air with a sharp sense of accusation, punctuating his words with another forceful shove.

“...took my throne, my betrothed, and now my peace of mind!” Orm‘s voice carries a weight of bitterness and resentment, the gravity of his words hitting you like a sudden tempest.

Wait what?

The unexpected revelation leaves you stunned, grappling with the realisation that there are layers to Orm‘s turmoil that extend beyond the immediate situation.

As the tension between Orm and Arthur reaches a boiling point, Arthur‘s composure begins to crack. His anger builds, evident in the tightening of his jaw and the fire that sparks in his eyes.

Arthur‘s accusatory words, dripping with frustration, reverberate through the room like an unspoken challenge, “What‘s your problem, Orm?”

He not only responds with words but also looks like he‘s ready to hit back, his fists clenched and posture shifting into a defensive stance when a flicker of realisation seems to cross his face.

“You never told her, did you?” he accuses Orm, his words laden with disbelief. His tone takes a sharper edge, and the words pierce the air like a dagger.

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, caught in the whirlwind of emotions and uncertainty. He spoke about a fiance, and now there‘s something he never told you?

The bits and pieces of the argument you manage to overhear only serve to deepen your confusion. Determined to seek clarity, you take a deep breath, summoning courage, and make the decision to step outside.

The chilly air nips at your skin, and you‘re met with the intense atmosphere that hangs between Orm and Arthur.

Determined to understand the roots of this conflict, you inquire, “What‘s going on?”

Orm remains silent, his features etched with reluctance and a hint of frustration. It‘s clear he‘s not eager to divulge the details.

Arthur, seemingly less concerned about the secrecy, interjects with a tone that swings between nonchalance and urgency, “We‘re from Atlantis. He was the Ocean Master, the king of Atlantis. But he lost it all. Too hungry for power, and I had to step in to fix the mess. And now I have to deal with the Council of Houses that want my ass.”

“Sure. And I‘m the Chinese emperor.,” you say in disbelief, the sarcasm dripping from your words. Your gaze shifts to Orm, who avoids your eyes and still appears visibly angered, with frustration and regret emanating from him.

The growing anger inside you prompts you to confront Orm directly, “You won‘t tell me what‘s really going on, Orm?” You don‘t know what‘s worse: Orm just being silent or Arthur lying to you.

“Shit, I am not lying,” Arthur exclaims, his frustration matching yours. “Orm, this is your woman, fucking tell her the truth.”

Orm finally meets your eyes, and you swallow nervously. His expression shifts to remorseful; the once-angry blue eyes now reflect sadness and uncertainty.

“Orm?” you say quietly, a plea for honesty and transparency.

“I‘m Atlantean - so is he. He didn‘t lie,” he begins, running his hand through his hair. “I have never been to the surface before...and -”

Arthur interjects with a hint of playfulness, “Look, we can breathe underwater, and I can talk to fish. The ones in your living room told me some interesting things about you two a few days ago.”

“Arthur, please,” Orm says, a mix of exasperation and concern in his tone.

At this point, you‘re just confused. You don‘t know what to believe. Surely, they must be lying. There is no way in hell Atlantis is real - it seems preposterous, Yet the sincerity in Orm‘s eyes challenges your scepticism.

Arthur somehow senses that you need some proof, and realising Orm is not in a state to do something, he strides back into the house. The urgency in his movements compels you and Orm to follow, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

Once inside, Arthur doesn‘t waste a moment. His eyes, now with a peculiar yellow gleam, fixate on the aquarium as he approaches.

You watch in amazement as the aquatic inhabitants respond to him. They swim in intricate patterns, almost as if following a choreographed dance. Some even seem to perform playful flips in the water, creating a surreal spectacle.

Arthur, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, turns to you and grins. “Impressive, huh?”

You find it hard to fathom the reality unfolding before you.

“Atlantis is a fun place,” Arthur continues, undeterred by the incredulous atmosphere. “Full of politics, underwater cities, and, well, talking fish.”

The surreal scene in your living room challenges the very fabric of your understanding, leaving you grappling with the notion that Atlantis, a mythical realm, might be more than just a legend.

As Arthur‘s words linger in the air, you‘re faced with the undeniable truth that the world you thought you knew is just the surface of a much deeper and more complex reality.

Your attention shifts to Orm standing beside you. As he reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder, you turn around, your voice a mix of hurt and confusion. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest - this is not how you envisioned the morning unfolding. Hell, you had placed trust in Orm, and you genuinely like him. However, you‘re uncertain about what this revelation means for you.

