#REBLOG MY ART PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[help-esraa8]

There may be no reason for you to notice me, but I am ready to kiss your feet in exchange for helping my little boy, Qais, who was injured in the war on Gaza. You are our last and only hope to save his life 😭💔😔

Hi friend,

I’m Esraa from Gaza. As the war resumes, my family and I are enduring unimaginable suffering. We urgently need food, safety, and basic necessities. Even the smallest act of kindness could make a world of difference.

Please, help us in any way you can 🇵🇸💔.

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Please, I Beg You To Read This. The latest report shows that over 65,000 children in Gaza are facing death due to starvation. This is not just a number—it is real, it is now. My little boy Qais is one of them. He was already injured in the war, and now he is slowly starving. I am terrified every day that I might wake up and find him gone. We desperately need your help and donations to save his life before it's too late.

Life in Gaza has become unbearable for mothers like me:

1. There is no food—even basic bread is rare, and we go to sleep hungry.

2. There is no clean water—I boil dirty water and pray it doesn’t make Qais sicker.

3. There is no medicine—not even for babies, not even for war wounds.

I am on my knees asking you to help. Please don’t turn away. I will do anything—I would clean your shoes, kiss your feet, just to get help for my child. Your donation could be the only reason Qais survives this. Even a few dollars can mean food, medicine, or hope. Please, help us before it’s too late.

No mother should have to watch her baby starve. Please, help us.

Donate Now Here

If you would like to feed Qais's weak and fragile body, DONATE HERE.

Please stop ✋🚨 you're the only hope to save a child😔😭

Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #64 )🍉🇵🇸

[human-rocket]

Guiding Light Vol.2 | 1.0 | 1.5 | 2.0 | 2.5 | 3.0 | 3.5 | 4.0 | 4.5 | 5.0 | 5.5 | 6.0 | 6.5 | 7.0 | 7.5 | 8.0 | 8.5 | 9.0 | 9.5 | [end]

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Guiding Light Vol.1 | 1.0 | 1.5 | 2.0 | 2.5 | 3.0 | 3.5 | 4.0 | 4.5 | 5.0 | 5.5 | 6.0 | 6.5 | 7.0 | 7.5 | 8.0 | 8.5 |

**Please do not repost**

Read the series on AO3

Buy Vol.1 PDF ko-fi | gumroad

And with that we conclude Vol. 2! Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, and commented. You guys are what keep me motivated to work on this! While I don’t have a definitive date for when I’ll start posting Vol. 3, I can at least say Guiding Light will return sometime later this year. It will be the final installment, so I’m excited to get to work! 

I'm currently working on the cover art for Vol. 2 as well as some ✨bonus content✨ I'll be including with the PDF. This will be available in my ko-fi shop soon, so stay tuned for that!

My DMs/Asks are always open so shoot me a message if you have any questions or just want to chat. Thanks again for all your support!

byeee

[got-the-cheese-touch]

More Than a Name - chapter one

Harry Potter x Sirius Black's Daughter!Reader

slowburn harry potter x reader

summary: The father you never knew but always feel makes his presence known. (indirectly)

a/n: chapter one. AAAAH i'm nervous. it's not as long as i would've liked but i didn't wanna drag it out for too long. (please reblog and like and leave a little comment! they make my day) no use of y/n

trigger warnings: nothing really except maybe poor grammar. lmk if there is something I missed. (reader does use she/her pronouns)

ty to @thecutestgrotto for the dividers <3

The Hogwarts Express rolled down the tracks with a satisfying chug, a low hum filling the silence of the train compartment. Next to you lay Remus, sleeping under his trenchcoat. His peaceful form was in stark contrast to your own. You buzzed with excitement. Your third year at Hogwarts. Hopefully, it would be less eventful than the other years (mostly for Remus’s sake. You were sure that if he received another owl telling him that you fought the Dark Lord once more he’d get a heart attack). 

When you learned that Remus was going to be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts you were relieved. Nothing could hurt you when Moony was around, of that you were sure. If Voldemort even tried to touch you or Harry, Remus could stop him. Your Remus could do anything. 

“Seriously, how is he still asleep?” you thought as you watched his chest rise and fall peacefully. Although, you supposed it was good that he was getting some rest. Recently, he was on edge. He’d pace around, reading the newspaper and shaking his head. He closed the papers and tossed it into the fireplace before you could see what exactly was on the headline; only catching a glimpse of a crazed smile as the page burned down. You had asked what it was and he simply gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh, it’s nothing, mate.” He’d say, giving you a smile that’s too tense to be real. He picked up other odd habits too- cracking his knuckles, smoking a bit more than usual. One morning, you came out of your room to find him asleep on a chair outside of your door. He slept there all night, keeping watch. 

What he was protecting you from- you had no idea. 

But the strangest behavior of all happened one morning when you two were out for a walk. Remus needed to pick up his Wolfsbane and was hesitant to leave you alone at home. He also insisted on holding your hand the entire walk there which you didn’t mind, of course, but his grip would tighten at any startling noise. As you walked past a cafe you smiled and pointed.

“Look, it’s a dog!” You smiled and laughed at the sight- the dog looked out of place in the cute cafe. Remus’s head immediately turned and he stepped in front of you, protective. Remus’s eyes searched frantically for the animal like it was about to pounce on the two of you. 

His shoulders visibly relaxed when he realized that you were pointing to a small fluffy dog resting inside its owner’s purse. He exhaled shakily and tugged you along, walking a bit quicker than before and muttering something under his breath.

You figured that Remus’s new job would be good for him. He’d be closer to you, he’d be closer to help for his lycanthropy, and he’d be away from whatever news headlines were troubling him so much. 

In your daydreams you almost missed the three familiar figures walking past your train compartment: Hermione, Harry, and Ron. You slide open the door, creeping out quietly so as to not wake Remus. A whole summer without seeing your friends was torture. Harry was your first friend at Hogwarts- you liked that he was just as new to everything as you; he liked that you had tons of stories about his parents. Hermione had intimidated you at first. With her quick wit and effortless smarts. Those feelings quickly dissipated after she stood up for you when a group of Ravenclaws stole one of your letters to home. Your cheeks burned when they mocked your letter to Remus but seeing their hair immediately grow down to their feet thanks to a hex from the young witch cheered you up. 

 Once you stepped into the train’s hall you called out to your friends with a smile.

“Hey guys,” You call out to them “I’ve got a compartment. Be quiet, though. My dad’s sleeping.” You smiled at the sight of their surprised faces. Hermione ran to you with an excited call of your name, crashing into you with a tight hug.

“Oh, I missed you this summer! I would’ve written so much more but I was just so busy reading. I’ve been trying to get ahead. I mean, with the schedule I have for this year I’m gonna be in two places at once.” You shook your head with a smile. Of course she was studying over the summer. She was the biggest overachiever you knew. 

You were pulled from your embrace with her when Ron bumped her out of the way.

“You’d think she’s been gone from war, Hermione. Can you not strangle her before we get the chance to say hello?” You smile and let out a laugh, amused at the bickering. You brought him in for a friendly hug and you patted his back. Ron was a good guy. You wouldn’t say he’s your best friend but the shared trauma of exploding monster chess pieces has a way of bringing people together. “I see you haven’t taken off this jacket of yours.” He says, tugging on the sleeve of your- well, Sirius’s- leather jacket.

“And I see you’ve gotten some more freckles.” You tease back with a smirk. He pushes you off with a groan and a poorly concealed smile. 

“Merlin, not even two minutes into the year and I’m sick of you.” He snickers and steps into the compartment, training behind Hermione. You finally turn your gaze to Harry and two things quickly come to mind. The first is that he’s gotten tall. The second is that you hadn’t even noticed how much you really missed him until this moment. 

He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, his wand tucked into his pocket. He wore the same wire framed glasses over the same pretty green eyes. 

“Okay, easy. It’s just Harry for Merlin’s sake. Not Gilderoy Lockhart.” You thought as you stepped up to him with a grin. He quickly pulled you into a hug and took a deep breath. 

Harry’s summer sucked (naturally). Staying with the Dursleys was torture. Not only did it mean that he was away from school. The months spent in that cupboard was a prison sentence. His warden? Vernon Dursley. 

That meant that he couldn’t take visits to see his friends, he couldn’t study for the upcoming year. He couldn’t even write letters either. 

But whatever troubles he had developed over the summer, he had quickly forgotten after seeing your smirk. 

“Missed you loads.” He says, his shoulders relaxing. You smiled. You didn’t need to say you missed him; you were sure he could tell. He had a weird way of reading your mind. You wondered if it was the same way with James and Sirius.

Harry was a friend that you could tell anything to. He’d been with you through thick and thin and you could say that he was, without a doubt, your best friend. He’s a partner in crime, a confidant, someone to lean on. 

It would be natural to wonder how you two could get along so well. It may seem shocking that the fact that your father is accused of brutally murdering his parents isn’t a setback in your relationship. Perhaps it would be an issue if Harry knew that unfortunate detail about your life’s history.

To save you from ridicule, Dumbledore and Remus both decided it would be best to enroll you in Hogwarts under Remus’s name. As far as anyone was concerned, you were a Lupin. You didn’t mind. It’s not like you knew your real dad. Remus was your father in every sense of the word other than blood. 

But Harry would probably mind. Did it make you a bad person not to tell him? Maybe.

But have you felt guilty about this every time he asks you to tell him some of Remus’s stories about The Marauders? Absolutely. 

You shove these thoughts to the back of your mind as you release him from the hug with a smile.

“Sap.” You say before climbing into the compartment. 

You slide in next to Remus who is still, somehow, sleeping over the noise of Hermionie and Ron’s arguing. You quiet them with a look and a nod towards Remus’s figure, covered in his coat. Hermione turns to you, her expression suddenly serious. 

“Have you been reading the papers?” She asks, her tone anxious. You shake your head. 

Remus had been hoarding the Daily Prophet for some reason. He hadn’t let you read the papers in ages. Another one of his odd habits recently. 

“I get them sent by owls. You ought to start staying up to date on this kind of thing. Especially considering the relevance it has.” Hermione huffs. She quickly pulls a folded up newspaper from her bag and holds it out to you. “We need to be concerned for Harry.”

You’re about to quip “When do we not?” until you flip over the pages to see the headline and your blood runs cold. 

His name. Your father’s name printed clearly on the front page. 

You stared down at his photo, the image moving as he snarled and thrashed at the camera. He looked angry and tired and sick and evil. His eyes were filled with intensity that made the hair on your arms stick up. 

It was like looking in a mirror. A sick and twisted mirror, sure, but still. The resemblance was uncanny. His eyes, his smile, his nose. Down to the sharpness of his canines. Thank Merlin that your friends were too occupied in the situation that they didn’t notice your state or your resemblance to the man. 

In your shock, you only catch the tail end of their conversation. 

“...The man’s a murderous, raving lunatic.” Ron deadpans. His sarcasm isn’t able to hide the pure worry he has for Harry. A strange part of you feels protective. He is your dad. You don’t feel the need to cut in with his defense: the fact that he hadn’t had a motivation or even a trial. Remus didn’t hate Sirius and neither did you. None of this would be helpful to point out. You look up from the photo at Harry. 

“It’ll be okay. Dumbledore won’t let anyone get to you, yeah?” You say, trying to be reassuring. You’re not sure if it’s for Harry or for yourself. Before anyone can cut in with their worries, the train screeches to a sudden halt. 

Rain pelts against the window as the Hogwarts Express jostles. You look at Remus who is miraculously still sleeping. 

“Why are we stopping?” You hear Hermione question. You shake your head, about to express your confusion before the lights of the train shut off. The newspaper in your lap is forgotten as you stand up to investigate. Before you can get to the door though, a lurch of the train sends you back to your seat. “Bloody hell” Ron gasps and you turn your head. The window has frosted up and you watch in confusion as the bottle of water on the floor freezes up. Your grip tightens on Sirius’s leather jacket, hugging the warm leather closer against you. 

A shadowy figure approaches from outside the compartment. It was ghostly and its presence filled you with dread. Suddenly you were four years old back in evil foster homes. You could only stare in fear and silence as it opened the door to your compartment. 

“Get Remus, Wake him up.” Your mind shouted as the creature stared at all of you. You felt like it saw right into your soul. You sat frozen.

The ghost looked towards Harry and you gasped as it drew close to him and inhaled deeply. Like he was sucking out Harry’s soul. 

When you finally found your voice, you turned to Remus’s sleeping figure helplessly and you shook him awake. 

“Dad, please wake up! Moony help!” You said to him as Harry slipped out of consciousness, his weight slipping onto you as the shadowy figure continued its assault. 

Remus quickly jolted awake at the sound of you and stood up with his wand. A burst of light filled the compartment, driving away the creature. Once it had fled, Harry slumped down. Remus sees the copy of the newspaper on the floor and he picks it up quickly, folding up Sirius’s angry stare and tucking it into his back pocket. Remus looked at you before he even noticed Harry’s state.

He starts rambling. His hands fly to the sides of your face, holding you worriedly. “Oh, mate, I’m sorry, are you okay. Merlin- Fuck, I’ll explain it all later. I should’ve told you. I had no clue the dementors would even be here. Dumbledore assured me that they’d be far away. Oh, Lovely- if it got its hands on you it would’ve-” 

“Dad.” You cut him off, “Harry.” You nod towards the boy who’s passed out. Hermionie and Ron simply stare helplessly.

