#Tried something a bit different with coloring this time ^^

[janluxe]

WET DREAMS — CALEB/XIA YIZHOU

–summary; what has him all hot and bothered?

–contents; fluff, smut (mdni), tiny bit of angst

Some consider insanity to be the process of trying the same thing over and over again while expecting different results. But have they ever felt unseen by the world and trapped in their own wordly vessel?

There wasn't even a fleeting moment of peace in his mind – always filled to the brim and preoccupied with tasks and responsibilities placed upon him. And yet, he worried more about your safety and well-being more than he did for his own, considering he had been protecting you ever since he could remember himself, blaming it on the supposed sibling relationship until he got older.

Figuring out feelings is more difficult than what people are prepared to give credit for. He always remembers being physically exhausted from what he had to endure each day, yet when his eyes finally fluttered shut he was haunted by his thoughts, thoughts he shouldn't have while you're one room away.

After some time of observing him, you had started noticing subtle patterns in the way he slept. You watched the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took. He looked so peaceful. Caleb's only motion was his hand moving slowly toward his face, running his slender fingers through his dark hair and brushing it out of his face. A rush of hope used to ripple through you – maybe his nightmares had come to a halt for the night. Or so you thought every time.

Today was one of the days you could hear him from the room he had given you. Caleb had changed after the explosion, he was no longer the innocent boy you once found comfort and security in – not the same boy you held a grudge on because he did not make time to play with you or hand you over sweet treats behind Gran's back. No, he was the Colonel of the Farspace fleet now. He had to leave his old self behind if he wanted to fit into that role.

The worst part was, seeing an unrecognizable version of him, and still, all you could hear were the same faint whines that escaped from your childhood friend and bounced off the walls each time he fell unconscious while you tried to soothe him.

It was different this time. Something felt off, and that sensation rotted in your gut.

He had fallen asleep in the room he had settled for. Caleb's room was spacious with his queen sized bed, minimally decorated and colored in his own personal touch and, above all, cozy. Despite his preferences, he was willing to switch bedrooms the moment you expressed your fondness for him.

Your hand rested on the doorknob, tapping the smooth material underneath your fingertips to distract your mind from the current dilemma you had found yourself tangled in. Was invading his privacy proper under these circumstances? –What if he was doing something else– But then again, what were you to do while he was audibly struggling not so far away from where you were standing?

The door clicked open by a slight push of your hand, swaying enough to give you space to slip into the room.

The sight of him, while experiencing a disturbing dream, was something you were grown used to, unfortunately. His fingers clutched onto the soft material of the blanket he had pulled over himself.

However, his expression didn't have the same fear and despair it had written all over it like it did in the past. You sat by his side, careful not to startle him further, studying his mannerisms and every small shift in his attitude in an attempt to decipher what his dream was about.

After a few moments of silence you realized how much of a bad idea was to enter his room, his harsh breaths fading into desperate whines – his hand clenched onto the blanket, before it brushed against your skin. Caleb had always been a light sleeper, plus his position in the aerospace added more to that trait of his. And this time, the coldness of your fingers on his hand was what stirred him awake.

His forearm rested over his eyes, an audible groan escaping him as he struggled to adjust to the moonlight, blinding him through the window.

“What are you doing here, pipsqueak?” Caleb began, taking his arm off of his face so he could check the time on the bright screen of the digital clock placed atop his nightstand. A major part of him was concerned that you were up and about at this hour. His voice was different from what you were used to, as it came out groggy and rough with sleep.

Taking a mental note of your facial expression upon hearing him speak, he cleared his throat, “missed me already?”

His hand enveloping yours was a sensation worth memorizing and reminiscing about later on in the future - the way his thumb glided over the bruised skin on your knuckles, lifting it to his lips and pressing a tender kiss on them right after. He wanted to make sure that you knew how much he cared, even if he couldn't quite put it into words.

You didn't hesitate when it came to his touch. He was warm compared to the silk textile of the nightgown he had bought for you a few days prior, it clung perfectly on your frame - if anything, Caleb has your measurements engraved in the back of his mind. The material was smooth, comfortable yet the only downside of it was the inability to maintain your body temperature.

The goosebumps on your skin didn't go unnoticed. Caleb slipped the blanket covering his body on yours instead the very moment he took note of a suppressed shiver rushing through you. You cherished the comfort that came with the soft fabric and his cologne staining it. Reality seemed to disappear, even for a moment, before your eyes started studying his frame; spread out right in front of you, shirt hitching up his hipbone and a bulge straining his pyjama pants.

You blinked a few times – that explains everything, his restlessness, his messed up breathing pattern and his noises weren't because of a nightmare, oh god – “I should head back to my room…and you should rest.” A quick excuse left your lips faster than you anticipated. Maybe he wouldn't doubt your very believable excuse.

Unfortunately for you, his eyes never left yours, and the way he was gazing at you was like a bucket of cold water in the face.

“Please stay.”

The whiny tone lacing his voice already had you reconsidering your decisions, but the way he tugged on the hem of your shirt as soon as you stood up from his bed was a whole different thing.

Caleb had become very well aware of how his gaze resembled one of a desperate puppy, all thanks to you reminding him of it at the most inconvenient times, like when he was on duty with you on the other side of the line, or when he was a little too full of himself.

However, after so much teasing, he had grown accustomed to it. Here he was now – the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, lilac eyes staring up at you, just like a lost puppy desperate for affection.

It was comical, really. The way his usually sharp gaze softened, lips apart and ready to beg for your attention instead of command and all of this because of a dream.

"What did you even dream about that got you this messed up?" You questioned, with no hesitation whatsoever. It was too late to filter any thoughts or to rethink the correct way to phrase sentences. Your hand remained on top of his watching as his expression changed.

Caleb's hand shifted, leaving yours as he moved them to rest on the bones of your hips, slowly drawing you in and hoping you'd follow along. "Let me show you, pipsqueak." He murmured as if his offer was only for you to hear.

Before you was the Caleb you had grown up knowing your whole life. Always a teasing attitude and a playful glint hiding in the lilac coloured irises that you had always adored the most. He kept them fixated on you as he guided your legs to sink into the mattress on either side of his chest; his arms remaining behind your knees while his fingers massaged the soft flesh of your thighs.

His face almost looked ethereal beneath you, like a sculpture made to honor a God. A statue so carefully chiseled down to the finest details by the best of the best, capturing every playful intention and liveliness by using the brightest colors on their palette.

Not able to help the redness giving away just how flustered you had gotten over this gesture, you tried to play it off by playing dumb, "Are we about to cuddle?" – Okay maybe it was a stupid question, but it worked, didn't it? Caleb's low chuckle escaping his throat echoed in the room.

"Later? Sure." He had a habit of scoffing every time you came up with an idiotic excuse or an unreasonable question, "But I haven't finished my description yet." Caleb was a trained pilot, trained to make quick work of things.

In a blink of an eye he had repositioned himself, bringing your body to straddle his face and barely leaving any space separating you from him. "I dreamed of you just like this." It was painfully obvious how much he was holding back; his thumb tracing small hearts on the inside of your thighs to distract himself.

It was all too much, his touch, his breath ghosting over your skin. You were about to detangle yourself from his grasp. His gaze stuck on you as if he was a loyal follower and you were his religion - the only one he would ever kneel for and worship. And he made sure you'd understand his silent message.

Time spent with his pipsqueak was valuable for him, so he rarely turned down the opportunity. Hence why his teeth were already grazing your skin, leaving soft marks and goosebumps in their wake. You were pretty sure Caleb didn't have any experience with these things, so how was it possible for him to know exactly the way to run his tongue over the freshly made wounds? How could he stay so calm while you struggled to keep your moans to yourself the moment his tongue reached your core?

“You're awfully quiet, pipsqueak.” His voice was barely above a whisper, vibrating against your skin. He could never resist the banter he had with you whenever his teasing got the best of you. He knew you better than anyone, and for that, you were thankful.

Caleb sat in pure awe, his lilac eyes studying your silhouette standing out in the darkness of the room. "And wet already… you needy little thing" Giving you time to process his words and what he was about to do? Overrated. The only warning you got was the feeling of his finger hooking around the underside of your panties before he gently tugged it away, leaving you exposed.

Every single one of his moves was calculated. Caleb wouldn't hesitate to shoot a man, but if anything happened to you by his hand, he simply wouldn't forgive himself.

“This is embarrassing.” The shakiness in your voice spurred him on, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue and slowly licking his way up to the bundle of nerves hidden between your folds.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your remark, “Loosen up, princess.” His voice vibrated against your sensitive flesh while the sound of it soothed you, until he started pushing a finger past your puffy lips. Starting off with a few careful pumps and before you knew it, he was in knuckle-deep with your juices coating his beautiful hand, and his lips wrapped around your swollen clit.

A choked moan escaped you, in an attempt to muffle your own sounds by biting down on your lower lip while you readjusted yourself on his face. You needed to keep your mind busy somehow even if that didn't go as planned since Caleb used his evol to restrain you from shifting any further. "I wasn't going anywhere," You managed to breathe out right after understanding what went through his mind the moment you started moving in the slightest. He sucked at hiding his feelings, for his face and body never quieted down.

"False alarm." He smiled innocently, as if he hadn't just shot you a glare, daring you to move away whilst he ate you out. What mattered now was that the pressure of his evol on your shoulders had paused.

His fingers continued caressing you, curling to find just the right spot. The boyish smirk crossing his features as soon as you could no longer contain your whines was just the cherry on top.

You could feel a familiar coil in your stomach, ready and threatening to snap if he kept this up. “You taste so good. So so good.” And with that you were over the edge, fingers removed and leaving you empty, his tongue lapping up your release without wasting a second.

Caleb didn’t give a flying fuck about his oxygen running out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head in pure ecstasy while squeezing his face in between your thighs, soaking him was all he cared about.

A faint gush of wind met your skin, making you automatically shiver in response, hyper aware of every sensation around you. However, he didn’t let you alone for too long - carefully switching positions in a blink of an eye.

His hand planted on either side of your head, “You’ve never done this before, have you?” Caleb asked, staring down at you with his characteristic smirk - a wave of possessiveness mixed very well with pride rushing through him at the thought. But he knew all about your past relationships -he never approved of by the way- and how terrible they were, in the end he still bore the title of your ‘gege’.

“Tell me what I can do to make you feel good.” He coaxed, the back of his hand coming up to brush the textured skin of your cheek, the same skin he had wiped so many tears off years before. The way he could switch between a colonel and a desperate puppy was… oddly arousing. He felt the need to please you, to hear your praises despite his cock straining painfully against the rough fabric of his pants. “Tell gege, where do you want to be touched?”

The same fingers that fucked you were now stroking circles around the sensitive bud of one of your breasts, “Here?” He murmured as he gauzed your expressions shifting with each small touch. The moonlight creeping through the swaying curtains only audience you had while his hand explored you, “or maybe… here?” He continued, gently massaging your inner thigh. “Oh, I know.” the rough surface of his fingertips brushed against your calf, adjusting you until your heel dug into his shoulder - his hands weren’t always like this, they were soft once.

He’d be the death of you, but that’d be a fair exchange, for you’d be his.

—a/n; just a little something I had in my drafts for a few months,, tysm for reading and have a nice day/night ♡

[xavissky]

DIY MC nails!

