#but trying to appreciate this day of respite I had

[jjzzhyunie]

UNDER HIS GAZE | HAECHAN #1

pairing: haechan x fem!oc

title: chapter #1 ‘me and the devil’

prologue: “Do you even know what you're doing? You don't even know how to use it correctly.”

summary: Parents murdered by vampires, Yoo-jin Seo seeks revenge on Donghyuck by hunting him down.

genre: thriller drama, vampires, modern au, vampire hunter x vampire, plot twists, enemies to lovers trope.

note: this is a series.

©️ everything belongs to @jjzzhyunie 2024

In the tapestry of time, death spins a web of tales, each moment woven with care into memories to recall. Yet Yoojin eyes afire, holds fate in trembling palms, against the hourglass' constant sand.

As Yoojin walks through the forest woods, the memories of her parents' funeral seep in, wearing a tradional korean attire in all black comes back to her. The solemn procession, the sounds of wailing, and the sight of her parents' pictures being lowered down with the coffin to the ground.

This all flickers like a tape in her mind, Yoojin pushes onwards despite all of this. Determination was a weak word for what she is feeling. The pain on that day was a fresh wound, still bleeding.

'I'll catch him.' Yoojin tells herself, like a mantra that strengthens her doubts. She will catch him.

She contiues down her search in the unknown secluded area, parts of the forest were barely lit by the sun and Yoojin can't help feeling a sense of uneasiness. The trees seem to loom over her, their shadows dancing eerily in the dim moonlight. Every rustle of leaves makes her jump, every snapped twig sounding like a potential threat. But Yoojin pushes through the fear.

Looking for any signs of life but her own, Yoojin was unsuccusful at it. Though her body was nothing but left weak. Hunger, a constant companion on the journey with her, it's presence felt in every pang of emptiness. But grief and anger, stronger than any hunger that consumes her, leaves no room for respite.

A relentless restlessness grips at her soul, as the darkness of mourning and rage take take their tol. Each step, each breath, a struggle against the troubling tide of pain, fueling her ceaseless pursuit.

Going up somewhere the soil sinks under her boots, four men start to spot Yoojin and their presence immediately setting off warn signals in her body, even before her mind had fully registered the danger. The two men behind let out a whistle of some kind, which made Yoojin's arms stand up with hair.

Their smirks were a big gateaway that they cannot be trusted, with their rifles in their hands casually held. "You look lost," was the smooth reply from one man. He looks to be older, mid forties and the leader of his three friends behind him.

Yoojin was ready to reply to them instantly. "I'm heading somewhere," she said cooly.

They looked at each other, their expressions sly as they exhanged looks. "Well, we wouldn't want a beautiful young miss like you getting lost all alone in the forest. Especially with vampires lurking around lately." One of them said.

"Maybe we can help you out?" The man in front of Yoojin said, his tone drippng with insincerity.

She grits her teeth together, her body tensing as she prepeared to defend herself in neccessary when the men took few steps forward to where Yoojin stands. She keeps her vague answers sharp.

"I appreciate the offer, but i can manage on my own." Yoojin replies with her gaze sweeping over the group, sizing them up nearly.

Yoojin quickly went past them around and starts to walk the front path to leave them, but one spoke behind Yoojin and the men hurdle to follow Yoojin anyways, despite her protest from earlier.

"Now now, lets not be hasty. We're just trying to protect you from the vampires that can be around." The sinister tone was a camouflage by the fake-pretend chivalry.

Yoojin could see right past it with her uncomfortable intuition.

Before she could react, the two leap to the front and block the path, their large bodies looming in the narrow pathway. In blink of an eye, she was suddenly pressed up against them, her rifle falling to the ground with a loud thud. And soon enough, before she knew it Yoojin felt a rough hand grab her arm and push her down. Face hitting the rough ground betwen soil and auburn dry leaves. Pinned up behind four men.

Men's laughter rang out, a cruel sound that sent chills down her spine. Yoojin struggles to get out, any sort of movement was impossible under the weight of four men. It became tiring, a tug of war rather to escape this clinch.

Yoojin grows numb real quick, despair clawing at her as the men overshadow behind. The sounds of clothes become a scary alert to her. Yoojin's eyes widen and she panics once more.

"Now isn't the time to be screaming," He laughs. "No one can hear you anyways. We're deep in the forest."

The three men that watched everything unfold suddenly turn towards the sound of a twig snapping. The three rifles turned towards the trees and steep flooring. The man pinning her down looks up too.

"Go check it out you three," their leader said nonchalantly but fimrly too. They can only glance back at him, the tension was papable in their hesition to walk up to where the sound came.

Then without a humanly possible warning, a flashing scene through the trees from above landing on one of the men with a deadly precision. There was a brief moment of shock.

"It's a vampire!"

Chaos erupts when the two remaining men saw how their friend was dismembered and killed with a single slash, the sounds of rifles being fired sets Yoojin's adrenaline on fire.

But it was too late, the figure had moved way before the human eye could counter.

The vampire dispatched the two men next, his movements like lightning came to life. Only one remaining was the leader and it wasnt long until the man moved off Yoojin to grab his rifle to deal with the vampire. He raised it up to fire at the shadow-figure only to be met with a deserved fate.

Yoojin took the advantagr to crawl closer the familar weight of her own rifle in arms. With a determined cry she rose to her two own feet, spinning around and firing both the man and unknown vampire.

He fell to the ground and mortally wounded, but the vampire was merely scratched and its eyes ablazed by the challenge.

In quick movements it lungs to Yoojin. She leapts back, her own rifle clutched title to her hands. Yoojin knew she had to run away, she did not stand a chance against this vampire.

She ran for it. Yoojin darted through the forest, her feet pounding against the ground as she ducked under low hanging branches and leapt over a fallen logs. It was as if the trees themselves were closing in on her, their trunks forming a disoreinting maze that all looked the same.

Each step forward felt like a step eeper into a nightmare, as if she was trapped in a cycle of endless chase.

Yoojin stumps her foot over a rock, tripping on the ground front face. As Yoojin stumbles and fell, her eyes catching sight of the abandoned hospital in the area. Its crumbling walls cast long shadows across the floor. Before she could even process the situation, the vampire leaned down his hand grasping her arms.

But just as he moved closer, a voice cut through the stillness breaking the tension. As Yoojin looked up, she saw Donghyuck standing there. His eyes fixed on the other vampire, his stance was tense and intimdating.

The guy looks so familar, then it all clogged Yoojin's mind. That was him. The night of her parents death, he was the last one Yoojin saw before disappering in the night.

The tone in his voice was like a challenge between sarcasm and unbothered. "What are you doing in my territory?" he echoed, his gaze narrowing studying the other vampire. He looks newly turned and batshit-crazy to Donghyuck.

His words were met with defiance, the other vampire refused to answer or move out of the area which Donghyuck has claimed since last night.

Yoojin watched in silence, her gaze flickering between the two vampires with uncertain fear and fasincation. She had never seen such an interaction, and she wasnt sure what is going to happen. What will this mean for her?

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as Donghyuck's rolled up his sleeves, his body language was a clear gateway to how threatening he became. Before Yoojin could even react, he took a decisive step forward, his gaze locking onto the other vampire. In the moment, the vampire's face shifted to Donghyuck, dropping Yoo-jin carelessly to the ground.

"I am going to count to three, and you better run off."

For a brief moment, the vampire hesitated, as if hoping for some sort of reprieve. But Donghyuck's tone was clear, his expression firm. Before the vampire could fully proces the situation, Donghyuck's voice rang out.

"One."

Suddenly the latter ran off, he took the cue and left for Donghyuck's final number. Yoojin’s body became tense, a sense of familiar danger alerts her to run for it. She grabbed her rifle and took off running. As if her life depends on it.

Donghyuck’s eyes on her as Yoojin fled suddenly. But she didn’t dare to pause to look back at the killer of her parents.

Unfortunately, her escape was cut short when she trips up over a patch of loose soil on the edge of a steep slope.

She stumbles, losing her balance and then she starts to roll down the hill, tumbling recklessly down like a sack of potatoes.

As Yoojin lands front face to the bottom, at the base of the hill. She groans, her body aching from the rough fall and landing. She felta wave of embarssment wash over her.

Suddenly, Donghyuck's voice rang out above, and she looked up to see him standing at the top of the hill. "What an idiot," he muttered, his tone laced with annoyance, as he begins to go down the slope to get to her.

She could feel her cheeks burn with anger and shame. The humilation was enough to sent her to her early grave. Her legs felt like jelly amongst the many bruises from the fall.

Donghyuck approached her, his expression unreadable. Under his gaze was this human girl, who strangely looks at him as if she's already known him. Hated him.

But he can't seem to remember her.

Yoojin found herself in a situation sooner than she expected. She takes a small peak and saw that Donghyuck is armed with a knife, not only that, but his foot on top of her rifle when she reached for it. She was once again, weaponless.

"It's you." Yoojin said with an itch to now seek her revenge.

Donghyuck tilts his head slightly at the sound of how hateful she sounds to him, as if she already knows him. He turns to look down at the girl properly with his eyes.

"Do i know you?" He asks smoothly with an undertone sarcasm in it.

"No but i know you." Her reply begins. "You killed my parents!" Yoojin starts while turning her lips to a thin unwelcoming line. Fists clenched together.

Donghyuck's mouth twitchs slightly at the accusation. He narrows his eyes at the human girl, Yoojin was slowly getting up from the ground. Dusting off any bits of dirt remaining to the clothes.

"Killed your parents? I don't ever remember laying a finger on them, darling." Donghyuck casually said, uncared for the situation of the loss. It's more like he's certain that the accusation is wrong.

Yoojin never expected such belief that seems so real, but she saw Donghyuck that night. She remembers a face like his anywhere. "Liar, i saw you that night and i'm going to kill you."

Yoojin's hand reached out a knife to slash forward to the vampire's shoulder blade. It never crossed Yoojin's mind there would be a power difference, even though thats the most basic knowledge out there. Vampires are much superior in terms of hunting. But she didn't care for her safety. She was driven by grief and revenge more than the fear of dying.

Donghyuck was amused more than surprised by the attack. An attempt, he would call it rather. He easily pushed back Yoojin and twists her around until a single push to her back makes her fall over a large tree to the front. Completely he parried a knife, not even using his vampire genetics. More just his heightened survival.

"Do you even know what you're doing? You don't even know how to use it correctly." He said with his head tilted with arms crossed over his chest.

Was he seriously just correcting Yoojin on how to land a slash on him? She felt insulted. Belitted.

Which only caused her grief and anger to mix together, close to exploding like an erupted volcano. Yoojin turned back and lung her hand forward, the knife creating this whoosh sound in the air. Donghyuck takes simple steps back to avoid being slashed by a basic knife, a kitchen knife it looks to be.

She then ends up being tripped up, again, for what felt like a hundreth time falling over on the ground. Donghyuck saw how she was so easily tripped by his feet. Yoojin's defence was down, she's not rationally thinking. Donghyuck made sure to put a stop to her mindless swinging with a knife.

It looked like child-play to him.

Yoojin lets out a small eugh when she lands on the ground with her head slightly bumped. The rifle was somewhere on the ground between the auburn leaves, and her knife laid next to her face. Her blurry vision grew to normal, Yoojin saw Donghyuck standing above her in front.

She flashed him a glare, her hair completely roughed up with leaves in them from the fall. "What do you want?" Yoojin throws because Donghyuck was just staring at her, not impressed.

An eyebrow was raised on his face when he saw that glare on her face. He sighs tiredly.

"Get up," Donghyuck says simply looking around the area, his voice smooth yet demanding. He doesn't make any move to remove his foot from the ground, he just waits for her to get up from the pathetic ground.

Looming over her, he did see a few things in the dim light outside on her face. Donghyuck saw the minor cuts and scratches on her face, indicating it from the falls. Maybe even struggle against the troublesome people earlier.

She grunts when leisurely going up on her feet, Yoojin blows some of her messy hair away in a huff, like a small child does. Yoojin made sure there was a good enough distance between the vampire and her eyes ocasionally observe the surroudings.

"What do you want?" She asked again. "Going to kill me like you killed my parents, huh?" Yoojin slowly brought up with an intent to provoke malicous to him.

Yoojin saw Donghyuck let out an exasperted sigh, the patience starting to wear thin. He rolls his eyes slightly and crosses his arms. "I already told you, i didn't kill them." He repeats sounding frustrated.

But when he saw her eyes constantly looking down towards the rifle, he simply reached for the weapon and shown it to her. He held the rifle with his two hands. "Looking for this?" he mocks, tapping the rifle on the ground.

Yoojin tried to hold the urge to just, try and stab him again. But she failed because the next thing that happened was Donghyuck quickly dodging a knife in the air that Yoojin reached for nearby before. He gave a disappoited eye roll.

The next thing she knew, she was held in a tight grip. Wrist held by a very strong hand forcing her to drop the knife and Donghyuck wasn't being so, tolerant anymore.

His grip was pretty tight but not enough to snap a bone yet. It is strong enough to keep the girl from not atacking him every five seconds like a maniac.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at her widen eyes full of fear, his dark eyes piercing into them. The amusement from earlier is gone and now he was simply serious on the matter.

"I'm going to let go of your wrist now, and if you try anything i'm going to break it. Got it?" Donghyuck threatens sternly. But he saw Yoojin's non verbal reply as a sign that she understood it.

Yoojin was tempted but she didn't act on it this time. In fact she stood still and slowly takes back her wrist released from his hand. Donghyuck trails off next.

"See? I'm trying to be Mr nice guy, i don't usually do that." He points out sarcastically at the sudden quiet girl, but all he got was a glare. And as if she wants to just run away. Far away from him.

He sighs again. "Look, you're hurt and you must be lost. I have enough space for you to camp in my home."

"How do i know you won't kill me?" She shot at Donghyuck, defensively holding suspicion.

He gave her a look, as if thats the most obvious thing in the world. Donghyuck matter of factly points out. "Because if i wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."

She scoffs but Donghyuck already started to make his way back up, he assumed the girl will follow. She has nowhere else to go and her chances being safe from other vampires are high with him.

"Didn't realise vampires have sense of hospitality." She sarcastically shouts but eventually Yoojin weighs the pros and cons. Ultimately she starts to slowly tag behind Donghyuck.

Maybe she can always get back at him. But not right now.

[skelevenn]

My love for Wind Waker managed to pull me out of a long and deep depression pit long enough to do this. Started playing the HD version and its just so pretty, I finally actually wanted to draw something. So here's my OC Wish in WW style!

[23victoria]

Pink + White ❀

lewis hamilton x fem!reader

wc: 1.2k+

warnings: none just fluff!

authors note: oneshot!! this is literally just fluff!!! inspired by pink + white by frank ocean!! don’t know how i feel about this one either 😭 any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

f1 masterlist

"It's always something with you, isn't it? It's always an emergency," you say cheekily, a playful smile spreading across your face as you stand at the doorway of Lewis’s driver room. The paddock is a hive of activity, the anticipation for the race buzzing in the air, but here, in this moment, it feels like just the two of you.

Lewis grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he sits on the edge of the small sofa. "What can I say? I needed to see you. Forgot my headphones, can you believe that?" He pats his thighs, inviting you over.

You roll your eyes, knowing full well that the 'emergency' was just an excuse to steal a moment with you. “I knew it! You didn’t forget your headphones. You just wanted to see me.”

He laughs, a warm, rich sound that makes your heart flutter. "Guilty as charged. Come here," he says, his hands reaching out for you.

You step closer, and he gently pulls you between his legs, his hands settling comfortably on your waist. The familiar warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine. You lean into him, your foreheads touching, sharing a quiet moment amid the pre-race chaos.

"I missed you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "I’ve been so busy today with meetings and interviews, I barely had a second to myself."

You smile, your hands resting on his shoulders. "I missed you too. It’s been a hectic day."

He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I couldn’t wait until after the race to see you. I needed a little bit of you to get through the day."

You feel a warmth spread through you, your heart swelling with affection. "Well, here I am," you say softly. "Consider this your pre-race good luck charm."

Lewis’s grin widens, and he leans in to kiss you. It’s a gentle, lingering kiss that makes your heart race. When he pulls back, he starts peppering kisses all over your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead—making you giggle.

“Lewis!” you laugh, trying to squirm away from his playful assault. “You’re going to smudge my makeup!”

He chuckles, his hands firm on your waist. "I don’t care. I want my kisses!"

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so clingy and cute, it’s adorable.”

For a few minutes, you just stay like that, wrapped up in each other, sharing soft kisses and whispered words. It’s a precious respite from the frenzy of the race day, a moment to recharge and reconnect.

As the minutes tick by, you continue to chat, the conversation flowing easily between you. You talk about everything and nothing—his meetings, your plans for the rest of the day, little inside jokes that only the two of you share. It’s these moments, the simple, everyday interactions, that make your relationship so special.

Lewis’s fingers trace idle patterns on your back as he talks, his touch sending pleasant shivers down your spine. "You know," he says, a thoughtful look crossing his face, "I’ve been thinking about taking some time off after the season ends. Just you and me, somewhere quiet. What do you think?"

Your eyes light up at the idea. "I think that sounds perfect. Where were you thinking?"

"Maybe a beach somewhere. Just us, the ocean, and no distractions."

You smile, imagining the two of you lounging on a sunny beach, the sound of the waves in the background. "That sounds amazing. I’d love that."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. "Then it’s a plan."

You kiss him softly, your heart swelling with love. "I can’t wait."

The sound of a knock on the door breaks the spell, and you both look up, slightly startled. Lewis sighs, his hands slipping from your waist. “Time to go.” he says reluctantly.

You nod, stepping back to give him space. "I know. Go do what you do best. I’ll be cheering for you."

He stands, pulling you into a final, tight hug. "Thank you for coming baby, even if it was just for a few minutes. I needed this."

You squeeze him back, your head resting against his chest. "Anytime, baby. I’m always here for you."

He kisses the top of your head, then reluctantly lets you go. "I’ll see you after the race."

You smile, giving him one last kiss on the lips before heading for the door. "Good luck. I love you."

"I love you too," he replies, watching you leave, a soft smile on his face.

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

A few days later, you’re at home, the quiet peace a stark contrast to the wild energy of the race track. You’re in the kitchen, baking some of Lewis’s favorite cookies, when you hear the door open.

“Baby, I’m home!” Lewis calls out, his voice filling you with warmth.

“In the kitchen!” you reply, smiling as you wipe your hands on a towel.

Lewis walks in, his face lighting up when he sees you. “Something smells amazing,” he says, coming over to wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Just a little treat for my hardworking husband,” you say, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

He smiles, a contented sigh escaping him. “You always know how to make everything better.”

You lean back into him, savoring the warmth of his embrace. “I try.”

The two of you spend the rest of the evening together, enjoying the simple pleasures of home. After dinner, you settle on the couch, Lewis’s head resting in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair.

“I’ve been thinking about that beach trip we talked about,” he says, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“Oh? Have you made any plans?” you ask, intrigued.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve booked us a place in the Maldives. Just you, me, and the ocean.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and delight. “Lew, that sounds amazing honey! When do we leave?”

“Next week,” he replies, grinning at your reaction.

You lean down to kiss him, your heart overflowing with love. “I can’t wait.”

⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱ ✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱⋰✾ ❁ ✿ ∴⋱

The moment you step off the plane, you’re enveloped by the warm, salty breeze and the sound of waves gently crashing against the shore. It’s paradise, and you can’t wait to explore it with Lewis.

Your villa is a stunning overwater bungalow, complete with a private deck and direct access to the crystal-clear ocean. As you step inside, you’re greeted by the sight of a beautifully decorated space, the perfect blend of luxury and comfort.

“This place is beautiful,” you say, turning to Lewis with a wide smile.

He pulls you into his arms, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “I wanted this to be special. Just for us.”

“It’s perfect. I love you.,” you reply smiling, feeling a surge of gratitude and love.

“I love you” he says as his lips meet yours.

Bonus:

y/n_ig

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, beyoncè, oscarpiastri and 5,968,987 others

life with you ❤️

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lewishamilton

liked by y/n_ig, charlesleclerc, almave, gerogerussell, oscarpiastri and 5,998,937 others

is perfect ❤️

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© 23victoria 2024 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate, or claim my work as your own.

[pennyblossom-meta]

Analysis of the romance in Death Note's Spiraling Trap game.

EDIT 02/03/2024: minor edits and fixes, added a few imgs and extra content.

A huge thank you to the folks over at agtteam who translated L - the ProLogue to Death Note: Spiraling Trap into English! Now we can all date L become FBI agents after hours.

I've been playing the game recently and one of the features I love the most is the L Communicator, which allows the main character (referred to as MC henceforth) to take a break from adventuring and listen to L talk about whatever is on his mind.

