#Unbridled joy right here.

[the-little-shoebox]

Small little post, but I wanted to show off some doodles I did for yet another idea @theatresweetheart and I have been cooking up again. We got Gene both in normal outfit and 'borrower' disguise on top. Moe on the bottom left as 'disguised' as he can get. And Sparrow! Belonging to The lovely as always @theatresweetheart that I helped finalize with my scribbles!

[possiblytracker]

I hate mornings on campus I hate mornings on campus none of my friends are awake and im tired and the weather getting colder is making me do dumb things like Yearning and experiencing Feelings

[shojizbae]

Too Sweet

Spencer Reid x reader

It was no secret to the team that you had a sweet tooth. Anytime you walked past an ice cream shop, your eyes lit up with unbridled joy. After a hard case, you always came into the bullpen with a box of sweets. Donuts if you solved a case under five days, Hush Puppies if there was a fallen family, or maybe some Snickerdoodles if there was arson. They were always the same pink bakery boxes with a cellophane window.

Today was no different.

"Good morning!" you signed songed as you skipped into the bullpen and too the right to the kitchen.

"What treats have you cooked up today mama?" Derek rubs his hands as he closes in on the kitchenette

"Oooh, sweets!" Emily smiles and skips over to the counter

"They're macarons."

"Ugh, those nasty almond cookies." JJ giggles as she snoops around the box

"No those are macaroons." I correct and hold a raspberry-pink macron at her. She bites it playfully out of my hand and laughs with me. She wipes the extra creme out of the corner of her lip and thanks me.

"Woah those are delicious." she goes back to her office.

"What diabetes are you giving us today." Hotch tosses a file on the counter as he walks by.

"Pistachio, raspberry, or lemon?" I smack Emily's greedy hand away as he goes back for a fourth and fifth.

"Pistachio." He leans back to look in the box "Those look professional."

"That's what happens when you have an existential crisis and take a baking course while completing your doctorate and feel like no man would ever want to marry a woman with more degrees than 'wifely skills'." You rattle mindlessly

"Well, that was our daily depressing moment of (Y/n)!" Derek chides like a sports announcer.

"Where's Reid?"

"An that's our daily 'first Spencer question' being the tally!" Emily holds a ghost microphone up.

"C'mon,"I put my hands on the counter and leans my hips forward, "I'm not as obsessed as you think I am."

"Oh, just only a little." Emily placates. The two return to their desks to grind through the many stacks of folders. I picked up the box and reorganized the disheveled cookies. I sauntered over to his hunched back. Dr. Reid, my work husband, was mangled over his desk scratching down details of a past case on a legal pad. I sit on the right side of his corner-shaped desk.

"Good Morning Spencer," I chide. He jumps slightly with the high timbre of my voice.

"Uh good morning Agent (L/n)," He clears his throat a few times.

"I made macrons," I held up the box "Would you like one? I made some with lemon, pistachio, and raspberry. Take your pick." I brandish the box once again.

"That's alright I haven't had any real breakfast yet."

"op how about some fake breakfast?" I pick up a light yellow circle and shake it twice in my hand.

"No that's really ok," but before he can protest I force half the cookie past his lips and all that he can mutter out is a disgruntled, mouth-filled groan.

"Did that taste real to you?" He sassily holds up a finger as he chews and swallows.

"That was rude." He states but takes the second half of the treat from my hand and finishes it off. A bit of the filling slings to his lips and I slide my thumb over it

"You've got a little something-" My speech is caught when his brown eyes meet mine. He looks nice below me. His eyelashes are thick but his eye bags drown out his cool amber eyes.

"Sorry," I clear my throat and lean back on the desk. "Would you like some more?"

"Yeah, can I have the pistachio one?" He rolls around on his chair. He takes a bite of the cream-filled delectable. "Woah you have a real knack for this. It's like all the ingredients want to be together. It just takes you to make things right." He gives me that dorky smile and I lose all sense of restraint. I dive in and hold his chin while I kiss him. I pull back with the fear that I stepped out of bounds.

"Come here." He tentatively holds my jaw and his kiss is much nicer than mine. He releases me and I scan between each of his eyes. "You had a little something."

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐑… 𝐍𝐎. 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you were once a feared name on the sea--once, but not anymore. your downhill life takes a turn when you decide to rob a pirate ship, and it happens to belong to one of your big brothers.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy's sister!reader x strawhats

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: smoking, mysterious backstory ooooo ahhhh, fluff and minimal angst, not enireeeely satisfied with this but its left off kinda open-ended so ill likely return to this scenario later

Now, the Strawhat Pirates were used to not knowing much about their captain’s past. He has a brother with flame powers? Sure thing. A Marine Vice Admiral for a grandfather? Okay, that’s fine. Monkey D. Dragon is his father? Whatever, they’ve heard crazier. 

But really, at this point, they might want to just sit him down and get all of it out in the open. 

Usopp wandered through a busy marketplace, Luffy’s shirtsleeve in his tight vice. Sanji tailed them as an extra precaution, one eye on his supply list and the other on the ready-to-bolt captain. 

Luffy huffed indignantly, tugging at Usopp’s grip. “I wanna explore.”

“And we want to get out of here in a timely manner,” Usopp quipped back.

And they just might have done just that, if not for the hooded figure running right through Luffy and Usopp, parting their hands. A street vendor shouted curses after them, shaking a fist. “S-Stop! Hey!”

It was no use; the thief was too far away, and the man was too old to have the energy to chase them. He slumped his shoulders and pinched his brow, raising his gaze to find the stares of Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp zeroed in on him. “What? You plan on robbin’ the old man too?”

Sanji removed his cigarette from between his teeth with a shake of his head. “Sorry. What’d they steal? Maybe we can get it back for you?”

The old man shook a dismissive hand, frown deeply set on his face. “Agh. Don’t bother. You kids don’t get yerself wrapped up with her.” That was all it took for their prying curiosity to close in on him, and suddenly the man was surrounded on all sides. “Hey, now…”

“Who?” Luffy demanded first, head cocked to the side. 

Lips agape, he shook his head and jabbed a thumb at the wanted poster pinned up to the wall beside his fruit stand. “That’s her, if you’re so curious. Been robbin’ us blind all month! The marines tried to catch ‘er, but no one can touch the bitch.”

Usopp rushed over and swiped the poster down, skimming it over with a hum. “Doesn’t look too tough. I bet we can take ‘er.”

The man rolled his eyes. “That’s what we all said.”

Sanji peeked over the sharpshooter’s shoulder as he let out a puff of smoke. He blinked, cheeks growing warm the longer he gazed at the woman pictured. “She’s… beautiful.”

Usopp squinted at the slightly faded writing scrawled under the picture. “Wanted dead or…” He snorted. “Nope, that’s it. Just dead for 40,000,000 berri.”

“Lemme see!” Luffy sidled up to Usopp and stared right at the poster’s center, recognition settling in instantly. You looked older, but that wasn’t the biggest change—joy had returned to your smile, your beaming expression showcasing a side of you he hadn’t seen since before Sabo died. 

An unbridled laugh left him as he took the poster roughly, shoving Usopp aside. “Hey! That’s my little sister!”

“Oh,” Usopp hummed, taking a moment to process before his brows vaulted and he shot Sanji a look. “WHAT?!”

જ ⁀ ➴

You slinked through the streets toward the docks, hood hung low over your face, cheshire grin shrouded by shadow. You rolled a slice of mango around your tongue, sighing now that your hunger was satisfied. 

You wanted to pay the guy—honest! But being an enemy of the state didn’t exactly pay well, and a mercenary’s gotta eat. 

Waiting for a donkey cart to roll past, you bolted over to the wooden boardwalk just in front of the port. Nobody paid you any mind, assuming you to be one of the street urchins that made up the local gangs. You only meant to play a small joke on the young sailor you’d grown acquainted with, make his life just a bit more difficult, when your path was halted by the sight of a new ship docked at port.

It was a pretty caravel, a little rough around the edges from weather and climate, with a masthead of a goat peering out at the city. A pirate ship, for certain. A grin itched its way up your face. A pirate ship meant treasure, and there wasn’t much in this life you liked more than treasure. 

Well, there was one thing, but unfortunately, your brothers were scattered across the sea—two alive, one not so much. The thought had you stumbling over your own feet, righting yourself swiftly before you headed for the caravel. You mumbled pathetically to yourself, like you had been since you left your home village some years ago. The life of a mercenary is a lonely one. 

“Wonder what they’ve got, huh, Sabo.” Gazing up at the clouds, you grinned. The wind whistled through your hair, and your coping mechanism fell through. It’d been doing that a lot lately. Sighing out your troubles, you shook out your shoulders and crept up the gangway. 

A girl stood watch, facing the sea on the other side of the ship. At the helm, a swordsman lay sleeping. Other than that, it was empty. Just a skinny-limbed girl and a lazy warrior. Perfect.

You slipped on board without a sound, living up to your title as The Silent Death. Well, nobody had called you that in a few years, not since you were twelve and stormed Marine Headquarters looking for your grandfather. You hadn’t found the Vice Admiral, but you had given them a reason for renovation. You possessed the Terra-Terra Fruit, and the earth rumbled at your command. At least you still held the name Earthshaker.

Your first wanted poster had been a shot of you sailing away, laughing in the face of the destruction. A force of nature, they called you. Hired by pirates, warlords, and royalty to do their less than noble deeds. But that was a long time ago. Now, you were nothing more than a petty thief, loneliness and grief taking its toll after so long repressing it.

But never the matter! After this last loot, you’d have the money to buy back your ship, get off that godforsaken island, and finally restore yourself to your former glory. Then Ace would never call you on your little snail transponder and laugh at your series of failures.

“Hey.” You glanced up from where you were crouching behind a barrel, locking eyes with the girl as she blinked surprisedly. Her hand itched toward a weapon at her side. 

“Shit.” You cursed yourself and your inner-monologuing tendencies. “Bye!”

You darted up and made for the edge of the ship when a sword whizzed past your faze, narrowly missing your chin. The swordsman rose, alert as ever, two more swords ready at his side. You scoffed, huffing, “Why do you need three?”

Three… Two… One.

Eyes widened, you realized you knew that lazy swordsman (whose swords probably overcompensated for something) just as he started to recognize you as well. He jumped down to the deck, approaching warily as the girl came to stand beside him. 

Roronoa Zoro muttered your name like a curse. “What’re you doing here, huh?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you murmured back, genuinely curious. “What’re you doin’ on a pirate ship, pirate hunter?”

“Change in career path,” he snapped. “We don’t appreciate stowaways. Especially not a backwater odd-job dog clinging to her glory days.”

You tsked. “Now, now. I was just having a look around. No harm done.” You swept a bow, flicking your wrist as you searched out the sea floor far down below. “I’ll be going now.”

With your head bowed, they didn’t catch your growing smirk until it was too late; the oceanic crust spread across the floor, magma exposed to the salty sea at an unnatural speed. The water rocked the ship and all those around, the nearby sailors murmuring worriedly.

“Hey, I may be a loser,” you admitted, picking at a cuticle as their glares shifted to concern. “But I’m still the Earthshaker, Roronoa. Now, how about some financial compensation for my bruised pride, before I capsize this sorry excuse for a boat.”

The girl scoffed in reply, brows vaulted. “Yeah, no thanks. We’re very attached to our beri.”

“You are,” Roronoa yelped. “Give her something before we lose the ship!”

Lips pursed, the girl looked ready to either attack you or give up, so you worsened the sea’s uproar just to give her a scare. A relent was on the tip of her tongue when her gaze darted over your shoulder, relief flooding her features. “Luffy!”

The sea floor closed up in an instant, the color leaving your face. “Luffy?”

A body flung into your back, tackling you to the deck. You bit back curses, wriggling free, when that laugh hit the back of your neck. A million repressed memories surfaced like the magma you controlled, and you were suddenly twelve years old, leaving your last brother in the dead of night to set off on an adventure you thought would fix everything. 

Falling still, you slowly shifted to roll on your back, staring up at the beaming face of Monkey D. Luffy. You pushed up on your elbows, blind to the careful stares of those around, and gulped down some air. “Luffy?”

He chuckled gently, murmuring your name in turn, and you lurched forward to wring your arms around his neck. A tiny piece of your heart was put back in place (only a third of it, and you figured it would only be whole when you died and rejoined the brother lost). 

Leaving home so young was a shitty miscalculation on your part. You’d fled Dawn Island some time after Ace, and some time before Luffy. Your not-so-big-more-like-twin brother always said you’d set out together, that one day he would be Pirate King and you would all be happy. But you left without ever saying goodbye, joined up with a crew of mercenaries, ate a devil fruit, and searched out Grandpa Garp for some answers about where you came from. And years passed and you could never admit your mistake—not until you spotted Luffy’s smiling face in the wanted poster he always thought you would share. 

You leaned back and caught his eye, scurrying to sit on your knees. You wiped at your eyes as embarrassing tears started to well up. “I… I dunno…”

He knocked his head against yours, eliciting a sharp ow! from you. Luffy grinned cheekily as you nursed your temples. “You owe me an apology. So you can start there.”

And the fire sprang up in your throat all over again. Pathetic, you choked it all down with a nod. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. With S-Sabo gone and Ace gone… I thought for sure you’d be gone too soon enough… so I left you before you could leave me.”

You looked away sheepishly, rubbing at your arms. Luffy just flicked the side of your head and offer you the same bright expression he always did; it was the expression that gave you hope your life wasn’t totally screwed over, not yet anyways. “It’s okay—S’ long as you know it was stupid.”

You rolled your eyes and stood as he did the same. His hand never strayed far from your shoulder, holding you there like you might bolt away. Luffy gave a laugh and turned to face his friends, and only then did you remember you weren’t alone. You pivoted to face them all, locking eyes with a less-than-pleased Zoro.

“What’d going on, Luffy?” Zoro grunted, and if possible Luffy’s smile grew.

He took both your shoulders and shook you a little. “This is my little sister!”

You scoffed. “Little my ass! We’re the same age!”

Luffy held up his palm to his own height, then dipped it down to around your collarbone. “But you were always little-er, and Ace got to call you little!”

“Because he’s older than me!”

“Wait,” Zoro butted in just as you prepped to launch yourself at Luffy. “Sister? You never mentioned a sister.”

Luffy nocked his head to the side, lips pursed. “I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Huh.” He laughed it off. “But this is great! We saw Ace a while back in Alabasta, y’know.”