Did you like MC's nails? Did you know these are easy to DIY???

What you'll need:

Nail polishes in light and darker blue, + a holographic/iridescent top coat (No quick dry; I've tried this with the instant dry and the struggle and pain I suffered.... I'm so sorry. This only really works with regular polishes!)

A clear top coat + your favorite base coat

School glue (I'm so dead serious yes liquid kids school glue, the non-toxic kind)

A disposable foam makeup sponge or an old beauty blender you were about to get rid of

Tweezers

Here's the finished result!

Tutorial with Pics:

Ok for people who want to know exactly what I used:

Dark blue = "To Me From Me" (#735) by Essie

Light blue = some kind of light cornflower blue cheap polish by Elle I bought for pennies at freakin' TJ Maxx 💀 (you do not have to spend on this I promise) just try to color match as close as possible!

Holographic Top Coat = "Ethereal Escape" (#30) by Essie's Special Effect [I might also recommend "Iris Illusion" (#546) by Sally Hansen, it's an extremely close second but a little more chrome than sparkle - which may be desirable!] Basically if you look at the reference photo, there's an everrrr so slight purple sheen to it. Like, very iridescent. You want something not "glittery" just enough that when the sun hits it, you get a subtle purple shimmer!

Clear Top Coat = I swear by Olive & June's Quick Dry Top Coat ("But Madi you said no quick dry!!" I KNOW BUT THIS IS THE TIP TOP IT'S DIFFERENT)

Step 1:

Grab your favorite base coat (everyone's needs are different, mine is to remedy my peeling nails sobbb). Slather her on and while you wait,

Apply a thin rim of school glue around your nails. Hang with me a minute.

It should be a thin coat, if it's too thick it'll take forever to dry. You can adjust it with your finger if it's too thick? it's fine.

For you nosy guppies, we do this to protect our skin and our sanity later. Now shush.

Step 2:

Wait for the glue to fully dry. Like there should be no more white. You'll see in the next pic you can no longer see the glue.

Step 3:

Grab a makeup sponge - you'll only need 1! (those cheap white ones they sell in a big bag in the beauty section; OR if you're like me and couldn't be bothered, cut up an old beauty blender you're about to get rid of. Then you'll be able to save the other pieces for another time!)

Apply a thin line of light blue polish on the bottom, then a thinner line of the darker blue above it.

Step 4:

Gently stamp the colors onto the nail, it'll look like this and it'll be a mess but that's what the glue's for.

Do this for all your nails.

Step 6:

Wait a minute and apply a second "coat," so more stamping.

"But Madi! It looks bumpy!!" It's fine I promise 😭

Step 7:

Give it another minute, then apply your iridescent coat.

Omg look all the "bumpiness" was smoothed out!

Step 8:

Apply your top coat ✨

Step 9:

Grab your tweezers and you can start to pick that dried glue off. Wow no more mess! It's so easy!!!

Here i saved you a bit of glue.

Seriously it's so satisfying.

(Don't @ me about the dust ok i legit vacuumed and dusted 2 days ago but I've been leaving my window open a ton tyvm!!!)

AND YOU'RE DONE!!

---

{Reposts to other platforms are ok for this post bc I'm not on anything else but just please link and credit! ✨}

[hansrkive]

STILL THE SAME (K.MG)

Everything changed yet everything was still the same between You and Mingyu.

౨ৎ PAIRING: kim mingyu x afab!reader

౨ৎ GENRE: angst angst angst

౨ৎ TAGS: one-shot and literally just sad stuff.

౨ৎ NOTES: wanted something sad to write lmao ++ i figured i’d write my one-shots in second person pov with x reader and my full blown aus in third person pov with x ocs!

౨ৎ HYPERLINKS: pinned post, ko-fi, seventeen’s master-list, and mingyu's master-list.

౨ৎ WORDCOUNT: 1.15K words.

365 DAYS AFTER.

It was as if no one had lived in the house up on the hill. Dust had accumulated by the old fireplace where you once shared your dreams. The old coffee table where you planned your lives were now home to chipmunks who chewed what was left. As the walls that gave you comfort chipped away into dirt gathered slowly on the floor you once danced on, you gave the house one last look as you locked the main door — locking every bit of memory you made into the decrepit, old house. “This house is such a waste,” the buyer sighed as you gave her the keys. “Have you told the other owner you sold it?” she asked.

“He agreed to it, don’t worry,” you smiled bitterly. “So, everything’s done, right?”

“Yeah, we’re all good,” the buyer said. “Do you want a picture with the house? For old times' sake?” the buyer offered.

You hesitantly agreed. Nothing’s bad with one last memory, right? You gave your phone to the buyer and posed in front of the main door. Tears were trying to escape from your eyes, but you pushed through.

You weren’t the type to dwell on the past. You knew that it would just do more harm than good. In your mind, Mingyu has probably moved on with someone new, with someone ready to marry him. Since you broke up, you and Mingyu haven’t seen each other for precisely 365 days. But since you both owned the house you sold earlier this morning, you had to give his share of the money. Did you dread seeing him? Yes. Did you want the Earth to swallow you up instead? Yes.

But you were also curious — curious to see what had changed.

Was he still wearing the necklace you gave him?

Probably not anymore.

Has he changed his hair color to brown? He always wanted to do that.

His hair is different.

Does he still love you?

Maybe, or not.

“Y/N,” a voice called you by a nickname only one knew. As you lifted your head, you saw Mingyu on the other side of the pedestrian lane. Still wearing the necklace, still the same hair color, still the same Mingyu you loved, yet still the same Mingyu you broke.

Without any hesitation, as soon as the walking green man appeared, Mingyu ran towards you as if you were still together — all smiles with a glint of hope shimmering in his eyes. “It’s starting to rain. Let’s go to my car.” Mingyu offered. Drops of rain started to come fast. You didn’t have much choice but to agree. His car was probably the last place you wanted to be in.

“I’ll just give you the cheque and call a cab,” you mumbled as you both got in the car. It was still the same — as if nothing had changed over the past year. The fuzzy dice you won at a festival were still dangling at the rear-view mirror, and the makeup holder you bought was still there, full of unused makeup you had left before you broke up. “You still kept this?” you chuckled, holding the makeup holder to check it. “Your girlfriend might not like this. You still have your exes’ stuff.”

“What girlfriend?” Mingyu asked. “I’m single.”

“Oh.”

“I haven’t had any since, you know,” Mingyu whispered. “I tried, but I also couldn’t.”

You were shocked, to say the least. You imagined him being with someone. It was easier that way. Mingyu having someone new would’ve been better for you. At least you knew you didn’t have a chance. “How about you?” Mingyu asked, his gaze softened as you played with the hem of your shirt.

“Same,” you whispered. “My sister gave me a reality check. She told me I might break the next person like I broke you if I don’t fix myself,” you laughed.

“You didn’t break me, Y/N,” Mingyu promised, his hand itching to hold yours. “You never did.”

365 DAYS BEFORE.

The lights leading up to yours and Mingyu’s home illuminated the street perfectly. As you walked on the steep hill, coming back home from work was tiring, yet relaxing at the same time. Since the house was the farthest on the street, you and Mingyu had a fantastic view of the city — twinkling city lights, honking cars, and skyscrapers kissing the clouds. “You didn’t have to fetch me from the bus stop, babe,” you laughed as Mingyu carried your bags.

“It’s a different day.” Mingyu smiled. “I wanted to be different.”

As you reached your home, you did notice something different. The lawn was freshly cut, the poinsettias had tiny ribbons on them, and there was a faint smell of coconut and vanilla inside the house. “Did you do something?” you asked as you opened the door. You were right, there was something different.

Rose petals were scattered on the floor, candles illuminated the living room, red and pink balloons were floating on the ceiling, and the four words you avoided were plastered on the wall — waiting for an answer. “Mingyu,” you whispered, shocked at the scene before you. You turned around to see Mingyu on his knee, a diamond ring on his hand.

“I always knew that I wanted to marry you, that I wanted to be your husband. Right from the start, as you walked right in front of me during first day of college, right there and then, I knew you were the one.” Mingyu spoke with clarity, his gaze never leaving yours. “Y/N, will you allow me to spend eternity with you?”

“Mingyu,” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

365 DAYS AFTER.

“Still, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, tears finally escaping your eyes as you released all the emotions you’ve bottled up over the past year. “I just left. Without listening to you. Without saying anything. I was just scared, Mingyu,” you said. “I was scared that we would be like my parents. I know, it’s not an excuse, but still. I’m so sorry.”

“If you told me about this, I would’ve understood, Y/N.” Mingyu fretted, finally letting his hand touch yours without any hesitation or doubts. “I love you, that’s all that matters. If you were scared about us becoming your parents, so be it. I’ll do what they didn’t do, fight for us.”

“I’m sorry,” you finally sobbed loudly, your shoulders relaxed as you tightened your grip on Mingyu’s hand. “Please forgive me.”

“You never had to say sorry, Y/N,” Mingyu said as he wiped the tears on your cheeks. “Can we start again?” Mingyu asked.

“One year was too long, Gyu,” you laughed. “We could just hit play again. I mean, it feels like nothing has changed. We’re still the same.”

As you both let your bottled-up emotions out, Mingyu grabbed your face and kissed your lips softly, a part of your face he knew all too well.

“Still the same.” Mingyu smiled.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

Simon’s been in the service for a decade and a half the first time he smears eye black on his lips just to see what he’ll look like. He squints, puckers his lips, rolls them, and decides it’s a bit shite. He wipes his mouth, then pauses, and tries again, leaving his bottom lip clean. He turns his face this way and that, lets his jaw drop open, just a bit. Smiles.

Oh.

He’s never been less than thorough, so the next day he goes to the pharmacy and gets a handful of tubes of lip gloss in various colors. He doesn’t bother to come up with a justification, and the girl at the cash doesn’t ask for one. He goes home and tests them all out, following tutorials as best he can with a limited color pallet. Eye black and cotton swabs are a poor but serviceable substitute for eyeliner.

When he takes in the whole of his face, he feels... not pretty. He can see where his inexperience combines with the angles of his face to make something that he wouldn’t ever consider girlish. But he also can’t deny that he looks like himself in a way he never has before. Not more, or less, just different.

[momo-kageyama]

The Voice You Never Forget

—————————————————————————

Anime: One Piece

—————————————————————————

Loki x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

Loki, the dreaded prince of Elbaf, lived a lonely and brutal childhood, until the day when, as a baby, he was found by Albare - an older giant girl, with grayish blue skin, eyes the color of the crystal sea and a serene beauty. She was the first to treat him with affection, making faces for him to smile even when he was hurt and crying. After that day, she disappeared.

Loki spent years looking for her in silence, even without knowing if it was real or just an old dream

Years later, already a powerful and feared prisoner in the depths of Elbaf's underworld, Loki received an accidental call from Den Den Mushi. It was her. Albare. The voice he never forgot.

"You're the woman I loved. And it still is."

—————————————————————————

"The First Smile"

The sky over Elbaf was hiding in gray mists when the baby was thrown into the Underworld, in an act of denial. Still covered by the blood of birth, Loki fell into the ancestral abyss, his cries swallowed by the dark and cold vastness.

For days, maybe weeks, he crawled between rocks and monstrous roots, his skin hurt by the cutting wind, his tiny hands bleeding on the scales of the dead beasts that served as food and shelter.