There's around one hundred different lines available as the MC develops a relationship with L and they paint him as such a sweet, attentive and thoroughly unique individual that I was surprised by how detailed it was. If you're thinking about playing, then this part is definitely worth putting effort into.

The mechanics of the dating sim are relatively simple: during the adventure, you'll pick up a number of recipes hidden among traps and tools. Then, Watari will provide the ingredients and you can give L whatever sweets he specifically craves. These recipes and cravings depend on the time of day and can be season specific.

Character analysis

As stated in-game, giving L sweets causes his appreciation for the MC to grow. However, L being L, means that he craves different sweets throughout the day. He's definitely very specific about what he likes and what he wants for his sugar fix.

However, if you give L something he isn't craving at that specific moment, he will sulk. The way he expresses his displeasure varies according to the depth of the budding relationship he has with the MC.

L: To tell you the truth, there are many other things I would have preferred. L: [F/N], I hate to say this, but I really would have preferred something else. L: F/N], you must know that I was hoping for something else, right? L: [F/N]… It’s not my favorite but, it made me really happy.

Note: Given that the books in the expanded universe (Another Note and L: Change the WorLd) came out before this game, I think some of the quotes further ahead might be a subtle nod to how L is perceived by the police forces as the "creepy murder detective". However, references about his piece of mind lead me to believe that L craves some respite from the burdens he carries on his shoulders — burdens so strong that they managed to curve his spine.

Note: I'm unsure how the system here works, as the MC also gets points for gaining L's trust in the actual adventure when they a) agree with his observations and b) find key objects hidden in unsuspecting places. It might affect the available lines through the L Communicator.

L: Today is going to be a better day… Let’s think positive. L: I wonder what kind of morning this will be. L: It seems the air outside is crisp this morning.

L: I want to finish what I need to get done before night falls. L: It’s nearly sunset. Time for children to go back home. L: If you just stare into space, night will be here before you know it.

L: It’s already evening… Time keeps passing me by. L: There’s something different about the air at night. L: Night-time, dusk… It’s the witching hour.

As a naturally introspective individual, L observes the world around him and draws conclusions. To my surprise, the game actually managed to capture how observant L is about small, unsuspecting details of daily life and give him a slightly poetic side laced with a hint of wistfulness that suits his character well.

This is a side of L in his private life that I personally wish we had been able to glimpse during the Kira investigation. Though, at the time, L was busy trying to prove that Light was, indeed, Kira. It left him little to no time to enjoy the world around him. During the brief time that L could have had a semblance of rest right before the Yotsuba arc, he was depressed that his deductions were "wrong" — though I could see him musing about some of the above, equal parts whimsy and sulking.

L: If I start to lose my touch… I guess I’ll retire. L: Another day, another mystery… L: I have a lot of thinking to do. L: I feel like doing some capoeira… L: I haven't played tennis for a while. L: The weather today is… Well, it matters not. L: I, um… No, ignore me. L: Am I reading too much into it…?

As a thinker, L has a lot of unfinished thoughts he says out loud. Some border on cliché, others are musings about things he'd like to do or that he's missing.

I wonder if some of his thoughts end up trailing off because, suddenly, he catches himself and believes they're not important? Or that he doesn't think the MC would be interested in what he has to say beyond work matters?

L: “In spring one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn.” Though, too much sleep isn’t good for anyone. L: If you think about things persistently, noticing all the sides to them will come naturally. L: Strawberries… Despite the name, they aren’t actually berries. How berry disappointing. L: The one who has thought it through wins. It’s true for chess, and for deduction. But in the case of love… I don't know.

He's also a philosopher at heart, always thinking about the human condition. In these we can also witness his dry humour, silly puns along with a subtle desire to share his thoughts on the world and give helpful advice.

As for love, L is cautious but willing to learn. It's a topic where he's out of his depth.

L: Um, Watari is… L: I wonder if Watari’s asleep? L: What could Watari be up to? L: Today is Thanksgiving Day. I am truly grateful to Watari for his diligence.

I found it interesting how L's thoughts eventually go back to Watari and what he's doing. He's the one person that L relies on and whom he interacts with the most. Other people are passing acquaintances at best, who show little interest in L beyond work.

Notice how he mentions diligence? Although it is a utilitarian consideration, it also reveals a thankfulness for the comforts of familiarity and the peace of mind that trusting someone close brings. This is a topic we'll explore better at a later stage, i.e., how trust and acts of service work as a relationship builder.

Romance

Neutral stage

One of the first things I've noticed is that, during the early stages of the relationship, L is still very formal and quite a bit dismissive — even borderline rude. As his sugar fix gets sated by the MC's keen suggestions (Watari provides the ingredients, of course), L grows gradually more fond of them and wants to include the MC in his life with an enthusiasm I can only define as endearing.

L: Aren’t you bored? You don’t have to check in on me. L: Don’t you have stuff to do?

At the beginning, L is still wary of the MC on a personal level as they have absolutely no rapport beyond a partnership of circumstance and usefulness in the name of justice. He's quick to get bored and doesn't take it very well when he's given sweets he isn't craving. A bit childish, one could say, the way he sulks when the MC errs by not reading his mind.

L: Did I enjoy it? Let me just say “no comment”. (about sweets that weren't quite to his taste)

It's also very in-character for L to feel both annoyed at someone who is randomly calling him and be suspicious of their motives.

Growing interest

L: Spending the afternoon with you isn’t so bad. L: Even though it’s late, you’re not going to bed, huh? L: You must be a night owl, [F/N]. L: I’m a little curious about you, [F/N]. L: Are you having a good time? I’m just curious. L: You’re kind of… Ah, no, forget I said anything.

He starts addressing the MC by their first name as he becomes more enamoured. It's very sweet. I was pleasantly surprised at how attentive L becomes as he gradually comes to the conclusion that this is a person who understands him.

Mind, due to game mechanics the MC gains approval by giving L sweets, but from a narrative perspective what's really happening is that L not only feels seen and understood, but also accepted. And when that happens, he starts lowering his walls and relaxing.

As a plot device, I would say these are defining moments within L's thought process here; he's curious about the MC, finds them interesting enough to want to know more them and pursues that curiosity to see what they might have in common. It seems he's both a little baffled and content about this development.

L: [F/N], what do you think of when you see a sunset? L: What are you doing this afternoon? Oh, should I not have asked? L: Are you a night owl? Oh, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.

It should also be noted that L is very mindful of boundaries. There's a tentative, almost shy attempt to connect. He's determined to indulge in his curiosity since the MC's attentiveness towards him shows an opening for closeness he's unused to (but is happy about) and to tend to his more immediate needs (i.e., food cravings), which in turn shows a genuine concern for him. Aside from Watari, I doubt anyone ever extended L similar kindness.

And it is in this determination to get to know the MC that I also find Mello's words (AA: LABB Murder Cases) that L is actually a very active, aggressive individual with absolutely no interest in social conventions perfectly represent him this game, as he navigates a growing fondness with expectation, curiosity and caution — on his own terms, while minding that he doesn't overstep.

L: Staying up late talking to you… It makes me feel calm.

I find it particularly heartbreaking how this confession of L unknowingly makes it more transparent how burdened he is. The spine curved by burdens unseen, the addiction to mind games and sweets; all of these point to stress factors which isolate him further, increasing the loneliness and lack of affection in his life.

That L feels the need to mention the MC makes him feel calm seems telling.

L: We’re both late workers, huh? That makes me happy. L: [F/N]… You’re pretty formidable. L: It’s reassuring to have a partner like you. You’re someone I can trust. L: Your feelings have been received. (Valentine's Day) L: The fact we’ve become so close was an unexpected development on my part.

And here it is, the acknowledgement just as L enters the highest stages of approval, where he expresses admiration and happiness at the close bond he developed with the MC.

"An unexpected development on my part" is quite the turn of phrase. One can only wonder, but I'd make an educated guess that L didn't see this coming because:

a) no one showed feelings towards him before. In his line of work, hidden behind a screen there is no time to indulge or get attached to anyone (he would mistrust their intentions anyway) and so L keeps everyone at arms length, sharing little more than a professional side of himself and fostering utilitarian relationships that help him win "games". L ultimately carries various burdens the average civilian would never be able to understand, all due to the pressure of his job. When failing at the "game of cat and mouse" means being responsible for the likely deaths of dozens, perhaps even hundreds or thousands, the stakes are up in unimaginable ways. What started as a thrill chase can have catastrophic consequences should L fail. That in itself alienates him from society at large. It's a game that L plays well and absolutely profits from, but it is also an indicative of two major flaws: his addictive personality and how he suppresses his emotions to carry on. Coincidentally, it's the expanded universe, in particular Another Note: LA BB Murder Case and L: Change the WorLd, that give us the best insight into this. This isn't too dissimilar to the struggles policemen face in high risk jobs or technicians who have to flag and delete sensitive content from online platforms. These people end up changed from what they see — and some carry traumas for the rest of their lives. That's not to say that L doesn't feel for others. He respects people whom he considers good or morally upstanding (Soichiro Yagami), who are competent in their line of work (Naomi Misora, Mogi), worthy of a second chance (Aiber and Wedy), who speak their minds, unafraid (Aizawa) or who are reliable, loyal to him as a person and not just his cause, in whom he can place his trust and feel secure won't betray him (Watari). The MC seems to fall mostly in the last category, though the relationship is rather precocious — and there seems to be a fair amount of wishful thinking and even projecting on L's part, since communication happens over a device connecting two people remotely. He falls both for the idea of the individual and their attentiveness towards him. When L mentions that they make him feel calm, I'd argue it comes both as a surprise to him and a confession of a closeness and safety he intimately craved — though I personally view L as someone who feels lonely and wanting healthy human contact, even if his social skills might not be the best (worsened by his distrust of people as a whole). Someone who ultimately is willing to adapt to him but whom he can adapt to, as well. Someone who sees him as a person and not an unfeeling robot. It's a POV that certainly challenges certain aspects of DN: Vol 13. I would further argue that L's portrayal has evolved significantly beyond the manga, and that his subsequent humanising is partially a result of the creative liberties the English translations took, as well as a more empathetic view of the character and hidden struggles. Each medium displays a separate iteration of L, with common variables.

b) L fosters distant relationships with others as a safety measure. Aside from Watari, L's contact with other people had always been distant, work-focused, perhaps even tainted by notions of his supposed creepiness as a kinky detective "who relished bizarre murders" (L:CtW). He's useful to the police because he achieves favourable results, though L is still viewed as "a human computer, capable only of measuring mass murders in terms of cold numbers, a reclusive sociopath" (L:CtW). He isn't necessarily liked; in fact, I would argue he rubs people the wrong way most of the time — as we can see during his interactions with the Task Force, during the events of Death Note. L is tolerated, a useful asset who is both mysterious and a pain to deal with. However, he's also put on a pedestal due to his status (i.e., Relight, the children at Wammy's). For the latter, he purposely shatters their idea of L as this unbeatable, paragon of justice by defining himself as a monster (anime), a dishonest cheating human being who hates losing (manga). I do share in lux-mea-lex's perspective on L doubting his own humanity and how it fuels a certain self-hatred for distrusting everyone around him. As lux mentions, "love comes with trust" and L is an excellent detective precisely because he questions everything and everyone — but it comes at a cost: his own loneliness. To draw a parallel, L's ultimate flaw — and that which makes him great at his job — is not unlike what we see during the moments of extreme anguish that Veronica Mars goes through in her personal relationships and which draw people away from her when she oversteps boundaries to prove she's not being lied to. That mistrust comes from experience, for people burdened with having seen too much and it's not unlike a kind of paranoia acquired when one has to deal with the worst of humanity on a daily basis.

Full reciprocity

L: [F/N] you’re the light that illuminates the dark night. That’s an exaggeration of course, but… L: What I need to live is glucose… and to talk to you. Nourishment for my brain and heart. L: When we’re together, I feel like there’s no problem we can’t solve. L: The afternoons I get to spend with you are precious to me.

When the MC achieves the stage of full reciprocity with L, he's very open to showing vulnerability and lowering his emotional defenses. I found this to be particularly sweet, as L is such a secretive man with so many hidden layers that him being willing to show such honesty with that one person he holds dear is incredible character development.

Beyond the game, I would say that achieving this stage with L would be much more difficult and, naturally, would involve going beyond picking the best sweets for him.

Something important to keep in mind is that L seems to value acts of service, as the people who interact with him more closely have some utility value and aid his work. However, L's life revolves around his work; he lives and breathes his detective work, which is why having a partner who brings him peace would be so important.

L: The time I spend with you is as important to me as the sweets. L: Good morning. It makes me really happy to see you here. L: For your sake… I’d think of a way to get through anything. We share a bond. L: When you have time, I’d like to take you to a shop that makes the best sweets. L: When you’re free, how about we play tennis together? I will have Watari reserve a court. L: If something were to happen to me… I want you, as the person I hold dearest, to carry on the L moniker. L: When my thoughts hit a dead end late at night, I feel like I’m stuck in a maze. But, having you here makes me feel reassured.

I also found it very sweet how L takes the initiative to plan for activities to do together with the MC. And how their presence, their reassuring words make him feel at ease. It seems that a loving relationship would give L a goal in life beyond his work.

Carrying on the L moniker... this quote might be the result of L's trust in the MC growing during the events of the game, or a sentiment L nurtures due to the MC being attentive enough to understand his specific cravings. But being able to read L and having the mental dexterity to become him are different things, as the latter involves a lifestyle that few would want and a complete focus on work. Even FBI agents have lives beyond work.

L: I learned from you that sweets are the bond that brings people together. L: You give me true peace of mind. No one could ever replace you. L: The way I am now, I… I can’t think straight when you’re not around. L: Being able to share this sunset with you, I couldn’t ask for anything more. L: You understand, don’t you [F/N]? What my heart so strongly desires is something more… L: When I talk to you, I feel like my senses are sharpened. Thanks to that, my radar has become more sensitive.

What a sweet guy. I love how L focuses on the little things and just wants to spend time together with the person he holds dearest. It's almost as if he daydreams a close, loving relationship — a trait that clashes with L's logical side.

This game and the expanded universe of Death Note have convinced me that there are many more layers to L than what we can see in the main story.

As Fu Takahashi, who plays L in the 2020 Japanese version of the musical, said:

“(...) A common thing about L among these versions is that, despite his superficial image as a smart guy who hates losing, he actually feels lonely and needs affection, I imagine. Perhaps he is an orphan – his character suggests so. He tries to control his emotions, like the feelings towards his parents, or romantic feelings; that’s why he is sort of dependent on games or battles of the mind. So I want to play L while thinking about the foundations on which his personality has been formed.”

I think this quote and the game are actually very telling of L's core personality and how it moves beyond that cold, calculating persona that defines him in the manga. It's also more in line with the characterisation that we see in the anime and the books, which help humanise L.

As I mentioned elsewhere, learning how to trust and be comfortable around someone else would do L wonders. Though that person would have to accept him for who he is and help him learn how to navigate a healthy relationship.

Perhaps the true test of love, for L, would even be for him to be confronted with someone who knows who he really is and, is not only kind to him, but also sees the best in him — regardless of his flaws. I think that we've had a glimpse of it in this game and it's a breath of fresh air.

[minhosbitterriver]

𑁍ࠬܓ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( stray kids )

❛ In which the members of Stray Kids navigate the world of fatherhood without you.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 4.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This request was absolutely devastating to write, thank you! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N has passed away, each member is a single father still in love with you, mentions of grief, some of the kids fall under the LGBTQ+ community.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

Chan's office was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the desk lamps, casting a warm yet somber light across the room. The gentle hum of the night time silence was broken only by the rhythmic, soothing breaths of his three-year-old daughter, who lay peacefully on the worn leather couch. Her tiny face, so serene in slumber, was a haunting mirror of your beautiful features, stirring a profound ache in Chan's heart.

As he watched her, tears began to silently trace their way down his cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of his sorrow and longing. He could still hear your final, trembling words: "Love her twice as much in my absence." The memory was a dagger, twisting with the relentless guilt and grief that had become his constant companions. The sight of his daughter's innocent face, so reminiscent of you, only deepened his anguish.

Today had been especially trying. Chan had promised his little girl a joyous outing to the park, a precious respite from his hectic work schedule. But the day took an unexpected turn when Changbin called in a panic, frantically searching for the nearly completed recording of their latest song. What Chan had hoped would be a swift resolution morphed into hours of desperate searching, only to end in the devastating realization that they would have to begin the recording anew.

All the while, his daughter’s patience wore thin. She had no toys, no distractions, just the suffocating boredom of waiting. Her disappointment was palpable, a silent reproach that cut deeper than any words could. Chan felt like he was failing her, failing in the promise he had made to you. Driven by the need to make amends, he gently woke his daughter. Her initial crankiness gave way to curiosity as he apologized for breaking his promise and proposed a sleepover at home. Movies, games, a fort, and endless cuddles — her eyes sparkled at the thought, and her frown dissolved into giggles.

At home, they transformed the living room into a magical fortress of pillows and blankets, a sanctuary just for them. They watched animated tales, played games, and reveled in the simple joy of being together. Wrapped in the cozy embrace of their fort, she eventually succumbed to sleep once more, nestled against him. Her hair, a tousled mess, and a small trail of drool on his shirt were endearing reminders of her tender age and boundless trust in him.

Chan held her close, his heart swelling with love and a bittersweet yearning. She was the living embodiment of his heart, and as he gazed at her, he whispered a vow into the stillness of the night. He promised to love her with all his might, carrying the weight of both his love and the part of you that would forever reside in their lives. In that quiet moment, amidst the echoes of his promises, he felt a fragile sense of peace, knowing that as long as he held her, he was keeping your memory alive.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

Minho lay in the dim, soft glow of his bedroom, shadows whispering across the walls as the twins slept peacefully beside him. Their tiny forms had claimed your side of the bed, filling the void where your presence once brought warmth and comfort. The night he returned home with the babies, he had attempted to sleep alone, but the emptiness was unbearable. He tossed and turned, haunted by the silence, until one of the babies began to cry, inevitably waking the other. In his desperation to soothe them, he gathered every pillow he could find, crafting a makeshift crib in his bed. Their delicate features softened in the calm of his presence, and they finally drifted off to sleep.

As Minho gazed at their angelic faces, hands entwined even in slumber, his heart ached with the weight of your absence. How could he begin to process this loss? You had spent almost ten months nurturing these little miracles, only to be taken away before you could revel in the beauty of their existence. Ten months of creating life, and you would never witness the serene way they held hands in their sleep. Ten months of dreams and hopes, and you would miss their first birthdays, graduations, weddings. It was unbearably cruel, and Minho’s soul was tormented by the thought.

You wouldn’t even be here to laugh about the pregnancy mix-up that had both of you convinced it would be a boy and a girl, only to welcome two beautiful baby girls into the world. His friends had offered to stay and help, but he had declined, needing the solitude to grapple with his grief. Now, in the stillness of the night, he questioned if he had made the right choice.

Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks as the full weight of his new reality settled over him. He was to raise these precious little princesses on his own, and the responsibility felt crushing. Yet, as he watched their peaceful slumber, he knew he had to summon every ounce of strength for them. They were his world now, the living, breathing remnants of your love. He vowed to cherish them, to love them fiercely, and to guide them through life with unwavering dedication, for they were all he had left of you, and he was all they had.

In the hushed silence, he whispered promises into the night, pledging to be the best father he could be. He would ensure they knew how deeply you loved them, even if you couldn’t be there to tell them yourself. And as he held them close, feeling the rise and fall of their tiny chests, a fragile peace washed over him. He knew that in every laugh, every tear, and every milestone, you would be there in spirit, guiding him, loving them, always.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the park as Changbin and his 13-year-old son sat on a weathered wooden bench, savoring their ice cream. The park buzzed with the laughter of children, their joy mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. Parents lounged on the grass, basking in the last light of day, while Changbin watched his son’s face light up with a blush as he received a message.

Changbin couldn’t resist teasing him. "Who’s got you smiling like that?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity.

His son’s cheeks reddened further, and he looked away, trying to hide his smile. "Just a girl from school," he mumbled, glancing at his phone. "She texted to congratulate me on today’s soccer game."

Changbin’s interest was piqued. "A girl, huh? Do you like her?" he inquired gently, but his son just rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After a while, his son broke the comfortable silence with a question that took Changbin by surprise. "Dad, how did you know Mom was the one for you?"

Changbin's heart swelled with a bittersweet mix of love and nostalgia. He took a deep breath, the memory washing over him like a tender wave. "Well," he began softly, "it was before you were born. Your mom and I had only been dating for a few months. One evening, we decided to take a ride on my motorcycle to grab some food. On the way back, she spotted a bookstore and got all excited. She tapped my shoulder and pointed it out, her eyes sparkling like a child's. I couldn't say no to that."