The room seems to tighten with tension, and Orm‘s response is palpably strained. “I was going to, in due time.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, leaving you standing on shaky ground. Uncertainty creeps in, and you‘re left to grapple with the implications of this newfound knowledge. The man you thought you knew harbours a secret world beneath the surface, a world you were blissfully unaware of until now.

Feeling the need to collect your thoughts, you excuse yourself, stammering out something about needing a moment. Hastily making your way to the bedroom, you close the door behind you, the muffled sounds of conversation still audible from the other room.

As the weight of the revelation bears down on you, you find yourself overwhelmed by a rising tide of emotions.

Panic tightens its grip around your chest, and you can feel the telltale signs of an impending attack. Placing your head in your hands, you try to steady your breathing, attempting to navigate the storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling within you as the room feels suffocating.

As the door creaks open, Orm enters the room, his footsteps measured and purposeful, his demeanour carrying a palpable sense of remorse. The soft click of the closing door resonates in the air as he crosses the threshold, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and genuine concern.

His movements are deliberate, each step echoing the weight of emotions he carries. Without hesitation, he gracefully kneels down, his hand extending to rest on your back, a comforting touch that conveys both warmth and strength.

“Hey, it‘s going to be okay. Just take a breath, honey,” his voice is a soothing cadence, every word chosen with care.

You observe the furrow in his brow and the slight slump of his shoulders, evidence of the burden he shares with you in this moment. His presence feels like a reassuring anchor amidst the tumult of emotions.

Attempting to steady your breath, panic tightens its grip on you, “I can‘t, I can‘t-” Your words falter, caught in the throes of distress.

His voice assumes a rhythmic flow, guiding you through the storm of emotions. The deliberate pace of his words creates a sense of order within the chaos, each syllable serving as a lifeline. With each uttered phrase, you sense a gradual easing of panic, his words acting as a balm for your distressed mind.

His large hands gently brush over your cheeks and hair, reaching wherever they can. The warmth of his touch is palpable. You find solace in the softness of his fingertips and the sincerity etched in his gaze.

“You‘re doing so well, honey. Just keep breathing. I‘m here with you. You‘re safe. Inhale slowly... and exhale,” Orm‘s voice continues its calming effect, a steady stream of reassurance that envelops you like a protective cocoon.

He talks you through the panic attack, guiding you with words that carry the warmth of understanding and reassurance.

With each carefully chosen phrase, Orm helps you navigate the tempest within. The room, once suffocating, begins to loosen its grip as Orm‘s presence becomes a source of comfort and support, helping you weather the emotional storm.

You manage a shaky breath and look at Orm, gratitude in your eyes.

“Thank you, Orm. I... I didn‘t expect all of this,” you admit, your voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and appreciation.

“I know, and I‘m sorry,” he reassures, cradling your face in his hand. His blue eyes shine with worry and tenderness, a testament to his commitment to being there for you.

You observe him close his eyes, taking in a shaky breath before reopening them. He appears on the verge of tears as he apologises once again.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around Orm. Tears held back for too long stream down your face, a release of the pent-up emotions that have been coursing through you.

Orm responds with a gentle understanding, reciprocating by wrapping one arm around you in a protective hold. With his other hand, he tenderly wipes away the tears that cascade down your cheeks, and you feel the comforting touch of his fingers on your face.

As you remain wrapped in Orm‘s embrace, you become keenly aware of the rhythmic thudding of his heart against your chest. His shaky breaths resonate in the quiet space, a testament to the emotional intensity of the moment.

In response to the palpable tremor in his breath, you softly whisper, your words a gentle reassurance, “Everything will be alright, Orm. We‘ll get through this together.” The words uttered in a hushed tone carry the weight of sincerity, weaving a sense of comfort into the shared space.

Feeling Orm‘s tightening embrace, as if he fears you might slip away, you reciprocate the gesture, bringing your arms to cup his face gently.

As you lift his gaze to meet yours, you see the aftermath of the emotional storm in his eyes. They swim with unshed tears, and the intensity of the blue is almost overwhelming. His bottom lip trembles with the weight of the shared emotions, and you can sense the vulnerability etched across his features.

Your touch on his face is both a grounding presence and an assurance that you‘re here, steadfast and unwavering.

It is at that moment that you realise that you‘re falling in love with him.

Despite lingering anger about the concealment of his Atlantean identity and Atlantis itself, you know that he didn‘t do it out of bad intentions. He did it because he was afraid, and you know that feeling all too well.