His eyes were blindfolded, because his mother had said: "These eyes should not see the world."

But the world saw him - and rejected him.

Or so he thought.

That morning when the cold bit deeper, Loki reached the top of the Adam Tree. The branches formed a living staircase, and among broken vines and corpses of beasts, the giant baby climbed as if guided by something that not even he understood.

That's when he saw you.

You were there. Sitting on one of the broad roots like walls, with the morning sun touching her black hair like an abyss, falling in cascades on her broad shoulders. His face covered by a mysterious fringe, hiding an eye. The other - crystal blue, like the summer sea - stared at the world with patience and sadness.

Her skin was grayish blue, like polished stone in the light of dawn, and her silhouette brought the firmness of legendary warriors. And even though she was just a girl, a few years older, in her eyes there was something old. Something maternal. Something eternal.

When you saw that baby bleeding, crying and trying to hide his face, you didn't back down. He didn't judge him. He didn't ask.

You just lifted him in your arms with sweetness, as if he were made of porcelain from the heavenly seas. His body was shaking. The bandages on his eyes were soaked with blood.

He cried with pain, cold, fear - and confusion.

He had never been touched with affection.

So you started making silly faces. Laughing. Making strange sounds. Covering his mouth with his hands. He didn't understand. He tried to resist.

But his gestures were kind. Ridiculous. True.

The crying turned into hiccups.

The sobs in silence.

And, for the first time......He laughed.

It was a small sound, like the rantling of new leaves. But it was real.

And you said, with a firm and low voice, almost a whisper:

"You're not cursed. You were only born in a world that doesn't know how to deal with different light."

There, baby Loki met the heat.

Not the heat of the fire.

But the warmth of affection.

You wrapped him in your own mantle. She stayed next to him until she fell asleep. He took care of his injuries. Cleaned your face. And when he opened his eyes, even blindfolded, you said:

"If no one looks at you anymore... I'll go."

At that moment, the heart of the future "Cursed Prince" planted its first flower.

A flower made of affection, memory and longing.

—————————————————————————

Years later, already imprisoned, surrounded by chains and hatred, Loki still murmurs a forgotten name. In dreams, he sees crystal clear sea blue eyes. A shy smile. A warm touch.

And, even if I've never seen you again...

He still remembers you. The only one who didn't call him a monster. The only one that made him smile before learning to hate.

—————————————————————————

– The Voice That Is Never Forgotten

Years had passed since he last saw the light.

Loki, now called "Cursed Prince", was locked in the depths of Elbaf, his body wrapped in seastone chains, his pride torn, his heart cold like the place where he was left to die as a baby.

He spoke little. Only to the animals that still visited him. Sometimes, I laughed at things that no one said. He hated the world with fervor - but deep down, a piece of him was still waiting for something.

Something... or someone.

Until one day, between the lost and forgotten frequencies of Den Den Mushi chained to the stone wall... a mistake happened. Or maybe, it was destiny.

- "Hello?" - said the voice on the other side.

He almost hung up. He ALWAYS hung up.

But not this time.

The voice was soft. Like a ray of sunshine touching ancient ice.

And strangely... familiar.

He didn't say anything.

She repeated:

- "Is there anyone there? I can hear you breathe, you know?"

Loki remained motionless. Blindfolded by habit. His blood had been calming down for days. But for some reason, his heart raced.

And then... she started singing.

It was a silly, sweet song, made for children. With invented syllables and repetitions that calmed the soul.

But he knew that melody.

He had already heard her... when he was a baby.

And everything came back.

The dead beasts.

The pain.

The bangs over the eye.

The ridiculous grimaces.

The first smile.

Loki held Den Den Mushi with trembling hands, as if he were made of glass.

- "Who are you...?" - he whispered, his voice hoarse, for the first time in years not loaded with hatred.

The answer came with the calm that only those who keep time in their chest can offer:

- "I'm Albare."

It was like hearing a thunder inside your own chest.

That name.

That sound.

That forgotten world.

He didn't say anything. Silence took over Elbaf's Underworld.

But Den Den Mushi's snail smiled. The smile was the same as when she made faces at him in childhood.

- "Do you still remember me?" - she asked.

He wanted to lie. I wanted to mock. He wanted to act like the monster the world believed he was.

But all he could say was:

- "You made me smile... when I still didn't know what it was like to live."

——————————

The call lasted for hours. And in the end, no word was said. Only soft songs. Healing silences.

For the first time since childhood, Loki slept in peace.

With his head leaning against Den Den Mushi. And a sacred name kept on the lips:

"Albare."

He dreamed of light - but not the sun. It was the blue light of an eye between dark fringes. It was the smell of roots and wind. And the sound... of that voice.

- "You woke up..."

The phrase echoed through the silence of the cell, coming from little Den Den Mushi who rested on a moss-covered stone, like a forgotten altar.

Loki opened his eyes slowly. The sound of the current creaking on his wrist echoed low, scratching the rock. He smiled, a crooked smile, without humor.

- "Are you still there, Albare?"

On the other side of the line, her voice was soft, but firm as an old tree trunk:

- "Where else would I be?"

There was a brief silence. And then, he replied:

- "Away from me. Like everyone else."

————————

Despite the time that separated them, they talked every night.

She asked questions. Sometimes direct. Sometimes subtle.

He answered. Sometimes angry. Sometimes with pride. And, little by little... with truth.

Albare heard horrible stories.

Loki told - almost always laughing - how he burned cities, killed powerful men, and how it took the strength of all Elbaf's giants to arrest him.

He spoke as if each tragedy were a medal.

- "You don't understand... they called me a monster. So I was the monster they deserved."

But there was something in his voice that didn't match the hatred.

Something cracked.

Albare never interrupted. I just heard.

And when he finished, she always asked:

- "Is that really what you wanted? Destroy everything?"

And he never knew how to answer.

————————

Over time, she began to tell about her life as well.

About the lonely days at the roots of the Adam Tree, about how it felt "too big for the world, but too small to be heard".

She sang to him sometimes.

And he leastened, in silence.

Little by little, Loki started talking about things he didn't tell anyone:

Of the nights when I cried without knowing why.

From dreams with blue eyes.

From an old laugh that I heard in the middle of blood and flames.

And one day, he said softly:

- "You were the only one who saw me."

She replied:

- "And I still see it."

——————————

A new ritual—

The cell hasn't changed. The chains were still cold. The guards still called him damned.

But every night, when closing his eyes, Loki knew:

Albare would be there.

Not with promises.

Not with mercy.

But with presence.

And in his world, made of stone, ice and silence, that was all.

—————————————————————————

"Wait for You" - Between Currents and Time

Loki was never good at waiting.

Since childhood, his nature was wild, impulsive - made of lightning, not watches.

But there was only one thing he always hoped for.

You.

————————

When he was little, lost in the roots of the Adam Tree, dirty with earth and loneliness, he looked at the tall branches, hoping to see her come again.

The baby you saved, the boy you hugged, came back to the same place every day. I stayed there for hours. Observing. Waiting for the branches to move...

May the wind blow your perfume...

May the crystalline blue eyes reveal themselves behind the dark fringe...

But you didn't come back.

And over time, he began to tell himself that you never existed. That it was just a delirium. A fantasy created by the mind of a cold baby.

But he never stopped looking.

Not even to wait.

—————————

Now, decades later, in the midst of the darkness of the Underworld, he waited again.

But now, it was no longer because of his silhouette.

It was by the sound of Den Den Mushi vibrating weakly on the wall.

For the first words of the night.

- "You woke up..."

- "Albare..."

And as much as he pretended to be bored, no matther how much he mocked his own dependence, the truth was simple:

He lived for this connection.

He felt it when you were late.

I was annoyed, like an abandoned child.

He pretended he didn't care, but his chest tightened as if he relived that childhood abandonment.

And then, when the snail finally blinked...

When the voice emerged, warm and firm...

He relaxed.

As if for a few minutes, the whole world made sense again.

————————

One night, he murmured:

- "Did you know that when I was little... I went back to that place every day?"

You were silent, listening.

- "I told myself it didn't matter. That you wouldn't come back anyway. But even so... I would come back. Every time."

His voice faltered.

A rare tone of vulnerability crossed the usual coldness.

- "Now I stay here... stuck like an animal... and even so, I find myself waiting. Just like before."

You answered sweetly:

- "Maybe you never stopped, Loki. Maybe you just found me again."

He didn't say anything.

But Den Den Mushi got teary eyes.

And even without visible tears, Loki knew:

He was still waiting for you.

And now... waiting hurt less.

Because you were coming back.

Every night.

With the same voice.

With the same affection.

With truth.

—————————————————————————

"It's Okay"

Time passed strangely in the depths of the Underworld.

No sunlight, no moon, no clocks.

Only the sounds: the dragging of chains, the breathing of the guards, the occasional clicks of the roots of the Adam Tree that moved in the dark.

And her voice.

The only constant.

———————————

That night, the conversation started as usual.

Loki, lying on the cold floor, with his wrists tied in seastone, said with a sigh:

- "You sing badly."

You laughed on the other side, no offense.

- "And you're a terrible liar."

The two laughed.

Like children.

As if the world hadn't collapsed years ago.

————————

But that night, something was different.

His voice was lower.

More contained.

Less present.

Loki frowned.

- "Where are you, Albare?"

Silence.

He felt a chill.

The kind of silence that doesn't come with peace, but with secrets.

- "Albare..." - he insisted, firmer.

That's when you heard.

A very familiar sound.

Currents.

They weren't yours.

They were others.

Thinner. Most recent.

They had the metallic and humid sound of the cells of the Underworld.

- "...Albare?" - he whispered.

You took a second too long. Then he answered with a calm, too cautious tone.

- "...It's okay."

But the phrase, said softly, arrived like a stab.

Loki sat down abruptly, his eyes wide.

- "Are you... here?"

Silence was the answer.

And then, again:

- "It's okay, Loki. I promise."

But it was a lie.

He knew.

He knew that calm.

It was the same one he used before destroying something.

The same one you used before it broke.

His fist clenched tightly.

- "Who did that?"

You tried to change the subject.

He tried to sing an old melody.

But he didn't listen.

The anger in his chest burned again - not by himself.

For you.

- "If they touched you, Albare... If they hurt you... I'll..."

You interrupted him with sweetness:

- "Shhh. Don't say anything now. Just... talk to me. Please."

And then, for the first time in years, the conversation changed.

He was no longer a lone prisoner talking with a memory.

Now they were two captives sharing the same world of shadows.

And even so, there was light between the words.

—————

That night, you didn't talk about the past.

Not even about the world outside.

Not even about revenge.

They just whispered small fragments to each other.

Broken verses from an old song.

Words that didn't heal...

But they reheated.

And when Den Den Mushi fell asleep, Loki leaned his forehead against the cold stone and said, softly, almost to himself:

- "Now... I'm the one who will wait for you."

—————————————————————————

"Silence"

It was months of sacred routine.

Even chained, wounded, hated by the world, Loki had something that no one could take away from him: you.

Albare.

The voice that saved him as a child.

The only presence he expected with his heart beating, with the anxiety hidden under sarcasm.

Every night.

Without failing.

And that night... it started as always.

- "You're late." - he murmured, with that usual grumbling tone.