“Oh! Yes, yes.” Remus mutters, moving to check on Harry now that he’s realized that you are okay.

“Not even at school yet and we’ve already gotten into some kind of trouble.” Ron mutters. He is quickly silenced by a swift kick to the shins, given by Hermionie. 

Minutes feel like hours as you wait for Harry to wake up. When he does stir, he sits up and looks around, confused. Remus pulls a bar of chocolate from his cloak pocket. 

“Here. Eat.” Remus murmurs comfortingly. Harry takes it, his expression unsure. He looks at me and I give him a reassuring nod. “It’s alright. It’s chocolate.” Remus says, encouraging Harry to eat. 

“What- what was that?” Harry asks shakily, adjusting his glasses. 

“A dementor. One of the guards of Azkaban.” Remus sits back in his chair. His gaze is heavy as he stares at Harry. “He’s gone now. He’s looking for the traitor Sirius Black.” Your friends don’t catch the way Remus’s jaw ticks and his shoulders tense at the name. They don’t notice how Remus’s eyes flick to yours for a moment or how you avert your gaze. They don’t notice the sadness in Remus’s eyes remembering his companion as though he was a murderer. You do. You notice everything about Remus. 

He stands and sets the rest of the chocolate bar in Harry’s lap before kissing you on top of your head. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” he starts as he opens the compartment door “I need to have a word with the driver.” He takes one more glance at all of you, his gaze landing on Harry. “Eat. You’ll feel better.” With that, he slips out and the door shuts with a click, leaving the four of you in silence. 

So much for an uneventful school year.

After the dust had settled and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself in Dumbledore’s office, standing stuck to the floor next to Professor McGonagall. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are filled with concern as she talks with Dumbledore. Across the room, Remus is pacing back and forth, dragging his hands through his hair. The whole display didn't feel real. Maybe it wasn’t.

You were dreaming. A nightmare. Soon you’d wake up at home, tucked safely in your bed. Harry wasn’t attacked by a dementor. Your dad hadn’t escaped jail. 

You shivered at the thought. 

You knew he wouldn't hurt you. You were sure of that. But all those years locked away for wrongful imprisonment would probably make a guy want to settle some grudges. 

You were numb. Remus was livid. 

“What happens if they realize that she’s his daughter? Huh? Those dementors won’t think twice about killing her. They’ll sense his blood and give her the kiss before she can even pull out her wand.” Remus said angrily. He was smoking a cigarette. In fact, he was almost through a pack. 

Severus Snape stares at him coldly from across the room. Logically, you knew that Snape was trustworthy. Dumbledore wouldn’t be so loyal to him if he was truly evil. But there was something deep within you that told you Snape was no good. The way he walks, the tone of his voice, the condescending way he stares at you sends your blood boiling. Apparently he had a big feud with The Marauders when they were young. Even if it wasn’t in your DNA to hate Snape, you still would loathe the man for how he treated others. He looked away when muggle-borns were being bullied. He praised Draco malfoy, the prince prick of all pricks. Snape never passed up the chance to take points from houses other than Slytherin and he’s rumoured to be a death eater. 

Nothing is worse, though, than how he treats Moony. 

Your Moony. The one who makes you toast and dries your tears. The one who saved you, who took you in. Somehow Snape is able to bully your kind hearted, gentle, loving Remus. In the time that they’ve been in the same room, Snape has already mocked Remus’s lycanthropy, made snide comments about your upbringing (as if the fact that Remus wasn’t rich made your life with him any less happy), and he went so far as to insinuate that Remus was a traitor due to his loyalty to Sirius. 

Severus Snape was a dick. 

 “The dementors are instructed to stay far away, in the unlikely case that it becomes an issue-” Says Snape, his voice nasally and irritating. 

“Unlikely? A dementor has already attacked a student. Harry could’ve been seriously injured. Or worse!” Remus takes a deep inhale of the cigarette. He moves to stand at your side. “Call them off, Professor. Call them off or we’re leaving.” He looks to Dumbledore, his brow set in a determined stare, stubbornly making a point. Dumbledore sighs and shakes his head patiently.

“Remus, we just can’t do that. It’s standard protocol.” You hear Remus huff next to you, agitated. Dumbledore continues “I will speak to Harry about the encounter and I’ll talk to the ministry about the ordeal but we won’t call off the dementors. I’m truly sorry but there is nothing I can do.” He looks genuine. You give him a small smile and he gives you one back, a glint in his eye as he leaves. Snape trails after him next, giving Remus a snide look. 

Professor McGonagall remains with the two of you, turning towards the still fuming Remus. 

“Minnie, I mean what I said. I will leave and she’s coming with me. I promised that I’d keep her safe and I will not let her stay so close to those fucking things.” Remus starts pacing again, muttering angrily as Professor McGonagall tries to calm him down.

“Remus, listen to me, leaving will do nothing but harm. What happens if people think you are in cahoots with Black? Here, Albus will protect you both. Who will protect you if you are at home?” Her voice is sharp but not unkind. She looks at him with a motherly sort of fierceness. 

“If anyone tries anything, I’ll be the one in Azkaban.” Remus says, lighting another cigarette. 

As the two of them bicker back and forth, your gaze drifts to the window. The moon is bright and clear, almost full. That was probably another reason for Remus’s mood. He always got territorial and antsy when the full moon was closer. When you first moved in with him, the full moon nearing meant he would get distant. He was so scared that he would hurt you somehow. Once he became more sure of his place in your life, his pre-moon behavior changed. He would become fiercely protective. You supposed it was the natural instinct to protect enhanced by the wolf. 

Once McGonagall is able to calm Remus down (and confiscate his cigarettes) she sends the two of you out, ordering you back to the dorms and Remus to the professor’s quarters. It was funny seeing her scold him, it was like he was a teen again. He might be much taller than the old woman, but she still put him in his place quickly. 

“She should know better than that. I obviously have more packs than that.” Remus says, trying to lighten the mood as he walks you back to the Gryffindor common room. You simply stare ahead angrily. He looks at you and taps you on the head. “Lovely, don’t be mad. C’mon I don’t smoke that much.” No response. Remus sighs. “I want to keep you safe, kid. I can’t let anything happen to you. Seriously.” You stop and look up at him, upset.

“Sirius Black is out of Azkaban and you didn’t think to tell me? You didn’t think I needed to know?” You spit out. Remus recoils at the anger in your voice. “I’m not six anymore. You should have told me.”

“I should have.” Remus nods, stopping in his tracks. “You’re right about that. But when I found out, the only thing I could think to do is protect you, mate. I will always defend Sirius. You know that.” His voice is unsteady as she stares at you. “But Azkaban changes people. Who knows what he’s like now.” You look down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. He pulls you into him, hugging you. “And I didn’t even think. I just needed you safe, mate.”

When you arrived at the common room safely, Remus took a glance around before giving you a kiss goodnight. Harry, Hermionie, and Ron were sitting on the couch by the fire, talking quietly. Their conversation stops when they notice you. Remus gives them all a smile and a nod.

“Goodnight Ron, Hermione. Goodnight Harry.” He says before turning and leaving. When you face the group again, they’re all pulling you down to sit.

“What was that about? Where were you?” Asks Hermione, her head tilted curiously. What were you supposed to say?

“Me? Oh, just preparing for the oncoming dementor attack I’ll get because of the fact that my dad escaped from prison. Yeah, my dad is Sirius Black, sorry I’ve been lying to you all about that. And sorry about your mum and dad Harry.” 

You figured that that wouldn’t go over well so instead you give Hermionie the most convincing smile you can muster. 

“Just helping my dad settle in, no need to worry.” That seemed to have calmed her and she continues talking to Ron about the classes she’s enrolled in this year. You feel Harry’s unwavering gaze on your profile. You turn to look at him. “What?” You ask, hoping he doesn’t see right through you.

“That’s your dad, huh?” He says nodding towards the portrait hole Remus had just left. You swallow thickly and nod. “You look nothing alike.” You blink, unsure of what to say to that so you simply shrug. 

Leaning back against the couch, something catches your eye. It’s small enough to be overlooked but you caught the little carving written into the side of the side table: 

“Sirius was here” 

As your friends chatted away about the upcoming year, you stared at the little carving. A small act of teenage rebellion, nothing meaningful. It stuck with you though. Sirius was here. 

Sirius was everywhere.

He’s Remus’s sigh after a laugh, he’s the frustration in professors’ voices when they correct you, he’s the stubborn furrow in your brow that forms when you’re being defiant. He is there when you’re upset at the world. He’s there when you look at photos, or listen to music. He was there when you snuck one of Remus’s cigarettes one night over the summer. He’s in the common room- his name written on random surfaces or Prophet headlines. 

He’s inescapable. He follows you around wherever you go, whether you like it or not. 

 He’s the mangy black dog with shaggy fur and wild eyes that’s found a hiding place in the shrieking shack. 

notes: IF IT'S BAD IM SORRY. i'm not exaggerating when i say that i get so nervous posting this. please give me validation y'all i live for it. (some of your comments have me giggling and kicking my feet) also im so sorry that it took so long to post this chapter. i was going through it.

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR ILYSM!!!!

taglist, comment to be added <3 : @mmmunson @reesespeesees @starmaniii @deathmybride

(if you reblog, i'll give you my firstborn rumplestiltskin style)

[asmaamtr]

My sisters .can you see our pain and feel our hunger?! Fear, death, famine, siege, suffering, oppression, silence of the world?!!

I am calling your humanity to do whatever you can to ease our pain Talk about us and don't leave us alone We are not okay, please dont forget us and stand with us by donating or reblogging to amplify our voices 🙏🏻

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In Gaza, 🇵🇸🍉

🚨flour is scarce, and hunger is gnawing at my children's stomachs. 🚨‼️

We either die of hunger or bombing

For months, my family and I haven't tasted any fresh vegetables or meat. Obtaining bread has become an impossible task. Hunger has reached the point where we've been forced to sell some of our personal and household belongings, which we acquired after our house was completely demolished, to raise money for our basic needs amid the skyrocketing prices of flour and other scarce goods available in the markets.

The severe restrictions imposed by the Israeli occupation authorities on the entry of humanitarian aid and commercial goods have led to the depletion of everything in the markets and the rise in prices. As a result, famine has "eaten" our bodies. Due to the intense hunger, we eat flour that is infested with weevils and insects.

Our children need milk,Pampers،food،basic needs🙏🏻

In these pictures My sons , My nephews, nieces My sister's children

My sisters .can you see our pain and feel our hunger?!

Fear, death, famine, siege, suffering, oppression, silence of the world?!!

I am calling your humanity to do whatever you can to ease our pain

Talk about us and don't leave us alone

We are not okay, please dont forget us and stand with us by donating or reblogging to amplify our voices 🙏🏻

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[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | 18+ only

tags : long fic, porn with plot (but the smut only happens in part 2), prince!xavier x knight!reader, separate from the lightseeker era we know and more of a different royal au, slight angst, hurt/comfort, slowburn ish, mutual yearning, slight miscommunication (well it's xavier…), still has soft fluffy moments though, use of "my prince" "my liege" "your highness" from reader. smut tags to be identified for part 2!

IMPORTANT - this is part 1 because apparently tumblr has a 1000-block limit that won't let me post the entire fic in one whole post...... so please see this link for part 2, or the full fic on AO3 !!

wc : 19.8k total / part 1 - 12.3k / part 2 - 7.5k

an : something probably possessed me, and also this was written while the lovebrush chronicles theme was on repeat lmfao <3 somewhat late but! for @xavmc-week days 1 (knight x royalty), 2 (firsts), and 3 (moon/stars), another royalty fic from yours truly! now IF you're here for the smut... then that's in part 2, but it does work better with the context of part 1 <3

taglist to be reblogged : SIGN UP HERE ; but also special tags for @xaviersknight (WHO INSPIRED THIS ICB YOU IVY) + @star-in-deepspace + @ourlittleuluru for the moral support 💖

ko-fi jar / commissions

With a single word and a gentle touch, you turned a moment into forever.

"Again."

Xavier's tone was even. Even as he stepped back into position, there was nothing different in the way that he looked at you—head tilted slightly in a challenge, an air of anticipation of your next move.

Yet, behind those steely eyes showed a brief spark of amusement.

Xavier had always been the better one with the sword, but it was never a factor to prevent you from being coached by him. In your belief, part of a knight's duty was to learn—You could never be at your best possible ability if you refused to, and you could never be able to protect His Highness when it counted the most. No matter to you that the very subject of your guard was the very one you were trying to best—

It still counted.

And he had always been, thankfully, quite easy to learn from.

Now, in this moment, a gentle spring breeze brushed through your features, and you raised your practice blade with a steady grip.

Again.

Feet apart, shoulders squared.

Eyes focused.

"You're going to bruise," you mumbled. Not for haughtiness to break through in your tone, but enough to give yourself an adequate boost of confidence—you were, after all, his chosen attending knight.

"You say that like it's a deterrent."