With a gentle yet firm touch, your hand buries itself in Orm‘s blonde hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands. The kiss that follows is soft, tender, and brimming with a vulnerability that binds you both.

Orm responds to the kiss, and his vulnerability meets with your own as the unsheared tears in his eyes glisten.

Breaking the kiss, he tenderly smooths your hair away from your face, apologising, “I‘m so sorry. I didn‘t mean to tell you like that.”

“I know,” you assure him, your voice carrying a soothing tone as you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I know.”

“I‘m glad you know now, for all that‘s worth,” a small smile graces his lips.

“I‘m glad too. It does explain a few things,” you chuckle. “I‘m looking forward to showing you more surface things - now you can actually tell me what you haven‘t seen before.”

He laughs at that, a full-blown grin spreading across his face, reaching his eyes.

“I‘m genuinely excited to see more with you,” Orm admits, his eyes reflecting a genuine curiosity and eagerness. “And I promise not to keep any Atlantean secrets this time.”

“I‘ll hold you to that, King Orm,” you share a playful smirk, “Or do you want me to call you Ocean Master?”

His head snaps up at that, and his eyes darken with a feral intensity that makes you swallow dryly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before surging up, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

That was not the reaction you wanted, but you‘re not complaining, you think.

You whine into the kiss as Orm‘s hands cradle your face, his touch both gentle and possessive. It‘s as if he‘s imprinting the kiss with a promise, and the raw passion sends a surge of electricity through your veins.

The kiss deepens, the feral intensity transforming into a potent blend of desire and longing. Orm‘s lips move with a rhythmic urgency, leaving little room for doubt or hesitation.

His fingers thread through your hair, a tactile exploration that sends shivers down your spine. Each touch, each caress, is a language of its own, conveying unspoken promises and a shared hunger for connection.

Breaking away, Orm rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the shared space.

Orm‘s eyes, still darkened with desire, lock onto yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His thumb traces your lower lip, a lingering touch that ignites a spark of anticipation.

“I didn‘t expect you to call me Ocean Master,” he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You laugh softly, still a bit breathless, “Well, you do seem to enjoy it.”

“Perhaps I do,” a wicked gleam enters Orm‘s eyes, and he bites down on your bottom lip before leaving a warm trail along your jawline.

Orm‘s movements are both tender and possessive, making you gasp beneath him. His touch leaves a trail of heat, a tantalising promise of more to come.

As he continues his journey, his hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer. The room seems to shrink around you as Orm‘s body presses against yours, the closeness igniting a delicious ache of desire.

Orm‘s breath, warm and steady, fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. The scent of him, a mix of sea and musk, envelops you, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere.

You feel arousal pumping through your veins and driven by pure instinct, you lean up and whisper in his ear, “Or do you prefer to be called my king.”

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shinynewmemories · 7 months ago

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Okay okay I'm having Thoughts™ about the basement exchange again. It's a lot all at once but ima try to organize it into 3 main points:

1. Why was Katniss so hurt that Peeta didn't argue with Gale when he said "Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without"?

At this point, Peeta had in no way recovered from the hijacking. Parts of the old Peeta were returning, yes, but he was NOT 100% back yet. Obviously, Katniss knew this. And it's not like Peeta necessarily AGREED with Gale; he just kept quiet. So why did she feel wronged by Peeta's "failure" to defend her?

I think it's because Katniss's feelings for Peeta are the exact feelings Gale implied she WOULDN'T have for whomever she picked. Immediately after Gale said it, Katniss thinks:

Am I really that cold and calculating? Gale didn’t say, “Katniss will pick whoever it will break her heart to give up,” or even “whoever she can’t live without.” Those would have implied I was motivated by a kind of passion. But my best friend predicts I will choose the person who I think I “can’t survive without.” There’s not the least indication that love, or desire, or even compatibility will sway me.

I think Katniss is so deeply offended because she IS motivated by passion (for Peeta). I think love, desire, and compatibility ALL play a part in why she chooses Peeta. And Katniss subconsciously feels that Peeta, who is the OBJECT of her love/passion/desire, should know this. It's as if she's saying "Peeta, you OF ALL PEOPLE should know Gale is wrong because I feel ALL OF THESE THINGS FOR YOU!!!"

And while I think most people (including Katniss) would say her offence at Peeta's silence is a bit irrational, I think it speaks VOLUMES about the truth of her feelings. Especially towards Peeta.