He smiled, lost in the memory. "We stopped, and I handed her my card, telling her to get whatever she wanted. She promised she’d come out empty-handed, but I knew better." He chuckled, remembering your sheepish yet triumphant expression as you emerged with a bag hidden behind your back. "She ended up buying two books and couldn’t stop talking about them, her excitement contagious. When I told her I was glad she found something, she did this little dance of joy before climbing back onto the bike. She had to hold the bag since her backpack was already stuffed with our food, but she was too happy to care."

Changbin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "That’s when I knew she was the one. It wasn’t some grand gesture; it was her pure joy in the little things, her passion for life. I wish you could have known her. She loved you so much, even before you were born."

His son’s eyes mirrored his own longing and admiration. "I wish I’d known her too," he said softly. "My goal in life is to find my soulmate, like you found Mom. I want to love someone as much as you loved her."

Changbin’s heart ached with pride and sorrow. "You deserve to have someone by your side for a long time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added, "Who knows, maybe this girl from school is your one."

His son groaned, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he nudged Changbin, causing his ice cream to topple onto the ground. Changbin laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the park. His own ice cream slipped from his grasp, joining his son’s on the pavement, and they both burst into laughter, the joy of the moment a soothing balm to their hearts.

In that golden hour, surrounded by the simple pleasures of ice cream and shared memories, Changbin felt a profound sense of peace. Despite the heartache and loss, he and his son would continue to find love and joy in the little things, just as you had taught him. And in those moments of laughter and connection, he felt your presence with them, a silent guardian watching over their journey, smiling at their shared happiness.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin sat alone in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden hue over the familiar surroundings. The air was thick with memories, each piece of furniture and every stroke of paint a testament to the love and labor he had shared with you. His heart ached with a bittersweet nostalgia as he looked around, his mind filled with the echoes of laughter and the whispers of cherished moments.

He remembered the countless hours spent building the furniture, the frustration and triumph mingling as he struggled with stubborn screws, while you sat nearby, reading the instructions with a patience that never failed to calm him. The nursery walls, painted in a tapestry of happy themes, bore the marks of your combined artistic talents, creating a sanctuary for the new life you both awaited with eager anticipation.

The night he returned home with the baby, your absence a gaping void beside him, was etched into his soul. He had sat in the rocking chair, the one he had bought especially for you, cradling the fragile bundle in his arms, paralyzed by the fear of being alone. Many nights, he had dozed off in that chair, too afraid to leave its comforting embrace, haunted by the silence that your departure had left behind.

A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the day he found your child drawing on the walls, their tiny hands busy creating a colorful mural over your delicate paintings. It had pained him to see your work altered, but the sight of their concentrated little face, so much like yours, had softened his heart. He had chosen to let them be creative, to express themselves freely, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of you.

He thought of the time his six-year-old had cried in his arms, their tiny body trembling with confusion and hurt because they didn't fit in with the boys or the girls. Hyunjin had held them close, whispering reassurances, his heart breaking at the familiar pain. It had been a long journey, but he had worked tirelessly to make their home a sanctuary of love and acceptance.

The memories came in a flood, each one a cherished gem: the summer in middle school when they returned home with bags of new clothes and put on a fashion show, proudly displaying their androgynous style; the pride parade, where he meticulously placed sticky rainbow gems on their face, their giddy excitement lighting up the day; and finally, the day they graduated and moved out, leaving behind an empty room filled with the ghosts of the past.

Tears rolled down Hyunjin’s face as he sat in the rocking chair, now old and creaky, thinking of all the moments he had cherished yet wished he could have shared with you. The weight of the memories pressed down on him, a heavy, inescapable burden.

Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him from his reverie. He hastily wiped his tears and saw it was a FaceTime call from his child. He answered, and their beaming face filled the screen, the excitement in their eyes mirrored by the twinkling fairy lights in their new apartment's bedroom.

“Hey, Dad! Look at my new room!” they exclaimed, panning the camera around to show off their new space, their voice bubbling with pride and joy.

Hyunjin’s heart swelled with pride and love. “It looks amazing, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss you,” they confessed, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can we spend the first night together, through the phone?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, trying to mask his lingering sadness. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving out?”

They laughed, a sound that was pure and unfiltered joy. “Maybe, but I know you’re in my old room crying already.”

He laughed too, the heaviness lifting just a bit. “You got me there.”

They didn’t hang up, staying connected through the screen as the night deepened. Hyunjin lay back in the rocking chair, his child propped up in their new bed, both finding solace in the familiar presence of each other. As they talked and laughed, Hyunjin realized that though you weren’t physically there, your spirit lived on in these moments, in the love that continued to bind them together. And for now, that was enough.

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

Jisung found his seven-year-old child hidden within the treehouse that the three of you had built together. This small wooden sanctuary, once filled with laughter and joy, now bore the heavy weight of sorrow. They were still in their funeral attire, the black clothes contrasting sharply against the soft glow of the setting sun. The murmurs of the guests lingering in the backyard became a distant, indistinct hum as Jisung climbed into the treehouse, his heart burdened with grief and a simmering anger at the universe for taking you away so cruelly.

His son's youthful face was etched with a grief that seemed too profound for such a young soul. Jisung felt a surge of helplessness as he reached out, pulling his child close, wrapping him in an embrace meant to shield him from the cruel world outside. “I miss Mom,” came the soft, heart-wrenching whisper, each word a dagger to Jisung’s already shattered heart.

“I miss Mom too,” Jisung murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. They sat together in silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on them like an insurmountable force.

It had been nearly a year since you had fallen ill, the sickness so severe that the doctors had given you only a few months at most. Yet, you had defied their grim prognosis, your spirit burning brightly despite the frailty of your body. Jisung remembered the countless nights spent by your side, swallowing his fears and anger as you spoke of your impending death with a calm acceptance that had always made him furious. To him, it felt as though you had given up, but he knew deep down that wasn’t the case. You hadn’t wanted to waste what little time you had left fighting an unwinnable battle. Perhaps if he had truly listened, if he had embraced those fleeting moments instead of railing against them, he might have cherished your final days more deeply.

His son, too young to fully grasp the concept of death, struggled with the finality of it all. He understood that you would never return, yet accepting it was a different matter entirely. Jisung’s heart broke anew each time he saw the confusion and sorrow in his child’s eyes, a mirror of his own torment.

Holding his son tighter, Jisung wished he could find the right words to ease the pain, to make sense of a world that had suddenly lost its light. But words failed him, crumbled under the weight of their shared grief. Instead, he let the silence speak, hoping the strength of his embrace could convey the love and comfort his words could not.

The treehouse, once a symbol of their shared joy, now held their sorrow. The walls, which had echoed with laughter and dreams, now seemed to absorb their pain, standing as silent witnesses to their loss. But within this small, sacred space, surrounded by the memories of happier times, Jisung hoped they could begin to heal. He would be there for his son, a steadfast presence in the storm of their grief, guiding him through the darkness with a love that, while tested, remained unbroken.

As the last light of day faded, Jisung held his son close, both finding a semblance of solace in each other’s presence. In the quiet, grief-stricken aftermath, they began to forge a new bond, one tempered by loss but strengthened by their enduring love. And in that silent communion, Jisung found a glimmer of hope that they would eventually find their way through the darkness together.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

In a home where the relentless energy of three young girls and their single father painted every day with hues of joyous chaos, peace was a fleeting visitor. The air thrummed with the symphony of exuberant laughter, the vibrant discord of simultaneous chatter, and the relentless rhythm of youthful exuberance. Yongbok would never trade this tempestuous world for anything, yet a hollow ache lingered for the presence of the one who had been the steady heartbeat of their lives.

Your sudden departure had cast a profound shadow over their once lively abode, transforming it into a quieter realm where your laughter’s echoes were replaced by an oppressive silence. As time wove its delicate fabric over the jagged edges of grief, the house gradually adjusted to a new cadence, yet the weight of your absence hung heavy in every corner.

Despite this, Yongbok discovered fragments of you embedded within the fabric of their daily lives. He saw your essence in the selfless nurturing of his eldest daughter, who had seamlessly stepped into the role of co-caregiver. Her quiet acts of love and responsibility were a poignant echo of the devotion you had always shown, a continuation of your spirit in her every gesture.

In the middle child’s vibrant monologues about obscure topics, Yongbok glimpsed your enduring influence. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge mirrored the intellectual curiosity you had nurtured, each passionate explanation a living testament to your legacy.

The youngest, with her mischievous gleam and boundless spirit, kept Yongbok perpetually on his toes. Her playful antics and joyful mischief were a vivid reminder of the vivacity you had infused into their home, a living echo of the light you had brought into their lives.

In the quiet moments, Yongbok could still feel your presence. The post-it notes left in his lunch bag by his eldest daughter, each inscribed with a simple message of love, were imbued with your warmth. The tender strokes of his middle daughter’s fingers through his hair during their movie nights were a silent connection to you. And in the gentle inquiries of his youngest, her head peeking around the door to ensure he was alright, he felt the deep compassion you had instilled in her.

Though you were absent from the milestones and daily rhythms, your essence lived on through them. In the small, tender acts of affection and love, you continued to be a cherished part of their lives, an enduring presence in their hearts.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin had been absent through the vast expanse of your pregnancy, the relentless demands of touring keeping him away. He returned just in time to witness the birth, only to be swallowed by the crushing weight of your absence. The pain of missing those precious moments with you, of not being there to share in the miracle of your last days, was a wound that never healed. This haunting regret followed him, a constant reminder of a future lost.

The day you passed, Seungmin left Stray Kids, unable to bear the weight of the stage without you by his side. He couldn’t find solace in the bright lights or the rhythms of his music. Instead, he focused on his two sons—an older one, now sixteen, and a younger one, now twelve. The older boy, once a vibrant spirit, had retreated into the shadows of his room, his once lively demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. The baseball games that had once bound them together now lay abandoned, and Seungmin, despite the storm within, knew he had to reach out.

Determined to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, Seungmin planned a day just for the two of them. He left the youngest with his closest friend, Jeongin, and took his older son out. The car ride was a quiet procession of unspoken thoughts, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavily between them. When they finally arrived at their destination, Seungmin braced himself, ready to face the tender fracture of their relationship.

It took patience, but eventually, the silence broke. The older boy revealed his feelings for a boy at school, emotions that he struggled to understand. Seungmin was taken aback, but he remained calm, his heart aching with a blend of surprise and concern. As his son’s tears fell freely, Seungmin pulled him into a tender embrace, his own heart aching with a mixture of empathy and love. He whispered reassurances into his son’s hair, promising acceptance and protection, vowing to stand by him no matter what.

The boy, still tearful but comforted, then showed Seungmin a small journal. Inside was a song he had penned, a poignant melody woven with the threads of his conflicted feelings for the boy at school. The song was hauntingly beautiful, a reflection of his son’s delicate soul and burgeoning talent. Seungmin’s heart swelled with pride and love as he listened, recognizing the echoes of his own musical spirit in his child’s creation.

As the day drew to a close, Seungmin received a snapshot from Jeongin—his youngest child, covered in dirt and beaming with the joy of a day spent playing baseball. The image was a burst of pure happiness, a vivid reminder that even amidst the sorrow, moments of light and joy persisted.

As the sun set, Seungmin felt a renewed connection with his older son, a fragile yet precious bond rekindled through their shared experiences and heartfelt conversation. Though the regret of not being there for you lingered, he found solace in the fact that he was striving to be the father you would have been proud of. In the quiet moments of the evening, he hoped, with all his heart, that wherever you were, you watched over them and felt a deep pride in the man he was becoming—a father striving to honor your memory through the love and strength he gave to your family.

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

Jeongin’s youngest daughter was a restless spirit, her stubborn yet carefree nature a constant reminder of the love she once shared with you. Each burst of laughter, every defiant flicker of joy, was a living echo of your vibrant presence. In contrast, his oldest son was a mirror of Jeongin’s own meticulous nature, his life meticulously ordered, each ambition carefully planned.

Lately, Jeongin’s heart had been heavy with worry. His daughter, brimming with reckless exuberance, frequently dashed off to meet a boy Jeongin knew was unworthy. The thought of her entangled with someone without a future gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of concern. As he lay awake at night, the silence seemed to taunt him, and he often found himself wondering how you would have navigated these troubled waters if you had still been there to guide them.

One night, as the moonlight spilled softly through the window, Jeongin was wrenched from sleep by the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs. His heart raced as he followed the cries to his daughter’s room. He paused at the door, the murmur of his son’s voice cutting through the silence. The room, once a sanctuary of dreams, was now a cocoon of whispered regrets and stifled tears. His daughter’s voice wavered with the weight of her shame, confessing her feelings of foolishness for having trusted the boy. His son, with a soothing calmness that mirrored your gentle strength, reassured her that she wasn’t foolish, merely swept up in the exhilarating tide of young love. He told her she deserved better than a boy with no future, his words a soft balm to her wounded spirit.

Jeongin’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he heard his son’s comforting tones, the echoes of your nurturing spirit resonating in his voice. After a few moments, he gathered the courage to step into the room. His eyes were tender with understanding as he took in the scene: his daughter’s tear-streaked face, her hands buried in her lap. Her cries grew louder as she saw him, her embarrassment palpable as she shielded her face with her hands.

Jeongin knelt before her, his expression a blend of love and compassion. Gently, he reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face to hold them in his own. His touch was a lifeline, a silent promise of unwavering support.

“You told me so, I know,” she choked out, her voice a trembling whisper.

“I would never say that, my love,” Jeongin murmured, his voice rich with tenderness. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. His gaze met his son’s, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I know it hurts,” Jeongin whispered into her hair, his voice a soothing melody against her ear, “but this isn’t the end.” His embrace was a warm cocoon, a sanctuary of love amidst the storm of her emotions. The night unfolded in a delicate tapestry of comfort and hope, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together, even in the quiet absence of your guiding presence.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @bowsnbang @nothinginterestingtoshowhere

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

[verbenaa]

so that i may dream tonight

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:

It was a special torture to be unable to touch him, you decide. You want nothing more than to brush your fingers through his curls as you come, to caress the delicate point at the top of his ears, feel the smoothness of his skin on your fingertips.

It feels absolutely filthy, to be tied up like this, your pleasure left to Astarion’s will as you are powerless to simply lay in wait for whatever he has in store.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, fluff, slice of life!

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 9.1k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: body worship, massage, blow jobs, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, light bdsm, vampire bites, discussion of safe words, vaginal sex, vampire sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, soft dom astarion, TAILOR ASTARION

𝑎/𝑛: I'm back with round 2 baby and somehow its 2k words longer lol. ANYWAYS, this is incredibly indulgent and warm and sexy and INTIMATE. I'm literally screaming. I truly don't know how this ended up so long but oH WELL. anyway, I hope you enjoy reading! below is the a03 link too if you'd prefer to read over there!

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

The water is warm against your skin as you lean back against the edge of the wooden tub, hair arranged in a loose pile barely contained with haphazardly placed gold pins as you recline, your eyes wandering up to greet the carved beams of the ceiling that sit resolutely above you. 

It had been a decidedly long day, working deep within the walls of the city beside Wyll, who it had been altogether wonderful to see again after such an extended period. You still weren’t entirely sure why the two of you had been summoned together to help manage Guild politics of all things, but you suppose that this was simply the nature of your semi-recent and highly publicized acts of heroism.

The tension had built up in your body throughout it all, leaving you more ready for the respite of your home than usual. It had been quite some time since you had spent so many hours in the daylight, the warmth of the sun on your skin never unwelcome, but a rarity you were no longer so familiar with. The deep, velvety blue that marked the night sky had long since become associated with your waking hours, the twinkling stars a welcome companion from their place high above your head.

Your mind wanders aimlessly through a myriad of thoughts, barely focusing on one before jumping quickly to the next faster than you can keep up with. With a deep sigh, you attempt to center yourself, though anything that even closely resembled the act of meditation wasn’t your strong suit. You manage to keep it up for a minute before giving up with a roll of your eyes as you instead move to stare blandly at a botanical tapestry hanging on the wall across from you, the calming greens of woven plants blending into one another.

You lose yourself to your musings once again, going over your day and what was to come, trying to make sense of it all, mind drifting from thought to thought as you luxuriate in the lavender scented water Astarion had so kindly readied for you.

Time passes, though you aren’t quite sure how long, the water losing its steam and the soothing heat finally subsiding, drawing you away from your imaginings and you reluctantly find yourself back in the present with a long-suffering sigh. Your head raises from its resting place on the side of the tub, the stretch of your spine drawing an appreciate groan from you as you sit upright.

“All that work for a hot bath and you’re already done?” You turn to glance over your shoulder at Astarion from where he rests indolently on the bed, clad only in a pair of loose silk pants and book held aloft in an elegant hand, looking for all the world a king presiding over an invisible court as the sheer canopy that surrounds the bed blows lightly in a breeze from the open window.

“Apologies to any sore muscles hurt in the act of carrying buckets of water.” You flash him a wink as you roll your head from side to side, stiff muscles protesting the motions.

“Shall I try a more…aggressive approach towards reheating, love?” He holds a hand up, ready to set spark with the inherent elven magic that runs through his veins, a incredibly familiar devious smile on his lips. It was terribly easy to forget he had such skills sometimes, when those hands seemed so much more well-suited for tasks of a more cunning nature.

“I’d rather you not accidentally turn our only tub to cinders, if you don’t mind.” Your raise a brow and fix a look back at him, daring him to try such an act.

“Suit yourself, darling.” He sends a smirk your direction as you turn back to face forward in the bath, his eyes never straying from your form as he watches stray droplets of water make trails down the exposed skin of your neck.

In a last ditch effort to prolong your bath, you push your body under the water until only your head remains above, intent to grasp at the last vestiges of warmth the water will offer before you move to stand.

The water sluices off your form as you emerge, dripping over the fullness of your breasts and rushing down your belly in smooth rivulets that fall back into the swirling bath below. Steam rolls off your limbs as your body meets the coolness of the air, skin still tender from the heat as you make to step out of the tub and onto a small stool, grabbing at a folded towel left nearby. Limb by limb, you make to gently pat at the wetness clinging to you, the tiny beads of water like little crystals decorating your skin, before settling the towel to rest over the top of the partition screen. 

You make your way over herringbone floors on raised toes, trying to avoid any stray drops from falling onto the wood beneath your feet. Only a moment passes before you finally feel the soft weave of a rug against your feet as you find yourself at your destination.

The shared dressing table sits in front of the bed, wood worn with years of use as a collection of multicolored jars and vials of oils rest on a painted tray strategically placed to hide the worst of the wear. A silver hairbrush rests beside the tray, carefully maintained with no sign of tarnish on the intricate design of the handle, clearly well loved through the years.

The air is refreshing against the your warmed skin as you reach for a small glass vial at random, the viscous amber of the oil inside swishing from side to side as you bring it to your hand. You uncork it with familiar motions and pour the scented oil into the palm of your hand, careful not to spill any onto the patterned rug beneath your feet.

With small, sweeping motions you rub the oil into your skin, mindful to try to reach every inch you can, the scent of bergamot and jasmine (one of Astarion’s curations, surely) filling the room with an easy and familiar warmth. You pay no mind to anything other than your self-care, allowing your focus to settle wholly on the act and nothing more.

Astarion is near silent as he rises from the bed behind you, moving with ethereal grace towards your naked form. You don’t take notice of his presence until he is upon you, the feeling of his cool, muscular arms wrapping around your waist from behind causing a noise of surprise to tumble from your lips. 

The feeling of his cool skin against the warmth of your own makes you jump, nipples hardening and gooseflesh rising on your arms as his hands brush against your belly in affection. His angular jaw comes to rest on your shoulder, nose skimming the elegant column of your neck as he presses in close.

“Need any help, darling?” The words brush against the shell of your ear, his lips touching your skin with every word uttered as the hands wrapped around your waist tighten to bring you even closer to his own form.

“Well, if you’re offering, how could I say no?” You relax into the embrace of your lover, his hands sweeping up and down the flesh of your stomach before finding their way to your tense shoulders.

His hands are a balm on your skin as he rubs the remaining oil into your skin in soothing circles, fingers lightly massaging at your sore muscles. Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder as your eyes close at the sensation of his hands on you, reveling in his attentions with a contented hum.

“Why such a bad day, dearest?” Astarion’s question is genuine as he glances up from your skin to glimpse your expression as he waits for your reply. 

“Hm, not quite so bad as long. I think I’m out of practice at this whole hero thing.” Your words are a sigh as his hands work at the muscles of your shoulders, thumbs digging in to release the tension sitting heavily there. 

“I don’t blame you. A day with Wyll’s tireless chivalry would push me to my limits as well.” You snort in response at his supposed honestly, though frankly you are inclined to think he might actually like Wyll for his eternal kindness, but you know he’d never admit such a thing out loud.