Smooth words fell from his lips even at the moment of your advance. Wooden swords met in a sharp clash, a resounding clunk from the impact. Even in his response he acted swiftly—precise movements, not simply like a trained knight, but like someone who had studied and even mastered the art of war with diligence. You could mumble to yourself about how learning under the same master could yield vastly divergent results, and the proof of it would be manifested in the both of you. But at the same time, it was something you knew well. For Xavier, this had begun long before you had taken up your own armor.

Strategic, calculating, intentional. Not a single movement was wasted. Of it all, you thought, it was a quiet elegance well befitting of the crown prince.

However, you'd also like to think that he taught you well.

And there it was.

A sharp twist and a pull earned you your opening, easily allowing to you disarm. The wooden sword in his hold clattered thickly onto the ground, but before he could move to retrieve it, you quickly stepped on its hilt.

Xavier looked up from where he'd dropped to one knee.

His lips quirked; not a smile, nor a threat, but a rather amused notion of acknowledgment. "Is this how you treat your prince?"

Hands on your hips and an air of well-earned victory, you grinned. "Only when he insists on getting himself killed in the yard. May I remind you that this was your doing, Your Highness."

"Well, I could order you to be gentler."

"You wouldn't."

"I could."

"…Hm. And so we can say that I'd pretend to obey."

With a soft chuckle and a shake of his head he stood, the spring breeze ruffling through his hair. Your eyes caught in it—you could marvel at how soft he would always keep his hair no matter how grueling the training, and it seemed in that moment that the way the sun filtered through it made him glow even brighter today.

Even despite the defeat.

"Prince Xavier," you raised an eyebrow, "you wouldn't intend to tell me you'd orchestrated my win, did you?"

"I could never do that."

"But… you go easy on me far too much. You mustn't spoil a knight like this."

"And are there to be consequences?"

That same smile curved slightly at his lips again, and he dusted off his pants. You, in turn, stood still in your place. Even as he moved closer, took a step towards you in a manner completely unnecessary, you hadn't the heart to rebuke him for it.

He was teasing.

"…I wouldn't dream of it, my liege," you mumbled.

And he smiled.

"I'm not going easy on you. The reason for you to stand by my side so often that you do is your own abilities."

A strand of your hair had become loose from your ponytail, and he reached a gloved hand out to brush it behind your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"But you're very loyal," he added softly. "You always have been."

The pause between you both indicated well how much you wished you could say otherwise—and you wished you could. Your loyalties had always been with him, and him alone. Your reasons for staying were him, and him alone.

But you couldn't say things like that, and it was expected anyway that you wouldn't.

Instead when you spoke, it was with the same reverence in your voice as all the other knights. You took a step back before you forgot all that was necessary in your stature, and played the role that laid your loyalties bare for the palace as a whole.

"I serve the crown."

Automatic, like protocol.

Your head bowed, immediately dropping to the knee before him. Moments ago this position had been reversed in lieu of your duel, and you could only seek to erase such a scandalous image from your head. It should only be this way—Right hand tucked behind, left in a fist, crossed steadily over your heart.

A sign of the oath.

For it were the knights who yielded to the royals, and never the other way around.

"Your Highness, you know very well that my life lives only for yours."

And you remembered the first time you had recited it.

Years ago still, on the day of the accolade. You had been officially dubbed a member of the Order—The Lightseekers, as they were so reverently called; an elite force trained to serve the royal household to the death. You remembered the rush of adrenaline as you raised your hand to give your life as an offering:

Here do I swear, by mouth and hand, fealty and service to the Crown and Kingdom of Philos.

Even now, despite your closer relationship to the prince himself, you could never bring yourself to abandon such an oath.

Yet, Xavier tapped you gently your shoulder.

Two simple words:

"At ease."

He bent once more to retrieve his blade as you rose, respectfully dusting it off despite it only being a simple practice weapon. Handing it to you, you realized as you looked at him that his eyes held a strange sort of softness to it—and it was this expression that you had never learned to read. Even after years spent together, it was still one that had never failed to elude you.

"How strange," Xavier mumbled. Quiet, exceedingly so—almost enough for his words to evade you completely. "So do I. But… I find that I care more about the knight holding the sword."

And you could call yourself an accomplished knight.

Despite everything, what he'd said about your abilities rang true—you hadn't been recommended this position, you'd climbed to it yourself. You were acknowledged in the Order as someone who had what it took to protect him; acknowledged in the palace, even, for your very skill with the blade you held.

But of all the shields and all the armor you'd bested in the past, there was one that you could never.

Because Xavier had been like this for as long as you'd remembered.

Quiet.

Dutiful.

How long had it been since he'd freely let himself feel, you wondered?

It had been far too long since then. The first time you saw him cry, he was eleven. A small figure cloaked in midnight velvet—

Standing far too still for a child at his mother's funeral.

You weren't a knight then, not yet. Just a simple commoner, too young and unimportant to be noticed. The entire Kingdom had been invited in service of the Queen, and you were lined up with many others; eyes front, knelt before her coffin.

The royal family had been in mourning.

Yet, Prince Xavier hadn't made a sound.

Quiet.

Dutiful.

Even then he'd carried himself with such an air of elegance; even then he'd resigned himself to display any more vulnerability than was necessary. People came and went, knelt before the Queen and left just as you did. And behind him, you knew—courtiers, maids, assistants—they would whisper; marvel, even.

Because Prince Xavier stood simply beside the coffin, chin lifted.

And he watched.

And he waited.

Perhaps, longer than the others.

Even the King had left, and the halls had closed.

You remembered that day clearly—because the moment he stepped outside of the chapel, his head was down. That crown of silvery hair, a striking feature of all members of the royal family of Philos, stuck wetly to the skin of his forehead. No longer neatly combed. No longer properly styled. And that perfectly-tailored suit had soaked through as he stood.

All preparation of his attendants could be viewed as all for naught, and the clouds surely showed no mercy.

Eleven-year-old Prince Xavier stood, limbs hanging limp at his sides, not even flinching at the slightest rumble of the thunder… His fingers curled slightly, but that was the only remaining hint of movement left, as if he'd long since stopped trying to be.

His gaze remained downcast.

For you, just a little girl in rags for robes, this was a moment unseeming of you to intrude on. You'd understood this to be a private moment for the prince, surely—and even thinking back, you were never quite sure what had compelled you to act. Only that a member of the royal family couldn't possibly be left out of the rain.

So thinking, perhaps, outside of your best interest, little feet padded the steps between you and the prince. You were far more used to the rain than he, you figured. You were far more accustomed to the soil beneath your feet. And with a little bit of a tiptoe, you raised your feebly constructed bamboo umbrella over his head.

"You'll get sick out in the rain, Sir Prince," you'd smiled. As if your umbrella could withstand the rain for long; as if it were truly enough to shield him like a better constructed one would.

But no matter, you'd thought, for the King would find him soon enough.

And blue eyes met yours, and then the rainfall was all you could hear. Words weren't exchanged any further. You only smiled brightly, offered a curtsy with as much elegance as you were able. With the umbrella transferred into his hand, you'd done what you had approached him to do.

Of all the shields and all the armor you'd bested since you'd decided to enlist… there was one that you could never.

You hadn't seen Xavier cry since that day.

That shield—it was standing right in front of you. And you knew that your vow had been made much sooner than the day of the accolade.

Long before he remembered you, you had already chosen him.

Instinctively your grip around the two practice swords in your hand tightened, and you lowered your head so as not to meet his gaze.

I care more about the knight holding the sword.

"My liege… You really mustn't say things like that."

&—

That night, you found him exactly where you thought he'd be.

On the floor of the upper library, ten paces to the right.

This was a location you had marked on your mental map with a star; one of Xavier's most frequently visited night spot.

They called it the high eastern balcony. During the day, it was often filled with various staff and members of the palace itself, yet it tended to be unattended in the evenings. The library you walked past had closed hours earlier in the night; there was little to no reason for anyone to remain here.

Xavier liked the quiet.

You knew him well enough by now to know that.

And so you rounded the corner, the stone ledge of the balcony curved like a crescent moon over the sleeping gardens below. In this blanket of stars and the hush of silver light, it was true that the hour was later than either of you would truly care to admit.

Xavier didn't turn.

He had a hand braced on the balustrade, head tilted towards the sky. His coat was folded beside him—neat, to be tucked away. His hair, on the other hand, was slightly tousled, as though he'd run a hand through it already one too many times. Yet the silence wasn't one to keep you away—it was only one you took as an invitation.

Your footsteps slowed.

"So you were here," you murmured softly.

Walking from the archway to stand beside him, you leaned against the balustrade. The breeze stirred; you gently nudged his coat towards him.

He glanced at you, but he didn't take it.

“I didn’t expect you to come."

15 centimeters apart.

You shifted, aware of how close you'd gotten, and he didn't stop you.

You shrugged; “You’re not hard for me to find. But you should be asleep, Your Highness."

"So should you.”

“I’m not the one with a council breathing down my neck by sunrise.”

“I'm not the one with training drills in the morning.”

Another pause.

This time, the both of you looked at each other, and a soft laugh spilled from your lips. Your shoulders relaxed, your eyes softened. You regarded his figure, then—properly. Took in his form, the outline of the moonlight bringing a different glow to his attire than you'd seen from the sun just this afternoon.

The only reason Xavier so often came to this balcony was to watch the stars…

Because the stars were there to offer him comfort.

"…You've been restless lately," you whispered. You let your words be carried through the wind.

"So you've noticed."

“I’m trained to notice.”

He smiled.

The first time that night, he turned to face you, and his head tilted down—something of another quiet challenge, like he often did with you. Cheeky, still. Boyish, a little. Your heart skipped whenever you thought that you could bring out this more easygoing nature, of the Crown Prince of Philos.

“And if I asked what you thought was keeping me up?” he raised an eyebrow.

"Then… I’d say you were thinking too much about what everyone else wants from you. Or, of you. Things like that."

Just like the little girl who'd run up to offer him her umbrella, you spoke with a conviction, now, that you didn't know you could still have.

A little pretentious for a mere knight to say, you thought grimly.

But instead of chastising you, Xavier only chuckled.

"…Sorry. I mean it's only that, far too often… I always wonder what you think about. If you tense at all the duties that you have, and all the expectations you've been trained to meet from the moment you were born…" Your expression turned feeble as you added, "Prince Xavier often looks like he feels a little trapped. Sometimes, that's what I think."

"Do you think everyone notices?"

"Only if they care enough to, I guess."

"So… you care enough to."

"I… suppose."

Again the breeze passed, ruffling through your clothing.

"Then. Do you also want something from me? Like the others?"

He met your gaze. Held it. It was a silent command for you not to dare turn away in this instant.

"…Of course not, my liege. If I were to wish for something, then it… would be only for more of your own freedom."

You received yet another smile, then.

Yet in that moment, you didn't know, yourself, how true your words were. Whether that was all that you wanted, or whether a part of you still yearned for that something more that you always insisted on keeping at bay. Could you had deluded yourself into thinking it was nothing? Could you had deluded yourself into believing you had no selfish desires of him?

It was an opening for you to speak of it, but you didn't.

You couldn't.

You couldn't, not even to bring yourself to confront them in your head.

Because that was unbecoming of a knight.

Xavier didn't press you on it. Whether he believed you or he didn't, you couldn't tell, but still this time it was his turn to look away. There was a hum as he leaned into his palm, and far below, a lone guard crossed the courtyard. His boots echoed—faint and distant. 

"Do you ever think about leaving?" he murmured. “This.” He nodded out into the gardens. It was a subtle gesture to indicate what he'd recognized to be your own cage. “The castle. The role. The duty. I'm not the only one trapped here."

And you should have expected it.

Often, Xavier would say things like this. The burden of your duty this, the burden of your guard that.

You hesitated—

"No." You could never leave; you were here for him. You wouldn't unless he did. "It was my choice to come here. So then, it's my choice to stay."

With a small shake of his head, he looked away again. "Well, I wonder, sometimes, what I’d be without all this.”

“…Your own duties?"

"Mn."

"I think… then you’d still be you.”

“And, you? Who would you be?”

"…Someone less useful. Probably. Because to me, you're…"

You caught yourself.

Perhaps, if you knew Xavier a certain amount, then it was to be expected that he knew you equally as much. Because he knew exactly what to say to you. If you'd continued… then he'd understand exactly why it was that you'd refused to leave.

You absolutely couldn't be loose-lipped on such a selfish thing.

Your sentence sat unfinished.

But still he didn't push, and that little smile edging at his lips—still at your unwillingness to breach the subject—was his only acknowledgment.

Instead of responding directly, his gaze shifted from the gardens and back up to the sky; you watched as it did. Watched the way his gaze seemed to relax at such a simple motion, the way the galaxy seemed to reflect in the blue of his eyes that you'd come to adore so much. The wonder that filled his expression was always different when he watched the stars. You wondered if the same thing happened whenever you looked at him.

"Do you know their names?" he said quietly.

He didn't take his eyes off the sky, and you shook your head. "Not really. I… I know the Scales, I think, and the… Wolf, was it? The one they say guards kings?"

He scoffed lightly, "That sounds fitting for you."

"Yeah? I always liked that one, but I can never point it out."

Xavier glanced at you then, and then gently reached out to hold you at your wrist. The leather of his gloves was softer than you remembered—but you didn't remember the last time he'd touched you. Not like this.