Nodding, you twined your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. “Yeah, I caught ‘im a few months ago.”

The reunion met a halt when Luffy asked, “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

Nami jutted out a hip and settled you with a look. “She threatened to take down the Merry if we didn’t hand over our beri.”

Luffy’s brows vaulted, lips a thin line as he turned to you. You chuckled awkwardly. “That is something I did, yes.”

But that wasn’t what occupied him. “How did you nearly sink the ship?”

“Oh.” You swirled your palms, gathering the granules of rock and dirt scattered around the deck and collecting it all in a tiny twister. “I got the Terra-Terra Fruit a few years ago.”

His eyes brighetend like stars. “That’s so cool!”

Usopp faced Sanji with a slack jaw. “What is it with their family and devil fruits?”

“Hello?” Nami waved a hand between you and Luffy. “She tried to rob us, Luffy.”

You inched away from her with a small smile. “Sorry about that. Desperate times, yeah?”

Despite the frowns set on everyone’s faces, you had a good feeling you would win them all over. You were just too charming, after all. Casting a look around, a familiar ache gnawed at your stomach. “Uhm, have you got any food?”

જ ⁀ ➴

The crew quickly decided that Ace was their favorite of the family. 

While Ace was polite, generous, and charming, you and Luffy were cut from the very same cloth. Messy and loud, the only difference was that you were slightly more aware of your surroundings than your brother.

“Yeah, she and Luffy were always tied at the hip,” said Ace, his voice crackling to life from the transponder snail Sanji pulled out one late night. “Just… don’t be too harsh on her. She’s had a rough few months.”

Sanji had no clue what that meant, but he almost wanted to find out, not just because you’re pretty. A shadowy look always eclipsed your face, no matter how big your smile got. Over the few weeks you’d spent on the Going Merry, Sanji tried to get to know your story, but you never answered more than a few sentences before disappearing the whole afternoon.

“You knew her from before,” he said to Zoro one morning, stopping the swordsman as they traded spots for the night watch. “Do you know anything?”

Zoro adjusted his swords at his hip, chewing at his cheek. “All I know is a couple years ago, she was one of the most wanted mercenaries on the East Blue. Now, she’s a shadow of that person on the Grand Line. Isn’t that just what this place does?”

“Maybe…” But Sanji knew better. Maybe he was so concerned because he knew that sometimes, on days darker and gloomier than the rest, he had that same look in his eye. So he caught you one night watch when you had no choice but to lean against the ship rail and deal with his company.

He took a long drag from a cigarette, preparing what he’d say, when you nudged him and reached out to take the smoke from him. Sanji scoffed a laugh as he handed it off, watching you inhale deep and expel it in a puff, your eyes heavy. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” You took another drag.

“Whatever it is you thought of.”

From the way your face darkened, Sanji thought you might stub the cig on the deck and leave him there to take your watch, but you only stood there, head hung between your shoulders. You gave him back his smoke hesitantly. 

“For the longest time,” you sighed, “I wanted so badly to know where I come from.” Sanji tilted his head in unspoken question. “Me and Luffy aren’t reallys siblings. We’re adopted, I guess.”

“Ah.” That made all your similarities a little more uncanny, but it made sense. You didn’t really look like Luffy anyway. “And… you found out?”

You nodded shortly, picking at a splinter in the rail. “Not to long ago. I always imagined that my parents loved me, and that we got separated by some tragedy that left me on Dawn Island.” Your voice broke off hollowly. “But that’s not it at all.”

He didn’t say anything when you started crying, and he didn’t ask what exactly plagued your past. Sanji just… stood there, offered you a cloth from his pocket, and waited till you compeod yourself to give you his cigarette. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as the sun peeked up over the sea. 

“No need. I’m here if you want to talk. All of us are, really.”

You doubted that, but you sent him a smile and descended to the girl’s cabin for some sleep. Nami and Robin remained sleeping softly as you slipped into bed, staring up at the ceiling wide awake. Your slammed the heels of your palms to your eyes, silently screaming into the air. 

“Why,” you hissed. “Why did I cry?”

Sheets rustled across the room, and suddenly Robin’s eyes glinted at you. “You were crying?”

“Who’s crying?” Nami yawned as she pushed up on her elbows.

You just about buried yourself in your blanket and suffocated yourself, face warming over. “No one! Go to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Nami snapped back. “You practicality stomped in here. I’m thoroughly awake.”

“Same here.” Robin and Nami shifted to face you from their beds, sleepy eyes hooded as they gazed upon you. “What’s the matter?”

You sat quiet as a mouse, eyes wide and caught, until you flopped over on your side and pulled your blanket up to your chin. “Sorry I woke you.”

The two Strawhats locked eyes, brows equally raised. They’d been conspiring to figure you out ever since you joined their adventures, and this certainly added fuel to their investigative fire. Because as much as you laughed and played and made messes everywhere you went, a great shadow lurked behind you—and everyone could see it.

Like a lingering ghost of a past you’d rather forget, something haunted followed your every move. From the way you cast glances over your shoulder at every port to how you fell into frightening silence at certain points in conversation, the entire Strawhat Crew felt the way darkness pulled at you.

And they would find out why—Whether you liked it or not, they would find a way to help you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s

[thinemoonshine]

⋆ ˚｡ 𝟥𝟢𝒸𝓂 𝒶𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 (𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉) ୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

enhypen 8th fem!member x hyung line content(s): pure fluff, (y/n) is imagined to be short and irritable (tsundere-ish), members doting on her—but also teasing her—(y/n) threatens to start gnawing, a jealous jay type: oneshot word count: 1.6k

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ synopsis: (y/n) always feels like she's walking among giants whenever she's with enhypen and the members always seem to like to emphasize this fact by teasing the height out of her. what does this lead to? her aggressive retaliation ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

"(y/n)~ (y/n)ieee~" Jake calls merrily as he walks out of his room and the said girl raises her arm as she sits on the couch. His eyes catch her and a sneaky grin stretches before he lets it fall to commence his plan. "Where is she~?"

(y/n) furrows in her seat and stands, swiveling to him. "I'm right here."

Jake gasps and runs towards her and she braces herself to be crushed inside a tight, teddy bear hug. "(y/n)— Oh? She's not here."

Question marks pop above the girl's head as she stands in front of him. The latter blatantly looking over her head but the trembling corners of his lips that threaten to curve instantly expose his scheme to which she deadpans. "Oh, for crying out loud—"

"Hmm~ Guess she's not here... (y/n)! (y/n), where are you??" Jake shouts again as he continues skipping past her and she sighs before walking away to go to the kitchen.

He stops in his tracks and a giggle escapes when he spins to see the girl's furthering back. With hands around his mouth and body bending forward slightly, he playfully calls. "(y/n)~ There you are!"

"OOf!" The air is forced out of her by Jake's squeezing back hug and despite wanting to chide him, lines of unexpected giggles escape her when he snuggles his face into the crook of her neck— arms wrapped securely around her waist and lifting her slightly that her legs dangle.

"You're so tiny, I couldn't see you!" Jake teases, hot breath and moving lips against her skin only making her yelp and laugh harder. Her captor knows of her ticklish points and boy, is he making full use of it.

"Stop it! EEK!" A squeak escapes when Jake nuzzles more, his dark strands brushing against her like feathers and she thrashes in his hold while spewing threats to kick him in the knees.

The commotion eventually summons Jay who emerges from the kitchen with a furrow of confusion and it deepens when he sees the two messing around near the entrance of his office (kitchen). "What's going on?"

"J-Jay!" (y/n) desperately calls amidst laughter. "Help!!"

The older tilts his head and shifts his stare to Jake who's now putting her back down. "Jake, let her go."

A whine leaves the younger male, adamant on holding her in his arms like a plushies.

"Do you not want to eat?"

Jaeyun's arms instantly raise in surrender and (y/n) practically jumps over to Jay's side before the Australian can change his mind. A small, satisfied smirk appear on Jay's face but it quickly diminishes as he enters the kitchen with their lone female member.

"Thanks for saving me. So, need these sliced?" (y/n) asks as she picks up the knife that rests beside some mushrooms on their cutting board. The chef walks over to her and gently pulls the blade away.

"You can make the rice," he says and proceeds with the mushrooms himself.

A comfortable silence envelopes them aside from the occasional clatters and shuffles of them working. And it usually continues this way but the main chef seems to have a hard time focusing as his mind thinks back to that sweet, fluffy moment between (y/n) and Jake.

The former laughing loudly with twinkling eyes upturned, lips pulled ear to ear and cheeks rounded as she's held tightly by a clingy Jaeyun who so easily is able to bury his nose into her neck, tickling and teasing her and being the source of her unbridled joy.

A soft pout makes its way onto Jongseong's small lips, making them look more adorable than they already were and his eyes glance at (y/n) who's turning on the rice cooker.

A second later, he's standing behind her with clasped hands resting on her stomach at his sudden waist embrace.

"Oh! What's up?" (y/n) chirps, mildly surprised but not too affected since Jay's not exactly foreign when it comes to physical contact with the members.

Jay shakes his head and gently rests his cheek onto her crown, smiling softly at the reminder of how short she is. And the thought of it makes him want to squeeze her up and stuff her into his pocket. "Nothing. Jake was right. You're so small."

"Why, you—"

He jolts at the soft feeling of teeth against his upper arm and he looks down to see her shamelessly chomping onto it. He sputters like a broken engine before doubling down, loud and unrestrained laughter resounding from his wide, open-mouthed smile.

"Say one more thing about my size and I'm going to start GNAWING," (y/n) threatens with squinted eyes and a finger pointed at Jay who's clutching his stomach and tearing up as if he's been holding that laugh for centuries.

"I'm sorry," he chuckles out and suppresses the urge to giggle at the image of her just chewing and munching at his arm like it's actually gonna do any damage. She's too adorable, he can't take it. "You will, huh?"

His condescending tone makes her eye twitch and Jay seizes his lip between his teeth at her anger, finding it lovely.

"Park Jongseong," she starts and he cups her cheeks, squishing and stretching them like they're his personal stress toys before he growls through gritted teeth—the cuteness aggression getting to him and he's close to smacking himself with the nearest frying pan.

But (y/n) abruptly gets wordlessly pulled away and she doesn't even need to ask who—knowing instantly who he is when her face gets buried into a chest and arms tight against her sides by his squeeze.

"You're supposed to be hanging out with me," Heeseung grumbles and she can hear the pout from his voice, making her smile as she pushes away from him to look up.

Her hands reach up to pat his head, fingers combing through his locks as she coos. "Aww, did Seungie feel left out from the fun?"

His pout deepens at her babying him and he looks away with a frown. "We're around the same age. You don't get to baby me... And you're a head and neck shorter."

She gasps hysterically, hand now moving down to clutch her pearls and Heeseung scoffs at her theatrics. "You dare?? Hey! I've had enough of you giants commenting on my height! Is it that fun??"

"Yes," he answers like it's the most obvious thing and she lets out another dramatic gasp to which he smirks at, amused. He bends down, lower and lower until they're face to face as he runs his gaze across her features. "Yes, it is."

A glare forms once more on her face and they flash with mischief, much too quick for Heeseung to discern before she knocks her forehead against his—him falling backwards with a hiss and a hand on his pain.

Chuckles emit from a third party and in walks Sunghoon from the corridor who’s clearly entertained by the scene, a palm raised. “Good job, (y/n).”

The girl reciprocates his hi-5 offer, emitting a sharp sound and she snickers victoriously with eyes fixed on the groaning Hee.

“You should do more,” Hoon suggests with a grin as his fingers sink between hers, clasping her hand and reveling at how it slots perfectly like a puzzle piece. “Maybe at his nose?”

Heeseung clicks his tongue as he shoots daggers at him with his eyes. “This is betrayal at its finest.”

“Of course. Hoon only produces the finest of things,” (y/n) backs the other and the said lad’s grin broadens at her words, pulling her close by their link.

She looks up at him at their proximity before her eyes shut at his abrupt hair ruffle. Unvarnished affection swirling in his tender gaze as they linger on her.

“You’re always on my side, hm? After all, who else is gonna help you reach all those stuff from the high shelves?” Sunghoon teases.

(y/n) frowns. “I can use a chair, duh. Or climb the counter.”

“You sure those counters aren’t too tall for you?”

SNAP!

“ACK!”

A sharp blunt noise and a yelp sound when (y/n) abruptly flicks his forehead with her vacant hand. Despite being right-handed, her left hand proves to not be any less resourceful and dependable as her right.

“I choose to be happy—on my own,” she says monotonously, her reserved mien matching her tone, before gyrating towards the corridor.

Just before she can turn the knob to the room shared by four, it twists on its own and reveals a blinking Jake standing behind the door. The ends of his lips hook upwards slowly, his eyes turning to crescents and (y/n) gapes, her head shaking side to side.

“(y/n)!!” Jake cheers and once again entraps her against his chest. “Were you looking for me??”

“I changed my mind!! Save me!” (y/n) calls for the others’ help as Jake finds solace in her nape, rubbing his pointed nose against it and shaking her resolve to remain frosty.

Sunghoon and Heeseung only watch her, claiming vengeance and justice while Jongseong observes from the kitchen, head peeking out the door. All three with sly smirks and amusement painted. But underneath their cool facade lies an unequivocal admiration for their member that wants to see her break out her hard shell, granting them that lovely smile and laughter.

And when they finally hear it—her giggles and squeals of merriment—their own face beams, reflecting hers.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 hi, it’s romi here!! thank you so much for reading to the end!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog— they give me some motivation, ya know? X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[dhampling]

little love girl!dadstarion, <1k

He doesn’t consider himself a clingy parent.  He just endeavours to spend every waking moment he can with her. - dadstarion watches dhampling sleep for a lil bit and has some thoughts about life. floof. wc: 724

Astarion watches her as he sits, legs tucked up under him; with a chalice on the endstool to his side. 

Despite his current book being one he’s looked forward to indulging for a while, he can’t lose himself in the pages quite yet. His eyes skim and reskim now familiar paragraphs while flitting to the small child asleep on the lounger. 

The room is full of impossibly green tangling plants, and glows shades of orange in the late candlelight; incense blooming from the clay holder on the sill. A small trinket dish full of corvid gatherings. The boarded shutters, the curtains parted at either side; the painted mural in place of the window. Lanterns of coloured glass spilling forest greens and oranges soft.

Elven-pointed ears twitching, the occasional small shuffle. Each and every sleepy inhale and exhale from her tiny little body feels like a victory.