Astarion gathers more oil in the center of his palms before his hands continue, moving from your shoulders to your arms and onward, to the curve of your lower back and around the circle of your hips; careful to never press hard enough to cause pain but with enough pressure to relieve your tired body. His thumbs press into the muscles with precision, you body becoming more lax with every pass of his hands.

Astarion lowers to his knees behind you when he is satisfied with his progress, hands skating over your rear as they make their way down your legs, nothing less than reverence in the motions as he smooths his hands down and then back up the skin of your thighs and calves, intent to touch every inch of skin available to him. 

The movement of his hands on your legs, brushing high on your thighs brings a subtle heat alighting inside you, barely a flicker, but just enough for the feeling of arousal to start deep inside much to your slight embarrassment for hoping such innocent touches would turn into more.

There’s a sudden shift in his touches, you realize, Astarion’s motions transitioning from methodical to subtle teasing with every pass, daring to go a little higher on every turn up your thighs before darting back down again to more neutral territory. You shift slightly at the feeling, wishing for more but refusing to acknowledge the urge to push your thighs together to ease the slow growing ache.

Astarion must take notice, you think, so close to the warm center of your body, must be able to smell the soft embers marking the start of your arousal. His hands finally stop their ministrations, moving instead to grasp around the bones of your hips as he presses a single kiss to the base of your spine, before pressing another right above it. Slowly he begins to rise, kiss by kiss, as he follows the line of your spine from your hips upwards; lips moving to touch the back of your waist, the space between your shoulder blades, the base of your neck. 

His lips are as cold as winter air yet they feel like a brand with every press against the column of your spine, stoking the fire deep inside your core with startling ease. 

He raises back up to his full height, his hands draped around your waist once more as he leans in to press a kiss against your cheek, drawing hypnotic patterns against your lower belly knowingly. You lean back into his kiss, head tilting, and rest your body back against his own. As you put your weight into his safe embrace, you feel a familiar hardness pressing lightly against the bare skin of your ass, covered by the same luxurious silk as the pants he wears low on his hips.

Your lips curl, victorious at your discovery and you bring your hands to cover his own where they rest on your stomach before drawing one up along the sinew of his arm to instead press against to the solid expanse of his abs. 

Daringly, you move the hand lower, fingers dancing over the dip of his hips to brush against the subtle erection pressing against his silken pants. Astarion’s body bucks into your own at your touch, the hands around your waist suddenly gripping harder as you continue your exploration.

“If those hands of yours keep wandering, you’ll leave me no choice but to tie them up, darling.” His words are teasing, a gleam of affection in his claret eyes as his head moves low to nip playfully at your throat.

You quirk your brow at such a delicious idea, and with a purposeful motion your hand presses harder against him, finger tracing the curve of his cock with mock innocence. 

“If that’s supposed to be a threat, it’s a very poor one.” You lean your head to the side, giving more room for his lips to move against.

Astarion lets out a disappointed sigh, one hand sliding up from your stomach to palm at your breast, squeezing lightly as he runs a thumb over the nipple in response to your shameless disobedience. His other hand travels lower, fingers brushing past your stomach to reach between your legs and glide through the wetness he finds there as he lets out an audible tsk, the beginnings of your arousal decorating his fingers as a low moan escapes your lips.

“You just never learn, do you?” You gasp at glide of the oil on his fingers against your skin as Astarion weighs your breast in his palm with one hand, the other pressing lightly against your clit, your back arching at the sensation. Your pleasure lasts but a moment, Astarion’s hands moving back to hold at your waist once more, and you whimper at the loss.

He walks the few short steps backwards towards the bed, pulling you in tow until his knees meet the soft edge of the mattress and he lets himself fall backward, taking you with him.

Your bodies land to rest upon the blankets with a soft bounce, Astarion’s arms still around you as a small laugh bubbles up from your throat. It only takes a second for you to quickly turn in his arms, pressing your naked breasts against his bare chest as your eyes meet his own in mirth.

His hands never leave your waist, fingers dancing up the curve of your spine as your legs find their place on either side of his hips. You let your body melt into his own, quick to begin to press kisses into the expanse of his chest below you. Your lips make their way towards his neck as you push yourself up to straddle him, his hands falling to rest on your thighs where they bracket his hips.

The growing wet of your core presses against his lower stomach and the feeling of your arousal on his skin does not escape his notice. With a feline smile, the hands on your thighs make their way back to your waist and with the lightest of pressure, Astarion encourages you to move your hips. 

Your breath catches at the feeling as you move to work with him, his hands guiding you back and forth to grind yourself against his chiseled stomach as the hands on his chest steady your movements. Astarion’s eyes meet your own as he helps you along, each slow brush of your clit against his skin has your pleasure building, your lips falling open as your desire multiplies. 

Astarion moves a hand up your body as your hips find their cadence against him, only stopping when he reaches the curve of your breast, brushing a finger lightly along the full bottom of it as your hips undulate against him.

“You’re so very beautiful like this.” His eyes are molten with mounting desire as he watches you move back and forth on his body, your nipples pebbling under his touch and your wetness growing with every pass along him.  

“I could say the same to you,” You hips move with seductive grace, gliding across him. “It’s quite a treat to have such a beautiful man like yourself beneath me.”

Astarion brings his wandering hand back to your empty hip before drawing it farther down to press against the place where your slick glistens against his pale skin. He draws a finger through the dew he finds on his abdomen, gathering it on a fingertip before pressing it into his mouth to lick at your arousal. 

“Delicious, as always.” His eyes are the deepest of garnet, sensuous as they meet your own.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight, empty core clenching with want as an idea forms in your mind, one that promises certain pleasure to you both. Swiftly, you lift yourself off his chest to slide lower, your dripping folds brushing against the silk covering his cock, darkening the fabric before you continue down until your knees touch the ground before the bed. Your sudden change of position has Astarion leaning up onto his elbows, watching you intently as your hands run up and down his covered thighs.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” You meet his eyes, a coquettish smile on your lips as your hands move higher, brushing dangerously close to his hardness. You lean your head in and lick lightly against a slight dampness you see on the silk, eyes never leaving his as Astarion’s hips jump and a sigh breaks from his lips.

“Do you want me to?” Your question is genuine as you move your head away from his erection, giving him space to answer as your eyes gaze at his elegant features, waiting for his blessing.

“Do your worst, darling.” His lips take on their trademark roguish grin in response to the sly one now decorating your own. The sight of you on your knees before him is always a welcome one, and he would be remiss to deny such a gift of pleasure from you.

Astarion moves to sit, intent on not missing a single moment as he helps you free his hardened cock from the silk of his pants in a flurry of movement before they are discarded onto the floor, soon to be forgotten entirely.

“It would be my honor.” The words leave your lips moments before they press against his newly uncovered heat, searing kisses moving against the vein running from the crown to the base of him. You lick greedily at the precome leaking from the tip before laving your tongue along the head of his cock, a hand coming to brush lightly against the base before your fist closes around him.

You feel his hands in your hair, nimble fingers finding the golden pins barely holding your hair up before throwing them to the side with surprising accuracy, until they’ve all but disappeared under furniture never to be found again. Your hair falls in a messy curtain around your face, Astarion quick to brush through the errant locks as your mouth works him. 

Astarion lets you move at your own pace, basking in the feel of your soft lips and clever tongue working around his cock in fluid motions as the moans that fall from his lips spur you on, urging you to take him deeper, to love him harder. Your hand helps your actions, making sure to keep contact where your mouth cannot easily reach, eager to bring him to the brink.

You hollow your cheeks as you suck at his cock, his eyes closing in pleasure as the hands in your hair tighten in time with his moans. You break off his length with a pop, taking in a lungful of air before you lavish his erection with your tongue, the same hand still massaging him at the base. 

There were few things better than this, you can’t help but think as your tongue flicks at the head of his cock again, the feeling of bringing Astarion to the brink of pleasure with your mouth as he loses himself to the feeling nothing less than exhilarating.

You lips wrap around him once more, taking him as deep inside your mouth as you can manage, the tip of cock near the entrance to your throat as you gag slightly, eyes watering in response. Your head moves back and forth as you take him as deep as you can manage, intent on tasting his come, until you feel the hand in your hair moving. 

Fingers caress your cheek, brushing against the tears staining your skin as you hear Astarion speaking, your mouth slowing to a stop.

“Enough, darling,” his words are strained with effort, Astarion barely managing to hold back from coming on your tongue as he speaks them.

You break away from him the minute you hear the words, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his cock remaining as you bring your eyes to look up at him in question. Astarion groans at the sight, breathing heavily.

You feel his hand come to rest around your upper arm, curling around the lithe muscle there as he gently pulls you up to stand in front of his seated form. Astarion’s breathing is heavy as he looks you up and down before pulling you into his lap, your knees resting on either side of his own as his hands touch everywhere they can, your own coming up to cup his cheeks.

“Are you alright?” Your fingers brush against the planes of his face as it rests in your warm hands.

“Oh, I’ve never been better darling,” he leans into a palm, head tilting with the motion. “I’m just not ready to be done with you yet.”

His admission has heat surging in your belly with anticipation, a smile on your lips as you lean in to press them to his own. Astarion responds in kind, the hands on your body pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip in a bid of entry.

You open your mouth to him, his tongue caressing your own as your lips move against each other’s, the kiss passionate as you pour you love and desire into it. Astarion breaks the kiss first, hands squeezing at your hips as he gestures with his chin towards the plush pillows sitting at the head of the bed. 

“Up you go, my sweet.”

You are quick to react, getting out of his lap and moving your body up the bed as his eyes follow you, your oiled skin brushing against the linens as you make to lay your head upon a pillow resting there, the crochet trim tickling at your nape. You arrange yourself with ease, hoping to look as though you were the picture of obeisance as you wait for him to follow.

Astarion gets up from his place at the foot of the bed and pauses, his gaze running over your body as you lay there in wait for him, perfectly poised in the middle of your shared bed. Your skin glows with the leftover hint of oil still remaining, the shine of it reflecting in the moonlight that dances in through the intricately paneled windows, tracery-like shapes reflected onto the floor the same color silver as his hair.

With that thought Astarion moves away, footsteps taking him instead to his bedside table, pulling open the carved wood front to search for something within. You resist the urge to peek, content instead to wait for him to show you whatever it is he searches so intently for. Finally, Astarion seems to find the item of his fancy and he rises to his full height with the treasure in hand.

It’s a length of delicate pink satiny ribbon; clearly brought here from his studio,  perhaps the leftover from some long-finished project. But maybe, maybe, he had been waiting for a very specific opportunity to arise, and the idea that he had envisioned such a thing brings a fresh wave of heat to your center. You can only hope he is willing to make good on his earlier threat and use such a beautiful material.

“Do you trust me?” The thick ribbon dangles in curls from his elegant fingers, the candlelight illuminating the highlights of the satin a luminous hue.

“With my life.” Your response is quick, slipping from your lips with ease as you gaze at the figure he cuts, moonlight coming in the window in silvered beams illuminating the lines of his body.

Your move your arms up to rest around your head where it lays on the pillow, wrists delicately crossed above your hair like a halo as you follow Astarion’s form as he moves toward where you lay waiting.

The bed dips down where he kneels upon it as he swings a leg over you, his body hovering over your hips as he leans forward to grasp at your wrists. Astarion works quickly, clever fingers moving faster than you can follow. You don’t take your eyes off his face, intent to watch the thoughts as they cross his features. Within moments, he has finished as fast as he started, moving off of you to stand instead at the foot of the bed to watch as you test the bindings. There is give in the ribbon, naturally, you know Astarion would never bind you so tightly you couldn’t truly move or escape unless you were to ask for such a thing. The lack of motion, the ability to truly be unable to do much of anything with your hands or arms is a sensation that feels as strange as it does alluring.

Astarion looks down at you, examining his work as his eyes move to take in every inch of you, from the sight of your hands bound together with that demure pink satin tied in a neat, tidy bow and thoroughly secured to one of the carved freesias that decorate the wooden headboard to the way your body lays waiting for him in loving submission. You are a vision for his eyes only, the sheer image of you like this is sure to be burned into his mind for eternity, something he will see in his dreams for a millennia to come.

“Now, what ever am I to do with such a pretty, lovely thing like yourself?” The way Astarion’s eyes travel over your form makes your thighs rub together on instinct, his heated gaze ratcheting up your arousal as you force yourself to let your legs fall open for him to see the evidence of your anticipation.

He moves to kneel on the bed at your feet, eyes glued to the sight of the damp clinging to your center. Gingerly, you reach out a bare foot and rest it against the center of his chest, toes daintily pressing into the bare skin there, eager for any connection with him you can get. 

Astarion eyes move to glance at your offering and he wastes no time, a hand coming to grab at the foot resting on his sternum, fingers quick to trace the delicate arch with a light touch. He leans his head to press a kiss to the top of your foot before moving further up your leg, pressing kisses to your ankle, your calf, the space behind you knee. 

“You look terribly lovely like this, darling, all tied up and at my mercy.”

His kisses continue their exploration, light brushes of his lips touching your thigh, the gentle softness of your stomach, the valley between your breasts before ending their journey against your neck. Astarion’s body rests between your open thighs as his lips caress the skin of your neck, his cock hot against your lower stomach. Your arms shake against their bonds, aching for the ability to touch him where he lays against you.

“Did you come up with your word, darling?” His voice is a whisper against your neck, his tongue licking at the places where his fangs have left scars as you recall words from a prior conversation. An exchange of words, he had said, to let each other know our comfort level. 

You nod your head, wrists flexing slightly against the ribbons as you try to hide a teasing smile, unable to resist such an opportunity to fluster him with your answer despite the headiness you feel. “Blingdenstone Blush.”

Astarion scoffs at your choice, head coming up from your neck to shoot a look your way, noticing your poorly hidden smile with the raise of a brow. 

“Could you pick anything more terrible?”

“Well, initially I was going to go with Bullywug Trumpet but it doesn’t quite roll of the tongue, now does it?” Astarion rolls his eyes at this, mouth curling up with distaste as he mutters something along the lines of unbelievable or is normalcy truly so much to ask for? under his breath.

“I am very open to discussing other word choices though, if you so desire. After all, there are so many mushrooms we could choose from.” Your smile is sly as you raise your eyebrows in amusement.

“Is a discussion on mycological nomenclature really what you want to be talking about while I have you all trussed up and ready to be devoured, darling?” Astarion’s hips grind into your own, driving home his point with little delicacy.

“Fine, you make a fair argument. Please do continue your previous exploits, sir.” A brief look flits over Astarion’s face at your use of such a word, gone as fast as it comes. The slight twitch of his cock against your skin, however, is far more telling.

“Hmm? Sir? Should I be looking to expand my vocabulary or—“ You move against your bonds to roll your hips back against your own in response, though Astarion is quick to cut you off when his mouth lowers to your breast, tongue circling the nipple, silencing any further conversation from you.

“That’s enough out of that clever mouth of yours for now, sweetest.” He rests his head against your breast, nipple damp as his eyes find your own.

“Sunmelon,” The word is a sigh on your lips. “We can go with that.”

“Consider it sorted, my love,” He presses a light peck at the swell he lays his head on before continuing. “Now, forget about your day, darling, and let me make you feel good.” 

Astarion seals his words with a kiss to the space where your heart beats in your chest before moving to capture the nipple resting below, his tongue circling the peak with precision. 

The motion has your back arching, pressing closer into his waiting mouth, and Astarion does not relent as he alternates between flicks of his tongue and closing his lips around to suck. Your hips jump at the sensation, fresh heat rushing to fill the space between your thighs.

Astarion moves his attentions to your neglected breast, as thorough in his ministrations with it as he was its twin as a hand comes up to brush against the damp nipple recently abandoned. He is resolute in his actions, paying no mind to your rolling hips searching for stimulation.

The feeling of his cock resting against the skin of your stomach is maddening when you want its heat so badly to fill you, Astarion’s motions against your breasts driving you higher and higher with every pass of his tongue. His hands trace down the contours of your body reverently as his mouth continues its exploration at your chest, hands moving to wrap around your arched back to grab at the flesh of your rear. 

He aligns his hips with your own as his hand squeeze at your ass, his cock pressing against your folds as he grinds at your center, drawing a ragged moan from both your lips. The dual stimulation of his lips on your breasts and his hardness against your weeping cunt feels euphoric, breathy whimpers escaping with every brush of him.

With a pop, Astarion breaks away from your nipple, his lips making their way north towards to mouth at the column of your throat. He kisses everywhere he can, his lips tracing the red of the blood in your veins as his hips continue their slow roll. 

He licks a stripe up a vein to press his lips against your ear, tickling the lobe with his tongue, the eroticism of the touch bringing a shiver to your naked form. 

“You’re absolutely perfect.” Astarion’s words are reverent, lips pressing soft kisses to the spot behind your ear as you whimper at the sheer adoration in his voice. Your hands writhe against their bonds, aching to touch him, to run fingers across the lines of shoulders and to bury them in his silver curls. 

His hands leave the skin of your rear, fingertips pressing in as he drags them up the expanse of your back before settling them to rest on your hips as his tongue licks down your neck before changing course to press kisses down to your chest. 

Slowly, Astarion makes his way down your body, kissing as he goes, every touch alighting your body with fire. His lips trace the skin below your belly button as his hands move to spread your thighs apart, settling his body between your open legs.

Astarion mimics your earlier action, pillowing his head innocently on the plushness of your thigh as he glances up at you from his place between your spread legs, a finger running up and down the skin there absentmindedly as he takes in the sight of you from this new angle; your dewy folds, the softness and warmth of your body, the light pink of the ribbon wrapped around your wrists practically iridescent in the dim light.

“As pretty as a painting.” Astarion sighs, adoration spilling from his lips, as the finger drawing lines makes its way up to run through your wetness in a barely there caress, collecting the arousal on a fingertip before moving to press lightly against your entrance. His finger brushes light circles, tracing the ring of muscles before dipping inside your heat. The warmth of your body draws a hiss from Astarion as he pushes that finger deeper, meeting no resistance as it sinks in to the knuckle, your moans filling the room.

He watches, entranced, as his finger disappears inside you before he draws it back out, bringing a second finger to join as they plunge back in. Your entrance weeps with the movement of his fingers, the coolness of the skin against the heat of your body only serving to contrast the feeling more. Your legs fall open farther the deeper Astarion’s fingers go, the dive of them in and out driving you closer to your orgasm. 

Your moans are pure sin as they fall from your lips, the sight of Astarion between your legs, as he watches his fingers slowly disappear inside your body with such intent drive you higher towards your completion. 

It was a special torture to be unable to touch him, you decide. You want nothing more than to brush your fingers through his curls as you come, to caress the delicate point at the top of his ears, feel the smoothness of his skin on your fingertips.

It feels absolutely filthy, to be tied up like this, your pleasure left to Astarion’s will as you are powerless to simply lay in wait for whatever he has in store. The feeling is intoxicating, more than any wine could ever hope to be. You certainly never expected that being denied the ability to touch would put your other senses on high alert, the scent of your own arousal evident in the air of the room, the sound of your wetness loud to your ears with every movement of his fingers. 

Astarion’s eyes flash to yours in the same instant his fingers start move faster, beginning to piston in and out of you faster. With every plunge in, Astarion crooks his fingers just so, perfectly placed every time to brush against that sweet spot deep inside. Your cunt clenches around him, intent to draw him in, to keep him there, as your orgasm draws nearer and nearer. 

The precipice of your orgasm is right in front of you, the warmth coursing through your veins in its nearness and you begin to let yourself fall into the feeling of it, Astarion driving you closer and closer towards your high until you feel the sudden emptiness of his fingers leaving you, ripping away the pleasure that was so closely awaiting you and your orgasm disappearing into the ether. Your mouth falls open in a cry, head tilting up from its place on the pillow to look down upon him in utter surprise as he rests between your legs.

“You know, I never did repay you from the other day in the studio. Surely you remember denying me my orgasm, hm?” The words are sly, brimming with confidence as you whine at the loss of his ministrations.

Astarion’s fingers press into your waiting body once more when he is confident your orgasm has disappeared, your sensitive cunt still weeping, curling inside to press against your g-spot. His fingers don’t leave your body this time, instead staying seated firmly inside you where he can manipulate them to curl into the area over and over again. Your pleasure ratchets back up faster than you can follow, your head thrown back against the pillow in ecstasy, eyes closed as your lashes dust against your flushed cheeks. 

Astarion leans his head in towards your waiting core, pressing soft kisses to the area around your clit, careful to never touch it all the while he remains intent on  breaking you apart on his fingers. 

He never stops the motions deep inside, curling with ruthless efficacy to leave you hanging on the precipice as his lips begin to work their way back up your body until they meet your lips. 

Your eyes open as he presses his mouth to yours, blinking through the slow haze of pleasure building as his forehead comes to rest against your own. 

“Word, darling?” Astarion fingers never slow, but his eyes are clear as they gaze into your own.