- "It's just that I was choosing the right song to annoy you." - you answered, with a light laugh.

He smiled, really.

That's how it was.

That's how it would always be.

Or... so he thought.

In the middle of a sentence - his voice was cut abruptly.

- "...and then I thought, will Loki..."

BOOM.

The sound swallowed everything.

Explosion.

Screams.

Metal breaking.

And then...

Grunts. Hurried steps. People running. Someone shouting your name.

- "ALBARE!"

And Den Den Mushi fell.

The dragged sound.

Then, nothing.

The dead line.

The world, mute.

Loki stayed there.

Static.

With his eyes fixed on the small motionless snail.

- "Albare..."

Nothing.

He said his name again.

- "Albare, answer me."

Silence.

He tried to hide the panic. He tried to laugh.

- "Great, did you blow up the place just to get away from singing for me?"

Nothing.

Days have passed.

No answer.

He kicked stones, cursed guards, pulled the chains until they bled.

But it was no use.

Den Den Mushi was silent.

No blinking.

No sound.

——————————

—The time after

Weeks.

Months.

And every night, Loki lay on his side, looking at the snail.

Waiting for a move.

A sound.

Anything.

But you didn't come back.

He remembered the time when he was little and waited for you among the branches of the Adam Tree.

I was waiting for you and you never came.

The pain came back strongly.

But now...

It was worse.

Because he knew you existed.

That you were there.

And now maybe I never was again.

On the hundredth night, when everything seemed lost, he leaned his forehead against the wall and murmured to the dark:

- "I'll wait, okay? As stupid as this is."

Silence.

- "Even if the world forgets that you existed... I won't forget."

Silence.

- "Because you're the only thing that made me want to stay... here."

And then he closed his eyes.

And waited.

————————

—The days...

They were passing by.

In the Underworld of Elbaf, time has no name.

The walls don't count the days.

The stones don't change color.

And the sky... doesn't exist there.

There was only him.

And the dead Den Den Mushi.

Talking to himself in whispers so low that only his heart understood. And sometimes, without thinking, he called:

- "Albare..."

And the pain of absence came back with everything.

He remembered...

From when you laughed on the calls.

From when he sang to calm his pain, even without seeing his wounds.

From when you said "it's okay", even when you clearly weren't.

And the sound of the explosion.

From the screams.

From his name, shouted by someone other than him.

And what else killed him...

It was not knowing if you were still alive.

The worst part

It wasn't the cold.

It wasn't the cell.

Not even the chains.

Not even the guards.

It was the silence.

The same silence that enveloped him when he was a baby.

The same one who screamed inside him when you didn't come back that first time.

Now he was imprisoned again - not by steel.

But for hope.

Still...

Every night, he woke up.

He sat down.

And I looked at the sleeping Den Den Mushi.

Like a sacred ritual.

And whispered:

- "If you're alive... come back to me."

- "He curses me, ignores me, hates me... but talks to me."

- "Just talk. Anything."

But the stone didn't respond.

The cell was still motionless.

And the world went on... without her.

—————————————————————————

But he didn’t know that…..

You weren't dead.

You had been taken, separated from everything, locked in another wing of the Underworld.

Isolated. Watched. Quiet. They knew you were talking to him. They knew that his voice was a thread of light in the midst of Loki's darkness.

And that's why... they deleted you.

But the world has a strange way of balancing.

They arrived.

The Straw Hats.

With laughter, chaos, dreams and promises.

With plenty of courage, and fear of nothing.

Luffy destroyed the gate with a punch that seemed loaded with all the wills of the sun.

Robin was the one who saw you first.

Sanji called you "cosmic mademoiselle".

Chopper took care of his wounds with tears in his eyes.

You didn't ask for freedom.

But they gave it to you.

And when they asked:

- "How do you want to go now?"

You answered, without hesitation:

- "Elbaf."

Aboard the Thousand Sunny, you remained silent most of the time.

I looked at the sea.

For the seagulls.

For the snails.

The Den Den Mushi I used with Loki was broken.

You carried it anyway.

As if I could hear his breathing between the cracks.

He didn't know.

I didn't know you were alive.

Not even that I was on my way.

But you knew.

You knew he was waiting.

Even if I had stopped talking.

Even if I didn't admit it.

He always waited for you.

—————————————————————————

—Elbaf on the horizon

Now, the giants could already be seen on the cliffs in the distance. The Adam Tree appeared as a living colossus in the center of the island.

You recognized her.

The place where you first met him.

Where he smiled, covered in mud and blood, because of him.

You touched the mantle on your lap.

And the Den Den Mushi broken in the pocket.

And he whispered:

- "Wait just a little longer, Loki..."

- "This time... I'm the one who will go up to you."

————————

Elbaf's sky was golden, dyed by the low rays of the afternoon sun. The entire island vibrated with an ancestral energy - made of war, pride and stories.

But you walked in silence.

The feet touching the earth that once saw your childhood.

The roots of the Adam Tree seemed to watch you.

The breeze whispered memories that you tried to contain.

You haven't seen him yet.

He didn't have the courage.

Not even when Luffy said he was going to him, straight as only he could be:

- "I'm going to see this Loki there. He's really important to you, right?"

You just nodded.

No explanation.

Without words.

Luffy smiled, and went.

And you... stayed.

Alone, again

You passed by the place where you saw him for the first time.

The broken branch.

The moss that was still growing where he cried.

That place still kept the sound of his baby laugh.

And yours.

Like a secret that the world forgot to destroy.

But now...

You were a woman.

He, a man chained by hatred.

And you didn't know what was left between you.

"And if he blames me?"

You held the mantle tightly.

I felt the dead Den Den Mushi heavy in my pocket.

So many nights, so many conversations, so many whispers between the stones and the pain.

You thought:

"And if he thinks I abandoned him again?"

"And if the silence that killed him inside was my fault?"

But there was no more time for "and if".

Because when the sun touched the horizon...

Luffy came back.

With his arms crossed behind his head, calm expression.

He stopped in front of you.

He looked into your eyes.

And he said with a half smile:

- "He didn't say anything. He just kept looking at the floor. But... I think he already knew you were coming."

His heart tightened.

- "Is he waiting?" - you whispered.

Luffy nodded.

- "It's."

And then... you went.

The stones on the way seemed to recognize his steps. The cell was further ahead. You heard the sound of the currents. He felt the weight of the air.

There, in that darkness, he was.

The boy you held in silence, years ago. The man you heard every night......Until the world collapses.

And he was there.

Seated.

Head down.

Disheveled hair.

The body is still trapped.

He then raised his head and looked at you.

He didn't believe it.

Even with you there, in front of him, a few steps from the cell.

Even with the smell of your skin invading the air.

With the golden light of the afternoon touching your hair.

With the sound of your real, present, living breath.

You were real.

And he... broke inside.

His eyes were wide, his chest panting.

As if I didn't want to blink, afraid of losing you again.

- "Albare..." - he whispered, with a voice that never sounded so young, so lost.

- "Are you... real?"

You didn't answer with words.

He crossed the limit of the currents with the care of those who step on sacred territory.

He knelt before him.

He let his knees touch the cold floor of the cell.

He was so different.

Strong. Injured. Cracked.

But the look... the look was still the same as the boy you hugged under the tree.

And then, with the softness of those who carry centuries of pain in their fingers,

You held his face.

The delicate hands against your hardened skin.

His thumbs brushing his cheekbones, where tears dried without being wiped.

Loki didn't move.

He didn't run away.

He didn't grow.

He didn't mock.

He trembled.

And for the first time, he blurted out:

- "You're so... stunning..."

It was almost a whisper.

A confession.

Almost as if he felt unworthy to see you like this.

As if the pain he caused in the world should keep him blind.

But you didn't believe that.

You got even closer.

He brushed his forehead on his.

He felt his breath hot, trembling, full of silence and longing.

And then...

You took your hand to the sale.

The one he used since he was a child.

The one they said I should keep.

You touched the old fabric.

And with a slow movement, without haste, he removed the blindfold.

And he saw you.

With your own eyes.

The grayish-blue skin that he only remembered in a dream.

The black hair in cascade, the bangs still falling over one of the eyes.

And the other eye... crystal clear sea, calm, firm, deep.

Albare.

You.

The one who never ran away.

The one who always came back.

He stared at you for long seconds, without saying anything.

The breath is stuck.

Hands shaking, but still stuck.

His eyes filled with tears.

And for the first time in years, without a mask, without bars, without shields,

He collapsed.

The head fell against his chest.

The body fell as if the weight of everything could finally rest there.

No anger.

No pride.

Only him.

And you.

———————————

His head still rested against his chest.

The shaggy hair touched his skin.

The sound of his breathing was irregular, as if he was learning to breathe again.

You ran your fingers through his hair, with an ancient care - almost sacred.

And there, in the dark, with the world outside waiting for answers,

Loki broke the silence.

The voice came out low.

Hoarse.

As if each word carried years of swallowed pain:

- "I spent my whole life... trying to destroy everything that reminded me of you."

You didn't say anything.

He just kept stroking her hair.

He closed his eyes tightly.

- "Because it was easier to turn you into illusion... than to admit that I needed you."

His heart tightened.

But you didn't interrupt him.

He needed to say that.

I needed to get the truth out of my chest as if it were poison.

- "And even when you came back... even after everything..."

He raised his eyes, red, intense.

Full of feeling.

- "I can't hate you."

He inspired hard.

And then...

He said what he was always afraid to say.

- "You're the woman I loved."

- "And it still is."

- "The only one."

The silence between you became heavy, but not bitter.

It was a full silence.

Full of memories.

Of nights when only his voice kept him alive.

Of whispered conversations.

Of childish waiting under the Adam Tree.

Of wounds that only healed when you spoke.

He raised his chained hands, trying to touch her, even if only by reflex.

- "I love you, Albare."

Simple.

Raw.

True.

- "Do you think you can still... look at me like before?"

You held his hands.

Between the chains.

With strength.

And he whispered:

- "Loki..."

His eyes met.

And you said, with tears in your eyelashes:

- "I've never stopped looking at you like that."

Loki could only look at you.

Even with the chains on the wrists.

Even with a tired body, marked by scars.

There, in your eyes, he saw the boy you met.

And, for the first time in years, he didn't hate him.

The words you said echoed inside him with an overwhelming force:

"I never stopped looking at you like that."

He leaned slowly.

As if you ask for permission.

As if I feared that it was still a dream.

You approached.

Until the foreheads touched.

And then, you kissed him.

Soft.

With the tenderness of those who waited an eternity.

With the pain of those who survived her.

With the courage of those who love despite everything.

When the lips parted, Loki was still panting.

With your eyes fixed on yours.

- "Tend me this is real." - he asked, with a low voice.

You touched his chest.

- "This... is more real than anything I've ever lived."

- "And I'll get you out of here."

Loki opened a crooked smile - the first in a long time.

Still broken, but full of life.

- "Are you really willing to set the world on fire for me, Albare?"

You leaned once again and whispered against his lips:

- "If necessary... I'll knock down Elbaf all over."

—————————————————————————

The Straw Hats were waiting.

Robin watched with that air of someone who understands more than he says.

Sanji smoked in silence.

Luffy was sitting in a barrel, looking at the sky, smiling.

He turned to the rest of the crew and said, without a doubt:

- "We're going to free Loki."