He doesn’t consider himself a clingy parent. 

He just endeavours to spend every waking moment he can with her, hence her resting here now; in the den room, instead of her own well-loved bedroom. A wayward spider on the ceiling had turned into an evening of storytelling - a journal filled with tales of Grizzle the Arachnid in her spiky young hand. 

She’s swaddled in a big patchwork throw he’d made early into his freedom following the fall of the Absolute, just as the idea of tailoring had come to mind. The stitching is a little skewed in places but the untrained eye would glide right over it, he’s sure.

He could carry her up the iron wrought spiral staircase and tuck her in - and likely will soon - but being able to sit and just observe feels like an indulgence. A rare treat. 

A small part of him - he would never admit - was hopeful before her birth that she’d be his little nightling, although any lingering wants were blinded by unbridled joy at her ability to bask in the sun. He’d never expected the gaping hole in his undead heart at being unable to pick her up from a day of schooling, though. 

He trances through it every time, or he fears he’d disintegrate trying it on big occasions. Her first day, missed. Many more to come. 

He frowns. 

He does stay awake to do her hair each morning before she heads off, though. Before she’d even reached her first birthday he’d sequestered away a book on Faerûnian Braids from the Night Market; her ringlets barely presenting then now flourishing atop her dozy head.

You. She looks like you.

Astarion’s heart pangs. 

He misses you terribly. Dramatically. Wants to creep up the stairs in the style of Nosferatu and bite you in your sleep, fondly; doze the night away with his incisors reverently just beside your neck. His paramour. His well-bitten darling. 

Sometimes, he reads the gaudy vampiric fiction novels slighted from the market and hidden away in one of the rafters when clients leave the shop earlier than expected. He thinks one day he’ll play into the notion - the skulker, the grand gestures, the one who stole his heart - then realises his life is wholly a mirror of the pages.

Gah. He’s a cliche. A horrid cliche. He shakes his head yet can’t find it within him to do anything but smile.

Nothing about this feels horrid. 

It feels normal. Real. Home is home and it is the safest place in the world.

The dhampling stirs, stretching among the throw and rolling her tiny wrists. A small yawn tumbles from little lips.

“Darling?’

Astarion shuffles his leg from under him and turns his book, resting it on the lounger. Moves to kneel beside her.

‘Sweet thing. Come along, now.”

Her eyes open slowly. She looks at him with reverence. Her father. The balm of rest settles as a haze in this cosy room and nothing has ever felt so good.

Father. Him. Awful, nasty, terrible him. She could’ve been one of them, roaming the underdark in eternal childhood in another lifetime. He decides he won’t allow the thought to pass.

“Can you carry me?” She whispers, lifting her arms above her head.

“If I don’t; I fear we’ll be traipsing those stairs all evening, little love.” He speaks softly and gently lifts her sleepy self onto his hip.

She doesn’t understand his quips yet. She will, one day.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Diamond Rings 💫

Bale!Bruce Wayne x wife!reader

A/N: I finally got around to writing this lovely request!! Fluffy morning sex is perfect for Bruce AHHH 😭 and this is also the sequel to 'My Precious Jewel' !! Get your nom noms :3

~Fi 🐝

《Prompt》: the ask is here!

《Requested by》: anon <3

《Warnings》: NSFW CONTENT. proceed with caution. Handjob, edging (barely), PiV, throat holding (???), creampie (don't be like them), lil bit of cockwarming, so fluffy it's sickening, Bruce is a hopeless romantic, change my mind. (You can't)

《Word count》: 2.6k

Sequel to My Precious Jewel ♧

Can be read as stand alone as well though!

Masterlist ✨️

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The morning sun was streaming in through the curtains, tickling your face. You stirred, craning your neck to take a peak at the time. 8:39 am. You sighed sleepily, turning around and snuggling closer to the man who had his strong arms wrapped around you.

You smiled softly as you saw his peaceful expression, still dreaming away. Feeling a cold sensation on your hot skin, you gently lifted the covers. The hand that held you tightly yet so lovingly had a gold ring sitting on its ring finger. You quickly inspected your own hand, finding a golden wedding band there as well.

You had to stop yourself from squealing like a little girl when you realized that all of it, the wedding, the reception and the kiss weren't a dream. You were officially married now.

There were so many emotions bubbling up in your chest. Unbridled joy, disbelief, and pure excitement. But, you'd decided to deal with all of that later, and for now just enjoy your first morning snooze as Mrs. Wayne.

You pressed a sweet kiss to Bruce's lips, and closed your eyes, burying your face in his t-shirt clad chest. It wasn't even 9 in the morning. You'd sleep till dusk like this if you could. Safely in the embrace of your now husband, feeling each other's steady heartbeat and soft breaths.

A comfortable silence lingered over the estate, safe for Alfred who was probably doing all kinds of things already. You'd urged for him to sleep in today, he deserved a break. But, to your dismay, you knew the man and he couldn't just sit and relax even if he was chained to the chair. Well, as long as he enjoyed whatever he had to do you wouldn't complain.

Your slightly parted lips were pressed right above his heart, gently brushing the cozy fabric of his shirt with every breath. One of your arms was slung over his waist, your fingertips gliding over his back in whatever random pattern your wrist decided to carry out. It was a soothing gesture, making Bruce hum sleepily as he pressed his lips to the top of your head, your hair tickling his face.

His arms tightened around you, making it clear that he didn't want to leave the bed either. He felt like he had been put in chains, in a loving and warm way, not in a constricting and controlling manner. The chains that were your love and affection kept him tied down, sinking into the soft sheets, with an even softer you in his grip.

"Don't ever wanna leave this bed..." you mumbled into his chest. A drowsy smile tugged at Bruce's lips as maneuvered you closer so your legs were intertwined.

"I don't either... never wanna be without you." He sighed, feeling the familiar and gentle call of sleep.

"Wanna sink into the mattress, let it swallow us whole."

Your husband chuckled softly. Lack of sleep and early mornings did tend to bring out the poet in you.

"You can tell me all about that in, say... 4 hours?" His words were jumbled, the heavy fog of slumber taking over his brain. It took you a minute to put together what he said, as your own brain was still neatly tucked in its own metaphorical bed.

The furrow in your brows softened when you understood what he was trying to tell you, and you pulled the blanket tighter around the both of you.

"Very, very good idea."

Soon enough, you slipped back into colorful dreams, safely tucked against Bruce's chest.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

A strange feeling that settled in Bruce's bones is what woke him up. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling by all means, it was just... odd. A peculiar buzz in his skull, that slowly trickled down into his spine. It was euphoric almost, making him hazy about his surroundings but too aware of every nerve in his body.

His shirt was soft, too soft, and the buttons on the pillowcase dug uncomfortably into his ribcage. The sliver of sun that managed to sneak its way through the thick curtains fell directly on his face.

His nose scrunched up as the blinding light slowly burned his eyes. Yet the warming and comforting feeling on his cheeks made him stay in place, taking in the new day instead of pulling the covers over his face.

He shifted slightly, shivering when a cool sensation set the nerves in his thigh on fire. The sight of your hand, your married hand, on his leg, made a fire ignite in his stomach that was so ravenous and destructive it could've turned him to ash from the inside out.

The gleaming of your ring, the ring that he put there, made his heart rush and his cock twitch in his briefs.

"Been waiting for you to wake up." With a sweet smile playing on your lips and a certain glint in your pretty eyes that he'd seen many times before, you stroked your thumb over his skin. Your touch made his breath hitch ever so slightly, which didn't go unnoticed by you. It never did.

You were able to read Bruce like an open book, all the tricks he'd acquired over the years and used on the public to shift his image didn't work on you. They never really had, even from the beginning. For some odd reason, that he couldn't explain, you could see right through him.

"Hm, yeah? Could've just woken me up, honey. You're my wife now, after all." Bruce grinned, a strong arm sneaking around your back and pressing you flush against his chest. Your cheeks were on fire. That word still flustered you to the high heavens, and you reckoned it would for a little while.

"It would've been a shame to wake you. You looked like you were crafted by the gods." You whispered softly, pressing your lips to his in a tender but hungry kiss. Bruce melted into you, his eyes fluttering shut as he lost himself in the feeling of his lips on yours, moving gracefully against each other. With heavy breaths, puffy lips and glazed eyes you severed your connection.

"The sun sitting on your cheekbones," your fingertips traced over his face in such a gentle manner, one could assume you were afraid of breaking his peacefulness.

"And on your lips," your thumb swiped over his bottom lip, which curled up into a smile.

"Down your neck... it would've been a crime to break such beauty."

Your hand settled on the back of his neck and gently kneaded his muscles.

"I'm flattered, though no beauty can ever match yours, my love. You will eternally be the universe's rose, blooming in all your glory no matter if the sun shines or not."

"You need to stop reading all those books Alfred recommends to you." You giggled, an obvious blush on your face.

"I don't think I will." He smirked before capturing your lips in a kiss again. It was desperate and full of passion, making you sigh softly against his mouth. His hands became needy, grabbing at the fat of your hips. Bruce trailed his kisses over your cheeks, to your jaw and down your neck, sucking and gently biting at your skin.

You moaned quietly, your body sinking into the sheets at the feeling of his lips against your skin. Grabbing at the hem of his white shirt, you swiftly pulled it over his head, revealing his mouth-watering physique to you. The hand that had been resting on his thigh up until this point now cupped the tent in his briefs, stroking gently but with a firm hand.

He groaned into your shoulder, squeezing you tighter.

"None of that, baby, look at me." You cooed softly, gripping the hair at the base of his skull and gently pulling him away from your neck. Your hand dipped into his underwear and gave his cock a few strokes before shoving his briefs down his thighs.

Never breaking eye contact, you licked a fat stripe over your palm, guiding your hand down to his dick and rubbing at the tip. His lips parted slightly and few throaty groans left him.

"J-Jesus Christ, sweetheart, your hands really are magic." He breathed out, his head tipping forward just a smidge as you found a steady pace with your hand wrapped around him.

"Only for you, always for you.." you whispered against his cheek, feeling his breathing speed up. His hands were digging into your hips by this point as you circled the tip of his cock with your thumb, his pre-cum and your spit slicking him perfectly.

When you ran your finger over the underside of his shaft, against the bulging vein, pretty moans spilled from his lips as he approached his high. But before he could float on that cloud of bliss, you retracted your hand and left him hanging on the edge. His eyes were hazy and filled with need and desperation as he let out a frustrated groan.

"You're gonna regret that, little minx." Bruce smirked, but there was a fire in his eyes that made the heat in your belly boil over.

"Will I?" You challenged with a wicked smile, making him chuckle before smashing your lips together and silencing any further comment you might've made.

He pushed you onto your back and quickly pulled your nightgown over your head before sliding your panties down your legs.

Bruce's hands were placed on your inner thighs, pushing your knees further apart. He groaned at the sight of your glistening cunt, pupils swallowing the brown of his irises whole. Your naked form isn't something he hadn't seen before, but his mind was foggy with emotions of all kinds; the golden sunlight that painted your skin, the way your hair fell into your face, and that sparkly diamond on your finger making his heart swell in his chest.

You were his, through and through, and he never doubted it, but to see that solid piece of evidence sitting so nicely on your ringfinger made something stir in him; something primal, almost.

His hands trailed to your waist, kneading your flesh, as he leaned forward to be closer to you.

"I'd eat you till morning, honey, but I need to be inside you." You could tell that he was trying to hide the urgency and need in his voice, blanketing it in a soft and loving tone.

"I need you inside. Please, my love." You begged needily, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in until his dick was prodding at your entrance.

"Besides," you whispered when his head found its place in the crook of your neck,"you can always have me for breakfast later."

With an amused huff, he slowly pushed inside of you, filling you up delightfully.

"You'll be the death of me." Bruce groaned, intertwining your fingers on both hands and pressing his forehead to yours.

Your beautiful moans echoed softly in the bedroom when he started to slowly thrust his hips into yours.

The movement knocked the breath from your lungs every single time, your nerves tingling with a sizzling fire that crawled up your spine. He sped up his thrusts, moaning and groaning against your lips.

You pressed your hand against his chest to slow him down again.

"Slow, slow... wanna feel every part of you."

You could've sworn you heard the faintest whimper escape his throat, gripping your hands tighter has his cock dragged along your walls. You could feel every ridge and bump, your head lolling to the side in bliss.

With languid and deep thrusts, Bruce continued to bring the both of you to the edge of your ecstasy. As your moans got louder, you reached for the hand with his ring on it and gently placed it around your neck.

Your husband shifted his weight so he wouldn't fall on top of you, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. You placed your ringed hand on top of his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

You just wanted him to gently hold your throat, wanting to feel the cold metal against your burning skin.

"You won't hurt me, I promise. Jus' need you to hold me- fuck!" You cried out at a particularly deep thrust, squeezing your eyes shut and digging your nails into the back of Bruce's hand.

"Look at you. My pretty fucking wife. All mine. I made you mine, and everyone knows. They just need to look at that pretty diamond ring on your finger." His voice dropped an octave, and his words were almost a growl as he plunged in and out of you.

"You're s'good to me, honey. The perfect husband f'me." You moaned, your lips clumsily brushing against his as he panted on top of you.

"God, I love you." He grunted, his movement becoming sloppy as he was nearing his climax. You could feel the bliss gnawing at your limbs as well. Bruce trailed his hand between your bodies and circled your puffy clit, which only made you succumb to the pleasure faster.

"F-Fuck- oh my god, I'm so close!" You almost screeched, trying to ground yourself with him in any way you could.

"Come f'me, yeah?" He heaved, struggling to get the words out between his groans. Any more moans and cries were muffled as his lips greedily found yours, the tip of his cock hitting that spongy spot inside of you over and over again.

With a a strategic swipe over your clit and a well timed thrust, your orgasm crashed into you, jumbled 'I love you's falling from your lips as Bruce spilled inside of you with your name on his lips. The hand around your throat tightened only a little bit, prolonging your high that much longer as bliss clouded your brain.

Bruce gently lowered himself on top of you, steadying his breathing against your chest. You were catching your breath as well, tracing patterns on his bare back. He was still nestled deep inside of you. He rolled the two of you over so you were on top of him, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you relaxed in his arms.

"I love you so much." You mumbled, eyes falling shut. You didn't know what time it was, but it didn't matter to you. You had nowhere to be except right here, snuggled against your husband.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Are you alright? D'you need anything?" he asked softly, pressing kisses to the top of your head.