“I’m alright, I promise.” Your words put him at ease as you raise your head slightly to press a kiss to his cheek, your hips rolling against his hand. Astarion returns the gesture, kissing at the high point of your face before moving down the softness of your cheek to your neck, finally stopping to rest his head against your collarbone. 

“Good, because I’m not done yet.” He punctuates his words by stopping his fingers, keeping them warm deep inside your body but no longer allowing them motion, cutting off the burning pleasure you were once again so close to. You keen at the loss, bucking your hips in an attempt to regain it, willing to fuck yourself on his fingers if that was what it took. Astarion doesn’t give you the chance, pulling his fingers from your body to press them against your clit instead.

Your breath comes in shaky moans, body desperate for the chance to finally come. Astarion doesn’t relent in his quest though as he brings you to the peak once more with his fingers moving against your clit, giving your poor core a break as his lips press against your bare skin anywhere they can. He licks at your nipples, nips at the dip of your waist with his fangs, kisses the juncture where hip meets thigh. Always so good, beyond good, but never enough to bring you careening over the edge as his fingers diligently press at the pearl between your thighs, Astarion careful to halt when he notices you moving too close to your orgasm.

Your breath comes in uneven moans, your mind delirious with pleasure, both given and denied, when at long last Astarion’s lips and hands leave your body, their absence stark.

With elegant movements, Astarion moves back from your body, intent to simply watch you from his place near your feet, his pale skin like carved marble as he settles back to rest on his heels against the soft plush mattress as he watches you, his gaze considering. 

Your skin is flushed, a light sheen of sweat setting your skin aglow along every dip and curve of your body with a beautiful softness only echoed by that rosy pink ribbon still lovingly tied around your wrists. Your body writhes under his observation, the way he takes in every inch of your form in its fucked-out state with the otherworldly crimson of his eyes making your breath catch in your lungs.

His cock bobs between his thighs, tip weeping with precome as his eyes continue their perusal. He brings the hand that had been inside you so many times now up to wrap around his shaft as he pumps himself, spreading the leaking wetness down his length as his fist works himself up and down in slow motions.

Your body shakes with pent-up pleasure, skin flushed with being brought to the brink but denied your release time and time again.

“Now, my dear, I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

Pink tinges your cheeks at having to say the words you know he wants to hear, your body writhing with incompletion as you rub your thighs together while you think of how to possibly voice your desires out loud.

“Use your words, darling.” Astarion urges you with a glance as his hands move to spread your legs once more, pushing them wide as he looks at the glistening mess between your thighs, poised like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. 

“I…I want you to make me come. Please.” You lick your lips and pull slightly against the ribbons around your wrists, breathing deep.

“You’ll have to give me more than that, sweet thing.” His smile is wicked as his thumbs rub circles on the skin of your thighs.

“I want you to lick my cunt. Fuck me with your fingers, a-and your cock. Drink from me.” Your words rush out on an exhale as you grant him the information he so dearly wants, the blood rushing through your body coloring the skin of your cheeks and chest even darker as the admission pours from your lips, hips rolling in a desperate bid for release.

Astarion’s hold on your thighs tightens at your words, more beads of precome decorating his cock as it bobs in response to your request.

“Good things come to those who ask for them.” And with those words, Astarion lowers his head towards your waiting body, licking a stripe from your aching core to your clit. 

His mouth laves at your folds, tongue running through from your entrance to your clit over and over again, never focusing on any particular place for long, your pleasure ticking up with every brush.

Your body is so sensitive like this, the prior denial of your pleasure making every movement of his mouth seem more intense than usual, the sheer touch of his tongue on your most intimate areas making your hips jump. He laps at your clit with broad stokes, tongue flattened against the small bead before moving down to lick around your entrance before dipping inside to taste. 

Astarion continues like this, pressing his tongue deep with practiced motions, whorling against your walls before exiting again to ring around the area, your moans spurring on his attentions.  

He moves up to work your clit with precise flicks of his tongue, never breaking his rhythm as he replaces his tongue with two of his fingers, sliding in with ease. Astarion pumps his fingers, once, twice, before curling them to press against your g-spot once more. You teeter on the edge, Astarion masterful as he conducts your pleasure with mouth and fingers.

Astarion’s tongue darts down from your clit to run against the place where his fingers enter you, the sensation of both his tongue and fingers on your entrance drawing a harsh cry from your lips as he laps eagerly. Your arms jerk against the ribbon as your thighs begin to shake, every lick and push of his fingers making up for any pleasure previously denied. 

“That’s it, darling. Come for me.” His words are adoring as he speaks them against your center before returning to lick, your eyes rolling back at the vibrations of his mouth against you as his words make you clench harder around him.

He separates his fingers inside of you as his tongue continues to lick, scissoring them wide, as he stretches the walls of your cunt as your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. The burn of the stretch is minute, any discomfort replaced by the addition of his tongue pushing in deep in the space made by his spread fingers. His tongue thrusts in time with his fingers, and you are powerless but to follow your body as you finally crest over the edge, his words ringing in your ears as you come on his fingers and tongue. 

Your orgasm washes over you with a rarely felt intensity, your body spasming with pleasure as Astarion works you through it, not relenting in his mission. White-hot heat rolls over you, body and mind, as you cry out, the pleasure denied to you coming back tenfold as you ride the wave of your orgasm.

Body shaking, you slowly come back to yourself, taking in lungfuls of air as your body finally relaxes, arms falling to rest on the pillow as your eyes open blearily. 

“Dear Gods, Astarion.” You breathe out the words on a laugh as you look down at Astarion between your legs, fingers still massaging inside you softly as his head moves to press kisses to the skin of your thigh.

“We still have a few more requests to cross off your list, darling.” He licks at the flesh of your inner thigh, nose nuzzling the spot as his eyes meet your own.

“By all means, please drink your fill.” Your let the tension leave your legs as you open them wider for Astarion as he searches for a place to feed. 

His fangs pierce the skin of your upper thigh, so close to the sensitive junction where your leg meets your hip. The pain is a familiar hot prick as his fangs enter your flesh, but the satisfaction you feel from the pull of his lips sucking erases any thoughts of pain that cross your mind. He drinks at your lifeblood, intent to get his fill and enjoy sating his hunger. 

He hums against your skin as he drinks, the sound setting you ablaze with need once more as you watch him from his place between your thighs, the red of the blood on the white of skin stark and beautiful. 

Astarion takes one last pull, dragging the last bit of blood into his mouth before he retracts his fangs, moving to lick at the bloody wounds left there on your leg. He swallows the remaining blood as it enters his mouth before propping himself up on his elbows to glance up at you, tongue moving to lick at a stray drop of your blood making its way down from his lip.

He is beyond beautiful, the sight of his tongue licking at the stripe of your blood on his face driving pleasure straight to your empty cunt and you feel tired of waiting for it to be filled once more. You roll your hips slightly at the thought.

“Will you fuck me? Please?” You lick at your lips, asking as kindly as you know how, pulling at the binds on your wrists.

Astarion doesn’t answer you, instead leaning in once to lick at your slit, gathering your leftover cum to blend with your blood on his tongue as you whimper, skin still sensitive. The taste is intoxicating, Astarion moaning into your cunt at the piquancy of your essences.

Astarion’s mouth leaves your center as he moves to sit, grabbing at your legs as you wrap them around his hips, drawing him closer. Taking his cock in hand, he lines himself up with your core before beginning to push in.

He teases at first, short thrusts that never bury anything more than the head of his cock in your entrance, your slick coating him. 

“Gods, you’re soaked.” He throws his head back as he finally relents to his desire, pushing the rest of his hardness inside your waiting body, moving further and further until he bottoms out, dragging moans from both of your lips at the feeling. He sits like this for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness of him before he rocks with slow, deep motions, the head of his cock brushing against your walls feels like bliss as you move your hips in a rhythm to match his own.

A hand on your hip makes its way down the skin of your thigh, Astarion lifting your leg to prop it up over his forearm as he begins to pump in and out of you with smooth thrusts, your thighs opening up to him. 

Your lower back lifts to accommodate the change of balance with your leg now being held, Astarion’s other hand anchoring itself to your other as it wraps around his hip. He moves to his knees, his thrusts speeding up as you are content to let him set the tempo.

Astarion moves fast and hard, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your moans mix together as they fill the room with their sweetness, the sound of your lovemaking only adding to the pleasure building inside both you as you move towards your mutual releases.  

“Astarion, please, I need to touch you,” the words are a desperate whine as they leave your lips and Astarion is quick to acquiesce to your request, arm letting your leg fall as he leans over your body to pull at the bow adorning your wrists to free them from their binding. Without wasting a second, your hands find their way around his neck and your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, his thrusts never stopping their cadence as you run your freed fingers through the curls at the base of his neck. Your hips move to meet his own in frenzied thrusts, trying to match his pace with every press of his cock deep inside you. 

Without warning he flips you both and you suddenly find yourself sitting on his cock, the new position drawing a surprised moan from you lips as Astarion lays beneath you, curls splayed against the plush quilt. 

“Are you sure, love?” You gasp out the words as his hands find your hips again and he begins dragging you up and down his cock in smooth movements. His cock is deep like this, hitting places inside you with an intensity that drags you both closer. It had been some time since you had the opportunity to ride his cock like this, to watch him laying below your hips as you work him from above.

“Yes, gods please,” Astarion begs, the words only serving to ratchet your pleasure higher at the fever of his words, willing to do practically anything for him when he asks like that. His hips piston up in you, faster now, as you move your own up and down, body easily matching his like this as you settle your hands on his chest to help you balance.

Astarion’s pupils are practically blown out, your own mirroring his as you ride his cock, the slap of skin on skin with each thrust absolutely sinful. His thrusts are fast, quick and hard, his rhythm difficult to follow as he loses himself in the feeling of your body, the sight of you on top of him, breasts bouncing with every thrust and your head thrown back with your hair cascading around you. 

His hands grasp at your hips, fingertips pressing hard enough to bruise as his own orgasm approaches, your own not far behind as you both give yourself over to the feeling and let your bodies dictate their own pleasure. Every thrust has his cock driving cries from your lips, breathy moans falling from his own as you finally feel Astarion lose control beneath you, his cock pulsing as his eyes close, spilling his come deep inside your cunt. 

His frantic thrusts have him pressing against your spot relentlessly, and the sight of him as his orgasm washes over him, the feel of his come filling you sends you over the edge with him, grinding down on his cock as you ride the wave of your own completion, vision practically whiting out as a mixture of come leaks from where you are joined onto his skin. 

Astarion’s body slowly relaxes below yours, grip on your hips softening as he helps you ride him as you come. He watches you as you finish, and while he’s never been the religious sort, Astarion is certain the vision of you working his cock as you orgasm is nothing short of divinity at work. Finally, your hips slow their motions, your body practically collapsing against his own as you work on regaining your breath in between pressing kisses to his chest. 

“Well. That was quite the ride, wasn’t it?” His expression is open, contentment obvious on his features as his fingers draw up and down your sides. His cock softens inside you as you smile against his skin, pushing up slightly to roll off of his chest and settle into the cool skin of his side. Your combined spend leaks onto the linens below you but you pay it no mind as Astarion reaches for your wrists, checking for any possible injury before pressing kisses to the slightly reddened skin where the ribbon had lay.

“It’s certainly my favorite one, at the very least.” You relax into his touch at his chuckle, your head cushioned on a muscled shoulder as you let him pepper your wrists with kisses. The two of you delight in the moment, happily basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, neither making to leave the bed.

You’re the first to break the moment, sitting up beside Astarion as you stretch, pressing your shoulders back to stretch along your spine. You turn to look at him with a smile on your face, crossing your legs in front of you as your head tilts to the side, observing him.

“You know, if this is going to be the response I get every time I happen to have a ‘bad’ day, I will gladly arrange for more of them.” Your smile turns mischievous, reaching out to walk your fingers up his chest.

“Greedy thing, aren’t you?” Astarion gasps in mock shock, reaching to grab at the fingers on his chest, bringing them to his lips to nip at the tip of one.

“What can I say? I did learn from the best, after all.” You shrug, leaning forward as his tongue licks at your fingers, squirming slightly as he reaches out to grab you around the waist. Astarion pulls you back into his arms, rolling the two of you playfully as he kisses your lips, threads of your joined laughter echoing out into the night.

[chairofchaos]

Even In the Dark

Pairing: Cassian x You (Y/N but no Y/N use! Uses she/her pronouns) Summary: Cassian comes home to a mate in pain, and does everything he can to help. Rating: Teen Word Count: 3.7k Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, heavy emphasis on the comfort for those of you who have been burned by me one too many times, mild sexual content and discussions (I think that covers it but as usual, if I have forgotten anything please let me know!) A/N: Happy Cassian Appreciation Week! @cassianappreciationweek Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for the lovely Illyrian wing dividers. Enjoy!

Something was amiss in his home. Cassian noticed it the second he opened the door, stomping and wiping his boots on the doormat before stepping inside.

Your boots were there, dry and untouched, exactly as they had been this morning. As the day was coming to a close much like its stormy beginning, it surprised him to see the umbrellas showed no sign of use.

There was silence. Cassian’s brows furrowed. You spent rainy days singing. You liked storms, would dance and sing in the rain when it wasn’t too cold (and even, on occasion, when it was).

He bent to untie his boots, nearly ripping at the laces in an increasing worry. If he wouldn’t have been worried about dirtying the floors, he would have forgone the step all together. He worked in the darkness, his last clue that all was not as it should be.

No candlelight flickered against the wall. No scent of vanilla, or cinnamon, or mahogany swirled about him. Mahogany. The scent you had proclaimed was your favorite because it reminded you of him.

You saved it for days like this, days when you would be inside more than you liked. You told him it meant none of its light or scent would be wasted. That you would be able to sit in a reminder of him all day.

“I’ll buy you a hundred. Light them every day,” he had told you earnestly.

You had laughed. “Once I finish all the rest that you’ve bought me, I’ll let you buy me as many as you wish.”

He hadn’t argued. You had a rather impressive collection spread throughout the home you shared. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Boots finally off, he placed them next to yours, the appearance of his large muddy boots striking against the considerably smaller, clean pair beside them.

He walked down the hallway, peering into room after room, but knowing somehow that he would not find you on this level, in the kitchen, or the dining room; the living room or the office, no matter how much he hoped he would. When there was no sign of you, he wound slowly up the stairs at the end of the hall.

There. The bedroom door was shut. It solidified his concern. No light crept from beneath the door; no sound of your movement reached his ears. He ignored the open doorways to other rooms and strode quickly to enter yours.

Darkness met him. The room was as dark as it could be, given that the little light the storm might have allowed to filter through the window was blocked entirely by the heavy outer curtains.

On good days, those stayed open. The typical curtains before the window were a light gauzy material through which sunlight could flow. On the bad days, Cassian knew, the heavy curtains would close with a flick of your hand. They were a wall of thick fabrics to keep light and sound from your presence.

The tonics you took daily helped keep the episodes at bay, but not always. He stepped inside quickly and as quietly as his body would allow.

“My love,” he whispered. You gave no answer. He prayed you were asleep. It was often the only respite you had on days like this.

But that was too much to ask of the Mother, apparently. As he waited, a broken sob wrenched from your body followed by a whimper of pain. Whether it was from the movement the sob required or the sound itself, he didn’t know.

That was enough. He crossed to you slowly, trying to keep his footsteps from making any noise. The faint light of the bioluminescent clock hands reflected in the bottles beside your bed. It was the only light you allowed, its presence necessary to keep track of the hourly doses of pain relief you could take. He counted those bottles quickly, bit back a snarl of anger, then swore at what he found.

Six empty bottles. Six full bottles sat beside them. His anger wasn’t at you. The amount of pain you were in scared him. Twelve doses of tonic were all the healers would allow you to keep on your own. For mild episodes, one to three bottles sufficed. Six was pushing it. If this episode lasted beyond eight doses, Cassian would have no choice but to summon the healers for more help.

Your breath trembled from your lungs, shuddering on the shallow inhale and measured, calculated on the exhale. Nausea. He would bet anything you were trying to temper it with as steady breathing as you could manage. That was one symptom the tonics could never address, as you were allergic to the one herb that wouldn’t interact with the ingredients for pain relief you so desperately needed.

A faint rustle from the bed drew his attention. Your hand, extended to him. A request.

He placed his hand gently over yours, palm down so you could fingerspell your request into his hand. You had learned together, needing a way to communicate when you were in too much agony to speak.

H-E-A-L-E-R, you spelled slowly. He stiffened, his eyebrows raising. You had half the doses left. A quick request, ‘Lie w me’, followed. You never asked for him to send for the healer. Not until you had finished every single tonic.

Cassian waited until you withdrew your hand, tucking it back under your pillow to support your head. Quietly, he stood to fulfill your needs, walking around the bed before disrobing to his underwear. His clothes were cold. It would not help you, and he should let his skin warm a tad before joining you. But first - Cassian reached out in his mind to his brother.

Rhys.

Yes?

She needs help. She asked, this time.

It's that bad?

Yes.

I'll send them. Let me know if there is anything we can do.

I will. Thank you.

Of course. Good luck, Cassian.

No response would come until help arrived, one of three healers he, Nesta, and Feyre had vetted and assigned specifically to help you through these episodes when they had become more frequent a few years ago. The healers kept keys to your home so they could come and go as needed without making any more noise than was required. One of them was always on call.

Climbing into bed was always the hardest part. He had a choice. Do it quickly, and your pain could be sharp but brief. Do it slowly, and he may drag out your agony.

You had told him once after an episode that the shifting of the mattress beneath you caused your head to splinter into pieces. He had said he would sleep on the couch, a chair by your side, even the floor if it would keep you from pain. You had shaken your head.

“What I need most in those moments is you beside me. The warmth of your body in the blankets is soothing. Hearing the steadiness of your breathing gives me something to cling to, a standard I can use to measure my own breathing; to measure the passage of time without having to open my eyes.”

But he would not touch you. Not unless you asked. That was your one request, that he lay there, close enough for you to hear, but never to touch you unless you specifically requested it.

“My body often feels as if it’s on fire,” you responded when he asked about the experience after the first time he witnessed it. “It’s agonizing. My head feels as if it’s being wrenched in two or more pieces, my skin is aflame. My stomach roils, and I cannot seem to breathe without complete concentration.”

“And with me beside you?” He had asked.

You had managed to squeak out the request that first time, though it led to you throwing up beside the bed not two minutes later. He had cleaned it up, and then joined you, lying as far from you as possible as you choked out the need to have him there, but away.

“It centers me. Gives me something to focus on other than the pain.”

“But if you feel like you’re on fire, wouldn’t a cold compress help? Some ice, perhaps?”

You had sighed. “In my experience, it only causes a different sort of pain. I know for some it helps. In my case, I find it forces my body to fight harder against the sensation and drains me more quickly. I wish it did, but it never seems to help as much as it hurts.”

That first episode he had witnessed had terrified him. He had spent the night with you in his room at the townhouse, the both of you tangled in each other for hours before sleep caught up to you both. He was in heaven. But as he woke, he had been thrust into his own personal hell.

He hadn’t realized how much he loved you until he saw you with sweat beading at your forehead as your whimpers woke him. The panic that filled him immediately flowed in perfect synchronicity with the knowledge that he would do anything to help you.

The light flowed freely through his windows. The sounds of the city filtered in freely. He had curtains, but they were not designed for the kind of darkness you needed. They quenched no sound. It was not enough.

And you lay there, crying, as he sat up. He remembered it with horror now. He could recall it all, including all the things he had unknowingly done wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He had asked. You had whimpered, tensing. He sat up entirely, reaching to stroke your arm. You had only cried harder, tears streaming from between your tightly closed eyelids.

He had sat up quickly to analyze you better. He had kept asking you questions at full volume. He remembered how he hadn’t thought to block the light with his wing. How he had tried to reach for you, leading to your agonized words begging him not to, pleading with him to get a healer. He had jumped from the bed to do so, hearing your retching from behind him a minute or so after. He had spun back to you, but you waved him off, tearful eyes pleading him to do as you had asked.

So much had gone wrong that time.

He was fortunate he knew about your allergy, glad you had mentioned it offhand at dinner three weeks previous. It had only been your third date, but it had come up somehow. Had he not known, you could have died from the tonic the healer brought for you. In the end, Rhys was summoned in the early afternoon to push you into unconsciousness and put you out of your misery. Nothing else had helped. You slept for over a full day, not waking for anything.

He had kept vigil over you in his bed, not knowing how to help. Rhys had come and gone, checking in and bringing food and water for both of you, though your tray was exactly the same on the way out the door as it had come in.

You had awoken at dusk the next day. You had stretched with a groan which startled Cassian from his fitful dozing.

“My love,” he had whispered incoherently.

You blinked with a little yawn as you looked over at him. It took you a minute to orient yourself and frown.