Nami snorted.

- "The damn prince? The guy from wars and explosions?"

Luffy smiled even more.

- "Yeah. But now he has someone who believes in him. That changes everything."

Zoro adjusted the sword on his shoulder and muttered:

- "Typical. Here we go again."

—————————————————————————

[crimscn-clover]

⊹₊⟡⋆ crimson clover // book one

nymeria. I

warnings: none for this chapter <3

notes: enjoy chapter one 🫡 and the happiness while it lasts !!

word count: 1.6k

masterlist

Torchlight bathed the room in a warm glow. Nymeria sat in the embroidery circle, surrounded by the Stark girls and Wendolyn Manderly. She kept her focus on the task at hand. Golden thread weaved through soft silk with the same kind of tactility she used to string her bow. She had never been much of a perfectionist in her endeavors of painting but embroidery was different. She felt it needed a sort of foresight that she typically did not use when approaching other projects.

“They’ve been gone for some time now,” Lynara grumbled, growing bored of her listless attempt at mediocre embroidery. In more ways than one, she resembled her little sister. “They should be back.”

Theon Greyjoy and the Stark men had ridden out earlier, a deserter of the Night’s Watch having been caught fleeing. Nymeria almost pitied the man.

“I am sure they will be home soon…” She uttered softly, continuing her careful stitches with a steady hand. In and out, in and out, in and-

“They have never taken so long before.”

Fuck!

Her brow twitched, finger quickly shooting to her lips at the pain. She could hear Septa Mordane’s words in her head; Use a thimble, girl!

(She hated thimbles, just like she hated Septa Mordane.) 

The girl tried not to scowl over the dot of red now staining the soft cream colored silk.

“I am sure they are fine,” Nymeria assured, shaking her head. She gently settled her hand over the top of Arya’s head, attempting to calm the squirming girl before she could-once again- be scolded by the Septa. “You know how they are, they have likely gotten distracted by one thing or another.”

“Oh,” Lynara waved her hand dismissively, seemingly unconcerned. “I am sure they are fine. I am only bored. I would have rather gone with them.”

“You are always bored.” Sansa mumbled under her breath petulantly. At sixteen, she was in a phase of finding everything and everyone irritating. Nymeria hid an amused smile. She could remember herself at that age, bright-eyed and determined, and how heightened every emotion had felt.

“Are we not entertaining enough for you, Nara?” Wendolyn questioned airly, her tone light and teasing. Wendolyn’s soft brown eyes were wide in amusement, shining in the torchlight. Her golden waves were pulled back into a simple braid, falling over one of her shoulders. “I feel hurt.” She pouted. Her embroidery hoop rested on her lap, giving the Stark girl her full undivided attention.

“You? Always. However, who am I with no brother to torment?” She stood, stretching her limbs. She looked every bit like her father, with straight raven hair and eyes that were the same cloudy grey as the North's overcast sky.

The small girl by Nymeria’s side darted off, earning a gasp of Arya! from the aforementioned septa. Arya ignored her in favor of pressing her face to the chilled glass of the window. “They’re coming!” She cheered. “I see them! Father, and Robb, and Alaric, and-” “We get it, Arya. They’re back,” Sansa huffed. 

Nymeria stood immediately, eager to reach her husband. She bundled up her skirts in her hands, rushing out the door despite the calls of Septa Mordane to come back! She found herself skipping over steps as she ran down the winding staircase of the Great Keep. She’d always been light on her feet, something her Uncle Oberyn had said made her good in a fight. She reached the base of the steps, and did not even think to find a spare cloak before she slipped out the door. The cold hit her harshly. The northern winds were frigid, nipping at rosy cheeks and sinking into her bones. She had begun to grow accustomed to the temperatures over her time in Winterfell, acclimating from the arid heat she had grown with in Dorne.  

Nymeria Martell had been betrothed before she could even speak. A fresh babe, she had been. Not even old enough to speak for herself, or make her own wishes known. It was purely a stroke of luck that it had been Robb Stark that she now calls a husband. She was lucky, she knew that. Many women did not love their husbands, many more were with husbands who were terrible men. 

Neither of those things were true with Robb.

“What took you all so…” Her words trailed off as she caught sight of her husband's wide smile and the squirming bundle in his arms, his brothers trailing after him with excited smiles upon their faces. “What is it?” The yard was busier than ever, with servants and staff alike all bustling about. She loved how alive Winterfell was. It had a living, breathing soul. For as barren as the North was, it never felt cold. It was home, for better or worse, and she’d come to love it more than anything. “Direwolf pups,” he exclaimed breathily, dismounting from his horse. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his eyes were wide in excitement. “Eight of them.”

Her eyes went wide at Robb’s words. “Eight?” She questioned, disbelief coloring her tone as he handed her the small pup he had been cradling. She took it, adjusting it in her arms on pure instinct.  “This one's ours. I thought of naming him Grey Wind.”

Nymeria looked down. He was adorable. Possibly the cutest thing she has had the pleasure of seeing.“Grey Wind,” she cooed, rocking him as one would a human babe. The pup yawned, resting his head against her chest. “He is still frightfully young. He will need milk.”

“You sound like my father.” Robb teased, watching Nymeria handle the wolf as if it were her own child. “I have already told him I will provide anything Grey Wind may need.”

Nymeria hummed in acknowledgement, her gaze flicking back towards Robb. “And he will need a warm bed. He will not sleep in the kennels like some animal.”

Her husband chuckled. “Then he will sleep in bed with us.” He wrapped the tail end of his cloak around her shoulders, tucking her against his side. 

Nymeria immediately warmed at the contact, leaning into him. She held onto Grey Wind, falling into step besides Robb to join the Stark siblings, Wendolyn, and Theon where they gathered. . 

“We all get one?” Nymeria heard Sansa ask as they joined the group huddle. Sansa’s eyes were bright with excitement, just barely restraining herself from snatching one of the pups herself. 

“Yes.” Jon’s expression was firm and steely. “But father said it’d be your responsibility.”

“Oh! I’ll take care of her!” The young girl cried out, reaching for one of the pups Alaric was holding. “I swear it! I’ll take care of her!” She pleaded, eyes wide and desperate. 

Alaric looked at his siblings and shrugged. “She said she’d take care of it.” He dropped the pup into her arms, earning an excited squeal from the young girl. 

Nymeria laughed, her fingers brushing through Grey Wind’s fur. “I am sure she will do well. She has a good temperament.” “Does she?” Arya grumbled from where she stood behind Jon. The two of them shared the Stark look of their lord father, with solemn grey eyes and dark hair. “Which one is mine?” “I thought you could have this one,” Alaric grinned, nodding to one of the pups wiggling in his arms. The whole scene had Nymeria’s head spinning. She could only imagine how Lord Stark was going to explain this to his lady wife. “She seems feisty, like you.” 

Arya locked eyes with the pup, taking a long pause before finally; “I’ll take her!” 

“Mothers heart will stop.” Lynara laughed, taking one of the wolf pups for herself. 

“No fault of ours,” Alaric shot his twin sister a grin. “Only fathers.” His eyes gleamed with mischief, the pair wearing twin grins. “Of course,” she responded, dry yet humorous. “Only fathers.” She parroted.

Nymeria shook her head as she laughed at the twins' antics. They never failed to make her laugh. She had known his family for years now, visiting often in her youth to acclimate her to the North, and she felt as though his siblings were her own. She loved them fiercely, and dreaded the day that they’d all have to go their separate ways. She wondered for a moment if her own family back in Dorne had felt that same melancholy when she’d left for Winterfell.

She gently nudged Robb with her shoulder, nodding in the direction of the Godswood once she caught his attention. They’d always had a knack for speaking without needing words. Sometimes it felt as though all it took was one glance to know what the other was thinking. It was a blessing of knowing each other for as long as they had. They walked through the Godswood together in silence, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves echoing with every step. Even if she worshiped in the Light of the Seven, she held reverence for the sanctity of such a sacred place. She often liked to bring her prayer beads with her whenever she visited. Even if their Gods were different, she recognized it as somewhere holy all the same. “What did you think?” Nymeria questioned, looking up at the red leaves of the old weirwood tree. “Of the deserter?”

“A mad man,” Robb dismissed. “Raving of tall tales worthy of Old Nan’s stories. Ice creatures and disappearing corpses.”

“Mhm,” Nymeria hummed, taking her seat on the tree's sprawling roots with Robb. She loved Winterfell’s godswood. It was a comforting place, a peaceful silence always blanketing over the wooded sanctuary. It was a good place to go whenever she wished to escape the bustling of Winterfell in exchange for some quiet. She set down Grey Wind, smiling as he waddled towards the water of the cold pool right in front of them. He barked at his reflection in the black water. “So it was nothing then?” 

“It was nothing, love.” Robb assured, resting his head atop of hers. “All is well.”  Nymeria smiled, leaning into her husband’s embrace, and closed her eyes.

All was well.

[nell0-0]

Mask will let the captain have this. Just this once. It wasn't just once.

Poor Mask kept falling to the ground. Luckily for him, either the captain or Tune are there to catch him

A continuation of THIS

Fun fact I didn't know until I started researching for this: apparently when someone looses an eye, it's possible that the other eye adapts. This is not good in the beginning as the remaining eye stops working for a while (???!). While long term it's not as noticeable (just less field of vision and some problems with depth perception sometimes) it's, uh... interesting :,D

Correct me if I'm wrong about this tho. I did my research, but sometimes there's misinformation out there so don't trust it 100% without checking it first.

[dontyouknowemma-itsyou]

| I dreamed a dance with you

[elvenbeard]

Did some blorbo modding this past weekend and updated Vince's shoulder and back tattoos a little bit :3 still the same design overall with some minor tweaks in coloring etc, because while I liked my original idea, some things I'd been meaning to adjust forever. And now I finally got around to, and that warrants a topless photoshoot of course \o/

[chithereader]

jealousy, jealousy / aaron hotchner

here’s my masterlist! pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader word count: 2.4k genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!

Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder. 

You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face. 

Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through. 

That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought. 

There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right? 

Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.

Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh. 

You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day. 

But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why. 

You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?” 

Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something. 

Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing. 

“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty. 

Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.” 

Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch. 

-

You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you. 

He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely. 

Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse. 

You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate. 

You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file. 

As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!

If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done– …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss. 

And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth. 

- 

After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short. 

Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud. 

To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile. 

You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground. 

You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?” 

Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing. 

The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand. 

While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.” 

You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.” 

You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob. 

Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud. 

“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face. 

Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!” 

When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you. 

Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting. 

You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience. 

“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–

“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”

“Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?” 

“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?” 

Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.” 

Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.” 

You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.” 

The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really? 

As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away. 

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.” 

With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?” 

As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”  

Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?” 

Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.” 

-

Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.

Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.

Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous? 

In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish. 

-

You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–” 

Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now. 

The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you. 

You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt– 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice, 

“You don’t think you’re my girl?” 

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

One Piece Fighting Game AU

this au is inpired by the song Heart Attack by Chuu

hope you enjoy the designs i created most of them in a 2 hr long manic episode of just nonstop designing.

Master Post For this AU

some lore ive cooked up for it and design explainations:

preface: sorry this is so much writing and im not going to grammar check it cuz aint no body got time for that.