2. What if Gale took what Peeta said about him having "to take care of her family" to heart?

I always assumed Gale took whatever Peeta said and promptly threw it in the garbage bin in his brain. You know, because jealousy? Or I thought Gale was already of the opinion that protecting Katniss's family was his job.

But what if Gale actually listened? What if that's why, during their last interaction before Snow's execution, Gale says, “That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family"?

Idk I don't have any big point to this. It's just a "what if".

3. What if Peeta took what Gale said about how Katniss would make her choice to heart?

I also always assumed Peeta didn't give Gale's statements in the basement much thought afterwards. After all, he had a lot of other things on his mind (the war, people being beaten to death for looking like him, the hijacking, etc.).

But what if Peeta actually listened? And not only that, but what if he, like Katniss, understood everything Gale was implying: that Katniss would not make her choice based on love, or desire, or compatibility? What if, when Gale said "Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without", Peeta heard "Even if Katniss DOES pick you, love, passion, and desire will have nothing to do with it"? And what if Peeta BELIEVED him??

If we assume all that is the case, the "so after" scene takes on a whole new meaning. Because one night, Katniss feels such an intense hunger (that's desire!) for Peeta that they end up having sex (that's passion!). And it's this moment that Katniss realizes she would have ended up with Peeta anyway and that he's the only one who can give her what she needs (that's compatibility!). And then, of course, the closing line of the book:

So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

(That's love!)(Duh!)

So yeah maybe at some point after "so after", Peeta's just lying there and he thinks "Hey, Gale, if you can hear this: I just gotta let you know that you were dead wrong."

#thg #everlark #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #gale hawthorne #long post sorry #okay i have decided to like the basement scene now #aaaaannnd i think that's all for tonight lol

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silviakundera · 8 months ago

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The Double episode 26 spoilery comments

Jiang Daddy's claim to have Jiang Li's back lasted like 2.5 days. We see more evidence of his fair-weather support in the flashbacks, in which Jiang Li's mom had to step in to save the pregnant maid while he just watches. Everyone and anyone can be discarded. He'll step up for you big -- when yours is the winning side. That man is an excellent politicial animal for sure.

Justice for Aunt Hu!! The evil stepmom really has to ruin everything

That Zhou boy thinking he can play the game on this level is just pathetic. Always kill your enemies immediately. ALWAYS.

"Why are all of you forcing me?" the most despicable cdrama characters' refrain

The drama stays determined to humanize the selfish, short-sighted, and self-absorbed sister archetype that populates the most popular revenge webnovels.

Are they really gonna redeem Jiang Ruoyao? Curious to where this character goes. Is she truly going to find herself?

Duke Su finally managed a lil date with his crush without any favors

Her feeling so safe with him, free and easy to take a nap in his rooms with him sitting there (after she's just on the verge of sexual assault) speaks volumes. avalanches.

You just know A 'Li feels a hundred times more secure to rest at ease there than at the Jiang residence. She doesn't have a home yet but -- it's coming.

"Everywhere else is not comfortable, but the place you picked sure is not bad." ❤

THEY ARE GIVING ME THE PACEY WITTER SPECIAL (look I have residual shipper triggers, you cannot possibly understand the things that fire off in my brain at a quiet watching-your-crush-sleep scene like this)

We got the whistle from the novel !

btw can I comment that tons of cdramas have a FL with martial arts skills, so I don't have any issue with the drama not making FL perfect at everything - it's ok that she needs protection from immediate physical threats. She isn't a warrior. Her weapon is her brain and her persuasive eloquence.

Does Duke Su need to be in this episode? Well no, not objectively for plot reasons. But full applause to the screenwriter and director for understanding the assignment: this drama is so enjoyable to watch because it's paced to give the audience a succession of threat, conflict, resolution + shipper moment in 1 or 2 episode beats. ✔ ✔ ✔

#cdrama #the double #the double spoilers

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geothewriter · 2 months ago

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Vermillion Seas Cardinal Skies: Chapter 23 - Time for Tea

Aang now has to face his friends after performing the death-defying, incredibly dangerous move of saving one of his biggest enemies. Then he learns a bit more about himself and gains an (old) ally. Meanwhile, Zuko and Katara make final preparations for a trip in a southern direction.

---

Good day readers! It's my Birthday! Which makes posting day even better!

That last chapter had quite possibly the most intense scene I've ever written! Oh Aang, why do you gotta be so good? I wonder if there will be long-term consequences for that act.

Now, most importantly, THANK YOU to achillmango for her incredible patience in beta reading/editing my chapters.