“Cassian.”

“Sweetheart,” he said in response, eyes filling with tears at the ease with which you spoke his name. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I am,” your nod turned into a shake of your head. “I am so sorry.” He tracked each movement, but no wince or whimper followed. There was no visible indication of pain.

He was so lost in looking for any sign of your discomfort that it took him a few moments to respond. “Don’t be sorry. Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Yes,” you gave him a shaky smile. He wanted to crush you in his arms but had learned through your words and your pained cries that any contact would hurt, so instead he gripped the arms of his chair.

While you didn’t look as though you were in pain, embarrassment was written all over your face. Still, discussion needed to wait. He got you food and water, and a fresh shirt of his to change into.

Once he had taken your empty tray away, he looked inquisitively at where you sat propped up in his bed. “What happened?” He asked quietly.

You had indulged his question. Some things you knew could trigger the episodes, so you avoided them. Bright lights or loud noises for long periods of time. Sleep deprivation. Cassian had held in a flinch at that, knowing he had kept you up until nearly three in the morning.

Stress, built up over a period of time, was the most common instigator. He recalled your words from dinner the night before, about the hard deadline you were facing for an investigation into a trading company that had seemingly been avoiding tariffs. He had reached for your hand unthinkingly when it had clenched on the bedspread beside you, unable to withhold the only comfort he had to offer.

You had sighed and gripped his hand gratefully. “Can I hold you?” He had asked, stroking his thumb slowly from your wrist to your knuckles. Your nod was the only assent he needed before scooping you gently up from the bed and climbing in, settling you in his lap with your head tucked under his chin.

“I’m sorry for causing you trouble,” you whispered, tracing a hand lightly across his chest.

“It was no trouble.”

“I took away half your weekend. You had plans.”

“They weren’t anywhere near as important as this. I rescheduled.”

“Still -“

“No, my love,” he shook his head, the endearment slipping from his lips without thinking. He hadn’t notice you tense up at the words, and continued, “You needed help. I wasn’t leaving you.”

“Cassian,” his name fell like a breath from your lips.

“Hmm?” Now he noticed. You sat still as possible in his lap. Your hand had stopped its gentle tracing. He dipped his head to look at you, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

“You called me ‘my love’.”

“If it upsets you, I am sorry. But it is the truth.” A flush settled across your cheeks, and he continued, “I love you. Your pain felt like it was a part of me. I began to love you weeks ago, and I knew this morning... I love you.” His words were cut short by the quick raise of your head and the settling of your fingers over his lips. Your cheeks flushed, lower lip rolled between your teeth.

“I love you,” you said quietly. “Very much.”

He laughed softly at that, loosely grabbing your wrist to press kisses against it. “Well. Thank the cauldron for that.”

It was your turn to laugh, and you wiggled to face him. The darkness had truly fallen, stars glimmering through the still uncovered windows.

Cassian lay beside his love, watching the pained breaths, the occasional twitch of spasming muscles causing the quilt to shift.

The door opened slowly, letting the tiniest sliver of light in as a short male stepped into the room. Mirvyn, the head healer on your team. The light glimmered against his glasses before he shut the door again. He moved silently with the practiced footsteps of a cautious male.

Cassian knew the healer recognized his presence. They didn’t acknowledge each other in the darkness. Your hand reached for Cassian’s, gripping it until your nails bit into his skin.

The healer began to work, administering a more potent treatment that could be injected into your arm. You hated it, every second, but it was the only thing that seemed to help you.

You had lay like this for hours. Cassian knew the pain you must be in to have asked for the healer when you had taken only six vials of tonic. When you didn’t respond to the prick of the needle in your shoulder, he knew getting the healer been the right call.

You were asleep within minutes. The healer began to check you, your breathing, your heart, anything he could learn from your pain signatures. He sighed.

Just like every other time, Cassian knew. Nothing to be done. That was the most frustrating piece. Aside from avoiding the things which could trigger the episodes and taking your daily tonics, there was nothing you could do. None of the healers could find a single thing wrong with your body, even as you fell to pieces from the pain.

The healer walked around to Cassian’s side of the bed and bent to whisper, “I'll return in an hour to check on her, then stay in the guest room if you need me for anything else."

Cassian whispered his thanks in return. All they could do was wait. A silent vigil for the love of his life to return to comfort in her own body. A silent sorrow for the pain she must feel.

It was his greatest sorrow, that he couldn't share the pain. He didn't even know its extent. You were not his mate. You were beloved, but he could not understand or protect you. Hours, you would lay, knowing you could call for help. Struggling to decide whether it was bad enough.

A little over six hours, and a healer. Today was bad. He would wait.

Cassian quietly asked the healer to sit with you for a little bit when he returned. He went downstairs, made two sandwiches, and ate one as quickly as possible. You had told him once that him not taking care of himself did you no favors. He had promised he would not neglect himself, so he ate. He did it quickly, because he would not leave you longer than he had to.

The other sandwich he left on the counter with an empty glass. This healer liked the sandwiches, and he knew where you stored all your drinks. He could help himself.

He filled a large pitcher of water and walked up the stairs once more with the pitcher and two glasses. If you got thirsty, there would be water for you. It was the one thing he could do that he felt in control of. He didn't like how insignificant it felt. Still, you told him waking up and seeing a pitcher of water there, the one thing you usually forgot, always made you feel cared for.

Mirvyn had heard Cassian coming, and met him right outside the bedroom door.

"She's still asleep. Her vitals are steady, but for her to have called, I am concerned. Be careful. Sleep. The spell will let you know if anything is truly amiss, but if you sense anything out of the ordinary, come get me," the healer cautioned. "Often your senses will kick in before the spell will recognize it as an issue."

Cassian nodded. "I know. Can you tell how this compares to her last bad episode?"

The healer sighed, pulling his glasses off to clean them before replacing them on the bridge of his nose. "Cassian, it's about the same this time. I'm still surprised she hadn't passed out already, but by my measurements it's about the same."

"She seemed..." Cassian shook his head with a grimace. "It seemed even worse. She's everything to me, Mirvyn. If anything happens to her..."

"I know. We all know. Take care of yourself, Cassian. If either of you need anything, I'll be down the hall."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Sleep. He would sleep, and more importantly, you would sleep. In the morning, you would be alright. He had to believe it.

Cassian woke first, approximately twelve hours later. It was unsurprising. He woke before you on the good days, too. So he waited, his hand in the space between you in case you decided in your sleep that you wished to hold it. You would wake soon enough, if you felt better. Cassian wouldn't let himself think of the alternative.

"Cassian," you whispered.

"My love," he greeted you quietly.

"May I have some water?"

He smiled. "Of course."

You sat up while he retrieved your glass, filling it with careful precision in the darkness.

"Here."

You gulped it down before handing your glass back to him. "Thank you."

He nodded, replacing the glass and the pitcher. "How do you feel?"

"Well enough," you sighed. "A bit of a residual headache."

"That's good," he smiled.

"Yeah. Hold me?" You asked. After the first time, you always asked.

"Of course. Always." He climbed into bed beside you, scooping you into his arms as he sat against the headboard. Once you had sat up, you often didn't want to lay down again. Changing from laying to sitting to laying again so quickly had seemed to do odd things, and now you avoided it at all costs.

"Thank you," you whispered, settling your head against his chest.

"You're welcome."

"I love you, Cassian."

"I love you, too," he hummed. "Mirvyn is here."

"I know. I remember him coming in last night."

"Remember anything else?"

"Other than you coming home, not really. Everything else is blurry."

"That's alright," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "That's everything important."

You laughed. "Oh? the important things, you coming home, and Mirvyn showing up?"

"Yeah," Cassian couldn't help but laugh.

"I heard that swear, you know. When you saw the tonic bottles."

"I was worried," he protested. "I'm always worried when you're sick."

"And? Foul language," you teased in return. "Ghastly, nasty language. You kiss me with that mouth, you know."

"And you love the things this mouth does," he teased in return. You were happy. You were fine.

You hummed your acknowledgement, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I do. I love the male its attached to more, though."

Soon, you were both quietly laughing, intermittently interrupting each other for gentle kisses. It was the best ending for what had been unbearable just hours before. This was Cassian's favorite. The calm between the storms, when you were yourself, in his arms.

You deserved this every morning, every day. This peace. This lightness of heart. In the meantime, he would love you, even in the dark.

A/N: I am by no means a definitive authority on migraines or chronic illness. I do, however, suffer from migraines. This is based largely on my own experience, though I've never had the benefit of a Cassian in my life and frankly, even if I did, the last thing I might want is someone anywhere near me.

All that aside, I wanted to explore what Cassian the Lover might feel when his beloved was in pain. And what better way to do that than with an indulgent fic?

Additionally, I felt it was important to acknowledge that it takes a village. Sometimes, the best thing your person can do for you is to be there and help you ask for help. I may not have a Cassian in my life, but I have many a Mirvyn, and many incredibly supportive people. I am very, very grateful for every single one of them.

I hope you enjoyed the fic, and that you enjoy the rest of your lovely Cassian week! Don't forget to give cassianappreciationweek and maased-out a follow so you can stay up to date with future fandom events for your writing and reading pleasure!

All my love,

Chaos

P.S. I reblog a lot. Want to see the fics without any chaos? Totally cool! @fictionalchaos is the place to be!

Permanent Taglist: @ninthcircleofprythian @c-starstuff-man0 @dusk-muse @lilah-asteria As always: If you want on or off of the taglist, let me know!

[professional-yapper]

Curiosity

Aonung x Human! Reader

Summary: Aonung is curious about the sky demon that came to his village with the Sullies.

Warnings: Aonung not respecting boundaries like at all, treats reader like an object kind of, manhandling, nothing serious tbh, Spider gets ragged on repeatedly

It's late afternoon, the sun at its peak, bathing the Metkayina village in warm gold.

You were enjoying yourself thoroughly, floating on your back and letting the sun warm the parts of you that weren't submerged in cool water. Your exomask was gathering a little condensation in the heat, but not enough to disturb your relaxed state.

It had been a good day. Neytiri had been growing warmer towards you as of late, though you suspected it was mostly born of a desire to please Kiri, who felt Spider's absence sorely and had turned to you to fill the gap of her token human best friend.

A position which you didn't entirely appreciate being thrust into, as a matter of fact. Sure, you missed Spider too, and you were as close to her as you were to her other siblings, but you weren't him. You didn't want the sudden responsibility that came with being their fill-in human. You couldn't crack gross boy jokes with Lo'ak, couldn't comfort Kiri over the shared lack of parents. And you definitely didn't paint yourself blue and act totally feral.

Like you said, you liked Spider, but that was something about him you never understood.

So you were happy to have this respite, even if it were a brief one.

That is, until a shadow fell across you. A large one. You groaned at the disturbance and sudden lack of sunlight, opening your mouth to tell whoever it was to fuck off, when you found that it wasn't Loak, as you had expected, standing on the platform above you, but the son of the Metkayina chief. Onung or something.

"Can I help you?" you asked, trying your best not to sound too irritable. After all, his family was hosting you and the Sullies. He was a dick, but it wouldn't do anyone any good if you mouthed off at him. Not that the desire wasn't there.

"Do you have to wear that mask all the time? I've never seen you take it off," he commented, ignoring your question as he lowered his bulk into a crouch, tail swishing across the ground behind him as he looked at you with genuine curiosity on his face.

You squinted at him, shifting onto your front and treading water as you did so. "I can't breathe your air," you replied bluntly, then, unable to resist, added an "idiot" after for good measure.

He scowled briefly, ears flicking backwards.

You huffed out a laugh, rather pleased with yourself for managing to get under his skin. "Now, is that all? Because I'm trying to enjoy the sun, and- hey! Hey!"

You cut yourself off as his large hands hooked under your armpits, lifting you clear of the water. "What are you doing, dickhead?!" you snapped indignantly, trying to pry his hands off you, kicking at his arms. "Put me down!"

It was his turn to ignore you now, instead carefully adjusting himself to sit on the edge of the platform, legs dangling above the water.

He lowered you onto his lap, and you briefly considered stomping on his dick once you found your feet on his broad thighs, but settled for folding your arms and glaring at him. He shifted his hands to your middle, presumably to keep you from falling or jumping off, and continued to stare at you.

Your cheeks grew hot almost immediately. You felt beyond exposed as he observed you, standing there on his thighs with his hands on your body, only in your damn bikini. He was just looking at first, but then began to touch you, taking your arm between his forefinger and thumb and holding it out- as much as you tried to fight it, you were simply no match for this big blue idiot's child-like curiosity in your alien form.

And it wasn't like he was unattractive. It was just that he was Metkayina royalty or something, and dumb as a rock, and you weren't Spider and you didn't have a massive boner for every Na'vi under the sun.

So maybe you were a little bitter towards the idea of human/Na'vi romance. After all, you were the unlucky bastard who'd had to sit through Spider's long talks about his various crushes. It had started with Neteyam, mature and kind and confident and altogether a pretty good crush for a young human boy like Spider. Then it had been fiery, playful Lo'ak, then dreamy Kiri, and at one horrible point you remember it being Jake. Yeah, Spider went through the Sullies like he had a to-do list.

You were nothing like that. You'd never had a crush on a Na'vi in your life.

And you weren't about to start now, even if his eyes roving over every inch of you with genuine interest made you squirm and flush.

"Do you mind?!" you said waspishly, finally getting fed up with his intense scrutiny as his hand travelled down your leg, dwarfed in his massive palm as he tried to examine the limb in question.

"Not at all," Onung or whatever his name was replied, grinning at you, teeth flashing. Jesus, they were sharp.

"Look, Onung, you can't just-" you began indignantly before he interrupted.

"Aonung. My name is Aonung," he corrected.

"Aonung," you repeated back to him, rolling your eyes. "You can't just-"

"You're not saying it right," he pouted like a little kid. Did he honestly think you cared how his name was pronounced?!

"Shut up and let me speak!" you snapped, hand lashing out and grabbing him by the ear, making him yelp as you dragged his big head towards you. "Listen, you big blue jackass, you can't just pick people up and start examining them like that! I didn't consent to it!"

"Let me go," he hissed at you, fangs inches from your face.

You stared right down his throat, unafraid. "You let me go. I'm not a toy you can fuck around with."

"Fine," he huffed, his tail thumping behind him irritably as you released his ear and he set you down beside him.

You stood for a moment, the seaspray-wet platform cooler on your feet than his thighs had been, and resisting the urge to shrink into yourself as the wind hit the place where his hand had sat around your middle.

He kept sitting there, looking rather like a kid that had been sent to time out, frowning, ears flat against his head and tail still twitching.

"Why did you wanna look at me, anyway?" you asked abruptly, looking at him. "You seemed pretty set on drop kicking me into the ocean when I first came here."

His ears drooped even further and he didn't look at you. "Cause," he grumbled.

"Cause why?" you persisted, reaching out and pushing at his broad shoulder, feeling a little braver now you were no longer at his mercy.

He glanced at your hand, then at you, a weird expression on his face that you didn't feel like unpacking.

You withdrew your hand. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he grunted, then heaved a sigh. Your eyes followed his chest as it rose and fell absentmindedly, before you caught yourself and gave yourself a firm mental telling off for checking out the big blue guy who'd just handled you like you were an object.

Not that you'd hated it. It was just... unexpected.

"You can look at me if you're that curious," you relented. "You just had to ask first. I get that you'd be curious but-"

"I didn't think you'd mind," he muttered.

"Didn't think I'd mind? When a guy twice my height literally snatched me out of the water and started handling me like an object? Aonung," you say severely.

"You're still saying it wrong."

You roll your eyes so hard it hurts for a second. "That's the best I can do."

"No, it's not."

"Oh, yeah, since you've got your degree and know every fucking thing."

"I don't know what a degree is," he pointed out, looking at you steadily.

You huff and glance around, then back at him. "Teach me, then. If it's such a big deal. Teach me how to say your name."

He just scoffed at you and looked away.

Okay. Rude, considering he'd been bitching about it nonstop.

You took the initiative and climbed back into his lap to make him look at you, gripping his shoulder tightly for balance as you stepped back onto his thighs. Thankfully of your own volition this time.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding mildly irritated, his hand cupping your hip instinctively to steady you.

"I said teach me," you repeated firmly, poking him in the chin. "I'm sick of you nagging me about it."

"I've only said it twice," he huffed.

"I've only said your name twice," you countered.

You stared at each other for a long moment. His hand was warm, gentle on your hip, and you still had your hand on his shoulder, his skin sun-warm and slightly gritty with sea salt and sand. Okay, so maybe you were kind of attracted to this one Na'vi specifically.

He sighed, looking away from you, then back at you, adjusting himself to be more comfortable, leaning back on his other hand. "Aonung," he said clearly. "Ow-noong."

You made a rather feeble attempt at imitating the sounds. You were used to the more blunt names of the Omaticaya, but the embarrassment of not getting it right was killing you a little inside.

He chuckled, thighs shifting under your feet a little, making you wobble and glare at him.

It takes you a few more attempts and much laughter from him, but you get it, or as close as you think you'll get.

"I think that's about as close as we're gonna get," Aonung said finally, voice warm with amusement as he looked at you.

You blushed despite yourself. Eywa, what was happening to you? This wasn't like you at all.

He was still gazing at you, and you realised his thumb was rubbing lazy circles into your hip.

You sighed deeply.

"Something on your mind?" he prompted.

"You're more tolerable than I expected."

A grin spread across his face as he tilted his head, ears tilting forward. "Should I be flattered?"

You just shrugged, smiling back a little.

"Well," he continued, shifting once more beneath you, heaving a sigh of his own. "I guess you'll be pleased to know I find you tolerable too."

"Well, isn't that convenient?" you snickered. "The human and the Metkayina's precious little prince-"

"Ah, shut up," he murmured, sitting a little more upright, bringing his face close to yours, before he stopped himself.

You didn't dare to move. "And what are you up to?" you whispered.

"Nothing." He smiled, slow and lazy, still rubbing soothing circles into your hip, tail beginning to thump again behind him.

Then he moved his hand to your mask, still watching your face. "Take a deep breath for me," he hummed.

You did so as your heart began to thump insistently against your ribs, hoping- no, praying that he was about to do what you thought he was going to do.

He lifted your mask off gently, and leaned forward, covering your mouth with his.

Like everything else about him, his lips were warm, firm, tasting of sea salt and some Metkayina herb, the name of which escaped you.

You sighed contentedly into his mouth, looping your arms around his neck as best you could, leaning your body against his chest.

You wanted this to drag on forever. There was no great realisation, either, beyond the simple oh. I have a crush on Aonung. No desperation in this.

It was just nice, to be here, standing on his thighs, kissing him slowly and peacefully while the brisk sea breeze enveloped you both.

He eventually pulled away and replaced your mask, looking down at you with a serene, content expression, tracing his fingers down the glass.

You couldn't help smiling, cheeks flushed as you shifted your hands to his shoulders.

"That was nice," he commented, trying to hold back a grin. "We should do it again sometime."

You laughed a little breathlessly. "Definitely."

His laughter mingled with yours, his chest vibrating a little as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the glass of your mask above your forehead. "I'll hold you to that."

I love dumb hunk himbo Aonung can y'all tell

[toastykaykes]

Paint it Black (Ch. 1)

Minors DNI: 18+ Logan Howlett x Mutant! Reader

Summary: The meeting doesn't go as planned, your past comes back to haunt you. Only this time, your called to fight. Word Count: 1526

“(f/n), please come in. How was your day?” Professor Xavier greets you with his usual warm, kind smile as you step into his office. His voice, though calm, carries the weight of his authoritative role.

“Like always,” you respond, settling into one of the plush leather armchairs positioned in front of his desk. “They don’t know how much I enjoy teaching them, but it’s best not to let them know. Can’t have them thinking I’m some big softy now, can I?”

Charles lets out a soft, genuine laugh, glancing up from his paperwork. “No, of course not. That would be downright disastrous if they found out.” His eyes twinkle with amusement, reflecting his understanding of the delicate balance you maintain.

Your gaze drifts toward the large windows behind Charles, catching a glimpse of the students playing outside on the grass. The scene outside is a stark contrast to the intensity of the discussions that usually take place inside. “Am I just early, or was the meeting canceled tonight?” you ask, your discomfort evident. You long to be in your pajamas, curled up and away from the formal attire that feels increasingly restrictive.

“And here I thought you just wanted to enjoy my company,” Charles remarks playfully, causing a soft laugh to escape you. “They should be here soon. You, dear, just have a talent for arriving early. Not that I’m complaining.”

A flush of warmth rises to your cheeks at his statement. You appreciate his kindness, even if you feel undeserving of it. “Likewise, Professor.”

A comfortable silence falls over the room, the only sound being the soft scratch of his pen against paper. The familiar tranquility of Charles’s office wraps around you, offering a brief respite from the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. Your eyes close for a moment, your head leaning back against the chair, savoring the peace before the chaos begins.