Your eyes followed, tried not to focus on the warmth of him being so familiar with you—

"Lupus is very faint," he said quietly, "the wolf. It has many stars, so it gets difficult to point it out. But… it's a clear night tonight. So there it is. I think wolves are often associated with protection, and maybe that's why it has a reputation like that."

Slowly he drew your hand up with his, pointing out little stars that formed the vague outline of a wolf.

You could see it only if you squinted.

"…I wouldn't be able to see it unless you draw it out for me," you huffed, and in response to that, he only chuckled before he pulled away.

His touch lingered even then.

Your gaze drew down to his hands.

"Do you… have constellations that you like, Your Highness?"

For a moment he didn't speak.

From the stars and down to you, he too, lingered—you could feel it, the stare; the way he seemed to be searching for an answer that he could only possibly get through you.

"I… used to like the ones I couldn't name."

You blinked, looked up at him.

It wasn't the answer you were expecting, and he knew that.

There was that smile again.

"They didn't owe anyone anything," he said softly. "So I used to think it must be nice, to be nameless."

But I like your name.

You couldn't bring yourself to say it.

Instead you stepped a little closer.

15 centimeters became 5—

Your shoulders brushed. Then stayed.

"I like the ones I can name," you murmured. "Things feel a little more real when you name them. A little more within reach, and not so high up in the sky like that."

A smile peeked at your lips.

"…Right, Prince Xavier?"

This, here—this one was real, too.

&—

You hadn't seen it coming.

The patrol was supposed to be routine—a simple escort through the northern woods after a diplomatic visit, a simple ride past those trees that you had already been familiar with for long. Nighttime made it unnerving, but you'd done this job one too many times. You had never once come across any issues.

…Not until that moment.

The trees had been too still. The birds had been too quiet. And then came the arrows, the flash of blades from under cloaks, the glint of then moonlight on steel—real, real swords this time, no longer practice ones.

Your body moved before your thoughts could form.

A hiss of air; the sound of metal slicing wind… It was this moment you knew what it meant to be a serving knight, and perhaps it was the cold fear of your prince getting injured that had you moving then without hesitation.

You lunged; shoved him hard to the side.

A blade meant for him, fallen only instead to you—

Here do I swear, by mouth and hand, fealty and service to the Crown and Kingdom of Philos.

You hardly remembered what had happened afterwards. Only that you'd been met with darkness far too soon; much sooner than you'd liked to admit.

&—

When you came to, the room you were laying in was dim.

Your vision took a while to focus. This wasn't the silvery light of the moon; it was candles. Lanterns. Two of them, and then the fire in the hearth. Rain tapped softly against the windowpanes, echoing the hush that had fallen since the healers left… You felt faint traces of them, the healers—and undeniably, the pain in your shoulder had lessened.

You blinked and sat up from the bed.

Your bed.

This was your room.

You'd made it back safely.

Nevermind that you were bare from the waist up save for the cloth binding wrapped around you; you felt the way your hair clung damply to your face and neck. Sensation began to creep back into you, and you were very much awake.

Awake enough to notice the figure clad in white, not too far away from you, back still turned.

Awake enough to scowl at him.

"You’re supposed to be at council,” you frowned. A quick glance out the window told you that a day had passed. Several, perhaps. The sun was setting anew; you didn't know, anymore, how long you'd been out.

Xavier, on the other hand, stood by the fireplace, a brand new suit and cloak to sport—

He shouldn't be here.

Yet he turned, anyway, and gave you a cold look.

"They can wait."

You watched as he made his way towards you, sharp steps of his boots on the concrete.

The firelight caught in his hair.

"…You're being dramatic," you mumbled. "I've had the healers, right? And you're not even the one who got hurt..."

"That's not what it felt like."

You watched as he dropped down to a crouch beside the basin, jaw tight, hands red to the wrists.

The silence was sharp.

Uncomfortable.

Xavier was a man of few words, but this was something else. The way that he spoke to you now made you shiver—no longer that kind, gentler prince you knew him to be with you…

Now, he was upset.

You watched him draw in a breath, and then he glanced at you.

“You were reckless,” he muttered.

You didn't answer.

You probably were.

He looked up sharply then as if to emphasize his point, “You could've been killed.”

"No, you could've been killed."

"That’s not the point.”

“Yes, it is!”

You frowned deeper this time, sat up straighter. Dared to meet his gaze. Challenged him.

So unbecoming of a knight, yet you did it anyway.

“That’s exactly the point," you leveled; "I stepped in because that is my duty. Because that way you wouldn't get hurt. And you didn’t—thank God you didn't.”

The tension stayed.

Xavier turned away, rinsed the cloth again, wrung it out with more force than necessary. Water splashed on the stone.

"I had guards,” he huffed, "other guards. You didn’t have to—”

“I did, because you were in danger! I made a choice that I had to, Your Highness, and I'm still your attending knight for a reason."

Again for a moment of pause, he pressed the cloth to your arm. But the silence stung more than the pressure; more than the pain that shot up through your wound.

You didn't wince.

Your jaw tightened, but you didn't wince.

And when he spoke again, his voice was softer—cold, still; upset, still, but… softer.

He kept his focus on your arm.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he mumbled. “Throwing yourself in front of every blade meant for me.”

"You know that as long as they swing, then I'll have to."

"It's not right."

"It's my duty. It doesn't have to be right."

He gave a low sound, almost like a laugh, but bitter. “Then do you always have to be like this? Fearless? Foolish?”

"Faithful.”

That made him fall silent.

The both of you were close, now, just enough to feel his breath as he leaned in to inspect your injury. His hand, gloved still on one side, was warm against your skin. This was the second time you could recall that he'd touched you so tenderly.

It was enough, too, to make you pause. Normally you were so good at maintaining the distance, but this was difficult. His skin was searing to the touch; you felt almost guilty for it.

But you felt it, the tremor. Slight, but still there.

"…You were shaking," you said quietly. "I… I remember. Afterwards. For a moment, I thought I…"

"I didn't like it."

You looked at him, and he gave you one short glance before looking back away.

"I… didn't like seeing you bleed."

You bit your lip.

Again, you recalled what he'd said—I care more about the knight holding the sword. And then something raw opened in your chest, but you swallowed it down.

No.

Now wasn't the time.

And so you waited, in silence, as Xavier finished dressing the bandage with slow, careful precision. His fingers lingered—tender, still, but just shy of affectionate.

You really must be delusional.

The silence that stayed was heavier than any blade you'd taken.

&—

Days passed.

Now you walked through the halls, another morning to start anew. The sun broke clean, and golden... It streaked through the tall palace windows, bathed the stone floors with light. At the same time, there were voices that echoed distantly. Servants, guards… You heard someone in the courtyard call for a stable boy. All just normal occurrences in a day, and you flexed your shoulders as you walked.

You'd healed since then. The gash on your shoulder had long since gone from that evening.

Everything should be normal.

But… some things didn't quite go back to the way they used to.

Polite nods, a shared glance across a room.

You were still around Xavier—you should be; it was required of you. But you hadn't seen him much, not properly. You'd caught him watching you get back into your training, but he hadn't approached; always stayed in his place to look at you from afar.

Polite nods, a shared glance across a room.

Xavier had distanced himself.

You had to think back to your last encounter, those last words. He'd treated you once, that day, and hadn't returned— you knew that he was upset. He never quite told you why, other than clearly expressing displeasure for your impulsiveness that had gotten you injured, but you figured that you could guess. Xavier wasn't good with emotions. You could only surmise based on what you knew that he didn't want to risk seeing you bleed like that by getting closer to you.

And it was to be expected, wasn't it? It shouldn't have bothered you; every knight was the same. In service of the crown, only you had ever gotten so close to the Crown Prince himself.

You should have been just fine without it—

Like everyone else was.

Still his absence left a gaping hole, and though you willed yourself to get used to it, to go about your daily routine as you did without him, it was something else to get used to.

Your footsteps continued down the hall, and you missed him.

And it was such a pretentious thought for a knight.

Yet—

There he was.

You'd rounded the corner.

There walked Xavier, looking decidedly less princely in a simple linen shirt and a travel cloak less fitting of royalty. He hadn't noticed you yet; he had his gaze settled onto the gloves he was still tucking into his belt.

There he was.

It had been a while since you'd had time alone, and you— froze. Could only stand there, like an idiot, and then he was the one approaching.

"You look well," he stopped in front of you. A once-over, and he nodded, one simple regard of acknowledgment. Like he had been doing.

"…Better now, my liege. I've taken up training for the past week, and have since made a full recovery."

"That's nice to see. No more pains?"

"None, Your Highness." Your head lowered. Your throat felt dry when you continued, but you did, still, anyway. "I'm to be at your service once more, if you'll have me. You know… where to find me, if you have something to ask of."

And as if by instinct, as if expecting this to be yet another moment to simply pass you by, you stepped aside.

He didn't move, not this time.

Instead you stood like that, eyes locked onto the ground, noted the dust on his boots—and these ones you realized looked a lot more worn out than his usual.

Then, with something like hesitation,

“I was on my way down to the town.”

You looked up. "I… see."

“They’ve reopened the northern market street. I wanted to… walk it. It seems there's to be many new shops reopened.”

You nodded.

A longer silence.

Then he added, almost too casually, almost too obvious in his attempts at shoving the tension in the air right away— “You could come with me. If you like.”

It had been days since you'd heard him say something similar. Anything similar.

You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips.

"Is… is that a command, Your Highness?”

“It’s an invitation,” he tilted his head slightly. “One you’re free to refuse. But… I'd rather you don't...”

So you did smile, this time. With enough time to look away to hide it, you did smile. Still you weren't sure just how willingly you could take his words, but—this might truly have been the first time he'd addressed you so directly since that night.

You were weak.

Pathetic, almost.

You'd grasp at straws of his affection like your life depended on it.

And when he spoke again, his voice was softer—a little less distant. "You… said that you liked it, when things were named. As for me, I… could use your judgment—" If his voice could nudge, this would be akin to it. "…And your company."

When you looked back at him, you noticed it.

There was a flicker of something boyish in him just then. Dare you say it—hopefully boyish. Not the crown prince, not the diplomatic heir, but a young man with the anticipation of spending a day out in town with…

You.

With you. You gave a quiet smile, “Then I’ll come.”

Fully, then, his expression softened into something warm, and you watched as his shoulders relaxed.

Was he nervous?

“Good," he nodded, "I’ll have horses prepared for us both.”

You realized, then, that the conviction of that little girl—the one who gave him the umbrella, the one so bold as to assume of his struggles… She still existed. She always had. And now, you grasped at the loose fabric of his cloak.

"Prince Xavier."

He looked over his shoulder.

"I… didn't say I'd come just because you asked.”

He held your gaze for a long second, and then with the barest tilt of his head, he said—

"I know."

You could have sworn you'd seen a smile on his face before he left.

&—

The town was alive with spring.

Bright pennants fluttered above cobbled streets, the scent of blooming flowers mingled with roasted chestnuts and freshly-baked bread. Market stalls stretched out in neat rows. Each one seemed to be bursting with color—baskets of fruit, rows of dyed fabrics, arrays of trinkets, and even displays of spice jars… It had been a while since you'd ventured out into town, and you couldn't recall it being quite so colorful. A lute played in the distance, a melody jovial enough for a town square dance. Just a little down the block you could see the townsfolk gathering over to dance, and even the mere sight of it made you smile.

It was so easy here, to forget about it. The duties, the formalities.

You even nudged the man beside you to point him in the direction of the ongoing dance, and you were pleased to see that the smile Xavier was wearing wasn't quite the forced, polite grin he often wore in front of the court.

And Xavier wore his most inconspicuous cloak.

He called it that, anyway.

It wasn't very inconspicuous.

Even browsing through the markets while many were occupied with the dance still drew glances here and there, and you shrank, a little, into your cloak.

"You’re drawing more attention than I am,” you said dryly.

"Oh. Is it the boots? They do shine a bit…”

Oblivious.

"No, you've even dusted them. I'd say it’s more the way you look like… uh, someone who’s never had to haggle in his life.”

Almost as if to prove your point, you watched with a sigh as he stopped at a stall. Honeyed pastries, you noted—not that you knew Xavier to have a particularly sweet tooth, but you let him be anyway.

He held up a coin. "How much for two?"

The vendor, a stout man with a crooked smile, squinted. “For you? Five copper.”

“That seems high…"

You crossed your arms, and at your lack of response, Xavier turned to you disapprovingly. "You’re supposed to back me up.”

Another grin made its way to your face, and an eyebrow raised. "Should I? But this is the real world, my liege.”

Xavier hadn't the heart to argue then.

He handed over the necessary coins, then gave one of the pastries to you with a little frown on his face.

The thought made its way to your head before you could stop it:

Cute.

"You're enjoying this," he mumbled.

“Immensely.”

And wandering through the square proved easy enough.

Every now and then the tune would change, a couple more musicians would join in the fun, and the music would become a little livelier. You and Xavier, on the other hand, took an easy pace—sampling food whenever you could, and pausing to admire the local handiwork on display. So many things were adorable. Though your own room was quite plain and you thought you had little need for trinkets and displays, a smile would show whenever you stopped by one that had caught your attention.