The world of this au is like pokemon with different gyms you can fight through and beat, there's a big league of pro fighters, and there are schools for teaching you to be a better fighter.

The school our main cast goes to is called the Doki-Doki Battle Academy and it's principle is currently Crocodile. It's previous principle was Nefertari Cobra, but maybe something nefarious happened to give crocodile the spot who knowwsssss~

Doki-Doki Battle Academy (DDBA) hosts many tournaments in their school stadium throughout the school year. The tournies act as tests for the students who are taking that field of study. There are other fields the school offers though, such as weapon crafting, medical staffing, and managing. Though, if the students in those fields with so learn fighting on the side that is also accepted.

In the Pro Fighting world, there are typically pro-league teams such as the Red Hairs and The Beasts. These teams have different levels to it such as Little Leagues (for younger fighters), Minor leagues (for adults on a regional level), and Major leagues (for profighting at a national level). You can also go solo though, much like Mihawk does.

The power system in this AU is pretty simple, different color of auras do different things, but the complexities happen when you start using the different auras in tandem. I might explain it more in depth in a different post, but i dont really know what to explain about it. mostly because i dont know everything about it, myself, yet lol

-----design talk now yippeeee-----

Luffy: i tried to make him very simple protagonist vibes, play into the genre a bit. i incorporated hearts into his design in his hat, his shirt, his arm bands, and his pants poofies. His hat was given him as a sign of love, his shirt is from his school and he loves his school, his arm bands are on his arms and he uses his arms to show his love by fighting or by hugging, and his pants arent scuffed or anything so the heart puffs on his knees protects them from getting damaged (his love protects him)

Sabo: Tried to give him a more mysterious vibe with that peacoat and hat that shadows his face. I incorporated hearts into his design in his eyepatch, his vest buttons, and his boots. His heart eyepatch covers up that nasty scar, so he's distracting himself from his past pain by focusing on his love, the buttons on his vest/hearts on his boots are more or less hidden most of the time so he tends to hide his love but when he lets his guard down (when the boot is rolled down) you can see his love plainly.

Ace: Now, i dont know if Ace will die in this au or not, but in canon, he expresses his love through his torso area, i.e. tattoo on his arm and back and also that Certain Moment, so thats where i put a big ol' heart on him. His pants are also ripped in a shape of a heart but its kinda hard to see, but its meant to symbolize how the damage he takes is his love.

Nami: All the orange in her design is in heart shapes or the shapes of tangerines, thats where her love is. I also made nami's staff a curtain rod. She uses the rod to produce wind when she summons water and then manipulates it to heat it up or cool it down. i tried to add little details like that and the bandages on her torso to show that although she's outwardly clean, she's still scrappy. Nami is in the managerial pathway at the DDBA.

Zoro: I didnt make him quite as bright or vibrant as the others, i kinda just tried to make him Just A Guy. Except for his Swords. His Swords are special, so theyre bright and saturated. I roughed him up, a bit, not too much. i made his varsity jacket be ripped open so it looks like the heart on the front was broken because zoro is very broken hearted.

Sanji: I made him look like a wannabe princely character. Very cheesy, gaudy charm. I made the hearts of his design (on his boots) look like they're sewn up. So at some point his heart was broken, but he's healing them by stitching them up with love.

Robin: The hearts in her design are hard to make out because she is hiding her love. The pink of her lacey undershirt is where the heart is and its being protected by a dark over layer. The many belts in her design, however, are meant to look like shatters in that protective layer. This is meant to represent how even though she's strongly protecting herself, that strength is still weak without any outside help. Robin uses her multiplication abilities to simply multiply the shape of her arms like how she does in canon.

Chopper: His hearts are on his viles and his hat, love was given to him when he was given that hat, and he shows his love by making his healing potions. On another note though, chopper is a Transtormationalist, which is basically the zoan fruits of this world. His model is the Reindeer and his body has naturally started morphing into that form, too. Chopper is in the medical program at the DDBA

Usopp: Usopp's hearts on his pants patches signifies the new loves he’s accepted into his once lonely life. He fights with his sling shot and his ammo is seeds he's found savaging through forests or just growing himself. the white and grey auras he commands lessen the air resistance of his projectiles and makes them go a lot faster, and once they hit their target, he makes the plant grow super quickly, like how it does in canon post-ts.

Franky: Franky's hearts are everywhere and they're bright. he doesn't hide his love and he's built love for himself to wear on his person. Franky is one of the weapon masters at the school and he's a SUUUUPER cool teacher.

Brook: the hearts in his design are his Afro and his bag. I think i read somewhere that brook has kept his Afro so that Laboon can recognize him when he sees him again and that is just so loving to me so his Afro is in the shape of a heart. His bag is also in the shape of a heart, but the bag is being weighed down by whatever he's carrying inside of it, signifying the burden of the love he carries.

Jinbei: Jinbei is a Transtormationalist, Model: Whale Shark. the heart in his design is the tattoo on his chest for his old team. He's the driver of Luffy's bus and if you do enough dialogue options with him instead of skipping the bus cut-scenes, you get the option to battle Jinbei. If you do, he takes off his jacket revealing the pro-league he used to be in and then he decimates you. it is impossible to win the battle.

Koala: the colors i used for her are peachy colors, signifying what a peach she is :)))) her goggles and the buttons on her suspenders are the hearts on her design, signifying how her love is looking out for others and how love keeps herself up.

Vivi: Her hair is a big ol heart but its upsidedow, signifying how the love she feels often makes her look at things incorrectly. Also the rips in her tights are hearts, much like ace's are. the damage she takes is how she shows her love.

Crocodile: his hook is a heart, he loves fighting. i like the idea that when a student needs a text book and and asks him for one, he gives it to them by spearing a hole through one he has in his coat and handing it to the student who has to just live with a textbook with a big-ass hole through it.

Perona: the hearts in her design are on her sleeves and on her hat. The joke about the sleeves is that she wears her heart on her sleeves. but the hat, its meant to look like more or less a cage for the heart, her love is what traps her.

Mihawk: his hearts are on his weapons, he fucking loves fighting.

Shanks: The hearts in his design are only on his torso area, the locket around his neck and the deep unbuttoned shirt makes it look like there's a heart in the negative space, and the heart patch on his jacket, the loss of his arm and the lack of something there is symbolic for the love he has given.

imma be real, i didnt put that much thought in the heart positionings for yamato buggy or law. I kinda was swept up in Hot Man, Pathetic Man, and Hot Pathetic Man.

Uta: she's based off of Cupid, so she doesn't have any hearts really in her design but her whole persona is based off of a symbol of love and how it can turn malicious.

also in general, the shines on people's hair are meant to look like a heart-rate monitor's peaks and troughs. And the shading i did just by drawing all the shading then desaturating that area

WOWEE that's a lot of designing wtf was i on when i did all this.

if you got to the end, thank you so very much for reading! i hope you enjoyed my ramblings :)

again, there is more to come with this AU so Stay Tuned, Folks!!!!!!!!!!

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊˚── Synopsis: Sevika has grown awfully fond of the owner of Zaun's only bakery; in fact, she'd do anything for her. So, when a hard heat hits the baker, Sevika can't help but offer a helping hand.

Word Count: 3.3k Content/Warnings: omegaverse! if it's not your thing don't read it; nsfw, top!sev, bottom!reader, soft dom!sev, reader is referred to w fem terms/pronouns, reader has female anatomy, sev has a dick bc i think all alpha's do?? idk im new here A/N: so... heyyyy guys... yes i know this is not on my wip list but i was struck with divine inspiration and who am i to work against higher forces! this is my first time dabbling in omegaverse so i hope it suffices...

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

 ──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

There’s something tugging at Sevika.

She’s already scanned the room for what it could be, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. The booth she routinely occupies at The Last Drop feels no different than it ever has, the playing cards and poker chips littering the rickety wooden table in front of her are just as beat up as they always are, and her drunken opponents are as easy to beat as ever.

She’s slouched back against the wall behind her, brows furrowed and eyes trained on the half-empty glass of whiskey dampening its paper coaster. The anticipation buzzing around her shouldn’t feel so foreign; the woman’s M.O. is to be at attention, at all times, with no exceptions. Still, there's a hum of urgency that's much louder tonight than usual. Something is telling her-something is demanding her-to remain alert, attentive, ready to be of service.

Her flesh hand twitches, fingers squeezing around the rim of the glass she holds for a split second.

Someone needs her. Someone needs her now.

She can’t put her finger on who it could be, or why it could be, so she taps at the glass’s rim with it instead.

A voice, gruff after nearly a lifetime of smoking, pulls her from her concentration on ripples running through liquid amber.

“You even payin’ attention?” The ash of his cigar falls onto the table as the hand that holds it gestures towards her chips.

On an ordinary night, she’d shoot the shit. Give him a playful scoff. Tell him that she wasn’t paying attention at all, and somehow, she was still kicking his ass.

But, despite the normalcy of The Last Drop’s Friday night debauchery, despite the inventory she’d taken of her surroundings telling her that everything should be okay, she still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

It’s pulling her to her feet now. She downs the rest of her whiskey as she stands, mumbling something about everyone splitting her earnings evenly as she walks off. Her opponents are left entirely confused and a little bit richer as they watch her stride away with her usual purpose.

Where this pull is taking her, she has no idea. Frankly, she doesn’t care. She no longer feels her stomach wrenching as she tries to fight off the force yanking at her cloak, begging her to go wherever she’s going now. With every step, there is clarity.

Someone needs her. Someone needs her now.

She's getting closer to them. With every step she takes, she finds that her lungs are easier to fill now that she knows this person needn’t worry any longer.

When she ends up at your door, her entire body melts on exhale.

Of all the people in the world, there’s no one else she’d rather be needed by.

Be it the chaos that had ensued just before meeting you for the first time, or the way you seemed to calm her stormy seas at first glance, she remembers it like it was yesterday.

She remembers swinging the bakery’s door open in a panic, eyes wide and wild as they hurriedly scanned the room for a head of fluffy hair dyed blue.

“I’ve got her,” a voice rang out. A voice like honey to match your honeysuckle scent, she immediately noted.

You stood behind the counter, placing a piping bag down and wiping your hands on your blush-colored apron with a shy smile.

Lo and behold, there sat Isha, perched on the marble countertop next to you. She stared up at Sevika with big, innocent eyes; far too innocent for a girl who’d just escaped Sevika's grasp and booked it to the bakery she’d been begging to visit for weeks now.

“She’s quick,” you chortle. “Sugar may not have been the best idea, now that I think of it…”

You look over at the small girl whose mouth was now opening as wide as it could go to take a bite of the blueberry muffin you’d given her. It was too late. She was hooked and sure as shit to be bouncing off of the walls, now.

Sevika’s eyes trail from the crumbs stuck to Isha’s lips to the affectionate smile gracing your own. It was too late. You were sweet as honey, and she was hooked, too.

That was nearly a year ago, now. Trips to the bakery slowly but surely changed from Isha’s demand to Sevika’s suggestion. Eventually, Sevika began visiting on her own; before work to get a coffee, during her breaks to grab a cheese danish, after work to pick up a blueberry muffin for Isha.

It would have been less-than-chivalrous if she hadn’t begun offering to hang around until you closed shop so she could walk you home, would have been impolite to decline the Sunday afternoon taste-testing sessions you’d started inviting her over for.