"Hm, no. Jus' wanna stay like this. Maybe take a nap." You yawned, making Bruce chuckle.

"Do you need anything?" You questioned in return, placing a kiss to

his shoulder. "I could use a nap as well." He laughed softly, pulling the covers over the both of you.

"Good. Cus' I'm not getting up." You sighed, letting yourself be loved by him. His hands lazily ran through your hair, lulling you to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, baby." He whispered against your hairline, coaxing a sleepy smile onto your lips.

"You too, my love."

Both of you drifted off with the sun high up in the sky, not a care in the world that it was well past noon. Your hearts beating in sync, your soft breathing mimicking each other and connected deeper and closer as ever, the bonds of your love shinning in the dwindling sunlight with your hands intertwined.

If Bruce could make you wear his heart, he would, but for now the diamond ring would have to do.

You were his and he was yours. The perfect balance of love.

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《Taglist》: @certifiedredhoodlover @allysunny

Let me know if you want to be added! <3

[opalemo]

homecoming. ✿

the ache of longing, the spark of anticipation, the joy of reunion. the way they greet you at the airport when you finally arrive home.

xiao / childe / scaramouche & gn reader. just sweet happy moments.

xiao

xiao is scared for an entire week leading up to your return. it’s so stupid how he’s afraid of the thing he wants the most, but he has no idea what he’s supposed to do or how he’s supposed to act. does he buy you gifts? clean your room? bring you flowers? does he act normal or extra nice? does he say he missed you? but you already know that… so should he say he loves you more than anything and never wants you to leave without him again?

okay, he probably can’t manage telling you that without combusting on the spot.

as the date draws nearer xiao feels his heart grow lighter in anticipation - the weight of waiting and longing slowly dissipating as the sun rises over the dawn of your arrival.

he can sense you coming before he even lays eyes on you, bobbing in and out among the sea of other people rushing out and celebrating reunions with their loved ones. anxiety gnaws at his thoughts - what if you’re different? what if you’re unhappy to be back? what if you realised you’re actually better off without him?

“hi, xiao.”

your voice is still as beautiful as ever. so are those eyes, your smile, you. he opens his mouth to say sorry for zoning out and for doubting you for no reason but before he can speak, your hands are on his collar and your lips are on his for the first time in what feels like forever.

your fingertips drag softly across his jaw.

“i’ve missed you”.

xiao’s embrace is gentle in spite of his poorly concealed desperation. you, on the contrary, completely fling yourself into his arms. his hands shake with unbridled excitement, unfamiliar euphoria consuming his very being.

unlike the excruciating grip his mind usually has on him, this feeling is so light in every way.

your laugh bubbles against his chest, and he realises how much he missed the sound - the sound of happiness. yours is his, and his is yours.

childe

you’re on high alert, scanning the rows of people left and right for that familiar mop of ginger hair. with the way your heart is pumping you’d think you were more afraid than excited. after all, dating your beloved ajax of all people means you have to be prepared for a jumpscare at absolutely any second. and the fact that you don’t see him anywhere doesn’t disappoint you or make your heart drop. with the way he was counting down the weeks, days, hours to this moment, there’s no way he would forget or even be a second late to pick you up. it just makes you question what the hell he’s up to this time.

you look down at your phone to check the time and whether or not he’s texted you. nothing yet. you scroll through his instagram to see if he’s uploaded anything. nothing.

you only realise your mistake when you look back up again.

slowly turning around, you come to face that cheeky grin, his smile stretched as wide as ever, and you have to try and contain a laugh at his obvious childlike excitement at being able to sneak up behind you.

it sounds cheesy, but you swear the whole world slows down when you’re finally in his arms again.

childe swings you around about five times and proceeds to squeeze the very life out of you (you can’t breathe and this is literally so embarrassing, but you couldn’t care less). he’s here, he’s alive, and he’s still as annoying as ever - just the way you like (love) him.

scaramouche

to any bystander, it would’ve appeared as if he didn’t even miss you. hell, why was he waiting for you at the airport in the first place? did you coerce him into it? threaten to break up with him?

in fact, he thinks to himself, that sounds more like something i would do.

you don’t even need to look for him when you enter the arrivals area - he’s standing at the back near the exit, hood on, headphones in, arms crossed like some wannabe gangster trying to look intimidating. he pretends not to notice you waving (embarrassingly) at him, but you know he does - you know he’s simply overjoyed to see you.

just expresses it in a strange way is all. not that you’re complaining.

“kuni!” you squeal, letting go of your suitcase to jump into his arms. he uncrosses his arms so fast to catch you (and your suitcase which is now rolling away), holding you tight against his chest like you might fall down and disintegrate if he doesn’t. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s trying so hard to contain a blush and a smile right now.

when he finally lets go to take you to his car, he mutters a “will you stop holding onto me or what?” under his breath.

the audacity.

he kisses you when you get in the car.

[ode2rin]

kaiser, before this sight in front of him, was certain he carried all the crazy in this relationship. 

looking at what you were doing right now, he realized he was apparently wrong.

“darling, what are you doing?” he questioned, his curiosity piqued.

“practicing my WAG cheer and clap,” you replied nonchalantly.

“your what?” 

“if you make me repeat it, you'll find your pillow on the couch tonight,” you warned, sparing him a glance.

so, this is serious business.

“alright, i heard you. but why are you trying to mimic them?” he inquired, referring to the women you were watching on tv, seemingly seated on the sidelines of an NBA game, clapping like they intended to make no sound by how close their hands were.

fed up with his questions, you darted towards him. in your hand, you held your phone, containing a photo taken during one of his recent games. it captured the moment he scored a goal, with you in the background, caught up in the fervor of the crowd, jumping and screaming with unbridled joy. 

kaiser never thought he had a favorite photo of you until this one. 

“look at that!” you exclaimed, thrusting the phone into his hands before returning to the couch where you were initially situated.

“i look like one of your crazy fans, bouncing and screaming like that! you could basically see the entirety of my mouth by my scream! and i look like i won a multi-million lottery jackpot!” you continued to rant.

“that’s because you're proud of your man, baby,” kaiser reassured you with an amused smile.

“but i want to look chic! nonchalant! while i’m at it! twitter people are calling this photo ‘crazy fan behavior,’ mihya!” you protested.

kaiser couldn't help but chuckle at your outburst. he found this whole WAG thing incredibly adorable of you. “come here, please?”

you slowly approached your boyfriend from the kitchen counter he was leaning on. now that you had calmed down, you finally noticed that he had just gotten out of the shower, wearing nothing but his sweatpants. his tattoo was on full display, captivating your eyes. 

cheeky bastard, as always.

once you were within arm's reach, kaiser wrapped his arms around your waist, turning you around to face away from him. he held you in a warm embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and down your shoulders as if he was inhaling your essence.

“you know i wouldn't have it any other way,” he mumbled against your skin.

“really?” you softly ask, the tension dissipating from your mind. your focus shifted to the warm body pressed against your back and the sensation of his large hands kneading your hips.

“definitely, baby,” he replied, his voice low and hoarse, while peppering your nape with soft, lingering kisses. his hands slid sensually along the curves of your waist, pulling you closer to him. “when i look at your seat after a goal, i always look forward to seeing you like this. it makes me feel as if i have the energy of a hundred men when you cheer for me. so, you don't need this, hmm?”

“okay…” you whispered, no longer concerned about your previous intentions. your senses were now fully occupied by your lover.

“besides," he continued, his tone slightly teasing, “you did win a multi-million jackpot when you had me.”

you sighed. of course, he needs to mention that. “you really know how to ruin a moment.”

“come on! i'm worth that much!” he retorted, his smirk audible in his voice.

you couldn't help but smile, his playful banter lifting your spirits. “yeah, still. eat the rich.”

“well, i wouldn't say no to that, darling.”

“oh my god! michael kaiser!”

“i’m just saying!”

your boyfriend really knows how to ruin a moment, but still, you wouldn't have him any other way.

WAG = wife and gfs of high-profile pro athletes (but this is gn!reader oki) and if you know the WAG cheer and clap, that means we have weird tiktok fyps, no i will not elaborate.

note. here, take my insanity. i did not know what made me write this man in FLUFF (sighs i don't know who i am anymore) but it needs to leave me alone. jk, just testing things out for my milestone event hehe <3 this is slightly suggestive, btw!

[littlest-w01f]

Snow

Rhysand x Reader

For @officialrhysandweek

Rhysand Week 2024 Masterlist

Day 3: Loved one

Summary: You were just Rhysand's friend, that's what he kept reminding himself as he saw you experience snowfall for the first time.

Cw: Fluff, Rhys is a lil horny, Rhysand's scars, kissing

You were twirling around as snow fell on the balcony of The House of Winds, a giggle leaving your lips, you were from the Day Court, Helion's younger sister, and it was your first time ever seeing snow, since even in the coldest days of winter, it never did in Day Court. You were in a simple Night Court gown, glowing bright like the sun from pure happiness.

Rhysand was leaning against the railing, watching you as snow fell on both of you, the snowfall was gentle, and he enjoyed watching you and the ball of sun you became, "You look happy, my dear friend." He whispered softly, eyes on your lovely dark brown skin, blemish-free, thick black hair braided down your back, covered in little snowflakes, and brown eyes squinted in amusement. He had the thought to put a fluffy cap or coat on you, fearing you would catch a cold since your Day body was most definitely not meant for the too-cold weather.

As Rhysand watched you twirl and laugh, his eyes were drawn to the way the snowflakes clung to your dark cheeks flushed with cold, creating a picture of ethereal beauty that made him momentarily forget about the chill in the air.

You smile brighter, "It's snow! Ice is falling from the sky, Rhys!" You almost squeal from happiness, full of innocent excitement.

Rhysand snorts with amusement, the corners of his mouth curving up. "I do recognize snow, little one."

Rhysand's gaze lingered on your radiant form, his fingers itching to brush away the delicate flakes clinging to your hair and cheeks. Your laughter echoed through the chilly night air, a melodic sound that filled him with warmth despite the frigid temperatures. He'd never seen you so carefree, so unbridled in your joy. It was captivating, and he found himself drawn in, unable to look away.

"I suppose you're right," You said, holding out your palm watching as the snowflakes fell on your palm, "I've never experienced anything like this before. The way the snow falls, the silence… it's so pretty."

Rhysand's expression softened as he saw the happiness in you. "It is, isn't it?" He stood beside you, a snowflake landed on his nose.

You boop his nose making the snowflake melt, "I wanna stay in the snow for a little longer, if it's ok…"

Rhysand chuckled at your playful gesture, the melted snow trickling down his nose. "Of course, my little ray of sunshine. We can stay here as long as you wish."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as another flurry of snow swirled around you. The icy crystals danced in the moonlight, casting an enchanting glow over the balcony.

As you leaned into his side, Rhysand felt a sense of contentment wash over him. In this moment, surrounded by the tranquil beauty of the snowfall, all the weight of his responsibilities as High Lord seemed to fade away. Here, with you by his side, everything felt right in the world.

You smiled, the snowing had just started to increase, "Thank you…" You chuckled, throwing your head back and sticking your tongue out to catch snow in your mouth.

Rhysand couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle at your antics, watching with amused fascination as you caught the falling snowflakes on your tongue. His own lips twitched upward in a rare, genuine smile, his violet eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You’re quite the delight when you let go of your serious demeanor," he remarked, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own. Despite the cold winter air, being near you warmed him in ways he hadn't expected. Your infectious joy was contagious, filling the quiet balcony with a cheerfulness that even the falling snow couldn't match.

"You should be careful though, Day’s blood makes you susceptible to the cold..." His voice trailed off, the concern evident in his tone.

You shudder softly. leaning into his warmth "How are you still so warm? Is it the Illyrian part of you?" I smile softly, looking up at him

Rhysand shrugged, his broad shoulders moving beneath the layers of his cloak. "Possibly," he admitted. "My Illyrian heritage does give me some resistance to the cold, but I'm also used to these kinds of conditions. My people live in the mountains after all."

His hand moved to rest on the small of your back, drawing you closer still. "But don't worry," he added with a reassuring grin, "I'll make sure you stay warm. Besides, Helion would slaughter me if you returned home from your time here with a stuffy nose. That brother of yours is so overprotective."

The heat radiating from his body was undeniable, enveloping you in its comforting embrace. It was a stark contrast to the biting cold of the snowfall, and you found yourself leaning into him more, seeking the warmth he offered.

You smile, resting your head on his chest, letting him warm you, "Your cold heart is so warm…"

Rhysand snorts, amused. He pulls you closer by wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest as he lets you enjoy his warmth. "You have quite the way with words, little one. You're a true bundle of joy, you know that?" He always called you little one, you were centuries younger than him and Helion, but you both were his first friends outside of Night Court.

Rhysand held you close, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your breath against his chest as you rested there. His own heartbeat slowed, finding a soothing rhythm with yours. In this moment, the title of 'friend' felt insufficient, it didn't capture the depth of connection he shared with you, nor the protectiveness that stirred within him whenever you were near.

"I think you bring warmth wherever you go, y/n," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Even in the dead of winter, your presence is a beacon of light."

His hands smoothed over your back, providing comfort and reassurance. Rhysand knew he shouldn't get too attached, that your worlds were vastly different, you came from different lands, but in the face of your innocent joy and kindness, he found himself wanting to bask in your company for as long as possible.

You yelped, hiding in his chest when the snowfall got heavier. "Oh by the Cauldron…" You sneeze from the sudden cold.

Rhysand chuckled, holding you tighter in his arms as he brought out and wrapped his wings around you and pulled you closer to his body to protect you from the snowfall. "This could continue for a while... You'll get cold if you keep standing here. Let me take you inside."

You nodded "Please take me in… I got too cold…" You sneezed again.

Rhysand's eyes flickered with concern as you sneezed, a clear sign of how much the cold had affected you. Without hesitation, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you towards the warmth of his chambers. His wings flapped gently behind them, shielding you from the relentless snowfall.

Once inside, he laid you down on his little cot near the fireplace, lighting it, "My poor little sunshine, there we go," he murmured, brushing back strands of wet hair from your face. "Better?"

You nodded, "Much better…" You sniff, smiling softly, sitting by the fire. "I think I got a little too cold..."

Rhysand hummed in amusement at your words, relaxed now that you were inside, walking over to look through a chest, pulling out a blanket and laying it near you. "You should change your clothes, little one, they will be colder against your poor skin."