Charles’s gaze softens as he observes you. “You do know if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here (f/n). I know you’re a very private person. Just know you don’t have to be alone.”

Your eyes drop to your hands, fingers nervously picking at one another. It’s a habit you’ve had for years, an involuntary reaction when anxiety rears its head. The quiet and darkness sometimes pull you back to a place of fear—back in that cell with those monsters. The thought of what you endured before finding refuge here is a heavy burden.

Charles knows some of the truth. He’s aware of your involvement with mutant trafficking, a dark chapter of your past revealed when he found you barely surviving on the side of the road. But the full details remain unspoken, a secret you guard fiercely. The idea of their reactions if they knew the extent of your past actions and choices is almost unbearable. You release a shaky breath, realizing how deeply his words resonate with your internal struggle. “I know, Charles.” The apology is unspoken but present.

Before Charles can offer more comfort, the door to his office swings open, shattering the peaceful atmosphere with a burst of noise. The team bursts in, their voices blending into a lively cacophony of playful bickering.

“Can you guys stop comparing those and be aware? We’re here for a meeting!” Ororo's voice rises above the din, trying to bring order to the chaos between Cyclops and the others.

“Well, look who beat us here,” someone remarks, though their identity is lost in the noise.

“Hi, guys!” you call out, managing a smile.

Scott, holding up a crumpled piece of paper, joins in the fray. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with this horrendous, unproportional, God-awful drawing I got from a student on the way over here, would you, (f/n)?” He presents the drawing of him firing his optic beams, clearly proud despite his grumbling.

Ororo chimes in, her voice smooth and calming. “Come on, you guys. You should be grateful any child considers you ‘heroes.’”

As the rest of the team filters in and finds their seats, your gaze drifts to the corner where he stands. His stance is relaxed but alert, suggesting he’s ready for action if needed. Even in the dim lighting, his muscular build is apparent, and the weariness in his features speaks of countless battles fought. His hair, tousled in a way that makes him seem almost softer, only adds to his intense allure.

When his eyes lock onto yours, the focus is piercing and palpable. His gaze is sharp and unwavering, cutting through the space between you with an intensity that feels almost tangible. You find yourself blushing under his scrutinizing stare and quickly turn your head forward, hoping to hide your embarrassment. Damn it, why does he have to be so... intense?

“Alright, everyone, there’s a matter that is extremely important we need to discuss,” Charles says, regaining the room’s attention. His tone shifts to a serious and resolute note. “We’ve received intelligence about a mutant smuggling ring known as Venos, operating in a remote location. They’ve been trafficking mutants and are involved in particularly egregious activities.”

The room falls silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Your heart sinks at the mention of the name. The cold dread that follows makes your blood run icy. No, not this.

“I’ve invited Logan here to assist with his combat knowledge and mission expertise. I will be using Cerebro to locate survivors and pinpoint their location. I need everyone to stay alert and train accordingly.”

Logan’s expression darkens as he grumbles, “You really think this is gonna be easy? I’ve seen what these guys can do. We need to be ready for anything.”

“Which is exactly why we’re putting together a team. And you will be training them all. Thank you again for volunteering,” Charles responds.

Logan’s frustration is palpable as he mutters a curse under his breath and abruptly exits the room, slamming the door behind him. His departure leaves an uneasy silence in his wake.

The conversation among the remaining team members and Charles continues for a few more minutes. You look down at your hands, feeling the weight of dread settle in. The thought of facing those from your past—people who are still operating, still victimizing others—makes your chest tighten. This mission isn’t just about justice; it’s about confronting your own demons.

Charles eventually dismisses everyone with a warm gesture. “I don’t wish to keep any of you longer than necessary. Go and enjoy your evening. Wonderful job today, everyone.”

As the team begins to file out, you head toward the door, only to be stopped by Logan’s abrupt, gruff voice. “Hey,” he calls, his tone demanding attention. “Got a minute?”

Startled by his sudden approach and the harshness in his voice, you hesitate. “Um, sure. It’s Logan, right? What’s up?”

Without waiting for a more formal invitation, he motions for you to follow him to a quieter part of the hallway. His steps are purposeful, almost impatient, as he leads you away from the main area.

Once in a more secluded corner, he leans against the wall, crossing his arms in a way that highlights his imposing, muscular build. His eyes lock onto yours with a challenging glint.

“Listen,” he begins, his tone direct and uncompromising, “I don’t know you well, but when Chuck started talking about this mission, you looked like you were about to crumble. If you’re not serious about this, don’t bother. I don’t need anyone who can’t pull their weight.”

His blunt words sting, and you bristle at his assessment. It’s clear he doesn’t mince words, especially when it comes to evaluating his teammates.

“I was just processing everything,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s a lot to take in, especially since it’s my first mission. I don’t usually do missions.”

Logan’s eyes narrow, scrutinizing your response. “Processing is fine, but if you’re going to be part of this team, you need to be ready. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because they weren’t prepared.”

His harshness is tempered by a hint of something—perhaps a begrudging respect or concern. You meet his gaze with determination. “I understand. I’ll do my best to catch up and be ready. I won’t hold you back.”

Logan gives a curt nod, his mouth twisting into a snarky smirk. “Yea, sure, bub.”

With that, he pushes off the wall and heads down the hallway, his heavy boots echoing in the corridor. The encounter leaves you feeling a mix of apprehension and resolve. Despite his gruff demeanor, it’s clear that you need to prove yourself. And his harshness, while tough to take, has lit a fire under you.

“It’s (f/n),” you call after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge your correction.

As Logan disappears around the corner, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the challenges ahead. You know you need to face this mission head-on—not just for the sake of the team, but to confront your own past and the scars it has left behind. The path won’t be easy, but you’re determined to prove yourself, no matter how hard it gets.

But first a drink.

[juletheghoul]

Let Me Follow (Part 7)

AN: Ooop. I haven't updated this in a year and I feel terrible, I am trying to go through all of the unfinished fics I have, and update one every week. (dream big Jules) Hopefully get through all of the things I have in my head. Hopefully it's been worth the wait! I've done my best to edit this myself, but it hasn't been beta'd. Enjoy! xo 🩷

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) ANGST, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age), Yearning, post-apocalyptic world, Joels injury / ptsd / nightmare

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist

He’s gone when you wake up. Both of them are, they’re gone most of the day but it makes sense. You chalk it up to Joel catching up with his brother and Ellie taking advantage of the safety of this place. You, in turn, find yourself almost haunting the house Maria and Tommy had put you up in. The time spent in the trailer, although quiet for the most part, was also wrapped up in the web of anxiety. Every second spent there was corrupted with fear of someone finding it, always the danger of infected wandering into the woods and surprising you when you’d go scavenging, and in comparison to that, this felt peaceful. 

This house gave you a chance to rest, to nap and enjoy the safety of the walls surrounding you, surrounding the town itself. Even when you got hungry, it was only a matter of making your way down the street to the cafeteria. People looked at you with curiosity, but didn’t pry, which only inspired intense gratitude. 

The whole day was a much needed respite from the worry and anxiety, until Ellie stormed into the house to find you reading an old novel on the sofa late in the evening. Anger burning on her face and it seemed strange to be so angry in a place like this. 

“What happened?” The adrenaline shoots up, the familiarity of it is so depressing, it seems your body is always ready to feel this way. 

“He’s leaving me.” She runs up the stairs and you find yourself running up after her, the door to the bedroom she’d claimed all but shut in your face before you could follow her inside. 

“Ellie? Can I come in?” You knock, hoping she’ll elaborate, “Ellie?”

“Whatever.” She calls out and you follow her inside, finding her sitting on a dusty bay window. 

“What happened?” Your heart races but you do your best to control your breathing. 

“He’s leaving me,” she sighs, picking up what looks to be someone's journal, “I heard him tell Tommy, that he has to leave me.” You frown at her. Joel hadn’t exactly been the cuddly type but he did care about Ellie, that had been obvious to you. “Maria told me something about him, something that makes sense-” 

“I wouldn’t listen to what Maria has to say about Joel, it seems to me she’s been listening to Tommy say some not-so-nice things about his brother.” Annoyance burns brightly in your gut that she’d dare poison Ellie against the man that had been keeping her safe. 

“No–I didn’t let her talk shit, I told her where to fucking go about that but–” A soft tap on the door pulls you out of the argument, Joel’s voice coming through before he opens the door. 

The familiar ‘Joel-frown’ is back in place as his gaze shifts from Ellie, to you, and back to her again.

“Listen-” He starts, but she doesn’t let him get very far.

“Why are you here?” The anger still burns on her face, but you know what’s really there. Sadness, fear, disappointment, you know because you’ve felt it all before.

“I came here to talk to you, both of you.”

“No, why are you still here? If you’re gonna ditch us then ditch us.” her eyes cast down as she speaks, looking without really seeing the journal in her hands. You see him let out a heavy sigh, resignation taking over. 

“What exactly did you hear?”

“‘I have to leave her, you have to take her’,” your eyebrows must have raised up into your hairline, Joel leaving Ellie had never crossed your mind, “You know I stuck up for you today because I thought-” She bit her lip, cutting off her own words.

“I made this decision for your own good. You’ll be way better off with Tommy, he knows the area better than I do-” He was floundering and it was as though you were listening to a stranger, his whole demeanour completely different from last night. 

“Do you give a shit about me or not?” Her voice rose, and your heart broke for her.

“Of course I do.” 

“Then what are you so afraid of? I’m not her, you know? Maria told me about Sarah-”

“Don’t.” The change in him was chilling, “Don’t say another word.” Seeing his eyes shift, the whole of him as cold as ice. 

“I’m sorry about your daughter, Joel, but I have lost people too.” And there it was. 

He’d had a daughter, and he’d lost her. This was it, the missing piece. It made so much sense, the cloud that followed him around, the loss that poisoned him to the world. It wasn’t just the terrible, awful, practically unbearable state of the world, it was his loss. 

“You have no idea what loss is.” His eyes hardened even more, and you understood why he would be upset. The loss of a child would definitely make anyone lose their minds, but Ellie wasn’t wrong. Everyone in this world knows what loss is.

“Everybody I have cared for has either died or left me. Everybody, fucking except for you!” She pushes him, her anger and hurt getting the best of her and you can’t help but move from your place on the couch to comfort her. “So don't tell me that I'd be safer with somebody else because the truth is I would just be more scared.” Your hand goes to her shoulder, letting her know you’re there for her. 

“You’re right. You aren’t my daughter, and I sure as hell ain’t your dad. Now come dawn, you and I go our separate ways-” Your hand flashes up without your permission, and cracks him clean across the face. It was too much for you to bear. 

“Enough! I am so sick and tired of this, and I am through with letting you act this way. You can’t keep living your life like this, Joel. Head down, barreling through like a juggernaut, cutting through everyone and everything, completely closed off to the world.” The hurt was sharp in your voice- “I can’t even begin to imagine how much losing your daughter must have hurt you, I wish it had never happened. I cannot take it away from you, neither of us can but we don’t deserve for you to treat us this way. Losing her doesn’t mean you can throw Ellie away.” His eyes flashed with something, a hurt so deep it was part of him, “Tomorrow, we’re going–whether it’s with you, or Tommy is up to you.” You turned from him then, gathering Ellie into your arms. You heard the door click, and then you and Ellie were alone. 

-

You spent the night with Ellie.

A soft knock sounded as you gathered the few things you had to take with you, both of you. Ellie opened the door to a very resigned Tommy standing at the door. 

“Y’all ready?” He spoke to both of you, the look on your face leaving no doubt as to whether Ellie would go alone or not.

“Yes, we’re good to go,” you reply and he nods once before leading the way out, “Come on Ellie.” You don’t look at the room across the hall, even as the outline of the door burns bright in your peripheral. That it was closed and he was probably asleep inside only filled your stomach with rocks, so you keep your eyes forward and ignore the feeling.

The morning is crisp enough to see your breath and it wreaths around your head like a halo as you all make your way towards the barn. Your anger with Joel is a simmering pot on the back burner, and that’s where it has to stay, there’s too much to focus on with Ellie to give it any attention. Tommy leads the way, bundled up with a rifle on his back and the anger you’re trying to tamp down finds its bullseye.

“How much shit did you talk about Joel, Tommy? Be honest.” He turns, his brow furrowed, “Must have been a lot, with the way Maria was eyeing him.”

“Yeah, not to mention giving me some bullshit warning about him not being who I thought he was.” Ellie chimes in, he lets out a deep sigh.

“You don’t understand, we did terrible things-“

“Yes, both of you, and you got to explain yourself. You’re letting your grievances with your brother colour the way people in this town view him. If he stays here, you’ve just made his life harder when you both did the same shit.” You round the corner, ducking into the barn to find the man you’re discussing, loading the horse's saddle with what looked to be supplies. You’re angry at him, at the cruel words he threw at Ellie, at the thought that after all of your confessions he might have let you go. It’s hard not to feel relief that he’s here though, ready to follow her, ready to follow you. 

“You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie’s voice is neutral, but the hurt simmers under the surface. 

“No, I came here to steal one of these horses.” He kicks at the ground, nervous.

“I woulda gave you one.” Tommy sighs, his frown still in place but now directed at Joel.

“I know. Anyway, that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess you deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy-“

“Let’s go.” She tosses her bag at him. Your lip curls without your permission, but you keep it to yourself.

“Okay.” He grunts out the word, but you can see he’s just as affected as you are. He turns, and speaks to Tommy while you and Ellie lead the horses out, letting them have a moment. 

“You okay?” Ellie’s eyes find yours at the sound of your words, and for a moment you see her age and it breaks your heart. Her eyes are wide, dark shadows underneath them, all of the stress and the weight of her lot in this life painted across her face, and still she smiles. 

“Fuck yeah, all good.” 

God, she’s just a kid. 

“Let’s get going.” Joel comes out, Tommy’s rifle on his back and his eyes are wild, darting between you and Ellie. His words still ring out in your ears, but so does the knowledge of his loss. It’s the Rosetta Stone, the why of all of his anger and hurt and reluctance to open up to anyone and anything coming into focus. 

There are two horses, and Ellie claims one right away, leaving you to share with Joel. He climbs up and swings his leg around, then holds out his hand to help you climb on, and wordlessly you take it. The horse is calm underneath you, for which you are grateful, even when you climb up, much less graceful than Joel and sit tucked into his back. 

The anger in you still burns bright. Too bright to say anything to him just yet, so you let it wash over you. Ignore the happy chant to have him there, to have his familiar, safe shape solid in front of you, and focus on not spooking the animal beneath you. 

Hours pass with small talk between Ellie and Joel, and silence from you. He doesn’t press, but his voice sounds lighter than it ever has with her. You let them have this conversation and bonding and you keep your mouth shut. He tests the waters though, your arms wrap around his waist, and every so often you feel him squeeze your hand or your knee. A silent olive branch, a request for connection and as much as you try to hold out and ignore him, punish him for his cruelty, you cannot help but give in. You press your lips to the little bit of skin exposed at the back of his neck. You can feel the way he melts, and part of you feels guilty for denying him for so long, but then his words come back and so does the anger. 

Ellie has gone ahead, just a little bit, close enough that he can keep an eye on her, but far enough away that he tries his luck with words. 

“It was bad wasn’t it?” He speaks over his shoulder, his words heavy with resignation.

“Real bad.”

He sighs, but says nothing else. You don’t expect an apology, and you don’t get one. It’s there though, the remorse, in his voice, threaded through the soft words and explanations he gives Ellie as the day goes by. He speaks to her of his life before, and it’s a marvel to hear him speak so much, he used to be a contractor. The shape of the word in your mouth feels familiar, one of those words adults used to say but there’s no reference for it in your memory. She is happy, that is all that matters.

When you stop to camp, it’s in a densely populated forest, eerily quiet but good enough. The land is far enough away from any QZ to be free of infected, but they aren’t the biggest worry. He sets up camp, a couple of sleeping bags all piled together.

“Sleep, both of you, I’ll take first watch.” It doesn’t take much convincing on your part, and for once, Ellie doesn’t grumble, she yawns hard enough to tremble and gets into the sleeping bag without comment. You want to give him something, a promise that you’ll discuss what you both know you need to discuss but he shakes his head when your eyes meet. “Sleep, Sunny, you need your rest.”

You nod, and sleep claims you, quick as falling.

You wake with a gasp. 

“You’re okay.” He’s sitting on a fallen log, watching the surrounding darkness. Full consciousness creeps in, and awareness calms the anxiety of whatever nightmare that had spilled over. Even the horses are calm, no immediate danger threatening, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep. 

“I’m up now. Here, give me the gun, you should get some shut-eye.” You stretch for a moment, before getting up. At this point, he knows you better than to argue, and so as much as he wants to keep watch, he gets up with a groan, and climbs into the sleeping bag still permeated with your body heat. The brief spark of warmth and comfort that was born of your new found intimacy with him, although still there, is obscured by the things you know you need to discuss, but it won’t be tonight. He knows it too, and so you keep watch, and when the morning comes, you all set out again. 

-

Days pass, and you travel in peace. The days are cold but clear, and he surprises you even more. He teaches Ellie to shoot, instructs her on how to load and reload the rifle, how to aim and even lets her keep a pistol and you can see the father so clearly in him. He notices your quiet withdrawal, and he lets you have your silence, but it doesn’t last.

Three nights into your trek, he finally breaks the silence. 

You feel him slip into the sleeping bag behind you, the night is colder than you expected and his warmth is welcome, even if your heart is still hurt. You’d found a small copse of trees, hidden enough that you could all sleep relatively calmly.

“Sunny.” It’s just above a whisper,  “How long you gonna punish me?” His breath tickles the little hairs at the back of your neck, raising goosebumps in its wake. You sigh.

“I’m not punishing you Joel.” His hand slips around your waist.

“You’re angry at me, I can feel it.” He presses his lips to the skin just below your ear, soft and sweet and your eyes close at the feel of it, you turn towards him. 

“I’m hurt,” he pulls you close enough to tangle his legs with yours, “Not just for what you said to Ellie, but for what happened to you.” You felt the clench in his jaw, felt how his body tensed. “I’m not trying to pry into your past Joel, I don’t want to open old wounds and make you relive anything, but I’ve been with the two of you long enough to see the bond. That girl-” you gestured to Ellie’s sleeping form near the horses, “-sees you as a father. You’re all she has, and you were ready to drop her.” 

“I know.” He pressed his forehead to yours, the tension going out of him like a balloon deflating. “It’s why I didn’t think I could do this, I am scared that I won’t be able to protect her, if she got hurt on my watch I couldn’t forgive myself.” All of a sudden you felt stupid, his anger and lashing out at her was a way to protect her, it didn’t excuse it, but it definitely explained it. “I don’t think she heard my whole conversation with Tommy, I was tellin’ him how scared I am.” 

“She needs you around, she needs to know you aren’t going to abandon her.” You can’t help but bring your hands to his face, comfort him. “We need you, I need you, I don’t want you to leave me behind either.” The little part of yourself that you’d been stomping down reared its head. “I’m sorry I slapped you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He shakes his head, dismissing your apology. 

“I won’t leave you behind. I meant it when I said I needed you to be patient with me.” He presses his lips to your hand, then to your lips, an apology and a promise and you clutch to it, despite the fear that permeates every aspect of the world. You don’t say anything more, trusting that when he's ready, he’ll tell you about his loss.

-

The university is a massive, rundown building, eerily quiet, without many signs of life. 

“No fireflies.” Ellie points out when you stop just in front of an overturned car.

“Probably in the middle, safer.” Joel leads the way, and the three of you continue throughout the grounds. He answers Ellie’s questions about University life, about anything and everything she can think of while you focus on your surroundings. The quiet irks you.

Monkeys roam the campus the closer you get to the building, and she’s excited to see them, you’re a little more wary but they scatter at the sound of you approaching.

“Lookit.” He points to a sign, a bright firefly symbol spray-painted onto it.

“Here we go.” She sounds a lot braver than she looks, her expression matches yours. This whole place was creepy, and your stomach roiled the closer you got to the entrance of the building. The sound of the horses' hooves clicking onto the pavement echo around you as you approach, guard houses sit unmanned just outside the door, and your stomach drops further. 

“Guard houses.” Joel voices your thoughts. 

“No guards.” You reply, and the mood sours further. “Let’s tie the horses, and continue on foot.” You gesture to a tree and they both nod in agreement. With them taken care of, you make your way inside. 

“Gun?” Ellie looks to Joel, and he nods, she takes out the pistol he’d trusted her with, his rifle at the ready and you follow close behind him, no weapon, but eyes sharp.

The inside is abandoned, but there is a mess of tables, discarded equipment and supplies left behind. 

“There were definitely doctors here.” She rifles through a stack of old gauze, gloves and other things littering the tables, pulling a list from under an empty box.