The next time it happened, you'd run your fingers over a bundle of blue-and-yellow blossoms, a striking difference out of the other ceramic paper weights. And Xavier caught your wrist.

"You want one?" he asked quietly.

"I… I don't need one—"

"I didn't ask if you needed them."

Xavier was a man of a few words, but oftentimes it was his actions that shone through the most.

You couldn't answer him.

He bought the paper weight and handed it to you with a little air of triumph—"They're forget-me-nots," he smiled. "If we can find the real flowers one day, then I'd like to give them to you."

You didn't think about how his voice was so gentle; you didn't think about the implications of receiving flowers from the Crown Prince.

Instead, ignoring the skip of your heartbeat, you stared forward.

At the end of the street, the corner rounded into a bookstore that you knew had already been marked on Xavier's itinerary.

You glanced up;

Noontime.

You'd spent the entire morning here, and likely would a couple more hours at this one final stop. Briefly in your head you wondered how Xavier had gotten out of his royal duties for the day, but you didn't question it aloud, you just followed him in.

With a soft jingle, the bell above the doorway signaled your entrance. Immediately the music from town square seemed to drown itself out.

It was quiet here. Serene, almost. And even if you hadn't yet been here before, the scent of ink and parchment washed over you, old and familiar. Naturally Xavier had been drawn towards the back shelves, but you stood a while by the entrance in awe at the vast collection—It was almost as big as the royal libraries.

Separated from Xavier, you were left to browse in silence. Your hand trailed over the spines of various travelogues and maps; various novels, encyclopedias, memoirs…

And then a few few minutes passed by like that before you heard it.

“You have good taste,” came a kind, gentle voice.

It was somewhere off to the distance—you weren't far behind from where Xavier had headed off to, and it seemed to be coming from there.

You heard the flip of a page, then, and a quiet laugh—

"I try," came Xavier's voice next. Cordial, polite, and just friendly enough to engage.

But this was not his princely voice. You knew it well, but perhaps you'd gotten too far in your head to believe he'd only use such a tone with you alone.

The girl laughed, and you quietly approached the section. “You picked one of my favorites! I always hoped someone would notice it. It's been a while since anyone had."

"Really? Then I'm honored."

You saw her, then. Peeked through the shelves to catch a glimpse. A young woman with neatly braided hair stood across from him, sorting a stack of volumes just nearby. She was charming, in a sense—you could see it, from where you were. A little soft-spoken, despite the excitement in her voice, and decidedly friendly. Looking at her like this reminded you of sunlit flower patches, even—of the spring breeze, just outside where you'd come from.

Perhaps, she's…

“I’d… offer you a list of recommendations?” she peeked at him, “but I imagine you already know what you like…"

Xavier shook his head. "Still, I’d be curious to hear.”

It was a scene you couldn't bring yourself to watch.

With a quiet exhale, you put down the book you'd been holding, approached them to give a bow in the woman's direction and a tap on Xavier's shoulder—

"I'll be outside if you need me."

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at her.

Already a knot had formed in your stomach, and you wondered just how selfish you were being.

Best to just remove myself from here.

You didn't listen for Xavier's response before you turned and left.

Outside, the late afternoon air was different; sweeter. You'd spend more time inside than you thought, as now the music had died down, and the stalls were picking up. The street was still warm from the day; children were scattered playing a ways off and kicking a ball through the patches of grass. Lively, in its own way, but a lot… different. As if whatever festival had taken place in the morning had since simmered down into a gentler sun-soaked gathering.

It was calming.

The fresh air was nice—if the bookshop felt like its own little world, then this felt more… grounding.

Off in the distance you could see the outline of the palace you'd come from, and again you would recall what you really were. What you were allowed. What you should.

How pretentious for a mere knight.

You'd gotten so caught up in the day's events that you were right back where you'd started. You were a knight; his knight, sure, but a knight nonetheless. Special treatment be damned.

You traced the paper weight you'd kept in your cloak, and thought—maybe it wasn't even special treatment; the Prince was free to be comfortable with whomever he chose. The Prince was free to speak with whomever he chose.

So, the Prince was free to be friendly with whomever he chose.

It shouldn't even matter to you.

Yet you smiled bitterly, kicked absentmindedly at the concrete. You had to remind yourself—you weren't special; you couldn't be. You were just a knight, after all.

That was all there was to it.

The door creaked open behind you a minute later.

“You vanished."

Xavier's voice.

Again came that tongue of yours without thinking, a sentence you'd dared to utter before recoiling with a wince—

“Didn’t want to interrupt your literary courtship.”

A breeze passed.

One glance at him showed he hadn't gotten a stack of books like you'd expected, but instead carried a single novel.

It wasn't the one they'd been talking about when you left.

"You… think that's what it was?"

He spoke slowly, as if unsure—

You, on the other hand, turned away and spoke too quickly.

“No,” you coughed, “of course not.”

“…Hm.”

He didn’t say anything else.

He just walked beside you again as you made your way toward the stables, steps aligned still, but—

Quieter, now.

And though nothing had changed between you outwardly, you couldn’t quite ignore that same pinch in your chest; so uncomfortable. The sharp awareness of how easily someone else might belong in that quiet, private moment with him—how simple it could be.

Too simple.

As you mounted your horses, you stayed a respectable pace behind him. By now, the sun was dipping low, and it was the close of the day. Neither of you spoke for several paces.

Instead you busied yourself with the streets that faded into fields, the lush green mixing with the tangerine reflections of the sunset. The horses were comfortable; trotting along at your leisurely pace and completely unaware of the awkwardness that had settled between you.

It was Xavier who broke the silence first.

"You know, she only spoke to me because I picked her favorite book.”

You let out a soft laugh. "I didn't say anything."

“You didn’t have to.”

There was no edge in his voice—just quiet observation, a statement offered like a coin left on the table. Dare you say that it was gentle, as if clearly offering to soothe.

How embarrassing.

You closed your eyes, allowed yourself to feel the wind through your hair as you rode past the fields. And then you let out a slow breath.

"It wasn't jealousy."

It was.

"Wasn't it?"

He turned back to face you ever so slightly, and you could have sworn you heard him scoff.

He didn't believe you.

You didn't believe yourself, either.

"Why… Why would I be jealous?" you muttered.

“I don’t know,” he hummed, as if that wasn’t the point, “but it lingered.”

It… lingered?

Something about it twisted in your head—and though you wished, so desperately wished you didn't think it, you wondered, just then, if that moment of jealousy had sparked in him a little.

Did it bother him?

Was this his way of apologizing for it?

You could have scoffed at yourself just for thinking it.

Selfish. Unbecoming. Absolutely out of the protocol.

The horses had trot a little while further, and the castle became clearer in your view.

Then he added, softly; "You don't have to explain it."

And leave it to Xavier to know what to say to you.

You couldn't explain it even if you were asked to, but somehow, that was soothing enough. That was reassuring enough. Such a simple sentence, just a few words—in a way, it placated the restlessness that had settled in your heart. You wondered if that was a good thing or not.

He's too kind, you thought. He's too…

You were grateful, in that moment, that he was still that few paces in front of you.

He couldn't see the small, giddy smile on your lips, the faint blush at the tips of your ears.

He's really, really, truly… the Prince of Philos.

The rest of the ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Perhaps… you'd become too used, to leaving things unsaid.

When your feet touched the cobble of the palace grounds, he spoke again. First, as always; as an invitation for you to follow. "Thank you for coming with me today.”

“…I didn’t mind.”

“I know. But I'm glad you came anyway."

He offered a gentle pat on the top of your head, a light, fleeting touch, before he left.

Your own words stayed on the tip of your tongue.

I was happy to be with you, too.

&—

It became frequent. Sort of a ritual, by now.

Escapes beyond the palace walls; little excursions, here and there. Whenever the both of you could get a moment, you'd simply take the chance. By now, it was a wonder to you that not a single soul had questioned it. The guards stationed at the gate would let you through without thinking; your fellow knights would wave you off when you'd excuse yourself on behalf of the Prince's orders.

Or, so he'd say—

Xavier would find reasons to ride out, and you would be summoned to accompany him, though it was never quite called an order.

Always an invitation.

One you were free to refuse, at any given moment, but you—

You never did.

You never could.

Still, selfishly, longingly, you would grasp at the straws of his affection. At another chance, another moment, to still be with him.

This time, now, it was a simple ride out into the forests.

Nobody questioned the prince's whims. Therefore, nobody questioned you, either.

And so you took the forest trail at an easy pace, your horses side by side beneath the arching trees. It was still spring—the breeze was cool. Flowers littered the path at given moments, and the rustling of the leaves overhead seemed to soothe.

You could recall when all things, had been like this.

And Xavier voiced your thoughts with a hum.

"I missed this,” he spoke, shifting in his saddle as he ducked a low branch. “When it was just sparring, riding, running drills without purpose...”

“No politics,” you laughed.

“No courtiers.”

“Just… bruises.”

He smiled, “Simpler times.”

The forest welcomed you as you rode in further, the canopy above thick with green and filtering sunlight into dapples across the path. As silence settled between you, the birds chirped softly overhead. The horses' hooves thudded rhythmically over soft earth. In this brief moment of respite, you noticed the way your leisurely pace blended seamlessly with the breeze, and Xavier's cloak fluttered lightly.

"You remember though, don't you?" he glanced to you before going on ahead as the path narrowed slightly. "How we used to train here before."

“Vividly. Because you kept distracting me.”

“Me?”

You could hardly believe that he was being incredulous.

"Yes, you! Every time I had a chance at winning, you’d charm a bird into landing on your shoulder!”

“That bird chose me,” he waved a hand dismissively, “I can't control the woodland creatures."

“But you also had a rabbit interrupt us. And once, a deer.”

“That was a noble stag. I remember… he had kind eyes. I thought he deserved a moment of my time.”

“You offered him your apple and called it a diplomatic exchange."

“He accepted, didn't he?"

“And I looked like I was going to win that round, until you called for a break!"

Xavier’s laugh echoed softly through the trees. “You were only grateful for the interruption. You could never beat me with a blade.”

Why, you—!

"Ugh, you just had longer arms!" you cried indignantly. "And better balance! And the annoying habit of being infuriatingly graceful!"

Yet even though you wished to throw a rock at him, the light bickering made you smile. Truly, simpler times. Back then, it was easier for both of you to be close—that even in all your loyalty, you'd felt the presence of a boy, and the friendship of one.

You wondered when exactly that had changed.

"Let's stop here and rest."

Your horses eased to a halt as the trail opened into a small clearing.

This was a clearing you knew well from the earlier days—our enlistment as a knight-in-training; your trainings with the others and especially even Xavier himself. It hadn't taken long for you to rise to a position that had his personal swordsmaster take you in as an additional apprentice, but those days still laid fondly in the forefront of your mind. Now, here, again after so, so long, you let your gaze sweep around. These things were still here. The underbrush was dotted with the same low shrubs that used to snag at your boots during drills, and the worn stumps still sat in a half-circle where your instructor had once set up little sparring exercises.

Just as you remembered.

Xavier dismounted and looked around with you while wearing a small, thoughtful smile, “I used to think this place was the whole world,” he said, running a hand over the mossy bark of a tree. “Before councils and court politics and formal wear.”

“Pff. You hated formal wear back then.”

“I still do.”

Following in his movements, you slipped off your horse and stretched.

Again the quiet, soothing sounds of the forest rang through the clearing.

“…Remember? You also used to say this place was better than any hall in the palace.” The way you said it carried a quiet laugh.

"But don't you?"

"No, no, I do! I mean, even… now, I think. It's just more peaceful here. Something about the quiet… geez, you must be rubbing off on me."

It was Xavier who liked the quiet, right?

With a playful roll of your eyes, you who chose a spot under a tree, leaning back against its trunk to stretch your legs. "Ugh, but I really did try to beat you, you know,” you huffed at him.

“I know.” He looked down, and his smile turned soft. He sat cross-legged across you, fished an apple from his satchel and tossed it over. “You always fought like you had something to prove, even when you didn’t need to. How old were we then?”

“Well it was because I used to get so frustrated when you beat me!" You shook your head, caught the apple and polished it with your sleeve. “I trained so hard, you know? And you made it look effortless!”

“Only because I started much earlier, and you were a new knight-in-training. But…"

Xavier stopped, then.

In the pause, he looked at you—really looked at you, this time, you felt. And when he smiled, you thought you'd never seen him look at you so fondly before. "You were formidable," he added, sincerely. "Even back then. And even now."

His words flowed so easy. Like sunlight, filtering through the leaves.

And the two of you leaned back in silence, staring up at the sky, enjoying the breeze and the quiet moment that you had for your own.

If only… things could always be like this.

Xavier made a thoughtful sound, then.

The both of you saw it—clouds began to gather, and though the droplets had yet to fall, you knew the blue of the sky would slowly drown out into gray.

"…Rain," he murmured.

You huffed in disappointment and moved to sit up.

Xavier was quick to mount his horse. "We’re not far from that old shed," he nodded ahead, "the one near the upper ridge. If it starts to pour, we’ll shelter there."

You could make it, you thought.

And when the rain came down—soft at first, then heavy, soaking them through in minutes—you'd kicked your horses into a light canter, water flicking off hooves and cloaks, until the familiar silhouette of the weathered wooden shed came into view.