Without further adieu, please enjoy a snippet from Chapter 23 - Time for Tea

With shaking hands, Aang stows his glider in the saddle and takes back his seat on Appa’s head. His fingers clench the reins and he can feel his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. A cacophonous orchestra of drums readying him for what’s to come. The airships haven’t started firing yet, but the men on board look as though they’re waiting for a signal. Then, he's surprised to see them drop their stances. One even nods toward him. He swallows roughly, nods back, and mutters three quiet words to Appa. Let’s go, buddy. It was the right thing to do, he tells himself again. He saved Azula. Him. The boy she killed. He could have died. Again. Doomed the rest of the world to fall to the Fire Nation. All because he can’t let go of the idea that he cannot take a life. And he’s going to have to make that impossible choice, for real, and soon. The comet is coming and it isn’t going to wait for him to debate ethics. He cradles his head in his hands and tries to focus on something else - anything else. Sokka’s voice starts softly, but quickly builds in intensity and volume as he speaks. “Aang, I really don’t like swearing around you, but I think this situation calls for it. Just, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? WHY DID YOU SAVE AZULA?” Not that. “Language Sokka!” Suki scolds. He shakes his head and with a quiver in his voice replies to the older boy. “Not now, Sokka.” He’s still asking himself the same question. Why did he do it? It’s the right thing to do? He can’t handle standing idle anymore? The answer isn’t clear even to him. “Now’s a pretty good time! What could you possibly have been thinking?!” “Sokka–” His voice breaks and he clenches his eyes shut. The world is full of choices we alone must make. His words are caught, struggling between keeping down tears and screaming in anger. Why is everything so difficult? Did he make the right call? Suki’s stern voice interrupts his thoughts and effectively silences the older boy. “Sokka, let it be.” “No.” He forces his voice to sound brave but keeps his gaze forward. “No. No– You all deserve an explanation.” Keep flying straight, buddy. He turns to address the grave expressions of his friends. Katara is holding tightly onto Zuko, Sokka is with Suki, and Toph is clinging to her other side. He’s alone up here. Alone. Momo chitters as he climbs into Aang’s lap. At least he’s not totally alone. Their eyes are all on him, waiting for him to speak. “Okay. So. I uh.” A sigh, and a deep breath. “I realized something.” He turns to Katara and Sokka. “Your dad gave me some advice back during the invasion, and I followed it. He told me that I need to do what I need to do, whatever that is. Even if it means making things harder in the short term. And, he said that the world is full of difficult choices that we alone must make. So–” “Dad said that?” Sokka quietly asks. “When?” “When we were flying on Appa toward the battlements. I told him I didn’t know if I could kill Ozai. Sokka, I don’t want to kill anyone. I know it's messed up, but you didn’t grow up the way I did. My people didn’t–” A biting edge accompanies Katara’s voice as she speaks, “Aang, you didn’t live through what the Fire Nation’s campaign has done to the rest of the world. Not for the past hundred years. You’ve seen what it does now.” Her voice breaks and he can hear the pain in it. “How could you save Azula? She killed you Aang. YOU WEREN’T BREATHING! I spent weeks making sure you could wake up!”

Continue Reading on AO3!

#zutara #atla #zuko x katara #zuko #katara #avatar the last airbender #zutara fanfiction #atla fanfic #fanfiction #geothewriter writes #Aang did Aang things and now has to face the consequences #Aang is a cinnamon roll #Toph is a badass #Toph can make tea!#vermillion seas cardinal skies

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gerlionrise · 1 month ago

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Reign of the Heart P2

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader (female character) Synopsis: In a realm where duty binds hearts and crowns weigh heavy, a fragile alliance transforms into something far more powerful. Amid battles, secrets, and an unyielding desire for a better future, love may prove the most formidable force of all. But can passion thrive in the shadow of the Iron Throne? AN: Please note that this story is a work of fiction set in the world of «A Song of Ice and Fire», but it does not adhere strictly to the canon of Game of Thrones. I have created original characters and changed certain family names, titles, and locations to fit the narrative. While inspired by the world George R.R. Martin has built, the names and events in this story are not meant to represent the original characters or lore. This is simply a new adventure within a beloved universe. Enjoy! PART 2 (part 1 is here)

Promises Shattered

The days after your explosive argument with Jon Snow settled into a tense quiet, but the silence between you felt sharper than any words. You carried the weight of your resentment like armor, unwilling to forgive the man who claimed you as his wife yet gave you none of the warmth or partnership that title should entail.