Rhysand handed you the blankets, placing them on either side of you. "Here, they'll help warm you up faster." As he spoke, he began rummaging through another drawer, pulling out one of his thick nightshirts. "And here, wear this. It will be warmer than your soaked clothing."

"I can brew you some hot chocolate, if you'd like." There was something undeniably caring about his actions, a gentleness that made your heart flutter. You watched him move around his room, fetching things to help you feel better, and it struck you just how kind he could be when he wasn't playing the High Lord or trying to manipulate people.

"Hot chocolate sounds lovely, thank you." you said, taking the nightshirt, your back to the door.

When he left, you begin to pull at your wet clothes struggling to get the clothes that are stuck to your body off. Getting the dress only past your bust as you pulled it down from the full sleeves of it, your white cotton lingerie soaked through by the cold water of the melted snow.

Rhysand returned almost instantly with two steaming cups of hot chocolate in hand. Seeing you struggle with your wet garment, he set the drinks aside and approached with a smirk, reaching out to assist you. "Here... Let me help you," he offered, his voice soft and gentle.

You yelp when you see him, making him laugh, "Come on, it's nothing I've not seen before." He teased.

"Well, it's actually not." You shrug, trying to pull your arms from the sleeves, blushing as his eyes go over your soaked clothes. "You've not seen me naked before."

Rhysand shrugged, "Perhaps..." A smirk graced his face, "But it's worked on every other female stripping off her clothes in my room."

With deft movements, he helped you peel away the clinging fabric until you stood before him in nothing. The sight of your flushed cheeks and curves made his heart race as he did you the decency of looking away when you stepped out of your undergarments but he couldn't keep his eyes away for too long.

"Beautiful," he breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from your bare form. You didn't meet his eyes, but a part of you didn't want him to look away. The firelight danced across your skin, highlighting every dip and curve. For a moment, he simply admired the view, committing each detail to memory.

Then, remembering himself, Rhysand cleared his throat and held up the nightshirt. "Arms up," he instructed gently, helping you slip into the garment. The soft fabric engulfed you, falling to mid-thigh and smelling faintly of citrus and smoke, his scent.

"There we go," he murmured once you were decent, though the nightshirt did little to conceal the curve of your breasts or the tempting silhouette of your legs. Rhysand swallowed hard, trying to ignore the stirring of desire within him. "Now, let's get you warmed up properly."

"Why do you look like a 90-year-old fae male who saw boobies for the first time?" You teased him with a raise of your brows, warming your hands with the fire.

Rhysand laughed, shaking his head at your comment. "I saw my first pair of tits when I was 15, darling." He teased, leaning back against the wall beside you. The heat from the fire radiated onto your chilled skin, warming you gradually.

"You flatter yourself," he added, although his eyes kept drifting down to where the neckline of the nightshirt dipped, revealing more of your cleavage than he'd thought would show in that shirt of his, watching you unbraid your hair. "It's just been a while since I've seen such an enticing sight," he admitted candidly, looking up to meet your eyes.

"Now drink your hot chocolate," he suggested, nodding towards the cups he'd placed on the table. "It will help warm you up."

While you were distracted by the fire and hot chocolate, hair open down your back, wavy from being wet, he began to strip out of his own drenched clothes. As he began to remove his wet clothing, Rhysand's muscles rippled with each movement, showcasing their well-toned state. He peeled off his jacket, revealing a fitted black shirt underneath that clung to his torso, outlining his impressive physique and chiselled abs, dragging it off his body showed the scars and ink that littered his body.

He then slid off his trousers, revealing strong thighs and calves that flexed with each step. Rhysand tossed the damp garments onto the pile with yours, leaving him clad only in his boxers, black, tight, and leaving very little to the imagination.

The sight of his toned physique made your mouth water, and you couldn't help but admire him. But then, you remembered what you were doing and turned back to the fire, your cheeks glowing with your power, sipping your hot chocolate.

"Oh, you can look, sunshine." Rhysand purred, "I don't mind." With that he slipped his boxers off, throwing them in the same pile.

Your eyes widened as Rhysand discarded his final article of clothing, revealing his naked form in all its glory, you couldnt keep your eyes away from any piece of his magnificent body. His cock hung heavy between his muscular thighs, already semi-hard from the cool air and your lingering glances.

"In fact, I quite enjoy having your eyes on me." His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Rhysand reached out, trailing a finger along your jawline and tilting your chin up so you met his heated gaze. "You're beautiful, little one," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "I want you to know that I find you incredibly desirable." His eyes flicked down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "More than you can possibly imagine."

"Helion might roast you alive." You heat up almost instantly at the close proximity of his nude body to yours.

A wicked grin spread across Rhysand's face at your words, his hand still caressing your cheek. "Perhaps Helion might roast me alive if he knew I was lusting after his baby sister," he mused aloud, stepping closer to press his hard chest against your breasts. "But right now, I'm not thinking about consequences…"

His fingers trailed lower, tracing the curve of your neck before dipping below the neckline of the nightshirt, teasing the sensitive skin of your collarbone. "I'm thinking about how good you taste."

Your eyes are taken by the scar going over his side when your head bends to give him access to your neck, "Who did that to you?" You reach your hand to feel the mark

Rhysand chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his hand continued its descent, over the swell of your breast, feeling the firmness beneath the thick material. "Ah, that?" he asked, referring to the long, jagged scar that ran across his ribs. "A nasty fight years ago. No one worth mentioning, really. Just someone who got too full of themselves and decided to pick a fight with the High Lord of Night." Despite the casual tone, there was a hardness in his voice, a hint of the powerful fae leader lurking beneath the surface.

Seeing the way your eyes lingered on his scars, Rhysand felt a strange warmth settle in his chest. "It's alright, love," he whispered, noticing the change in your demeanour. "No need to hide those looks. I've been hurt plenty, but I've also healed. And in some ways, those scars make me who I am today."

He leaned in closer, his breath tickling your earlobe as he spoke. "Besides, they don't receive much of my attention. Not like how I want to give you." His hand moved from your breast to rest on the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him, completely pressed against each other.

Rhysand's fingers traced gentle patterns on your back as he gazed at you, his eyes drinking in every detail of your face. "Your beauty is mesmerizing, little one," he said, his voice low and reverent. "From the way your hair falls in soft waves around your shoulders to the delicate curve of your eyelashes, every part of you is a work of art. It makes me want to lose myself in you completely."

His touch seared through the thin fabric of the nightshirt. "And when you smile… oh, when you smile, it's like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm, the storm has ended, and there is a bright full rainbow in the sky, like the world is smiling. It lights up everything around you and makes my heart skip a beat. I ache to touch you, to taste you, to explore every inch of your perfect self." Rhysand's thumb brushed over your lower lip, his eyes never leaving yours. "I love you, y/n. I've loved you for so long."

"Rhys…" You breathe out, lost in his intense gaze and sweet words. Your heart races at his intimate touches and the raw desire in his eyes. You feel yourself getting pulled deeper under his spell, all that matters is the heat building between your bodies and the undeniable pull drawing you together. You reach up to cup his cheek, marvelling at the contrast of your soft skin against his rougher texture. Your other hand presses flat against his chest, feeling the thud of his heartbeat pulsing steadily beneath your palm. You tilt your head up invitingly, silently begging him to close the distance between your mouths. The tension crackles between you, electric and charged with barely restrained passion.

His lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. The depth of emotion in his eyes took your breath away, and the confession of his feelings sent a thrill coursing through your veins. His words echoed in your ears, resonating with truth and sincerity that touched something deep within you.

As you looked into his eyes, you saw the raw vulnerability there, hidden behind layers of charm and wit. In that moment, you realized just how much he meant to you. This male, this High Lord of Night, held a piece of your heart that no one else could claim. And you found yourself unable to resist him.

Slowly, deliberately, you closed the gap between your lips, capturing his in a tender, passionate kiss. Hoping it said everything you wished for him to know.

Rhysand's arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his bare chest as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept against your lips, seeking entrance, and you opened willingly, losing yourself in the sensual dance of tongues and teeth. The taste of him was intoxicating - a heady mix of spice and darkness that left you craving more. Something you found yourself losing in.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

{Rhysand Taglist - @yeonalie}

{RhysandWeek Taglist - @andreperez11}

[fanaticsnail]

Bachata (Dance Series)

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 3,105

Warnings: Fluff. Pure fluff, dancing, sensual dance descriptors, mention of alcohol (if you squint).

It was beta-read by the ever wonderful @sordidmusings (thank you bby grl, you are a blessing)

Song Suggestion: Stand By Me, Wake Me Up, la Isla Bonita

Your lips remained parted, eyes glossy and hyper-fixated on the movement of swaying hips, bent knees, and the biceps and forearms of your captain who effortlessly led one of the locals in a sultry dance. All his movements were in time to the beat of the drum, the fingerpicking of nylon guitar strings and the push and pull of airy piano accordion accompanying the lilt of vocals.

The atmosphere surrounding the beach-front festival on the coastal shore was loud, the crash of waves in the distance resonated within the chasms of the wooden dock where the Going Merry was harbored. Several vendors had set up temporary huts with canvas roofs atop wooden poles, selling their wares, local cuisine and fountains of exotic drinks of flavors you had never heard of before.

Although the musicians sang out their romantic souls into the air, prompting many a traveler to engage with them in dance and singing along to the tune: your eyes remained fixed on the way Luffy effortlessly spun the local girl within his arms, steadying her hips with his hands. His nose was scrunched with laughter, his grin drawn wide against his cheeks to bare his teeth in unbridled joy.

“Quartermaster?” the green-haired swordsman addressed you, “your thoughts?”

“Hmm?” you hummed in question, snapped from your entranced gaze held against your captain’s swaying body.

“You’ve been staring at him long enough,” Nami giggled at you, leaning back to recline against the wooden log behind her, “surely you have a bit of a hypothesis.”

You furrowed your brow, looking between the remaining companions you’d found yourself serving with on the Going Merry. Nami had a playful shimmer falling in her eyes, Zoro quenched his thirst by draining the remainder of his brown-stained beer bottle, while Sanji was making his way back from collecting the evening meal for the crew by bartering with the vendors.

Usopp and Luffy opted to join in the festival celebrations by swaying with the locals to the beat of the drum. Both men began surprising the crew with how effortlessly they danced to the tunes produced by the band, but Luffy was exceptionally surprising everyone by the way he almost had an air of sultry seduction in his movements. As soon as you witnessed the first effortless and tasteful gyration of his hips, your breath caught in your throat and a warm flush weaseled its way from your chest to tint your cheeks with its presence.

“On the dancing?” you asked again, Zoro chuckling at your thoughts.

“Alright, let’s backtrack then,” the swordsman rolled his eyes with a chuckled scoff, “look at him.”

“Oh she’s been looking at him enough, Zoro,” Nami scrunched up her nose, her tone light and teasing. You scrunched up your own nose in light mockery at her jest, prompting her to release a laugh into the night air.

“Looking at who?” the blonde chef asked as he placed the food down on the stretched canvas mat on the sandy floor in front of you all.

“Alright Sanji, non-biased opinion,” Nami said, leaning forward to sit herself closer to the food in front of her, “our captain. Where do you think he learnt how to dance like that? Look – no, really Sanji – look.”

The chef rolled his eyes and lulled his head over to look at the captain of the Going Merry. Luffy spun his dance partner to face her torso away from him, her back pressed flush against his bare chest as he ghosted his fingertips over her vertical forearms held upwards. His lips traced the back of her neck, his eyes fluttered closed as he swayed his hips against the beat, with his brows furrowed in passionate concentration.

“O-oh,” Sanji stuttered, his eyes widening with a downturned smile rising within his fluster.

“I know, right?” Nami loudly whispered in her hushed enthusiasm.

“I can honestly say: I have no idea,” the blonde nodded his head in confirming his words more-so to himself than to the group, “he doesn’t give off that kind of energy at all.”

The music concluded, the captain breaking away from his dance partner, and giving her a clap on the shoulder as a gesture of encouragement and joy at the time they spent together.

“Oi, Luffy, Usopp!” Zoro called to the two crewmen, “grub’s up, come and get it!”

Your captain’s face snapped over towards the crew; his eyes first meeting with yours. A large grin drew itself against his cheeks once more as he found Usopp and they stampeded together towards the canvas mat.

“You guys, the sand- the sand,” Nami aggressively shooed the two rapidly approaching men, their feet kicking up the coarse grains of sand dangerously close to the food placed on the floor. You giggled at them, looking to your captain and patting the unoccupied space beside you in a gesture for him to sit down.

Usopp claimed the vacant space next to Nami, taking a portion of the local cuisine for himself as he did so. Luffy, smiling at your gesture, immediately plopped himself down ungracefully. He playfully nudged your shoulder with the top of his head, giving you a small smile, his curls feeling soft against your exposed skin as his hat remained fastened to his back via the drawstring. You laughed, reaching your palm and fingertips to brush some of the strands away from his forehead to reveal his hazelnut-coloured eyes to you. You shook your head, scrunching your nose and playfully nudged him away from you.

Your role aboard the Going Merry was the Quartermaster: an aid in the navigation and smooth sailing amongst the waves, while being the secondary loyal soldier behind the first-mate. Luffy, upon finding you in a tavern off the shore of Shells-Town, immediately was taken with your skills and ease in breaking up a tavern brawl. Two rival pirate crews had stumbled into the family-run tavern and began immediately meddling in the affairs of one another’s business. The boiling point flashing like water to scorching oil within the halls of your favorite tavern: foreheads touching, guns withdrawn, fists flying and the breaking of brown, glass bottles. You threw yourself into the crowd, opting to disarm and do no harm, dancing effortlessly within the heat of the battle and incapacitating those who opted to remain fighting. It took little to no time to stop the fight, your skills drilled into you at the hands of many a brawling instructor and mentor throughout your childhood.

After the fight had finished, a brown-haired captain adorning a straw hat with a red ribbon approached you, telling you straight out, “Pack your bags, I need you on my ship,” to which you shrugged with a simple “aye, Sir”.

In your travels with the young captain, you were immediately taken with his innocence and fearlessness to be anything other than what he is: a simple man with the charm and charisma he needs to lead a crew, but also with the mischievousness and playfulness that comes with his inexperience. His heart is intensely displayed on his wrists, his desire to serve and protect those in need was admirable. You would follow him to the ends of the earth, with nothing to add than a simple: “aye, Sir.”