Inside, you tied the horses to the sheltered posts and ducked in, breathless and dripping.

He shook the water from his hair. “I guess… we made it in time. Somewhat.”

You wrung out your cloak, glancing around the space.

Outside now the rain fell in a steady hush, cloaking the forest in silver dew. But here, it smelled of cedar and damp earth. The wooden beams creaked softly overhead. It hadn’t changed—rough beams, a dusty cot, and a cracked window that, thankfully despite the spring pour, seemed not to bother them.

A memory stirred.

Not too far from here, the chapel…

Wryly you took off your gloves and leaned them on the windowsill, watching droplets streak down the glass. “So this place is still standing, huh? That’s something.”

He gave a quiet laugh, stepping closer to peer outside.

You watched him, a moment. A memory stirred—if, for you it was something, then you could only imagine how it might be like for him.

"Are you… okay? Being here again?" you tested the waters with a gentle tone. 

Reliving the worst moments of your life tends to be difficult. If he perhaps needed a distraction...

Yet contrary to your expectations, he didn't look back at you, only shrugged, slightly. His tone was even when he spoke. "It's not far from the training clearing, I don't mind. I guess it's only that it's been a while."

You weren't sure if you were thinking the same thing. So instead of trying to push it further, you moved to sit down on the edge of the cot.

The rain continued to patter rhythmically on the old roof of the shelter.

As usual, still, it was Xavier who spoke first to fill that silence.

"The chapel's nearby."

It was then that he turned towards you, and he leaned against the window with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. There was a faint smile on his face. One that didn't quite meet his eyes. "That day… My mother's funeral was held, and it was raining, too."

You looked at him, stayed silent.

"Your hometown. It's not too far in this direction either, isn't it? A small village over to the west."

"…Mn."

"And you joined the knights when you were fifteen." Xavier glanced out again. "When we met, you were already more loyal than the other knights-in-training."

You watched as a faint smile became visible on his lips.

He nodded his head in the direction of the corner behind you—

And when you turned, your breath caught in your throat.

"You'll get sick out in the rain, Sir Prince."

You could hear that tiny voice; the younger you.

Without waiting for him to speak, you stood up; walked towards the umbrella leaning by the wall, picked it up as if it were so fragile it could break at just a single touch.

"You… remember?" you whispered.

There was no way that he could. You continued to stare at it, eyes slightly wide, a frown of confusion on your face—disbelief, in its purest form. You couldn't recall exactly how many years it had been, but though it had meant something to you, you didn't know if could mean something to him.

Yet your back remained turned to him, but you could see him smiling.

"I've never forgotten."

Gently you ran your hand over the now-torn cloth binding the bamboo together. Such a flimsy umbrella. You'd given this to a prince.

"The first time we met," you mumbled, "it wasn't at the hall, when I'd applied, it was…"

"Out in the rain."

He finished for you.

"…Yeah."

This time, you turned. You raised the hand that held the umbrella. "Why did you keep this?"

Disbelief still continued to lace in your voice, but it was a fond one. One that almost made you laugh, one that almost made you utterly at a loss of what to say or really do.

The Crown Prince was full of surprises.

"I mean, you— didn't even know me. How could—?"

Xavier laughed, quietly, and shook his head.

"You took my hand, and you were kind. And then you were the only one who didn't approach me like I might shatter. I always hoped I'd see you again."

And when you looked at him then—truly looked, your eyes settling fondly onto his—you caught sight of it.

In his eyes laid something steady, warm, and unguarded.

"So a moment you think was small can be everything to someone else," you murmured.

Your gaze flitted momentarily to the umbrella as you set it back down, and then you took slow, tentative steps towards him.

“I think,” Xavier laughed softly, “you’ve been by my side longer than either of us realized.”

And my oath began long before I'd taken the blade.

Now, between the both of you, settled a silence.

It wasn't awkward.

It wasn't tension-filled.

It was full of unspoken things, of shared space, of a history now revealed in the low light and the scent of wet earth—

But it wasn't awkward.

Somehow, having the truth out in the open felt as if the two of you had taken a step closer.

Once again, 15 centimeters became 5.

In that moment, Xavier shifted first, stepping away from the window. He shrugged off his outer cloak and crossed the space toward you, holding it out—

“You're soaked."

You stared for a moment.

"You're also—?"

Yet your hands reached for the cloth as if you were physically unable to disobey, and you weighed it carefully. It was— warm. You'd forgotten his was more well-tailored, obviously better off than your own. Only its outer had been wet in the rain, and inside, the wool was still warm from his own heat.

You'd gotten the brunt of the rainfall, but he hadn't.

"I don't have a bamboo umbrella to give," he said lightly, "but this should be enough."

The tone to his voice told you that he was joking, and you couldn't help but scoff. "Won't you be cold?"

"You're the one who's wet. So I'd rather that you don't."

So you folded the cloak over your shoulders and sat back on the edge of the cot, the old wood creaking gently beneath.

You watched—Xavier moved and crouched near the fireplace, then. You couldn't quite tell why he was busying himself; the ash had long gone cold, but he still bothered to sort through what remained of the kindling pile.

When he stood again, he held something small and folded—an old piece of cloth, thin and soft with age.

He offered it to you wordlessly.

Something akin to a cat, when it had caught a prey it was proud of.

The imagery almost made you smirk.

"…Uh?"

"Your gloves," he smiled patiently. "I could at least dry them a little. It's better than nothing."

That smile really does look like a proud kitten's...

You coughed, looked away. Tried to compose yourself. 

What were you doing?

"Your Highness, with all due respect, you shouldn't—"

"No, I'll do what I'm able."

Silence.

You looked back at him, both aghast and a little bit amused, and then you sighed.

An owner never refuses a cat's gifts if she wants to make it feel loved, anyway... Right?

Slowly you peeled the gloves off, one by one. Undeniably, your fingers were cold—again you were reminded that you'd gotten way too much of the rain soaked through your clothes, and you were suddenly grateful for Xavier's offered help. It was as if he knew that when he took them from you, carefully, like they were something delicate, and he knelt by the cot’s frame. Pressing the damp leather gently in the cloth, you watched his hands. Steady, careful, far more patient than you ever could be.

He looked up.

Your eyes met again.

And this time, he shifted beside you, enough at least for your shoulders to touch once more. As if that warmth, from just earlier, was one he would rather not be without.

You breathed in slowly. The moment felt… still. Peaceful, even.

You could, just…

You rest your shoulder right against his.

He'd subtly drawn you closer with an arm around your waist, half to shift you into something comfortable, half to just—

Press his lips into your hair.

It was so light, so subtle.

Barely there.

Yet your heart stopped, a moment.

When you looked up at him, there was one expression you had never quite seen before. One you didn't know how to react to, but one you knew felt more real, and more vulnerable, than all the others.

"May I?"

He didn't ask it out loud, but you could hear it.

And you didn't move—he did.

Leaned in.

Slow, steady movements—like he was still thinking about it, like he was still unsure, but like he still—wanted to.

Your breath caught again. He hadn't leaned in all the way, just enough that your heart stilled a second time, and your fingers curled slightly in the folds of the cloak.

It would be easy. So easy.

If he just moved, a little closer, a little more—

A pause.

He didn't.

Instead of kissing you, Xavier rested his forehead against yours, looked at you in that same gentle, quiet manner that he often did.

A pause in time.

You could feel how close he was; how just a little movement could brush your lips against his.

And then he pulled back with a quiet breath and spoke; “We should get back.”

…Ah.

You gulped down the bile that had formed in your throat, and out of the corner of your eyes you could see the rain beginning to still.

You looked away.

Nodded, once.

"…Yeah. We should."

And the thread had been pulled tighter.

&—

That evening, you weren't quite expecting to see him still awake.

The corridor was quiet, lined with golden light from the torches on the wall, and you'd just passed his door on your way to the stairwell when it opened with a soft creak.

Xavier noticed, called out to you gently. “Are you done for today?”

You stopped in your tracks.

Nightly patrols were so normal, you'd have forgotten that otherwise, you didn't really have the need to pass by here.

Yet when you turned to look back at him, he'd made his way to the doorway, opened it a little wider.

It was rare for you to see him like this. A shirt over trousers, already untucked, sleeves half-rolled, a slight tousle to his hair to give it a look quite unlike the neatly-combed style he wore in the mornings.

This was little less like the prince you knew—even less than the one you'd seen, that day you went out into town together, and even less than the one you do see on your excursions.

Now, that air of elegance about him gave way to a sort of boyish charm, one less looked after, one less coerced into the face that stood in the court.

So rare.

You felt your heart skip a beat the longer you looked at him, and you could have sworn your cheeks had heated up even a little bit.

Xavier had always been handsome, but this was quite something else.

A smile played at his lips as you shyly looked down, and answered, "Yes, my liege, everything's settled now for the evening.”

He didn’t move right away. Just leaned a little against the doorframe, gaze still thoughtfully resting upon you— Then he stepped back and opened the door even wider.

“Do you… want to come in?”

You stopped. Looked at him, blinked rapidly as if you believed you'd heard wrong—

Well, you did believe that, sort of. Xavier had never invited you inside before.

Little peeks here and there, of course, and conversations in the doorway, delivered letters and reports as necessary— but— only his maidservants were ever the ones allowed inside.

That was a privilege even he had never granted to you. Nor, you assumed, any other royal, to any other knight.

This was out of the protocol.

You wondered, then, if a panicked look had come across your face without your notice, because he let out a laugh next—

"Don't worry, you're not breaking any rules. I just think… maybe, we can have some tea together."

Your throat felt dry.

Not in a bad way, but rather, uncertain. And giddy, almost.

Yet when had you really refused him?

You wondered if you were only making excuses for yourself, but he had invited you. And he was right, of course, you weren't breaking any rules, so you could just—

You nodded.

Slowly you stepped in, took a look around a little more properly.

It was much bigger than yours, of course. Much neater, much more well-kept, despite all the fancy beddings and fancy furniture and fancy—well, everything, really. Off to the side, the hearth was low and steady, casting the walls in quiet amber. It all gave off a certain kind of warmth—a certain comfort—despite the way you noticed papers spread across his desk, an unrolled map on the edge of it with markings you weren't well-versed enough to understand.

Cozy.

The first thought in your head.

"I… didn't expect you to be up so late, Your Highness," you scratched your cheek sheepishly. "I hope I'm not interrupting…"

But he waved your concerns away quite casually. "No, I was only pretending to be productive. I've been more of… reading. But I told myself I’d stop after I finished this page, and that was… three pages ago.”

At the sound of his chuckle, you too laughed, and then you found the courage to approach a little deeper into the room. You moved towards a seat near the fireplace, took note of the little pot of tea he'd placed to the side.

You didn't pour yourself one just yet, but it made you smile.

There were two teacups there.

Maybe you were delusional enough to think he'd actually prepared it like this.

"That, uh, sounds familiar," you smiled a little. "I told myself I’d rest after the watch changed—final patrol of the evening and all, you know? But that was before I found the kitchen boy asleep in the armory. With a basket of warm bread.”

He glanced up again, eyebrows raised slightly in amusement. “Did you tell him off?”

"No, he… looked half-frozen. I gave him the cloak off the rack, and told him to disappear before someone less forgiving found him.”

"Kind, though the kitchen may be missing that bread.”

You quirked another smile; shrugged. “I’d be more concerned about the missing cloak, actually. It was even embroidered...”

“Then I suppose that’s a mystery for the morning.”

Another shared laugh.

Yet silence fell again as it was he who reached for the tea. Taking a seat next to you, he poured two—one for him, and one for you, and gently handed it over. The fire was warm enough, you'd thought, but the cup in your hands filled you with such homeliness that you couldn't say anything quite in protest.

Instead, you gave him a grateful smile.

"W- well, I… heard something strange earlier,” you started quietly, swirling the tea in the cup. “The steward was fretting about someone rearranging the seating plan for tomorrow's meeting, or something. Is it so much of an important one, I wonder?"

Xavier made a face. “It seems the case. I walked past the hall and heard someone debating the proximity of the soup course, to a single baron’s allergy. I decided to leave.”

Your smile turned to yet another grin; it was just like Xavier to want to avoid such things.

"Wise, though," you mused. A sip of your tea before you let it rest again. "I suppose they'd have dragged you in for a pointless conversation if you'd stayed."

He laughed, soft and muffled behind his own tea cup, and gave you a slight nudge.

"How are your patrols? I believe it's a new rotation starting tomorrow."

"Yeah, the new roster got posted just after supper earlier." You leaned back a little, let out something like a sigh. Just remembering the discussion it had sparked just earlier made you wrinkle your nose. “One of the guards thinks someone’s out to sabotage him. He’s on the northern courtyard again.”

"Is the northern courtyard so bad?"

"No, just… quite large, and further away. It does get a little boring…"

“Maybe he just draws the short straw.”

You couldn't help the grin that formed on your face. "You know, I did tell him that," you chuckled. “He didn’t like it.”

In that moment, your eyes met briefly across the firelight. It wasn’t a moment charged with anything obvious, but there was comfort in it.

Familiarity.

The quiet that settled was filling, but not deafening, and you both stared quietly into the room as you sipped your tea.

It was only after a moment that he looked down at his desk again, then closed the book with a quiet snap.