You had always dreamed of a family—a loving husband, children to hold close. But Jon Snow had crushed that dream beneath the cold stone of his indifference. You were a queen in name, a wife in duty, but in truth, you felt like little more than a pawn in his life.

And Jon? He seemed caught between the role of a king and the man he used to be. His attempts to close the chasm between you were clumsy and ill-timed, as though he couldn’t decide whether to embrace his emotions or suppress them.

---

The next morning after the feast, Jon approached you in the courtyard, where you stood brushing down your mare. His expression was hesitant, almost uncertain—a rare sight for the stoic king.

“I thought we might ride together,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced at him, skeptical. “And why would we do that?”

Jon shifted his weight, uncomfortable. “Because… your father once told me you had always loved to ride. I thought it might be… pleasant.”

Pleasant. The word grated against your already raw nerves, but part of you wanted to believe he was trying. Reluctantly, you agreed, if only to escape the oppressive walls of the Red Keep for a while.

---

The ride was quiet, the tension between you palpable. Jon tried to engage you in conversation, pointing out the beauty of the fields and the crispness of the northern air, but you offered only curt responses.

At one point, he reached over to steady your horse when it startled, his hand brushing yours. The touch lingered for a moment, and for the briefest instant, you felt a flicker of the connection that had been so elusive.

But then the anger returned, sharp and biting. Why had it taken him so long to try? Why had he let so much resentment fester before attempting to mend things?

When you returned to the castle, you dismounted without a word, your silence speaking volumes. Jon watched you go, his expression unreadable, but you didn’t look back.

---

The following morning, a message arrived.

Lord Harrick, the same man who had caused a scene at the feast, invited you to join him on a hunt. The offer was unexpected, but it gave you an idea—a way to vent your frustration and, perhaps, to provoke Jon.

Without consulting anyone, you accepted.

---

The hunt was exhilarating. The wind whipped through your hair as you rode alongside Harrick, his easy laughter and charming conversation a welcome distraction from the storm brewing at home. He treated you with respect, yet there was an undercurrent of flirtation in his words—nothing overt, but enough to remind you that you were still desired, still seen.

You spent the day among the trees, the thrill of the chase momentarily easing your anger. For the first time in months, you felt free.

---

When you returned to the castle that evening, Jon was waiting for you in the courtyard. His dark eyes burned with barely contained fury, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Where have you been?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous.

You dismounted slowly, meeting his glare with one of your own. “I was hunting,” you said simply.

“Hunting,” Jon repeated, his tone icy. “With Harrick.”

You shrugged, brushing past him. “He invited me. It was a pleasant way to spend the day.”

Jon grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. “You thought it was pleasant to spend the day with a man who has no respect for our marriage?”

“Our marriage?” you snapped, yanking your arm free. “What marriage, Jon? The one where you ignore me until it suits you? The one where I’m little more than a title and a duty to you?”

Jon’s jaw tightened, his anger barely held in check. “I’ve been trying,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you make it impossible.”

“Trying?” you laughed bitterly, “You waste months ignoring me, and then a single horseback ride is supposed to fix everything? Do you even hear yourself?”

“I’ve been trying to be better for a long time,” Jon said, his voice rising. “To be the husband you deserve. But you… you make it harder every day with your defiance, your games.”

“Games?” you repeated, your voice sharp. “If anyone is playing games, it’s you, Jon. You don’t want a wife; you want a shadow who follows you silently, who never questions you. That’s not who I am.”

Jon stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “If you don’t want to be my wife,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “then so be it. But you will give me heirs, the council demands it.”

The words hit you like a blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. For a moment, you could only stare at him, your anger giving way to disbelief.

“Is that all I am to you?” you said, your voice trembling with fury. “A vessel for your heirs? A broodmare to serve your legacy?”

Jon’s expression faltered, but he didn’t back down. “You’re my queen,” he said simply.

“No, Jon,” you said, your voice breaking. “I am your wife. Or at least, I thought I was. But if this is what you think of me, then maybe I was wrong.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, your heart heavy with anger and pain.

---

That night, the walls of the Red Keep felt colder than ever. The unspoken tension between you and Jon had finally boiled over, leaving a rift that seemed impossible to bridge.

But even as you lay awake, your thoughts consumed by his words, you couldn’t ignore the flicker of something deeper—something that neither of you had been willing to admit. Whether it was love, hate, or something in between, you couldn’t yet say. But whatever it was, it burned brighter than either of you could control.

#jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon snow fanfic #jon snow x oc #jon snow #game of thrones

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