She’s a gentlewoman. It’s only principle. That’s what she tells herself, at least.

That’s what she tells herself as her knuckles tap thrice on your door.

She starts to feel antsy again when you don’t come bounding to the door as usual, when your honeyed voice doesn't call out that you’ll be right there. She worries even more when you do reach the door, but it doesn’t swing open to reveal a bright smile, a pretty girl covered in flour and smelling of vanilla. Instead, you flick the deadbolt to the right, trail back to your room, and leave the door unlocked for her to enter of her own accord.

Her stomach turns like the doorknob she’s grasping, but as soon as the door opens, she knows what’s wrong.

The blossom of honeysuckle in the spring floats through the air. This much was a given; she knows this is what she’ll smell when she’s around you.

Tonight, though, it’s honeysuckle and something else. Something thick, hitting her like a brick wall. A white musk that nearly knocks her back when it crosses the threshold of your apartment door to meet her in the hallway.

She’s quick to step in and even quicker to close the door behind her. That scent was sure to attract unwanted visitors: Alphas looking to sink their gnashing teeth into something sweet.

She twists the deadbolt back to the left, her eyes darting across the room to find you. When that doesn’t suffice-when you’re nowhere to be seen- she follows your scent trail instead. Follows it back to your room, where her heart nearly breaks at the sight before her.

You’ve got what she figures must be every pillow in the house propped up against the headboard, every blanket you own pushed down to the foot of the bed, and you sit at the center of it all with your legs pulled into your chest, your head buried in your knees, and your arms wrapped around the ball you’ve curled yourself into.

There’s a pedestal fan pointed directly at you, despite the oversized sweater you adorn. You’re refusing to take it off, she bets. Want something soft and warm wrapped around you at all costs, even if it means you’ll sweat through it.

A soft grin spreads across her face as she approaches, slow and steady. It was her turn to calm your storm, now.

She sinks to her knees next to your bed, elbows resting on the flower-shaped throw pillow she remembers you buying when you were out shopping in the square with her one day. She’d taken a liking to it herself, always opting to rest her head on its pink petals as she stretched her long legs along the length of your couch, or holding it close to her chest as the two of you watched yet another horror movie you both knew damn well would keep you up all night.

She tries not to think too much of the fact that of all the pillows stacked upon your bed, it's the one you’ve got right next to you.

Her voice is nearly a whisper when she finally speaks, grey eyes soft and warm as they gaze up at you from her place on the floor.

“Hey, doll.”

All you manage to muster in response is a weary groan.

She exhales through her nose, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Rough heat?”

Your muffled sob cuts through the quiet, and her hand flies out to knead your thigh.

Her eyes widen in sudden consternation. Your skin is a brazier underneath her large palm.

“Janna,” she suddenly calls out, eyes frantic as they travel across your figure. “Y/n, you’re burning up. How long have you had a fever?”

She trades flesh for cold metal, anchoring her mech hand to your thigh in hopes that it’ll cool you down. Her right hand splays across your back, rubbing large circles across its expanse as you sniffle into your knees.

“Two days,” you mumble weakly, and much to her dismay.

Two days was too long for you to be in this state, nevertheless alone.

“I thought I’d have been claimed by now,” you admit, your voice wobbling.

“Don’t talk like that,” she commands. “There’s no timeline for this stuff. It’ll happen when it-”

“It’s not like that!”

Your head finally snaps up from your knees, teary eyes locking onto hers.

“It’s not… It’s not that I can’t find anyone. It’s that I can’t…”

Your voice breaks, and her hand trails up from your back to rest on the back of your neck, her thumb massaging the tightness at the base of your skull as she waits patiently for you to gather yourself.

You’re well aware that in the crux of an already grueling heat is not the best time to share an admission that very well could permanently alter your relationship with the woman you hold dearest. You’re also aware that you won’t be able to keep lying to Sevika for much longer.

You wouldn’t be able to keep lying to yourself for much longer.

Your words are still shaky despite the bracing deep breath you take before speaking.

“I can’t stand anyone else’s scent…”

Her hand stills, but her touch doesn’t falter. Her face doesn’t fall.

She’s still here. She’s still steady, still constant, but she needs you to be sure.

“Anyone else?” She asks, her voice low.

A small huff escapes you. You know Sevika. She doesn’t do vague.

She’s going to make you say it.

“I can’t stand anyone’s scent but yours.”

A pregnant pause settles in between the two of you.

And then, her hand is moving from the back of your neck to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“Do you want me to help?”

You nod fervently, words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

“Want you so bad, it hurts; please, Sev, I-”

Her lips crash into yours, stealing your breath away. Your heart is already racing, your core is already throbbing, you’re already whimpering into her mouth.

It was too late. You were sweet as honey, and she’d just gotten a taste.

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

It’s been hours. She’s been fucking you for hours.

You nearly feel bad for being so insatiable; only nearly, because she had made it very clear very quickly that you needn’t ever apologize for lasting so long, for needing the next round not even five minutes after the last, for wanting it faster, harder, deeper.

You needn’t ever apologize for allowing her the opportunity to take care of you.

Much to your dismay, sometimes taking care of you meant that she would slow down to check in, insist you take a breather, or get you a glass of water. Sevika knows that what you want is to be ravaged, to let your mind go all fuzzy and your body go all limp as she takes you, claims you, breeds you. Sevika knows that what you need is someone looking out for your best interest when you’re all-consumed by your heat, someone who knows that the responsibility of an alpha is to provide far more than a good fuck.

Still, she isn’t surprised that you nearly burst into tears when her pace begins to relent. Janna knows how hard it is for her to stop when you look so pretty laid out for her like this; legs thrown over her shoulders, hands desperately grabbing at firm muscle and cool metal, brows knit together in pleasure as you cry out for her.

She leans down to press a kiss to the beads of sweat forming on your hairline, and knows she needs to stop anyway.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you plead, wrapping your legs around her waist and rolling your hips up into her own, “please don’t stop, please keep going, Sev…”

She plants a kiss on your shoulder this time, the salt of sweat-sticky skin on her lips.

“You’re getting too hot, baby,” she purrs. “We’re not done, I promise. Just need to make sure you cool off for a second.”

You whine in defiance, and she hums in understanding, but you’re too fucked out to do anything but lay there and let her press a cool rag to your forehead and your flushed chest.

“You feelin’ okay, mama?”

She doesn’t miss the way your lip quirks up into the beginnings of a smirk.

“What?” She asks with a grin, bearing the gap in between her teeth. You’d told her it was cute once. The tips of her ears were dark red for the rest of the day.

“Don’t call me that,” you smile.

She just quirks a brow in playful curiosity.

“Not unless you plan on putting a baby in me.”

Her hands still. Her grin falters. For a moment, you worry that you’ve crossed a line.

Then, glittery grey irises go dark like a storm cloud rolling in. Her eyes are lidded, full of desire. Her jaw clenches, her nostrils flare, her muscles twitch for a split second.

Her head dips down to hide in your neck, but there, she finds that honeysuckle and musk hit her even harder here. You don’t miss the way her body writhes atop your own.

“Careful joking around like that,” she husks.

You buck your hips up in a challenge. “Who said I was joking?”

And then, she whines. Sevika whines.

“Couldn’t get you pregnant if I wanted to, doll,” she resigns. “I’m on suppressants.”

“That’s okay,” you coo, hands stroking up and down the length of her back, her skin warm and her muscles strong underneath your palm. “You can pretend. Jus’ want you to cum inside of me.”

This time, she growls, and you don’t miss the way her canines scrape across your pulse point.

She trails open-mouthed kisses from your neck, to your jaw, to the corner of your lips, breath shaky along the way.

Her resolve is crumbling, her restraint weakening. She had found you in need, and now, here she was, just as desperate as you had been.

“Come on, baby,” you urge, voice just over a whisper. “Take me.”

You're flipped over and pinned to the bed in a second. She yanks you up onto your knees by your waist, and her mech hand travels down your spine to push you further into the mattress while her flesh hand works to line herself up in between your legs. You gasp when you feel her sliding through your slick, whine when she presses an inch in before slipping back out and dipping down to nudge your swollen bud of nerves, groan when she finally presses into you completely, the head of her length prodding at your cervix.

She pants above you, both hands settling on your waist as she gives you a moment to adjust, and as soon as you're pushing back against her, she’s snapping her hips into you. Her grip is bruising as she pulls you back to meet every thrust. Your hands fly out to grab at the sheets next to you, your heady cries of pleasure muffled by the soft pillows piled at the head of the bed.

“How’s that? Huh?”

Her voice is gravelly from exertion. Sexier than it already is. How that’s even possible, you’re not sure. You don’t care. You can’t even think.

Sevika leans down to nip at your earlobe.

“Talk to me, baby,” she rasps. “This what you wanted? Wanted me to fuck a baby into you, hm? Wanted me to make you mine?”

You nod frantically, babbling out a yes, sobbing into the pillow. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, hiccupping against the breath you can’t seem to catch.

“I’ve got you,” she croons, her pace gentler now. “Deep breath for me, doll.”

Her flesh hand interlaces with your own, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into the meaty flesh between your thumb and your forefinger. You nod with a whimper, following her command.

“Good girl.”

She reaches down in between your slick-covered thighs to circle at your clit, rubbing lazy circles in tandem with her slow, deep strokes. She hisses at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around her, grits her teeth as she begins to speed up.

You make it so damn hard for her to keep it together, reaching up to grab the hair at the nape of her neck and pushing her head down into your shoulder. She knows exactly what you’re asking for.

Her bite.

You’re asking her to sink her teeth into sugar, and Sevika’s always had a sweet tooth.

She clenches her jaw even tighter. Takes deep breaths through her nose. Fucks you into the mattress instead.

The bite will come later. When you’re not in heat, when you’re thinking clearly, when you can comprehend that what you’re asking for is to be bound to her. When it does come- when you do ask for that- she’ll say yes. No question.

She’s been yours since the moment she walked through the bakery’s doors nearly a year ago.

But right now, she’s here to take care of you. Nothing more, nothing in return.

A voice like honey rings out like music to her ears.

“Oh- fuck, don’t stop. Mm- gonna… gonna cum…”

“That’s right, baby. Give me another, yeah?”

And when she latches onto the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, sucking just hard enough for you to feel a dull pinch, you fall apart, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

That’s when she liked her name most. When it came from you.

This time, it’s what pushes her over the edge. It’s all nearly too much; the sound of you moaning her name, your scent inundating her senses, the feeling of you tightening around her, the pulse that thrums against her canines.

Shimmer doesn’t even make her feel this feral.

You can feel her twitching against your walls as she fucks you through your release with a new vigor.

“Fuck,” she grits, “say the word and I’ll pull out.”

“Don’t.”

Sugar meets spice. Your command is stern, and Sevika is good at following orders.

She ruts into you with a broken moan, hissing with each involuntary twitch of her hips as she spills into you.

Soon, she joins you in a leaden slump, her warm body caging you in and her cock still sheathed inside of you. The hum of the pedestal fan and the rasp of your pants fill the room like white noise.

And then, you giggle. A blissed out, breathy giggle that has the corner of Sevika’s mouth quirking up into a smile.

“What?” she pants.

“Nothing. Jus’ happy.”

She hums in contentment. “Feel better?”