“It’s late,” he said. “You should rest.”

The inevitable.

You'd forgotten for a moment that you were in the prince's quarters, and the mere thought of it—the realization of it—caused you to rush up almost abruptly.

"Oh! O-of course, Your Highness, I should let you rest!" You sat down the teacup, brushed your hands on your tunic, "I— I'll get going, thank you. The tea was… lovely."

Yet even as you made brisk steps towards the door, he followed you still. You'd barely even made to push it open, when his fingers caught yours briefly—

“Wait.”

Your heart thrummed in your chest, almost terrified to turn around.

The way he'd said it was so… soft.

Pleading, almost.

Vulnerable.

It had been so long… since you'd ever heard him so vulnerable. You weren't sure if you were even allowed to see.

Yet—

"…Look at me?" he murmured.

And it wasn't an order, it never really was, with him, but… you could never refuse.

Your head turned, slightly, just enough to catch his gaze. Just enough to melt.

"Yes?" you whispered.

And he didn't answer with words.

Instead he leaned forward, slowly, carefully… and pressed a tiny kiss to your lips.

Soft, gentle.

Unspoken, as though it had always belonged there.

Your mind fogged.

You didn’t lean in, didn’t pull away—just stayed there, breathing in the stillness of it, allowing yourself to burn this sensation into your mind.

He's kissing me, you thought.

Prince Xavier is….

You were dizzy when he drew back, yet he didn’t look surprised by what he’d done. He only smiled.

That soft, adorable, gentle little smile.

He let go of your hand.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly.

You felt had barely the consciousness to reply.

"G- goodnight, my prince."

And you turned, left, and the door closed quietly behind you.

The corridor felt longer than usual when you walked away.

The warmth of the firelight still danced behind your eyelids; your fingers brushed absentmindedly over the walls, as though trying to hold on to the moment a little longer.

Your first kiss.

Your first kiss… with the Crown Prince of Philos.

You had to place a hand over your heart; it was racing much too quickly. You couldn’t even quite remember how your feet had carried you out of the hall, the only thing you could was the quiet hum of his voice. The way his lips had felt, how easily the kiss had unfolded—so natural, as if it were always meant to happen.

This was insane.

The candlelight flickered softly in the hallway, casting long, quiet shadows along the stone walls as you continued to walk. With how late it was, your footsteps echoed. Rhythm unsteady, slower than usual—as if your feet were floating above the ground. Given that your mind, too, was drifting somewhere far above the confines of the castle, it made complete sense—

You were in fact somewhere soft. Somewhere warm.

Somewhere with him.

You were still grinning to yourself, and it felt ridiculous by now. Your heart was still pounding, because you had always kept your composure around him, every step measured, every glance controlled, but—

Professionalism? Where would that fall?

Now everything felt lighter, like the rules you'd built around you were suddenly so... unnecessary.

And once you reached your room, you faltered. Shut the door behind you, leaned against it, buried your face in your hands with a barely-contained squeal.

Your fingers unconsciously reached up to touch your lips, and you knew.

Oh, you were so, so, fucked.

:: CONTINUED IN PART 2.

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[nell0-0]

Hummmmmmmmm

I finally feel like drawing again (so badly) but I'm busy and tired lately, don't wanna think too much about it, only draw, so...

Art requests closed*

Accepted:

Linked Universe (LU).

Legend of Zelda (LoZ).

Pokemon Legends Arceus (PLA).

Not accepted:

OCs: depends but don't count on me accepting it.

Other fandoms: an exception will be made for Pokemon black/white and/or submas stuff.

Only sketches/doodles so don't expect fully finished drawings.

Feel free to drop them as asks in my inbox or as replies in this post (requests in reblog tags won't count). For the requests, please add the fandom before and then the actual request like this:

[Art request: LU] insert request here

Otherwise, I'll probably ignore it. My bad.

*Edit: thanks to everyone who respected the format ^^. Requests are closed now so I won't reply/will delete the ones that come in from now on (aka late). Please be patient while I work on your request, and once again, thanks! 🧡

[thespk]

If you are in the UK please sign and share this petition to legally protect the rights of trans people to transition on the NHS.

Please reblog to spread awareness it is still 20,000 signatures away from being discussed (as of 14/5/26)

Art by me!

Personal experience:

In Scotland I had to wait 5 years to be seen by a gender specialist, it's frustrating but I am so incredibly happy with how my life is now that I have access to testosterone. I want to make sure other trans people can experience the comfort and happiness I have.

We need to make sure that the small amount of access we do have to these services are protected.

Trans rights are being slowly taken away by the UK government and those in power so we need to put up a constant fight to keep them. Most of the general public do not care (in a good way) or are supportive of trans people and we far out number the few thousand people at the top making these decisions. It is exhausting but staying up to date when you can and sharing realistic things people can do will help.

Thank you

[gddancefloor]

A Kasane Teto and Hatsune Miku original song by SoYaSuYa (me)!

ᯓ★ DON'T YOU FEEL LIKE A FOOL

WHEN YOU SEEK MADE UP TRUTH?

THIS IS THE GAME OF LIFE,

THERE'S NO DOUBT ABOUT IT!

════════════════════════════

HEY GAMERZZZ (yes, that was on purpose), decided to work on a little concept I discarded about a year ago and gave it a little fresh coat of paint! I also reworked the song it's related to! Still working on it, but this is what we've got! Everything is all mine, both legally and artistically. It all took about 10 days in total!

Lyrics and more info about the project below the cut! (Definitely check it out please!)

════════════════════════════

LYRICS

[VERSE]

Gamble to see what it means to be a living human Roll the dice, shake it twice, so boldly betting your life Where's the fun when you can predict the game? It all ends the same, deny that and you'll go insane

Looking for a cheap way out? Why don't you cheat your way out? You've got only one life left n' you won't have to play the rest Where's the fun when it's just to endure the pain? Get it through your brain, why stay a pawn living in vain?

[PRE CHORUS]

Hey, tell me if anything truly matters! You choose to live only just to die, that's the game of life So, don't blame me if that false hope shatters, It's your life, your problem, not mine if you choose to live a lie

It's starting to make sense to you, now isn't that right? We're all meaningless creatures with a drive to survive and die So, buckle up and get ready to enjoy this ride Of the meaningless desire for the meaning of life!

[CHORUS]

Oh, doesn't it hurt to lose No matter what you try to do (oh, doesn't it hurt) Don't you feel like a fool When you seek made-up truth (oh, it's all made up)

There's no target to beat Other than to accept defeat (oh, nothing to beat) So, please explain to me What else is there to believe? (and that's all how...)

This is the game of life, there's no doubt about it! (no doubt about that!) Live to see nothing matters, reality's a real lie (such a lie!) Philosophy's a joke, does it look like we're laughing? Keep on searching, gaming, playing for meaning in this stupid life!

════════════════════════════

So, this song is pretty old. I made the original concept in 2022 when it was called "BAD LUCK" and had an entirely different meaning behind it. But, I revived it in 2024 and because I was facing a very horrible time due to an existential crisis, I wanted to write a song about my feelings towards life in general. That isn't the song's only meaning, but a pretty good generalization as to why I wrote it in the first place.

These are the original designs from 2024. I never had a color palette in mind when I made them, I just knew I wanted them to be bright as fuck and match. Soooo basically the new designs required me to come up with one off of the top of my head, but to also somewhat rework them. I think even the new ones might undergo some changes in the final release. I dunno. I'm a picky guy.

I had to learn a lot about audio engineering (in NO way am I a professional, hell nah) and Vocaloid 5 (I've been using V4 since 2021 so this is a very big change for me) to make this song, and even then I do have things I still wanna tweak about it. But so far so good! I love the way it sounds and I hope you do too!

My goal was to make them appear a little disturbing considering the topics of this song. I wanted them to look "so depressed they're insane", to an extent. "What about the bright colors?" I'll let you theorize about that :)

Also, I've never drawn vinyl before so it might look a little odd as I get used to drawing it 💔

I will post their individual concept drawings when I can, as there's some shit I need to do with them and I just can't really do it right now.

I hope you absolutely LOVED this and if you did, please reblog this to support my art. I would also greatly appreciate fan art! Just remember to tag me.

I'll likely get the finished song on YouTube and niconico soon but not Spotify considering the horrible shit they're involved with, nor SoundCloud. They're both evil "generator" (iykyk) supporting, art stealing corporations. Soooo yeah. At least with YT you can opt out. Same here on Tumblr. I would do Bandcamp but I don't want ppl to feel obligated to buy my music since I don't really want money for something that comes from my soul.

Anyways, have a great day and God bless ya 💕

(also secret for people who bothered to read til the end: yes theres yuri)

[renny-mayflower]

Ok I confess

When I first got into Sprunki Logic, I knew NOTHING about Gametoons's inner workings, so I thought they were good. Maybe misinformed, but not evil.

Then I found out about how they actually treat their employees and their INTENTIONAL stealing and my whole view changed. I did and still do feel sick.

I don't support gametoons, not anymore, and I never fucking will again. That being said, I admit I'm still very fixated on their Sprunki series, so for now I will just try to separate art from artist.

People please reblog this oh my fucking god

[thepurrmaidqueen]

The reviews are in!!!

Thank you all so much I do not know how to communicate you nice and cool yall are

Best fandom omg

Credits and responses below!

@dragonfander (the @ is not working for some reason but you are cool too!! Also please show me your art)

@the-duke-of-nuts (yeeeeeeee!! Thats the best response I have sorry! Also nice name very Remus energy)

@xandriagreat (thank you so much!!!)

@edupunkn00b (yeee!!! Thank you!! That’s one of my favorites too hehe)

@fandombead (thank you so much!!!! I do not know how to express how flattered I am at the phrase “sanders sides cartoon when” i do agree there should be one tho)

@iamthedestroyer-grr-argh (also broken sorry but you are very cool!! Also thank you!!! I have fun drawing him as a silly lil snek in a hat lol)

@legendofzeldafan05 (okay this is definitely a skill issue on my part but you are cool!! Also, yes!! Agreed!! I say the same thing when I run into Janus content in the wild)

@diamond-blade (forgive my idiocy in not being able to ding you properly, but you are very cool!! I hope it was tasty :3)

@exhibit-ayyy-look-at-this-nerd (thank you so much!!! I like that one a lot too hehe)

@failing-at-failing (thank you so much!!!! Very appreciated!!!)

and special thanks to @samathekittycat because I also have a screenshot of you but I could only put ten pictures 😔, to @5am-the-foxing-hour because you were the first person to reblog, and so many others reblogged it from you! So thank you a lot!!! And lastly to everyone else who liked and reblogged this be-snaked piece of paper <3

Pst! Psst!! Fellow fanders! Look at this page of Janus doodles I drew like a year ago (time passes apparently. Kinda rude ngl)

[duskvsdawn]

soooo... i see the kaelix fics, i love the kaelix fics, i eat them up 🤤 but they got me thinking of more dom!kaelix, so if at all possible prompts 29 and 40 with him? 👀🫶

≫A/N: Hey, you got it :) I decided to kinda make this a part 5 to the puppy play series. You can check all the other parts in my masterlist here!

Content: dom!kaelix and sub!reader, smut, female reader, reader is wearing a leash and other puppy accessories, reader gives Kaelix a blowjob, Kaelix puts reader in a mating press, reader gets overstimulated to hell and back and oops Kaelix does it to himself too but he acts unphased even if he is trying his best to compose himself, Kaelix chokes reader, Kaelix has a dacryphilia kink, this is just filth enter at your own risk

Art credits <3

« ✦ —⋆——― ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ———⋆— ✦ »

If you like my works, please like, comment and reblog! It is much appreciated ❤ And if you really enjoyed it, please follow me so you can be kept up to date on future uploads! Please do not re-upload, translate, or use for AI training.

That's right, pup, cry some more for me

Zeal would be out of town for a few days, so that meant that you and Kaelix would be home alone for a bit. In the last few weeks, the three of you have done quite a bit of puppy play, and all of you enjoyed it a lot. But now that Kaelix had you to himself, he really wanted to try and dom you for once. You wouldn't let him do that often, but he thought it was worth trying. Those who don't ask will always have "no" for an answer, after all.

You were cooking some dinner for your boyfriend that the two of you would be enjoying in front of the tv while you would be watching a series that you had gotten really invested in. When you finished making dinner, you brought two plates to the living room and put them down on the coffee table. While you watched your series, you enjoyed dinner as you were talking about how incredibly dumb some of the characters were being.

After you had finished dinner and watching the episode, you headed to the kitchen to do today's dishes. You were washing them, and Kaelix helped you by drying them and putting them away. After both of you finished your task, Kaelix suddenly stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle while he put his head on your shoulder. "You know... There is something I have been wanting to do to you all day," your boyfriend finally admitted, his lustful thoughts clouding his mind and his body reacting accordingly. You could feel his hard-on pressed against your lower back, and you turned your head around to kiss him. "Oh? And what's that?" you asked in between kisses, growing ever more curious about what he could possibly want to do to you. "Just follow me, babe," the bouncer said as he held out his hand for you, and you happily followed him upstairs.