Friendship, proximity, and sleepless nights by each other’s side had a small whisper of emotion beginning to form within the very central point of your heart. The longer you remained with him, the more this feeling began to burn within you. You put it all down to the need to serve your captain well or perhaps a small crush if anything else. Choosing not to engage with such childish emotions, you smothered the feelings as soon as they began.

But there was something about the way his hips were swaying tonight. Something about the way his eyes sparkled, his nose scrunched and his lips drew out to reveal his playful grin under the glittering stars around the festivities that held you hostage to your unquenchable emotions.

“Nice meat!” Luffy’s voice cut through your inner monologue, prompting you to shake your head and blink slowly away your enchantment, “you had any yet-? -You haven’t had any yet! Here, have some!”

Your captain thrust an empty paper plate into your hands before piling a mountain of food atop the plate; it bending beneath the weight of the variety of items.

“Captain, slow down!” you giggled, shooing his hand holding tongs with the dangle of cooked meat waving from the end, “I’m not going to be able to get through all this, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“Anything for my Quartermaster,” he shot you a small wink, “gotta make sure you’re taken care of, you know?”

Your eyes fluttered rapidly in a flustered blink. You shook your head once more and furrowed your brows at his comments. He looked down at your plate, gesturing with his hands for you to begin eating.

“Whatever you don’t eat, I will,” he shrugged, leaning back in his place beside you and looking up at you with eyes full of adoration and appreciation.

“Thanks Luffy, I trust that you will,” you giggled, placing the plate down on the ground and tucking your hair behind your ears and away from your mouth. He smiled up with his broadening grin as the rest of the crew continued to eat the delicacies this area graced you with.

You felt his gaze continue to hold to you as you continued to dine with the other straw-hats, then pouring drinks from the large jug for one another and laughing to a tale Usopp was recollecting. He sat up briefly, noticing some strands of your hair began to fall back in front of your face and immediately reached up to tuck the locks behind your ear with his thumb and index finger. A warmth drew itself upwards to your cheeks at this unrestrained gesture, but you did not shy away from his affection.  

Sitting in silence, Zoro continued to hold his intense gaze in unwavering focus against your interaction and dynamic with the captain. His left brow arched at the subtle touches, lingering on your flushed face before looking to the mischievous expression your captain currently was adorning.

“Hey Cap’n,” Zoro smirked up, collecting a beer bottle from beside him, “why don’t you and the Quartermaster have a little dance after dinner? She hasn’t had one all night.”

Your eyes widened at Zoro, a scowl falling to your lips in wordless reprimand. Zoro’s smirk broadened with his left brow arching upwards to taunt you further. Before you managed to get a word out to chastise him further, Luffy spoke up to interrupt your thoughts.

“Sounds good to me!” he exclaimed with joy, “how about it, Quartermaster? Dance with your captain?”

Words fell halted in your throat, the breath you were going to use to speak them caught behind your parted lips. You snapped your gaze back to your captain, snickers from your crew began to whisper in hisses behind their clenched teeth.

“I-I don’t think I could-,” you began, watching your captain as he eagerly rose to his feet and extended his hand out towards you.

“-You’ll be fine,” he smiled, collecting your hand from beside you, “let’s go, music’s starting again.”

“Aye, Sir,” you nodded, allowing him to pull you to rise to your own feet.

You turned your head back to your crew as Luffy began leading you towards the open fire, closer to the vicinity of the music. Zoro’s smirk-like grin was plastered openly on his lips, shooting a small wink towards you at your unsettlement. Nami gave you a small wave, wordlessly uttering to you: “learn why he dances like that.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose with eyes scolding your crew before being twirled within the arms of your captain to meet his hazelnut orbs.

“Just relax, okay?” he scrunched his nose up while pressing his forehead against yours, eyes twinkling with mischief, “I know what I’m doing, let me lead you.”

A small squeak found its way to your throat, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He chuckled, taking both of your hands within his and began to effortlessly sway with you.

Crossing your arms upwards, he spun you to face away from him; rocking you within his arms briefly before experimentally intertwining his limbs with your own. He twirled you once again to face him, collecting your right hand within his left and placing his right hand wrapped completely around your shoulders beneath your left arm. He held you close in a tight and flush embrace, exaggerating his hips outwards and leading your feet to the beat and rhythm of the music.

Your eyes were wide and frantically looking everywhere else, breath hitching as he led you in the movements with such poise and ease. Meeting your eyes with the taunting and teasing gaze of the green-haired swordsman, you began to fall out of time to Luffy’s movements and stumble a little. You watched the swordsman’s chest tremble as a laugh fell from his lips at your stumble.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luffy’s voice called to you, drawing your face up with his left hand weaving itself away from your right, “what’s the matter, are you okay?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he reached his hand up to touch your cheek tenderly. He continued swaying the both of you to the music while his eyes searched yours for the source of your unease.

“I-I just,” you began, your own eyes fluttering its concentration between his, “I’m a bit self-conscious dancing like this. It’s a bit-, uh-…”

He nodded with his brows furrowed, leading you with his verbal tone; “-a bit…?”

You clenched your teeth with a small grimace, “-a bit out of the ordinary? A bit unusual to be dancing like this?”

“Oh!” he nodded, returning his broad smile to his lips. He released your cheek from his left hand and again sought out your right to claim, “you don’t have to be self-conscious. As I said, I know what I’m doing. And if the attention bothers you so much, keep your eyes on me!”

The flush returned to your cheeks, the warmth threatening to tint its way to cover the entirety of your face as he confidently wove your right knee between his legs and swung his hips to the beat. You released a shaken breath from your lips, closing your eyes to bring your focus away from the Straw-Hat crew and their teasing gaze. Reopening your eyes, you met with the warm smile of your captain.

“There you go!” he complimented you while tracing small and indistinct lines on your spine, “‘atta girl!”

Internally, you were screaming. Your captain’s praise was nothing foreign to you, especially when in the heat of combat. Within the proximity he currently held with you, dancing you provocatively within the romantic atmosphere, this praise felt especially outlandish. Shaking your head to rid your mind of the fog his verbal praise rose within you, you kept your eyes fixed on him. His eyes softened as he began to hum along to the melody, twirling you away from him. Although his twirls moved your body far from his, he would always bring you back to hold you securely within his arms with his hips almost flush against your own.

As the dance continued on, you began to get more confident in your movements and trust for him to always support and lead you through it. He would sweep you into long-arched dips, circling around his body before having you snap back up to fall within his grip. All laughs and smiles drew upwards against your cheeks, a laugh or two flinging from your chests in glee to the music.

“How do you know how to dance like this?” you breathily asked him while he again twirled you to face away from him.

He released your hands from his grasp as he slowly ghosted them over your ribs, dragging them to rest on your hips. With closed eyes, he brought his lips up to your exposed neck and whispered against your skin: “Shanks taught me.”

Your glazed eyes opened widely, a small “oh” parting from you in surprise. You had heard many tales about Red-Haired Shanks and his crew of seasoned pirates from your captain. It should come as no surprise to you that he had shared more knowledge than the influence of a life of piracy onto your captain, but apparently the charm that comes with sensual dancing.

“When you were a child?” you asked him, lulling your head over as he continued to hold his lips a hair’s length away from your skin. He hummed in confirmation, the vibration prompting your pores to spring upwards over your neck and forearms.

“And the knowledge wasn’t lost to you over the years?” you quizzed him. His hands shifted you within his arms, turning you to face him again.

“I practiced with my brothers,” he chuckled, placing his forehead against your own, “my biggest brother would play guitar sometimes. I’d make my other one dance with me to the music.”

Before you could ask Luffy any further questions on the matter, the music concluded and your captain released you from his arms and cheered loudly to praise the musicians for their song. You trailed your gaze from the raven curls atop your captain’s head down over his sun-kissed skin to hold your lashes half-lidded as they sought out his eyes once more. He was so handsome, you knew that much was certain. All the time you spent together aboard the Merry had you drawing yourself closer to him, but now; you were completely smitten.

His joyful and lilted praise drew itself to a close, him turning to meet your eyes once more with his warm eyes. He reached his left hand down to collect yours within his comforting grip.

“Did you want another dance?” he asked hopefully, before he tore away his gaze to seek out a vendor’s stand behind him, “or we could get a drink? I could go for another one of those juice-things, I think.”

You giggled, reaching up your left hand to caress his smooth cheek. His skin ignited beneath your touch, glowing alongside the smoldering embers of the beach-front fire.

“As long as I'm with you, I’ll follow you anywhere,” you answered whimsically, prompting him to reach his forehead down to touch against your own. His nose scrunched up once more, his lips drawing out to a large smile as he answered you.

“Okay, great! Juice first,” he confirmed, nodding against your head, “then more dancing.”

“Aye, Sir.”

[solarisfortuneia]

— glimpses of life.

misc. scenarios with them. (ft. diluc, childe, kaeya, kazuha and xiao.)

diluc ragnvindr.

“diluc, can we please, please go to starsnatch cliff today?” you plead on one fine day, tugging at his sleeve.

never one to deny your requests and always one to indulge your whims, he glances at his desk. “well, I am done with a considerable amount of work, so i don't see why we can't.” he kisses your temple and lightly pats your head. “we’ll go after lunch, beloved.”

you cheer, a sparkle in your eyes, and a million flowers bloom in his heart; an ever-growing garden.

true to his words, he takes you there later that day. while you take pleasure in the view and the feeling of the wind, he relishes in your smile and the pure, unbridled joy you exude. he's seen a thousand views over the years, but he knows nothing will ever come close to the one in front of him.

“diluc, look.” you call his name, and he lifts up a hand in acknowledgement. “look at what i found!”

he walks over with a curious expression on his face. you gesture to the flower in your hand, and he looks at it, confused, brows knitted. “my apologies, my heart, but i believe that’s just a cecilia?”

you shake your head with a mysterious smile dancing on your lips. “no, no, look closely, this one’s special.”

he runs his eyes over it again, analyzing the color, the shape of the petals and the green of the leaves. “it looks exactly like the others, my love.”

you sigh, dramatically looking at the sky. “no, my dear darling diluc, this one’s different from the rest,” you meet his eyes once more, and he sees mischief dancing in them. “it’s different because—” you drag it out for as long as you can. he raises an eyebrow at your familiar dramatics. “—this one right here, is the one i think would look the best in your hair.” he coughs in surprise, not expecting that answer and your grin almost splits your face in two.

“it would look quite delightful against the red, wouldn’t it?” you press on.

“whatever you say, beloved.” he tries his best to keep his expression neutral, but his voice wavers. you grin wider

“come closer, then! let me put it there for you.”

he leans over, allowyou to secure it in place behind his ear. “well, what do you think?” he looks at you, fondness swimming in crimson eyes.

“beautiful.” the one-word response takes him by surprise and a blush spreads over his face. “diluc, you’re starting to look like your hair now. you're very cute, aren't you?”

he groans, head in his palms. “whatever will i do with you?”

“love me, hopefully.” that he does, with all of his heart. 

and many moons later, you find the same flower carefully pressed and preserved between the pages of his journal. a tiny heart proudly adores the caption: a gift, from my beloved.

childe.

the day began perfectly. the sky was clear, the sun was shining, and a periodic breeze blew throughout the harbor. and it stayed that way, until childe decided it was a great day for a sparring match.

it was fine in the beginning; you were able to keep up. however, seeing as you lacked his inhuman stamina and thirst for battle, your energy drained far quicker.

after a long—too long in your opinion— session, you crumple onto the ground, exhausted beyond measure.

“come on, sweetie, you can do better than that!” he says, playfully spinning his weapon. “what happened to all that spirit i saw earlier today?” he kneels down next to you. “let’s go for another round, shall we?”

“no thanks,” you grumble. “i’m perfectly fine here. the ground and i are friends now.”

“aww,” he adopts an expression of mock disappointment, then chuckles. “although, i must admit, you really were commendable today.”

he stands up and offers you a hand. “let’s head back, i’m dying for something refreshing.”

“fine.” you huff. you take his hand and get up with a groan. you expect him to let go after you’re situated securely on your feet, but he tightens his grip and shoots you a bright grin instead.

and in spite of your exhaustion, you return it almost instantaneously.

as you walk to your destination together, he swings your intertwined hands over and over again, chattering away, and you can’t help but think that maybe the day wasn’t so bad after all.

kaeya alberich.

the long, grueling day left you an equally unpleasant souvenir to deal with: a horrible, awful headache.

kaeya, perceptive as ever, notices the minute you step through the door.

“are you okay, sweetheart?” he holds your face in his hands, concern written all over his expression.

you nod, slowly. he raises an eyebrow and gives you a long, serious glance. you correct yourself. “terrible headache. i feel like something a horse left behind.”

he chuckles lightly. “oh, my poor sweet baby,” he coos. “let’s get you something to alleviate the pain, shall we, dearest?”

he gathers pillows and blankets and makes a soft, cuddly pile for you to rest in. once he helps you settle in, he wraps you up in one of the blankets. “there we go,” he strokes your hair. “close your eyes and relax, i’ll make something warm for you.”

and make something warm he does. once you open your eyes after a half hour, you find a plate of your favorite food awaiting you.

“say ah.” a spoon enters your field of vision.

“kaeya! you don’t have to feed me!” you pout at him. “i can do it myself,”

he hums, “i know, but i want to. now,” he brings it closer to your lips. “hurry up and eat before it gets cold.”

a warm belly and an hour later, your head rests in his lap while he massages your forehead. “does that feel good?” his long, lithe fingers rub circles into your temples and gently press the bridge of your nose.

“like heaven.” you smile, “i feel much better now. thank you,” you motion with your hands. “for everything.”

“i’m always at your service, my angel. and i do it with pride.”

kaedehara kazuha.

“oh dear, it appears that our timing may have been off,” raindrops fall onto his outstretched hand, and he looks up at the cloudy sky.

“don’t worry,” you smile at him, “i’m sure i have an umbrella here with me.”

“or,” he catches your wrist before you can reach for your bag and intertwines your fingers. “we could forego the umbrella entirely, and enjoy the rain in all its glory?”

you look at him sideways, “kazuha, i love you very much, but this idea of yours could make us fall sick.”

“my lovely blossom,” he brings your hand up to place a featherlight kiss, fleeting, delicate and gentle. “if you were to fall ill, I promise you that without a shadow of a doubt, i would be by your side the whole time.”

“and what about you?”