“Much better.”

And Sevika can’t ignore the way her heart flutters, the pride she feels knowing she was able to take care of you, the desire she has to take care of you for as long as she lives.

The bite will come later, she reminds herself. Right now, there’s just you. Sweet as honey.

“Good,” she muses. “That’s what I’m here for.”

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

p.s. anybody want pt.2 feat. reader getting sev's bite...?

[cherryyluvs]

Little Notes, Big Feelings

Notes in your locker, simple, and anonymous. A little bit sweet. You never expected Mark Grayson confessing that he likes you. ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

It started with a note, neatly folded and tucked in between the vents of your locker. Just barely sticking out and impossible to miss.

You were half asleep still rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes. grabbing the little slip of paper “Pop quiz in Johnson's class today. Hope you studied. (I didn't, Whoops.)"

You blinked at it, turning it over just to see no name, no clue on who wrote it. Just a simple, neat handwriting, and a tiny smiling doodle of Seance dog in the corner. You glanced around the busy hallway, scanning faces. But no one seemed to be watching you. Just students going to their class, laughing with their friends, and stuffing books into their bags.

Weird. But sweet.

After that notes kept coming, little messages that made you smile. “Did you see the new episode of Seance Dog? Crazy right?” Other times they would be personal. “You looked really happy today.” You kept every single one, tucking them into your notebook like they were little treasures. You found yourself looking forward to them, and you wanted to know them too. So one afternoon you decided to write back, slipping a note into your own locker. Leaving it right where the mysterious writer had been placing theirs. “Okay, secret admirer, your turn. Who are you?”

The next morning a reply was waiting. “If i tell you. It ruins the fun doesn't it?” You let out a huff, fine.

If they wanted to play, you’d play. The back and forth went on for weeks! You had asked what their favorite color was (Yellow but sometimes blue) . Some were rants about a new superhero sighting or how the cafeteria’s chicken nuggets are a danger to society. “The cafeteria nuggets are definitely a health hazard. Stay safe out there”

There's a response the next morning, “RIGHT?? I'm glad someone gets it. Also I can neither confirm or deny that I saw one of those nuggets move.” The messages became part of your daily routine, a little secret, something that made the school day a little brighter.

And one day you found a note that made your heart drop.

“Would it be weird if i said i kinda like you?” Your fingers trembled slightly as you held the small piece of paper. This wasn't just playful anymore, this is real. At this point you needed to know who it was.

You waited, keeping an eye out at your locker, hoping to catch them in the act. Whoever they were, they were good at being sneaky. So you tried a different approach.

You left a note in return, simple and direct. “Not weird. Kind of sweet, but I think i'd like it more if I knew who you were.”

The next day there was no note, and after that, nothing. Your heart sank, had you scared them off? Had they changed their mind? It gnawed at you, making you realize just how much these silly little notes meant to you.

And then it finally happened. You were at your locker, gathering books for your next class, when a voice behind you cleared their throat. “Uh… hey.” You turned around to face the stranger and there he was. Mark Grayson, moving nervously on his feet, his easygoing confidence nowhere to be found. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes but you could see the pink creeping on his cheeks.

It clicked instantly. The handwriting on the notes, the way he always looked in your direction in class when you weren't paying attention. Mark, who was sweet and awkward, always rambling about comics and superhero movies.

“You're-”

He exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for days. “Yeah it's me.” Your heart fluttered, warmth flooding into your chest.

Mark Grayson, you'd noticed him, you never thought if he had noticed you but he had. And for a long time apparently, “So.. was that too weird? He asked hesitantly. “I can stop if-” You shook your head, a small smile creeping onto your face.

Pulling out a pen from your purse and grabbing his wrist, before he could question it, you scribbled onto his palm.

“No, not weird at all.” When he read it, his entire face lit up.

[animeshotsh]

Moms | Jinx x Fem!Reader | Arcane ¤

Summary: You are worried since your girlfriend has dissapear since Silco's death. Only for her to show up at your home, but not alone.

Warnings: SFW - SOFT - OFF CANON IN TERMS OF TIME - Worm joke - grammar mistakes - spoiler s2 - sad!reader - mentions of alcohol -

Even since the big explosion that took place in the uppercity the undercity had gone into a crisis of gang fights and just more violence.

No one really knew what had happened, there were rumors of Silco being dead, but who attacked the uppercity?

Well, since Jinx your girlfriend was a fan of gadgets, guns and bombs, and how she had stopped coming to your home to visit you, you connected the dots.

Then when her face was in a wanted poster it became real.

God you were scared for her, where was she? Was she safe? You did check her usual hideouts and the ones that were secretly for the both of you so no one would target you. But nothing. You were left with zero trace of her.

You had to push yourself out of your home to work and put a fake face of not caring when someone mentioned her, or when you saw the enforcments go around.

~~~~~~

Your day was long, so when you finally got home you left yourself fall on the old couch. Dust covered the place even if you have tried many times to clean it.

Just like any other night you started to feel sad, memories of you and Jinx coming back. How you met her, how she seemed curious of you at first and how you had felt like her experiment, then your first kiss with her, the cuddles, doing her hair and nails....

And so you started to cry again but your spiral of depression would have to wait since a knock at your door alerted you.

Now, you were born and raised in the undercity, you knew how dangerous it could be, thats why you have trained yourself on being able to use knifes and be quick on your feet.

You swiftly took out your blade going in silence towards the door, the knocking continued, being more frenetic.

Your heart went up fast your brain already thinking on vitals points to hit and a back door from the apparment complex till you hear it.

"No! Im not shooting her door"

That voice...

"Well because she is nice? You will love her, but no more than me"

You went quickly and opened it revealing a figure under a cape, but you could see the blue hair and pink eyes.

You were fast on pulling her in, no noticing the small kid that followed by her hand.

"Jinx! Fucking hell, are you alright? Wait, thats blood? Its not yours right? I need to get you cleaned, hold up"

Just as you were going to go and look for something she pulled you back and kissed you, it felt different, like this was a kiss that was more to ground herself than anything.

"Just...just shut up. And its not mine"

Jinx said getting away a bit. She could see your worried expression and by the look of your aparment and the alcohol bottles she could tell you had been dealing with a lot.

Fuck, why did she hurt anyone who got close?

Her mind stopped when she saw you go down on your knees and see behind her leg.

"Why do you have a kid with you?" You asked seeing the dirty kid who looked back at you then at Jinx then at you.

Jinx and the kid seemed to talk without saying a word, then with a nod from her the kid went to you and hugged you.

You were suprised and a bit taken back, but hugged her back.

"Suprise! You are a mom now, I know you have said how you wanted to adopt a kid if you could"

You gave a Jinx a pointed look then separated from the kid who had a different look now, a look of...fondness?

"Jinx...I- Im not even going to ask. Im just glad you are fine"

Her heart broke at your honest words and loving smile. She did swear no one would take you from her.

~~~~~~~~

Jinx insisted on you moving to her hideout, saying that someone could have seen her and your house was not safe anymore.

Honestly? You thought she was trying to make her own world there. A place where she, Isah and you could live under colors, see insects fights. Play hideout and just....be a family.

When Isah went to sleep you went to Jinx who was messing with her old gun, not getting it back together just...moving pieces.

"Jinx, you know this cant last forever" You had started to say slowly getting her to stop messing and look at you.

"Dont tell me you agree with lefty?"

You snorted at the nickname she had gave to Sevika.

"No, well maybe a bit. Look i dont want you to be a vigilant or anything, i want you to be whatever you wanna be. But, we are in difficult times now, and you Jinx" You said taking her hands in yours "You are what is keeping the others together, something i have never imagined"

"Because I jinx everything, right?"

You moved your head and made her look directly at you.

"You dont do that. Stop saying that. You met me, and we are together right? We have been together for so long, i dont plan on going anywhere".

"...Even if i turn into a worm?"

"Yes Jinx, even if you turn into a worm. I will still be at your side, loving you  and caring for you. But i wont let you be on our fights, sorry but you would be a loser"

And with both of your laughts the bitter reallity seemed to go away at least for now.

[meo-eiru]

Day 5 of Character Trivia Night!

For tonight we have Theo

Theo has a human mother and a cyclops father, though his dad isn't really in the picture as his mom doesn't like to settle down and instead jumps from monster bf to monster bf

Since there aren't any schools for monsters his mom always sent him to human schools, which meant Theo was always around people who did not look like him

His skin is a bit greenish but they usually explain it as a sickness and he always keeps his bangs long to hide his eye, thanks to not having much of a presence as well he was able to go under the radar most of the time

But there was one time in elementary school when he wanted to try playing with the other kids and ended up accidentally showing his eye. His mom quickly moved them to another city and enrolled him into a different school before the news outlets could get their hands on the situation, so by now it's more like a legend of their old town

The experience was quite traumatic for him so now he makes sure to never ever let his eye show in public

Some people who don't know him assumes he's a gamer but he's actually very bad at games

Has no depth perception and wears single lens glasses (glass...?) to make up for it, but they are a bit ugly so he only wears them at home

He actually doesn't have an eyebrow

Due to his quiet and nerdy appearance there are rumors about him being a gamer in class but he's actually really bad at games

That being said he's really into movies, anything sci-fi more specifically. Especially ones about aliens

Maybe because they are often depicted green, or maybe because the focus is on them not being human, but growing up Theo felt a lot of kinship with the aliens he was on the screen and they became a way for him to cope with his own life

He's mostly terrible at cooking but can make fire lasagnas because his mom likes it and it was the one meal she actually taught him

If left alone he would mostly stay alive eating chips and other snacks

He favorite color is green but if he had to choose a second favorite he would say dark purple

The first item of yours he stole borrowed, because of his overflowing love, was the pen you forgot on your desk

Soon he started collecting whatever item he could find of you. Erasers, pencils, napkins, used straws, clothes....

He also likes to take your pictures and hang them on his ceiling and walls, looking at your face as he falls asleep helps him see better dreams

He never intended to make a shrine of you but the items he stole from you and hid in his closet are starting to form the shape of a shrine and he might've added in some fake candle totally not because he wanted to make it more shrine light but because his closet just needed some more light

He's surprisingly good at drawing. He always enjoyed sketching colorful and quirky monster like creatures but lately his notebook has been filled with drawings he made of you. Weirdly enough, unlike everything else he draws, your drawings always look so clean and shiny like he's trying to draw his god

He also likes to write your name over and over again, it helps him calm down when he's too nervous or when his love for you is overflowing and he can't keep it under control

When writing can't cut it anymore he has to lock himself in a quiet bathroom and take care of the trouble under his pants. He wants to have something that belongs to you while doing it and usually even just a pen can do it but if he's lucky he can snatch your used gym clothes without you noticing.... and maybe take them home too if you don't pay attention... and try to spread your smell into his room as much as he can...

He always follows you home to stalk you make sure you're safe so he's familiar with its location and structure

One time he even tried going in thinking no one was home but just when he was walking towards the building he made eye contact with your mom and just ran back before she can say anything

His tear drops are really big, so when he cries it turns into quite a mess. That's why he does his best not to cry but unfortunately he's someone who can cry as easily as a newborn baby

One of his secret fantasies is you catching him while he's stalking you and humiliating him for it. Mostly because he can't think of any other reason for an amazing, incredible and holy person (one might say) like you to approach him