You plopped down on the bed after undressing, since you knew for a fact he was going to ask you to do so anyway. "Seems like someone is eager to please her master," Kaelix chuckled as he was rummaging in your favourite cabinet, getting all the puppy toys out of there. When he walked back to the bed, toys in hand, you were trying your best to hold back your laughter. Him, master? No way in hell you would let him dom you that easily. On the other hand, you knew he had been trying to do this for a while now, so to be nice, you decided to play along for now.

"Hmm, what's on your mind, master?" you feigned innocence as he put the leash around your neck after he put the headband with puppy ears on your head. "On all fours, pup." the bouncer said while he impatiently moved the buttplug with puppy tail from one hand to the other. "I don't think so. You have to do better than that." you chuckled as you kept sitting on your ass, not giving him any access to the hole that buttplug was supposed to go in. Kaelix knew you were going to be a little brat about it, but he wasn't going to give up so easily.

"If you're not listening, you're not getting any until Zeal comes back. And I know you can't wait that long because you're a needy bitch for our cocks, aren't you now, slut?" the bouncer said as a smirk appeared on his face. A blush spread onto your cheeks; you couldn't deny you had always been needy for them. So, for now, you decided to comply and see what else he had up his sleeves. You sighed and got on all fours, looking over your shoulder as Kaelix's hand got closer to your ass. He slowly pushed the tail into your ass, and you let out a low moan in return. That pesky smirk on his face only grew, and you hated to admit that it kind of turned you on to see your boyfriend so confident.

Kaelix started taking off his clothes, and then he lay down on the bed. "Come closer, my dear puppy. Put that mouth to good use, will you?" your master said as his hand reached around to pull on the leash connected to the collar. He pulled your head closer to his dick, and you got the hint, but you wanted to be bratty for a little longer. "Nah, I don't feel like it. You'll have to ask me nicely," you said as you were the one smirking now. "I don't take orders from such a needy whore. Don't you remember what I told you? Listen to me, or you're not getting any, got it?" the bouncer said as his hand took hold of your head and he pushed you closer to his dick. You rolled your eyes so hard it almost gave you a headache, and you started kitten licking the tip.

After some encouraging moans from your boyfriend, you took the entire tip in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it as you occasionally played with the slit. It was starting to leak more and more precum the longer you kept going, and seeing your boyfriend so wet for you made you wet in return. You started taking him deeper as your hands played with his balls, drawing such delicious moans from your boyfriend. Getting head was definitely one of his favourite things ever, and you knew exactly what things he would need to get a mind-blowing orgasm. You took him all the way, his pubic hair tickling your nose every time his dick slid all the way down your throat. The bouncer could really not hold back his sounds of pleasure now, and they motivated you once more. You started moving faster as your hands kept playing with his balls. You looked up at him through your lashes, and the look on his face made you absolutely drenched now. His arm was draped over his eyes as those delicious moans kept spilling from his mouth, while you could see his blush spreading to his neck. You knew he only needed a little bit more, so you kneaded his balls a little harder as you sped up again. His other hand was holding fistfuls of your hair as the muscles in his stomach started to spasm and his thighs started to tremble, signalling the approach of his orgasm. You kept the tip in your mouth as your hand worked the base, greedily awaiting the spurts of cum that would be entering your mouth soon. With both his hands in your hair now, he released into your mouth with a loud moan. After you had worked him through his orgasm, his head fell back on the pillow as a satisfied, long moan left his mouth.

You crawled up to eye level and lay down next to him. "Did I do okay, master?" you asked with a giggle as you looked at the fucked out bliss that was his face. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, that was perfect, pup. Gimme a minute to recover from that, okay?" your boyfriend said as one hand weaved through your hair lazily as you put your head on his chest to give him some kisses there. He knew he had to man up if he wanted to properly dom you, though. Cause right now, you were in control, and both of you knew that.

After he took a few minutes to recover, he flipped you onto your back. "Now then. It's time for the full course meal. Get ready, pup. You're in for a long night," your boyfriend said with newfound confidence. He knew that he would be just as overstimulated by the end of the night, but he was okay with that. He put you into a mating press as you bit your lower lip. You were getting impatient, you just wanted him to enter you already and fuck you into oblivion. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him impossibly closer, begging him without words to please just get on with it already, and luckily for you, he understood the hint.

The bouncer slowly pushed into you, and both of you moaned at unison. It felt so good to finally have him where you wanted him most that it made your eyes roll back as he immediately set a brutal pace. He was trying his best to try and stay composed and stay the dominant one, but he hated that he just kept moaning your name over and over in between whimpers and whines. He couldn't help it; it just felt that good to him! His brutal pace never relented, staying the same until both of you got closer to your orgasm. "Kaelix, p-please! Wanna cum, please!" you moaned as you pulled him closer for a hungry and sloppy French kiss. "You'll have to do some more to get to cum, my precious puppy. Start by barking, will you?" the bouncer said as he really tried to not sound any more whiny than you, that would be really embarrassing for him. "N-no! I can't do that! Too embarrassing!" you whimpered as you clawed at the bouncer's back, knowing full well you'd need a tiny bit more help from him to get there.

And then, he stopped altogether. A desperate whimper left your mouth, and you pouted at him. "If you want to cum, you know what you have to do, pup," Kaelix said as he left a gentle kiss on your forehead. You sighed, weighing the options in your head. You decided to set all your shame aside for now and complied. "Wruff, arf, bork!" you barked, and that satisfied the bouncer as he immediately picked up that brutal pace again. "Keep barking until you cum." he demanded, so that's what you did. You kept barking for him, your orgasm rushing back to you at a rapid pace. Your boyfriend angled his hips downwards so his dick would be rubbing against your clit with every move of his hips. Your barks were mixed with desperate whimpers now, that delicious edge was so damn close... And then, it snapped. Your vision sparked white as you came so hard that you squirted all over your boyfriend's dick, who followed soon after.

But his dick stayed firm inside you. And after he rode out his orgasm, he picked up the pace once more, overstimulating both of you to no end for many rounds to come. "W-wait! Kaelix, wait! Let's-let's take a break!" you whined, but it seems your boyfriend has suddenly gone deaf, except he hasn't. He was listening to every needy sound you were making. He gave you orgasm after orgasm, and fat globs of tears kept spilling from your eyes as the overstimulation became more and more with each passing round. He decided to test your limits just a little more as one hand snaked over to your neck and gently wrapped around it, such a sharp contrast to his harsh thrusts. He looked at you questioningly, and since you were already ruined anyway, what would a tiny bit more matter? You nodded, and the bouncer started closing his hand around your throat bit by bit. Your tears spilt even more freely now as you struggled to breathe, but he wouldn't allow you to actually pass out. He had done this before, so he knew exactly how far he could go. "That's right, pup. Cry for me. Show me those beautiful tears of yours," the bouncer said as he continued to fight his own overstimulation. He could tell you were getting closer once more, and he decided that would be the final orgasm for the night since he had already ripped so many from you. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as the most intense orgasm of the night washed over you. The bouncer knew that this was the time to release your neck, letting fresh air filled with the smell of sex into your lungs. With just a few more thrusts, your boyfriend released inside of you one final time. He was pretty much spurting water at this point, but god, he could never get enough of your pussy.

The bouncer collapsed on top of you, struggling just as hard to breathe as you were. And then...

"Well, well, well... Seems like you two really enjoyed each other, huh?" Zeal said as he entered the bedroom. "Oh my fucking god?! How long have you been listening? What are you doing home already?!" you asked as a blush appeared on your face. "Long enough, darling. I would ask for a favour from such a good puppy, but you look spent, so I will spare you," the bartender said with a chuckle as he undressed and plopped down next to both of you to go to sleep along with you. Maybe you would be willing for some more action in the morning.

[arwenindomiel]

Tolkien South Asian Week (June 16th to June 22th, 2025) is 1 month away!

About:

We are back after three years! I started my Everyone in Middle-Earth is Brown series five years ago to imagine Tolkien characters as people like me. Tolkien South Asian Week (TSAW) stemmed from there and is a fandom-wide event to celebrate South Asian peoples, cultures and lives through Tolkien’s Legendarium.

Guidelines:

Reblog this post

Tag your entries with #tsaw25 and mention me @arwenindomiel;

Everyone is free to participate, you don’t have to be South Asian;

Creations of all kinds are welcome: edits, gifs, art, fic, meta etc;

you can post whenever you are ready, including after the event;

NSFW and incst are not allowed;

AI generated posts will not be accepted.

Prompts:

Here are the suggested prompts. You can interpret them however you like, combine them or even disregard them. 2021 and 2022 prompts for further inspiration.

Day 1 (16th): Ring bearers | Love | Courage is found in unlikely places Day 2 (17th): Kingdoms | (Im)mortality | Home is behind, the world is ahead Day 3 (18th): Home | The Ages | More fair than Mortal tongue can tell Day 4 (19th): Artefacts | Songs and Tales | No living man am I Day 5 (20th): the Fellowship | Lineages | The doom lies in yourself Day 6 (21th): A people | Oaths | The stories that matter Day 7 (22th): Free form | World building | Worthy of remembrance

Please reblog this post and happy creating!

[gaveyouigaveyoui]

SWIFTIE SLEEPOVER SATURDAY

Day 15, May 17th, 2025

Welcome, welcome to the fifteenth weekend of Swiftie Sleepover Saturday!

Hello all! My name is Jen, and I've been a Swiftie since 2008. I wanted to organize a fun, weekly sleepover event where we can have fun discussions, analyze lyrics, post beautiful edits, take polls, and connect with each other in so many other ways through our love of Taylor and her works of art! Each week will have a new theme or discussion prompt, please post all contributions with:

#Swiftie Sleepover Saturday

Sometimes the world can feel like an incredibly lonely place, especially with all the horrible things happening right now. But, no matter what, we have to remember to hold on to one another and the love we share and something that can't be taken away: HOPE. Hope gets you through the darkest nights, the longest roads, and the worst of times. Taylor's music displays hope in the most intimate and gorgeous ways, from her younger days when she sang about that little black dress (I hope you think of me...) to her storytelling in folklore (to live for the hope of it all...). This week, we're celebrating that hope, our hope, and the hope that we share for a better, kinder world. Feel free to take this prompt as you wish and get creative with it!

Discussion Prompts (Optional!):

What does hope mean to you? What is something you're hopeful for today?

What are some of your favorite Taylor songs/lyrics that mention hope?

You can feel free to make edits, gifs, playlists related to the prompt, polls about hope in Taylor's music, poetry/fanfiction, or make your own post with the discussion prompts! Whatever works best for you! Anything is welcome as long as it is kind and you show respect for others and their opinions. This event goes until the next Swiftie Sleepover Saturday next weekend! Please reblog to spread the fun!

[get-snuck-up-on]

⚠️ Every time you block us, we get smarter. Every time you try to stop us, we are more. If one plan fails, we will plan another. You will never be rid of ads. ⚠️

(Some art of my updated adult Leslie design - Please reblog if you see ^^)

[gramophoneturtle]

Tumblr Cross Battle Art Raffle!

Hello Crosses of Tumblr! Got a favourite Weapon and Art you would love to show off? Then enter this raffle! Raffle lasts until May 22, roughly end of day.

Winner will get a couple versions of their Cross showing off an Art: with no border, with the default communication device border colours, and border colours that match the Art's colour type (ex: purple for debuffs).

To Enter

You MUST have a Cross/Avatar from Xenoblade X

Reblog!

Optional: Include some or all the info I'll need below if you win. I will DM you for any missing information if you win

Disclaimers

There will be at least 1 winner

I may draw additional winners depending on the number of entries and time available

If I need to DM you for more information and I can't reach you within a few days I will draw a new winner

Borders/Font for the border versions are subject to slight changes. (BTW if anyone knows a good font to mimic the communication device font that would be great!!)

Good Luck!

Extra info below.

EDIT: If you'd like to promote but not enter just put in the tags or in the post body that it's not an entry!

If You Win What I'll Need

Your Cross's name

List of fashion gear/visible gear. Can be in text or a screenshot.

Screenshot of what your Cross looks like. Please note any special features like freckles, hair root vs tip colour differences, etc., that might be hard to see. (My vision is totally great :'D)

If you prefer some details from the original Wii U like hair styling, I can work with that instead

The weapon name and preferably the weapon type too. (Just in case I don't recognize the weapon's name.)

Optional

The Art's name. If you can't decide, you can give me a few to pick from or just let me pick from the Art pool for the weapon. Don't worry about overlapping with other Arts I've already drawn - I can make them unique! (Unless you like everything about it and fine with putting your Cross there instead! Let me know if that's the case.)

A name different from your blog's handle to put in the border

Pictures are very helpful especially if your gear can't be bought from the store. I've cleared all of the main story in the Definitive Edition but haven't unlocked all weapons and fashion gear yet so I might reach out to for more details.

[milkfrydraws]

EVERYONE SAY HI TO EMILY IDK IF IVE POSTED THIS YET OR NOT BUT IDC EITHER WAY

reblogs > likes

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DO NOT USE MY ART FOR PERSONAL OR COMMERCIAL REASONS SUCH AS PFPs/BANNERS (unless permission is granted), INSPO COLLAGES, AI TRAINING, ETC. WHATSOEVER. DO NOT TRACE OR DIRECTLY COPY MY ART. PLEASE ASK TO REPOST MY ART ELSEWHERE.

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