“me?” he laughs, carefree, airy, and so very endearing, sound melding beautifully with the pitter-patter of the rain. “i’d say a small cold is worth a few moments of absolute freedom, wouldn’t you agree?”

his eyes are eager and pleading, and you cannot find the heart to deny him of his request. a grin tugs at the ends of his mouth, and you know that he knows exactly that.

“fine,” you nod your head, fighting off a smile of your own. “i suppose we could, just this once.”

“thank you, dearest.” he tugs you closer to his chest. “now, listen closely, or you might miss it.”

you strain your ears, concentrating very hard on your surroundings. at first, all you can hear is falling water, which soon gives way to chirping birds and crickets, a harmonious symphony that seems to have been tailor made just for the both of you.

“it would be a shame to let this music go to waste,” he says, bowing, “would you do me the honor of a dance, starlight?”

he pulls you out from under your temporary shelter and twirls you round and around until you’re laughing, and he is too.  your feet move in erratic motions, yet rhythm thrives in every single step. droplets trickle down both your bodies, weighing down your clothes and hair, but you pay it no mind.

and there, with him, a blur of red against the grey sky and trees of jade and olive, you think of exactly how blessed you are to have him with you.

xiao.

another week, another random disappearance. xiao looks at you suspiciously as you make an almost unbelievable excuse. “i need to go to the harbor to check if my shipment of inazuman ore has arrived,” you tell him as you fail miserably in hiding a note behind your back.

“i need to check if granny shan’s made the kites i asked her to,” another poor excuse.

he remembers every aspect of your mercantile business that you’ve told him about so far, and he knows full well that the shipment you’re speaking of arrived last month, and he knows that the kites have been delayed by another three weeks because of a priority order, yet he says nothing.

this constant cycle continues for over a month, and he stays silent each and every time, opting to give you space and not step over the threshold of your privacy. after all, you had your life, didn't you? he didn't share every aspect of his own with you, and in his view, you shouldn't be expected to either.

so he leaves it be.

until one day, he hears a faint call of his name in the wind. he recognizes the voice almost instantaneously and he teleports there just as fast. he sees you, leg stuck under a huge rock and a cart overturned on the side of the path.

“what in the name of rex lapis were you trying to accomplish?” he asks, after he’s freed you.

“nothing!” you shake your head, slowly rotating your ankle. “i was just heading back to the inn.”

he raises an eyebrow, but accepts it nevertheless. sighing, he kneels down. “is your leg alright?”

you nod. “don’t worry, the weight of the boulder wasn’t on my leg, i just couldn’t move it.”

he escorts you back to the inn, as reserved as the night, with not a single unnecessary word. only once the two of you are in your quarters does he shatter the silence.

“i have been observing you for days now,” his eyes are slightly narrowed. “what are you trying to do?”

you look down, awkwardly rubbing your neck. “this isn’t how i hoped to tell you but,” you reach for a small pouch. “this is for you.” you wait till he takes it and continue, “the reason i’ve been acting so strange lately is because i was having this made for you.”

he pulls the drawstring open and finds an amulet, made of the most delicately cut amber he’d seen till date.

“you know how amber helps to clear and cleanse negative energy?” you fiddle with your fingers, looking down at the ground. “i thought it might help you with your karmic debt. it symbolizes good luck in battle too.”

he makes a noise halfway between a snort and a grunt. “my karmic debt is not your responsibility.” he turns it around. “besides, we adepti have no need for such a trinket.”

you smile. “i know. think of it as a way to assure my peace of mind?”

“hmph.” he looks away. “fine. if that is what you wish.” his face softens. “thank you for thinking of me.”

“i’m always thinking of you, xiao. especially when you’re out cleansing the land.”

red rises to his face. “tch. you truly have no respect for an adeptus and their skills.”

he says that, yet every time you see him, the amber amulet sits just below his collarbone, gleaming proudly in the light.

[theepitomeofamess]

tiktok's hype over harpy hare feels the same as their hype over too sweet when hozier release "unheard."

don't get me wrong, both songs are phenomenal in their own right (and props to harpy hare for encapsulating the unbridled joy of playing and performing with your friends only to learn years later what the nursery rhymes you'd sung were really about), but oh my god are the other songs overlooked. yaelokre is out here awakening wonder i genuinely don't remember ever being given space to have.

Hartebeest? adrenaline like running as fast as you can and rolling down hills.

And The Hound? haunting like campfire stories and realizing that a parent lied to you.

Neath The Grove Is A Heart? "foolish dreamer, be awakened," "how do i begin when the roof is ever changing?" i will never not weep to this song, it will play every time i do inner child work.

not to mention the story they're weaving? meadowlark is such a fucking rich world created through one of the oldest methods of storytelling and passage of a culture's history from generation to generation. and the dynamics between the members of the Lark, the found family of it all is so heartwarming i can't watch "meeting milestones" enough.

i don't know what happened in the fandom about "crickets" and whatnot? i just got here this morning, all i'm saying is yaelokre is a master storyteller, brilliant musician, and deserves the world.

[moonselune]

By the Silk That Binds us

Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one, part two

CW: Gore, feminine drow reader

This is a pure indulgent fic inspired by @mimetoist 's request, I had so much fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy it though recognise there's a lot of lore here making it hard to leave up to people's individual interpretation/preference. Also I have been very flexible with the already in place drow lore, and have mainly made my own but hey ho that's what fanfic is for

⋆.˚✰ Minthara ⋆.˚✰

Matron Minthara Baenre stood amidst the ruins of House Liakyre, her blade gleaming with the blood of those who had dared to stand against her. The women of the house had been slaughtered, their screams now a haunting echo in the silent halls. Kyorlin and Lesaonar Liakyre, the last of their line, knelt before her, their heads bowed in resignation.

"Your blood will purge Baenre of any weakness," Minthara declared, her voice cold and unwavering as she lifted her blade, ready to deliver the final blow to the twins. House Liakyre had helped House Baenre in an hour of need and in the future that Minthara had for her house, no history of weakness could be permitted to live.

But just as the blade was about to descend, the bells of Menzoberranzan rang out, their peals announcing the new rankings. Minthara ignored them with a perfected arrogance, she knew her house would remain where it had been for centuries, at the top. Though to Minthara's shock, Kyorlin and Lesaonar began to shake, not in fear, but in laughter, a sound that filled the bloodied room with bitter irony.

"Why do you laugh?" Minthara demanded, her confusion mounting as she lowered her blade, but they did not answer. However, before Minthara could raise her blade once more to cease their apparent joy, one of her servants, pale and trembling, hurried to her side.

"Matron, you must come outside, immediately`.There is something you need to see." The murmured, the voice shaking in unbridled fear.

Reluctantly, Minthara followed the servant out into the open, glaring at the twins with a vengeful promise. She walked briskly with the servant towards the balcony, a few bodies strewn across it. The rankings were displayed prominently, and to her expectation, House Baenre remained at the top. What she did not expect was directly beneath it was the name she thought she had literally just eradicated: House Liakyre.

She spun back and stormed over to the twins, fury blazing in her eyes. "How is this possible?" she screamed. "Your house is decimated! Your women all lay breathless!"

Kyorlin, still laughing, met her gaze with a cold smile and leaned towards his brother. "Say, Lesaonar, how fortunate it was that our sister's handmaiden looked so similar to her. Anyone could mistake her corpse for our dear sister's."

"How right you are Kyorlin, how irritating would it be for some vengeful matron if she survived? Alive all along." Lesaonar wheezed out, his lungs battered from the beating he had received just moments prior.

Minthara's fury turned into a tempest and she lunged for Lesaonar, lifting him up by his bloodied robe. She knew immediately who they were referring to, you, the fifth daughter of the House of Liakyre, the only one she had not slain with her bare hands. "Where is she? Where is your sister?"

Before either of them could respond, a frantic messenger approached, bowing as low as they possibly could so not to direct her rage unto themselves. "Matron Minthara, you are summoned to the High Priestess's chambers. The Liakyre brothers are to accompany you - alive and harmed no further."

Minthara unceremoniously dropped Lesaonar to the floor, and motioned for her convoy to depart. Not before, however, she set the remains of House Liakyre on fire. Kyorlin and Lesaonar barely got out in time, and they only had moments to mourn before they were fetched by the High Priestess' servants themselves. Seemingly having predicted that Minthara would not assist them in their journey to the temple.

Her mind seething with rage and confusion as Minthara marched to the High Priestess's chambers. She burst in, with no respect for the authority before her, her anger barely contained. "What is the meaning of this?"

The High Priestess, seated with an air of calm authority, gestured for Minthara to hush. "Matron Baenre, calm yourself. You may be Matron but even you still bow to our sacred customs."

Minthara bit her tongue and bowed to the High Priestess in formal greeting, she was still Lolth's favoured after all. Minthara's bloodied armour dripped onto the polished marble floor and she was overall dishevelled. She then began to pace, an unfortunate habit she picked when she was unable to contain her rage.

"I apologise, High Priestess, but please may you enlighten me why I have been summoned here? I have much more urgent matters to attend to-"

"-Like the assassination of Y/N Liakyre?" The High Priestess interrupted and Minthara stood still. She turned to the High Priestess and her scowl intensified, she had an instinctual feeling that something was very much the matter, if the High Priestess was involved. The High Priestess smirked and gestured for Minthara to sit, reluctantly, she did.

"Minthara, I warned you when you started this campaign to purge House Baenre of any history of weakness, to disturb the delicate web of the foundation your family has thrived upon, that history would come back to disturb you." The High Priestess looked upon Minthara with a sense of twisted satisfaction. "It seems it finally it has."

"What do you mean?" Minthara gritted out, and the High Priestess handed over a piece of old parchment, a contract. Though the way it shimmered in the light, Minthara realised it was no ordinary contract, it was a binding vow. Minthara picked it up with a dreadful distaste and a pit formed in her stomach.

"That is a binding vow between House Baenre and House Liakyre, made between the respective Matrons from over a dozen centuries ago." The High Priestess began to explain, "It states that in return for House Liakyre's sole trade of their weaponized silk in the war against House Oblodra, House Baenre offers their protection and as security, if their house was ever brought to near ruin by their descendents' hands, and to ensure Liakyre's survival they promise a union between Liakyre's highest ranking surviving member and their highest ranking member."

"You cannot be serious-"

"As you have not yet married, that makes you, Matron Minthara Baenre the highest ranking member of Baenre and Y/N Liakyre the highest ranking of Liakyre. By this binding vow and Lolth's will, you two shall marry." The High Priestess announced, before taking a lower tone, "And no further harm may come upon House Liakyre, you cannot kill your way out of this Minthara."

Minthara sat there stunned, yet not in silence, "This is ridiculous."

"It is, as who would ever bring a house to near ruin and allow a survivor to bring forward such an ancient and specific binding." The High Priestess said venomously towards Minthara, though there was an undeniable smugness behind her words.

"That means she's here in Menzoberranzen she is-"

"-She is right here, Matron Baenre," You said as you stepped into the room, and the air stilled at your presence. "or rather, my betrothed."

Minthara stood up at the sound of your voice and turned to you. There you stood, alive and breathing. She covered her astonishment with a smirk and straightened herself out.

"If I knew I was meeting my betrothed today I would have washed their families viscera off my armour first," Minthara spoke to you with restrained contempt. "Apologies for your loss,"

"Worry not, if they were felled by the likes of you then they were deserving of death." Your insult did not go over Minthara's head and she tightly smiled at you. You stepped towards her. "I believe a formal introduction is required, I am Y/N Liakyre, remaining daughter of House Liakyre."

"I am Matron Minthara Baenre, Matron of house Baenre." Minthara introduced herself and the two of you bowed in recognition.

With a cold nod, you addressed the High Priestess. "High Priestess, may I summon my brothers? Considering they will be part of the Baenre household, it is only fitting for Minthara to meet them."

The High Priestess waved her hand in assent, and a servant was dispatched to bring Kyorlin and Lesaonar. Moments later, the doors to the chamber opened, and your brothers entered, their expressions a mix of defiance and unease. They had barely escaped death at Minthara's hands mere hours ago, and now they were expected to meet her as members of the same household.

Kyorlin, with his head held high, and Lesaonar, with a wary glance at Minthara, approached. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the echoes of the recent violence still fresh in the air.

Minthara's eyes narrowed as she regarded them, the memory of her blade poised over them still vivid. "These are your brothers?" she asked, her tone icy.

"Yes," you replied, stepping beside them. "This is Kyorlin and Lesaonar Liakyre. As my kin, they are now under House Baenre's protection."

Kyorlin gave a curt nod, his jaw set in a firm line. "Matron Baenre," he said, his voice steady but guarded.

Lesaonar, more cautious, managed a strained smile. "Matron Baenre," he greeted, though his eyes flickered with the memory of his near-death experience.

The High Priestess watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "It is good that you all meet now. The future of your houses depends on your ability to work together."

Minthara's lip curled in a faint sneer. "Yes, of course," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Welcome to House Baenre."

The tension in the room was palpable, a silent standoff between old enemies forced into an uneasy alliance. Your brothers, though wary, stood their ground, determined not to show weakness before Minthara.

After a moment, Minthara sighed, a gesture of reluctant acceptance. "Very well. If this is what Lolth wills, then so be it. But do not think for a moment that I will forget the past."

"Nor will we," you replied calmly, meeting her gaze head-on. "But we will do what is necessary for the future."

The High Priestess rose, signaling the end of the audience. "Remember, Minthara, Y/N, this union is blessed by Lolth herself. You will honor it, and through it, strengthen Menzoberranzan. Now go, and prepare for your wedding. The city awaits your union."

As you and your brothers moved into the grand, imposing halls of House Baenre, the reality of your new life began to sink in. The opulence of the Baenre estate was a stark contrast to the smoldering ruins of House Liakyre. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the glorious history of the Baenre family, and the air was thick with the scent of power.

Minthara, however, made no effort to hide her disdain. She ignored your presence whenever possible, her cold indifference a constant reminder of her intent to make your life difficult. She left you and your brothers to navigate the labyrinthine corridors on your own, offering no assistance or guidance.

Kyorlin and Lesaonar, though wary, adjusted to their new surroundings with a surprising ease. They were determined to make the most of their second chance, throwing themselves into their studies and training with a renewed vigor. The opportunities at House Baenre were unparalleled, and they were determined to excel, if only to honor the memory of their fallen family.

One evening, as you were unpacking in your new quarters, Minthara appeared in the doorway, her presence casting a long shadow across the room.

"Do not think for a moment that you are welcome here," she hissed, her eyes blazing with barely concealed rage. "I will make your life as hard as possible, Y/N Liakyre. You may be under my roof, but you will never be one of us."

Before you could respond, a soft knock on the door interrupted the tense silence. A young acolyte, dressed in the ceremonial robes of the High Priestess, stepped into the room. She bowed deeply, her demeanor respectful but resolute.

"Matron Minthara Baenre," the acolyte began, her voice calm and clear, "I bring a message from the High Priestess. She has sent me to ensure that the union between House Baenre and House Liakyre goes smoothly, and that Y/N Liakyre is treated appropriately."

Minthara's expression darkened, her anger palpable. "And what exactly does the High Priestess deem 'appropriate'?" she spat, her gaze never leaving yours.

The acolyte met Minthara's glare with a serene smile. "She means that Y/N Liakyre is to be treated with the respect due to a member of House Baenre. Any attempt to undermine or mistreat her will be seen as a direct affront to the High Priestess and to Lolth herself."

Minthara's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. The acolyte turned to you, her smile warm and reassuring. "If you require anything, Y/N, do not hesitate to ask. The High Priestess has instructed me to be at your service."

"Thank you," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "I appreciate your assistance."

The acolyte bowed once more and left the room, leaving you alone with Minthara. The silence between you was thick with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

"Do not think this changes anything," Minthara said finally, her voice low and dangerous. "You may have the High Priestess's protection, but that does not mean you will have an easy life here."

"I never expected it to be easy," you replied calmly. "But I will not be intimidated, Minthara. I will do what is necessary to honor my house and our union, regardless of your efforts to make it otherwise."

Minthara's lips curled into a sneer, but she said nothing more. She turned on her heel and left the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the challenges ahead. The path would be difficult, but you were determined to navigate it with strength and grace.

As the days passed, the acolyte's presence served as a constant reminder of the High Priestess's watchful eye. Minthara's attempts to make your life difficult were met with quiet resistance.

A few nights later the grand hall of House Baenre was lavishly decorated for your engagement ball. The air was filled with the mingling scents of exotic perfumes, the sounds of laughter and whispered conversations, and the soft strains of enchanting music. Drow nobles, dressed in their finest attire, moved about the room like shadows, their eyes ever-watchful and calculating.

You entered the hall, your presence drawing immediate attention. Your dress, crafted from the finest spider silk, shimmered in the dim light, the intricate patterns woven into the fabric telling the story of House Liakyre's storied past. Your hair was adorned with delicate jewels, and around your neck, a bejewelled necklace you had managed to retrieve from your mother's corpse.

Minthara watched you from across the room, her eyes narrowing as she suppressed the unbidden surge of attraction that your appearance invoked. She was dressed in her battle regalia, polished and gleaming, a stark contrast to your delicate finery. Her jaw tightened as she saw the way others looked at you, their admiration clear. She had never felt such conflicting emotions before—pride in your elegance and skill, and an unwilling envy at the attention you garnered.

As the evening progressed, it was time for the traditional engagement tasks, meant to prove the devotion and compatibility of the betrothed. Minthara and you were called to the center of the hall, where a hush fell over the crowd. The first task was announced: together, you were to take down a Hook Horror, a fierce creature known for its deadly claws and tenacity. The task was designed to test not just your combat prowess, but your ability to work as a team.

The creature was released into a large, circular arena set up within the hall, its monstrous form towering and menacing. Its chitinous exoskeleton gleamed under the torches, and its eyes glinted with a predatory intelligence. The crowd watched with bated breath, eager to see how the new alliance would handle such a challenge.

Minthara stepped forward confidently, her blade already drawn. "Stay back," she said with a smirk, her voice dripping with condescension. "I'll handle this. Just take a seat and look pretty."

Before Minthara could advance, you moved with a speed and precision that left the audience gasping. You drew a length of your house’s enchanted silk, a weapon as beautiful as it was deadly. With a flick of your wrist, the silk looped around the Hook Horror's neck. The creature let out a guttural roar, thrashing about in an attempt to free itself, but your grip was unyielding. With a swift, practiced motion, you tightened the garrote, the silk slicing through the thick exoskeleton as if it were mere cloth. In a final, fluid movement, you decapitated the Hook Horror, its head thudding to the ground with a sickening finality.

The hall was silent for a moment, stunned by the efficiency and lethality of your actions. Then, a murmur of approval and admiration swept through the crowd. Minthara stood there, her blade still raised, a mixture of surprise and frustration on her face. She had underestimated you, and now, in front of everyone, you had proven your worth beyond doubt.

You turned to Minthara, your expression calm and composed. "I believe that completes the task," you said, your voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Minthara sheathed her blade, forcing a tight smile. "Indeed," she replied, trying to mask her irritation. "You have proven yourself quite capable."

As the evening continued, the tension between you and Minthara was palpable. Yet, there was also a grudging respect growing between you, derived from the recognition of each other's strengths. Minthara couldn't deny the skill and poise you had displayed, and while it irked her to no end, it also intrigued her.

[its-not-sof]

12:37am

jaemin smut + fluff

“What? Does that feel good?”

You squirmed under Jaemin’s sensual gaze. He smiled as his fingers continued to lightly stroke your inner thighs, creeping agonizingly slowly to where you wanted him most.

He had been teasing you all night, painstakingly exploring and massaging every inch of your body, searching for the places that made you shiver and sigh and beg for him.

“Tell me what you need, pretty girl…” he murmured, enticing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Please, touch me,” you whispered. Jaemin smirked, pleased at your eagerness to follow his directions.

“I’ve been touching you all night, where do you want me now?”

His fingers ghosted across your covered core, gently circling your sensitive bud before pulling back.

“Here?” He murmured, hovering just millimeters from your entrance.

You gasped and nodded quickly, lifting your hips to meet his fingers, longing for the suddenly lost friction.

“Use your words, baby,” Jaemin whispered, leaning in close to press his lips to your neck.

“Jaemin, please, r-right there…” you mumbled, slipping your fingers in his soft hair, keeping him close. You could feel him smile against your skin.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He teased, returning his fingers to your waiting heat.

His long fingers rubbed against you before slipping underneath your soaked panties to make contact with your dripping entrance. It didn’t take him long to find your swollen bud and swiftly start to tease out of you a breathless moan.

His mouth began to suck on your exposed neck, soothing the raw, bruised skin with the tip of his tongue before slipping steadily downward. Jaemin slowly pressed hot kisses down your chest, hands reaching behind you to unclip your bra and shed you of your restrictive garments.

Your nipples hardened in the cool night air, already stiff with arousal at Jaemin’s teasing earlier. Your boyfriend wasted no time in relishing each with attention, his plush lips sucking and nipping at your breasts, his fingers reaching up to tug at the right side while his mouth pleasured the left.

His talented mouth pulled another, slightly higher-pitched moan from your parted lips.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, trailing his soft kisses down your stomach and stopping right before your dripping cunt.

You shifted your hips again, longing for him to continue. Big brown eyes looked up at you, lidded with desire but still full of devilish joy.

He never broke eye contact with you as he began to suck at your inner thighs again, biting and nipping the soft flesh until you felt like you could scream.

“J-Jaemin, please don’t tease,” you moaned, breathless and blushing with unbridled arousal.

“You know I always take care of you, Y/N…” he murmured, quickly flicking his tongue across your clit before pulling away again.

“N-No,” you practically sobbed as he positioned your thighs over his broad shoulders. “Please, please…”

Jaemin smirked before diving into your aching core with reckless abandon.

His pouted lips closed around your sensitive peak, sucking hard enough to make your vision blur before alternating in soft, fluttering licks that made you buck your hips up off the mattress.

“J-Jaemin, oh god…” you moaned loudly, unable to swallow your cries of pleasure as his talented tongue worked over your core.

“I-I’m gonna, I’m—“ you cried out as your orgasm ripped through your body, pulsating around Jaemin’s tongue. He showed no signs of stopping as he continued to stimulate you through your high.

You tried to pull away as the sensations became too strong, but he held your thighs closer and kept up his pace.

“J-Jaemin, too much, I can’t—“

“You can take it, pretty girl. Just one more, okay?”

Soon, you felt a pleasurable knot start to form again in your stomach, desperate to release with each flutter of his wet muscle.

Your breathing became ragged as you chased your second high on his face. You shuddered again and Jaemin smiled as you fell limp in his arms, your chest still heaving with each labored breath.

“Good girl,” he murmured, massaging your thighs and leaning up to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. You wrapped your arms around his back to keep him close to you.

“I love you. So, so much,” you whispered, holding him tightly. Jaemin smiled.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

Jaemin leaned in and kissed you, hard and passionate before gazing at you with a handsome smirk.

“Think you can do one more for me?”

[godihatethiswebsite]

Mourning Doves

✽Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!reader

Johnny provides you with some comfort after your favorite hockey team loses

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

This is a little drabble I wrote for me and @ohbo-ohno after we both suffered grievous losses in the Stanley Cup playoffs tonight. I know we're supposed to be in mourning, but the brain bunnies demanded comfort so I stayed up late and wrote it myself ❤️

Also I'm biased so it's our favorite Scotsman

"I'm going to die."

"Yer not goin' tae die."

"Bury me in the garden underneath the willow tree."

"Ye havnae gone there since ya ran into that spiderweb last summer."

"The spider can have my carcass."

"Now yer jus' being a numpty."

Your face was still buried in the pillow from where you put it fifteen minutes ago, the rest of your body sprawled out on your stomach with your right arm and leg dangling off the couch like a limp ragdoll. He'd returned home to find you like this after a late night spent with the team, expecting to find you asleep by the time he got home from the bar since it was now well after midnight. Instead, he's greeted with the sight of your theatrics to having watched your favorite hockey team - the Denver Brown Bears - defeated in double overtime by the Austin Tigers.

Johnny located the remote you must've tossed in your grief and turned the TV off, setting it on the coffee table before kneeling down next to your form, running his knuckles up and down your hanging limb. "There now, hen. Dunnae fret. Ye'll get 'em next year, ah'm sure of it."

Turning your head to the side, he finally got to see the sunken expression marring your beautiful face; bloodshot eyes overflowing with tears, face flushed and splotchy from crying. You'd tried to put on a brave facade with your earlier banter, but it was obvious now that you were struggling. This was more than just a minor upset - his girl was genuinely hurting.

His brows furrowed and heart dropped in his chest to see you so devastated. He knew how much this had meant to you, the unbridled joy and excitement he'd seen you display the past few weeks as your team made it into the playoffs had only endeared him to you even more. Oh sure, he'd ribbed you for it playfully whenever he saw you curled up in the living room wearing the Bears goalie's jersey animatedly cheering on your team and throwing popcorn at a bad call, but truthfully he'd loved getting to see you so spirited, especially knowing the rough patch you'd been going through lately. Hockey had been a good distraction and it was a shame the season had to end like this for you.

He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, damped by the moisture and sticking to your skin before moving it back behind your ear. The quiet broken whimper as he touched your cheek had him reacting on instinct, rolling you onto your side so that he could lift you up into his arms, cradling you to his chest as your hand fisted his shirt like a child would seeking comfort. What tears had slowed over time began anew now that you had him here, needing his steadiness and warmth to ground you from the onslaught of emotions pulling you down below the waves. He kept his voice soft and tone reassuring, letting you seek solace in his familiar embrace.

"Shhhh... s'alright, mo chridhe. Ah'm here. Ah've got ye..."

Carrying you down the hall, he carefully toed the bedroom door open, slipping inside the darkened room before closing it behind him with his heel. He stepped over the wrinkled clothes on the floor as he made his way over to the bed, never stopping his comforting noises as you continued to hiccup out tears, ruining his shirt with wetness from where your face stayed pressed against his collarbone.

Johnny perched himself on the edge of the bed, settling you more comfortably in his lap as the arm that had been tucked under your knees moved to rub circles into your back. He let you get all your emotions out, content to just hold you safe until the worst of it had passed. It tore at his insides to see you so depressed, wishing it was a problem he could get his hands on instead of feeling so useless for you. He'd never been very good at sitting idly by, the beast under his skin itching for a fight he could walk away bloodied from. If it wasn't for the baser need to be here for you, there's a good chance he'd be on his phone right now trying to convince the lads to take a day trip down to Austin with him for some retribution for making his girl weep.

But no. Putting his fists into an entire hockey team wouldn't change the outcome of tonight. Johnny knew you simply had to let time take it's course and eventually make it easier for you to move on past your grief.

Once your cries had quieted and tears lessened, he'd gently maneuvered you off his lap and onto the mattress, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head before walking over to the dresser and rooting around for something more comfortable to wear. He ignored the quiet sniffles behind him as he worked quickly to rid himself of his clothes, changing into a pair of sweats and an old army shirt before joining you back by the bed. You let him tug the Bears jersey up over your head, keeping your arms raised as he replaced it with one of his soft shirts you often loved to steal from him, dragging your pants off your legs before pulling back the comforter and motioning you to climb in.

Once you got situated in your spot, Johnny curled up right next to you and pulled you back into his hold, head resting on his chest as your limbs tangled together under the sheets. He made sure you were tucked in all nice and snuggly, heart fluttering at the familiar sensation of you nuzzling your face into him and breathing in his scent. You were still upset at the loss, but it was easier to deal with wrapped up in your lover's arms.

There weren't many problems that being with Johnny couldn't fix; he was your pillar, your rock, the one thing in this world that could find you in the darkest of depths and drag you from it's clutches up towards the surface. He radiated pure light in a way that even after all this time together still left you in total awe. He liked to say he wasn't a good man - that you deserved someone made of softer materials with less blood on their hands - but he didn't understand it no matter how hard you tried to explain.

You didn't need soft. You needed someone made of iron and shattered teeth that could fight back your inner demons. Someone with scarred knuckles and split lips who knew how to mend the tattered edges of your soul because they already had the experience stitching themselves back together with needle and thread.

So on nights like tonight when you couldn't fight your own battles...

"I really wanted them to win..."

"Ah ken, love. Ah ken. But jus' think how hard they fought fer ye. Dinnae go down easy that's fer damn sure. Be proud of yer boys, love. It's cuz of bonny lasses like yerself that they had the support and strength to get as far as they did. They'll come back swingin' - and when they do, they'll naught ask fer a better fan cheerin' them on."

...you knew you had someone right there beside you to throw the first punch and shield your body with his own.

And if you ever asked him to, he'd glady show those Tigers what happens when they encounter a pack of wolves