“This is a packing list,” Joel takes the list from her, “Something you make before moving.” There’s a distinct lack of dust and dirt blown in on the mess left behind you cannot help but focus on.

“Looks like they just left-” Something crashes above, movement in one of the higher floors interrupting your sentence, “maybe not all of them.” You move as one, slowly and quietly following the source of the noise, your heart races, scared of who or what you might find here. Joel leads the way, his rifle at the ready, Ellie brings up the rear, gun in her hands and pointed down like he’d taught her. The place looks more like an abandoned hospital than a school. There are carts knocked over, hospital beds and IV bags still hooked up to the poles littering the hallways. 

He counts down silently, hand just hovering over the door containing the source, and then opens it. A monkey shrieks, and seeing you jumps out the open window. You let out a heavy breath. 

“Well, at least it ain’t clickers.” Joel’s tone is as relieved as you feel. 

“Yeah, no fireflies either. Maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys!” He frowns at her, there’s a disappointment heavy in the air. So much travelling, just to come up empty. There’s a giant map in the middle of the room though. You make your way over to it, there are different colour pins all leading up to one place, Salt Lake City, Utah.

“That’s where they went?” She’s staring at the map beside you. 

“All the pins lead there.” You press your finger to the spot on the map, Joel is beside you, all three of you studying it. 

“Maybe they were getting ahead of the weather? Better facilities? I don’t know.” He frowns, letting out a breath but you hear it, people talking outside the window. You shush them, gesturing to the window but they hear it now too. Your heart jackhammers in your chest, any and all peace you’d found from finding this place empty is gone. 

Quietly you all move closer and peek out the window, and see four men walking past, they hold crowbars, and baseball bats and it’s obvious they’re raiders. 

“Out the back.” Joel whispers, and then the three of you take off. Within a few tense minutes, you’re all back outside, ducking behind piled up sandbags to make sure you don’t encounter anyone. With the coast clear, you all run towards the horses. Ellie climbs up onto hers, and you climb onto the one you share with Joel while he unties them. 

“Joel!” Ellie screams, one man has followed, baseball bat high in the air but Joel turns in time and ducks out of the way, the bat swings hard, hitting the tree and shatters. Ellie holds up her arm, aiming the gun but they move too erratically. 

“Wait Ellie! You might shoot Joel–” She puts it down, he doesn’t need help, they grapple and slam against the tree but then Joel has wrapped his arm around the man's neck, and with a sickening crunch, he falls. When Joel turns, your stomach drops. 

He looks down, and the butt of the broken bat is sticking out of his lower abdomen. He takes a deep breath, and pulls it out and a wave of nausea hits you to see at least three inches of wood come out, his blood pulsing between his fingers. 

“Joel–get on the horse!” You scream out to him, seeing the others spotting you and running full speed. He struggles, but climbs up with a pained yell, swinging his leg over and managing to get in front of you. 

“Get back!” Ellie follows behind, shooting at them when they get too close, with the frosty wind whipping at your face you get away. The horses gallop across the grounds and away, your grip on Joel is iron.

You know that going so fast is only hurting him but you have to get far enough away that they won’t follow. 

“They don’t seem to be following us, I think we’re safe.” Ellie calls out behind you and you’re glad she’s keeping an eye on your back, because you cannot focus on anything other than Joel’s weakening grip on the reins. 

“Joely, baby you have to hold on, please–” He teeters, swaying like a boat in choppy waters and you feel the way he cannot hold himself up anymore. “Joel-Joel!” He topples off the horse and into a pile of snow despite your best efforts, he's so pale you can barely contain the tears that flow freely down your face. “Joel, please, please wake up, we need you to wake up.” You slap at his face, but he doesn’t stir. Ellie is off her horse and kneeling beside you, trying to aid in waking him but she’s as unsuccessful as you are. She presses his hands as well as hers to where the blood pulses out of him slowly. 

“Joel, open your eyes.” You stare at him while she speaks, pressing your hand to his face, “I can’t fucking do this without you, I don’t know where the fuck I’m going, or what the fuck I’m going to do, we need you Joel please, get up.” Tears stream down her face and it hits you then. You’ve cursed him, this is what comes from loving another person. 

There’s no time, you have to move him. 

“Let’s get him somewhere safe, Ellie, one of those houses.” You gesture to a residential area not far from where he fell. There’s no way you can carry him, instead you look for something to put him on that you can drag like a sled. You send Ellie to look, warning her to be careful and to keep her gun out and she comes back with a wide mat, almost like a big dog bed and it’s perfect. You shuffle him onto it, and tie the mat to the back of one of the horses, pulling him towards one of the houses. 

It takes so long to get him into the basement. By the time you’ve piled a stained mattress and musty blankets and laid him on it, your skin is slick with frozen sweat, your breath comes out in pants, exhausted with the effort. There had been an old towel in one of the bathrooms of the house, Ellie had grabbed it while you wrestled him to where he lay. Once settled, you ripped it up, and moved his shirt to press it to the wound, barely looking at it. You had to stop the bleeding, if he kept bleeding he’d die. 

“What are we going to do?” She watches, terrified. 

“I don’t know.” You want to comfort her, but you cannot stop swallowing the lump in your throat. You both stay quiet for a while after that, focused on his breathing. 

It’s because I love him

The thought squeezes your heart like a vice, the curse of you fills your head, overtaking every thought. This is what happens when you love another person, the black hole has taken him just like it took your parents, just like it took Johnny and there is nothing to be gained but misery and heartache. The black pit of your love is full of emptiness and all you’d done was sentence him to death. You should have just let them leave, given them your supplies and stayed in your trailer. 

Tears stream steadily down your face, hoping against hope that he’ll wake up, that the wound will close, that nothing inside had been too badly damaged. You hoped you’d wake up back in that bed in Jackson, that this was all just some horrible nightmare and that he’d be there, rubbing your back. You didn’t wake up though, and he lay there motionless while you cried, breathing shallow enough to fill your stomach with nothing but dread and nausea and regret and every other horrible thing you’ve felt since this world went to shit. 

You move the towel after a while, to see how bad the damage actually is and your body tenses, it’s angry and red and still blood pulses out, his skin shredded where the sharp wood had pierced him.

“We need to close it, we should see if we can find a needle and thread.” You speak to her, but she watches him, his eyes are open, and there is nothing but naked fear in them. He groans and grabs at your arm hard enough to bruise when you press the towel back to the wound. 

“Go.” He grits it out, at both of you. She puts her hands on yours, helping to staunch the blood. “Go, leave, take the gun.” He repeats it. 

“Shut up, shut the fuck up Joel!” She all but screams at him but he grabs her by the jacket, pulling her close. 

“You go.” He doesn’t relent, “You go. You go north, go to tommy.” He shivers, speaking the words clearly and when he pushes her back, she stumbles, staring at him in disbelief. His eyes find yours, and he repeats himself. “Leave.” He does not expect to survive, and all at once you are angry with him, angry with yourself for ever having opened your heart, angry at the world for your lot in life. His eyes find yours then, tears slowly streaming from them, the same anger burning in your chest shining out through his eyes. 

You wipe at your eyes, and rise. Leaving him there, as you make your way up the stairs, and out of the basement. 

She catches up to you in the kitchen. 

“Are we really leaving him?” 

“No. I’m looking for something to stitch him up, but if you want to go find Tommy I won’t stop you, you can shoot, and he’s taught you how to keep watch and find safe places to sleep. You can take all of the supplies–” You open cupboards, pulling them off the hinges in your haste and spilling drawers in the pursuit of something, anything to help him. 

“I’m not leaving either.” She moves, and helps you search. 

—

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[hoernypie]

︵‿୨ purrfect afternoon ୧‿︵

Happy International Cat Day ฅ^._.^ฅ

tags: threesome, roommates au, p+a, p+v, creamp!e, double penetration

wc: 3233

As the scorching August sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet suburban street, the sound of chatter and laughter grew louder as a pair of two young men approached the familiar house. Suguru and Satoru stumbled through the front door, their arms laden with shopping bags. The coolness of the air conditioning washed over them, providing a welcome respite from the scorching heat outside. But what greeted their eyes was anything but typical. In the center of the living room, a peculiar sight awaited them: their roommate in a sleek black costume, complete with a tail that swished playfully and delicate ears that perched atop my head. My eyes widened in surprise as I turned to face my roommates, and the sudden silence was as palpable as the tension that filled the room.

"It's not like that! I just was trying that on..." 

My cheeks flushed a deep crimson as I stumbled over my words, trying to explain the unexpected scene. The cat costume clung to my body, the silk fabric sliding against my skin with every anxious twitch. Suguru's eyes widened in a mix of shock and confusion, while Satoru's gaze remained eerily calm, his usual air of nonchalance unruffled. The silence stretched like a tightrope, threatening to snap under the weight of their unspoken questions. I clutched at the plush tail draped around my waist, desperately searching for an excuse that wouldn't make me sound like a complete lunatic. But as they both stared at me, the absurdity of the situation washed over me, and I couldn't help but let out a nervous giggle. The tension in the room broke, and Suguru's expression shifted from shock to amusement, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he took a step closer. "Well, if you're going to wear it, you might as well own it," he said, grinning as he dumped the shopping bags on the floor. 

Suguru's encouraging words brought a relieved smile to my face, and I took a deep breath, standing up straighter in the cat costume. "Okay, okay," I said, deciding to embrace the moment with a newfound sense of humor. "Let's say I'm just getting into the spirit of things for the upcoming Halloween party."

Satoru raised an eyebrow but said nothing while smirking. Suguru couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh. "A Halloween party, huh?" he teased, setting his bags down on the counter. "I guess we'll have to find costumes that can top this one."

Feeling a bit more at ease, I playfully stuck out my tongue and padded over to them on the soft paws of the costume. "I dare you," I said, challenging them both with a mischievous glint in my eye. The evening ahead was suddenly filled with the promise of fun and light-hearted banter, a much-needed reprieve from the usual weight of our lives.

Satoru's smirk grew as he met my playful gaze, his eyes traveling up and down the curves of the cat costume with a newfound appreciation. "I think we might have to step up our game, indeed," he said, the challenge in his voice unmistakable. The mood in the room shifted from awkward to electric, the air thick with a playful tension that had been absent for too long. Satoru leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied me. "You know, it suits you," he said, his tone dropping a notch. "The tail, the ears... they're all very... enticing."

My cheeks grew even hotter as I felt a thrill run through me, the costume suddenly feeling less ridiculous and more like a seductive second skin. Suguru's laughter subsided into a knowing chuckle as he watched the exchange, his eyes shimmering with mischief. "I think we've got ourselves a little devil kitty."

The three of them shared a moment of laughter, the tension shifting into something more... interesting. Suguru stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on my hip, his thumb grazing the soft silk of the costume. As the night grew darker, the temperature in the room seemed to rise, the costumes becoming less about Halloween and more about exploring the hidden desires and passion that had been lying dormant beneath the surface of their friendship for years.

Encouraged by their reactions, I leaned into Suguru's touch, not one to be outdone Satoru stepped closer as well, his gaze lingering on the slit of the costume that revealed a hint of my thigh. "I think we should have a little photoshoot," he suggested, his voice low and tantalizing. "We could see how many different poses a cat can do."

My heart raced as I considered the implications of his words. Was this just playful banter, or was there something more happening here? Suguru's hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer to him, while Satoru stepped behind me, his breath warm against my neck. The two of them positioned me in a seductive pose, one that accentuated the feline grace of the costume. The camera clicked, capturing moments that felt both playful and dangerously intimate. As the flash lit up the room, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with a hint of the forbidden. The costume, once a source of embarrassment, now felt like a catalyst for something I never knew I wanted.

The heat of their bodies pressed against mine, and I felt the warmth of their breath on my skin. My laughter turned into a soft gasp as they gently adjusted the costume, their fingers brushing against me in a way that was both innocent and undeniably sensual. With each pose, the boundaries of our friendship blurred a little more, and I found myself caught in a flirtation that I didn't want to end.

As the photoshoot continued, the air grew thick with the unspoken understanding that this night was going to be unlike any other. The playful banter had evolved into something more charged, and I could feel the energy between them shifting. The line between costume and reality grew blurrier, and I began to wonder if this was the moment everything changed, or if it was all just a feverish summer's whim that would be forgotten once the costumes came off.

With each click of the camera, the room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of desire. Suguru's hand slid down my side, caressing the silky fabric of the costume, his thumb grazing the exposed skin just above the hem. Satoru's eyes darkened as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "Let's try a more... feline pose," he murmured, his hand wrapping around my waist to position me. They both stepped closer, their bodies aligning with mine, and for a moment, it was as if the costume had transformed not just my appearance, but the very nature of our relationship. The playful touches grew bolder, more deliberate, and I could feel the heat of their arousal through the thin barrier of the fabric. My breath hitched as their hands roamed, each caress sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. The room was a haze of flashes and whispered suggestions, the boundaries between friends and lovers dissolving like sugar in hot tea. The anticipation was agonizing, the tension unbearable, as we danced around the truth of our feelings. But as the camera's light flickered for what felt like the hundredth time, I knew that this night would not end without us crossing that line, or embracing the passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface.

As the camera flashed again, capturing my pose with an air of sultry defiance, I felt a sudden jolt of electricity as Suguru's hand slid up my thigh, his fingertips grazing the bare skin above the costume's stockings. The room spun, and the laughter that had filled the air just moments before was replaced by a taut silence. Satoru's hand ghosted over my shoulder, his fingers tracing the line of the costume's neckline, sending shivers down my spine. Their eyes met over my head, a silent conversation passing between them that I couldn't quite decipher. The air was thick with unspoken desires, and the heat of their bodies was a palpable force, pushing me closer to the edge of reason. With trembling hands, I reached to touch Suguru's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my fingertips. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "You're a bad little kitty."

The playful taunt sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my resolve waver. Suguru's hand slipped further up my thigh, his touch growing bolder, and I could feel his arousal pressing against my belly. Satoru's grip on my shoulder tightened, his breath hot and demanding on my neck. "Oh really?" I asked looking into Suguru's eyes. The room was a whirl of fabric and desire, the costume suddenly feeling like a prison of my own making. His eyes smoldered as he bent down, capturing my lips in a fiery kiss that sent my senses reeling. Suguru's hand on my hip guided me closer, and I could feel his own desire as his body melded against mine. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing together in a passionate dance as the lines between friendship and desire blurred completely. The camera on the tripod watched silently, capturing the moment that would forever change the dynamic of our trio. As we pulled away, gasping for air, the realization hit us like a ton of bricks: the costumes had unlocked a side of us that we had never dared to explore before, and there was no going back. With a seductive smile, I looked over my shoulder at Satoru. "I'm ready to see what else this kitty has in store," he said, in a voice that was nothing more than a sultry whisper while a grin spread across his face. 

Without a word, Satoru stepped around me, his eyes never leaving mine as he claimed my mouth in a kiss that was as fiery as Suguru's had been. His hand slid up my torso, cupping my breast through the costume's fabric, eliciting a soft moan that was swallowed by his hungry mouth. Suguru's hand trailed up my inner thigh, reaching the apex of my legs, and the fabric was suddenly too much to bear. The costume, once a barrier, now felt like a second skin that was begging to be stripped away from me. They moved in unison, their kisses full of need and want, their hands exploring every inch of my body as if it were new territory to conquer. The sound of fabric tearing filled the room as Satoru ripped open the costume, exposing my breasts to the cool air. “Aww man, you could’ve just taken it off and not destroyed it…” 

Suguru's mouth followed the trail of his hand, kissing and licking a path up my thigh, sending waves of pleasure through me. Their touches grew more insistent, their breaths more ragged, as the three of us tumbled onto the couch, a tangled mess of limbs and desire. The line between friendship and passion had been obliterated, and in its place, a new kind of intimacy was born, one that was raw and uninhibited. The heat of their bodies was a brand against mine, the friction of skin on skin setting me alight as we gave ourselves over to the moment, our hearts pounding in time with the relentless beat of our newfound love. The camera on the tripod stood as a silent forgotten witness to the unfolding scene, capturing every moment of our transformation from roommates to lovers, forever immortalizing our first steps into a world of shared passion and unbridled desire.

The kiss grew more urgent, Satoru's hand moving from my breast to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as his tongue danced with mine. Suguru's mouth traveled upward, his teeth grazing my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I arched my back, pushing my chest into Satoru's touch, my body aching for more. Suguru slid the costume away from my hips, revealing my nakedness to both of them. Satoru's hand slipped down, finding my wetness, and I gasped into his mouth as he began to tease me with deft strokes. Suguru, not to be outdone, pulled away from my neck to kiss down my body, his lips meeting my nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks. I could feel their arousal, pressing against me, and I knew that this was it—the moment we had all been waiting for so long. I reached down, wrapping my hand around the base of Suguru's cock, stroking him through his pants, feeling his length grow as he moaned against my skin. Satoru's touch grew more insistent, his fingers sliding inside me, making me squirm with pleasure. The room was alive with the sounds of our passion, the rustling of fabric, and our ragged breaths echoing in the quiet room. The warmth of their skin, the taste of their kisses, and the feel of them inside me was like nothing I had ever experienced before. This was more than just a threesome; it was a declaration of love and lust that transcended the confines of friendship, a union that would forever alter the course of our lives together. As we embraced in the dimly lit room, lost in the intensity of our shared passion, I was overcome with the undeniable feeling that I belonged in that moment. Sandwiched between the two men, I felt the warmth of their bodies, the racing of their hearts, and the depth of the connection we all shared. It was more than just a physical embrace; it was a convergence of emotions, desires, and a profound sense of belonging.

With a shared understanding that there was no turning back, the three of us descended into a frenzy of passionate exploration of our bodies. Satoru lifted me onto the edge of the couch, my legs parted invitingly as Suguru kissed his way down my body, his tongue flicking against my clit with expert precision. I could feel Satoru's cock pressing against my ass, and I arched back into him, desperate for the feeling of fullness. With a groan, he slid into me, filling me completely, and I gasped as the sensation of being stretched to the brink of pleasure washed over me. Suguru's hands held my hips steady as he feasted on me, his tongue delving deep and circling with every thrust from Satoru. The rhythm grew steadier, more intense, as we all gave in to the instinctual need that had been building for so long. I clawed at the Satoru's thighs, my moans echoing in the apartment. The feeling of being so completely claimed, so utterly desired by both of them, was overwhelming, and I could feel the tension coiling tightly in my belly, threatening to spill over into a climax. Satoru's grip tightened on my hips as he drove into me, his breath hot and ragged in my ear. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. Suguru's mouth moved to my breasts, suckling and biting gently as he watched Satoru's cock slide in and out of me. The sensation was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that had me teetering on the edge of release. And when Satoru reached around to pinch my clit, I tumbled over, my body convulsing with waves of ecstasy that seemed to go on forever. The room was a blur of moans and gasps as we continued to move together, our bodies entwined in a dance of passion that had been years in the making. The cat costume, now discarded on the floor, had served its purpose, leading us to embrace the carnality that had been hiding just beneath the surface of our friendship. 

As the climax of my first orgasm subsided, I felt Suguru's hands move me slightly, positioning himself between my legs. Satoru's grip loosened just enough to allow it, his lips never leaving the nape of my neck as Suguru's cock slid into my already-soaked pussy. The feeling of being filled by both of them was indescribable, a sensation that went beyond physical pleasure. Their movements grew in sync, each thrust from Satoru met with one from Suguru, creating a rhythm that had me panting and begging for more. The pressure built again, my body tightening around them, the friction of their skin against mine driving me wild. They took turns kissing me, whispering dirty words into my ear, and the intensity grew until I was teetering on the edge once again. The heat of their bodies, the sound of our skin slapping together, and the feeling of their cocks moving in and out was more than I could handle. 

The tension grew unbearable as we approached the peak of our shared orgasm. Satoru's pace quickened, his thrusts more urgent and sloppy, and I could feel the warmth of Suguru's seed building inside me, his hips jerking with the force of his impending release. The room was a symphony of passionate moans and gasps, our bodies moving as one in a delirious dance of desire. And then, with a groan, Satoru spilled into me, his hot cum filling me up as he collapsed against the coach, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as his fingers dug into the soft flesh on my waist. Suguru threw back his head, his own climax following swiftly. He filled me to the brim, his semen spilling inside me, creating a deliciously primal sensation that had me whimpering with pleasure. The double creampie was a declaration of their ownership over me, a visual representation of the newfound bond that had formed between us. As our hearts slowed and our breathing evened out, we lay there, tangled in each other's arms, forever changed by the carnality of the night. 

As we lay there, our bodies intertwined and our hearts racing, the weight of what had just happened settled over us like a warm blanket. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a potent reminder of the passionate encounter we had just weathered. I looked up at the ceiling, my chest heaving, and felt a strange mix of emotions—shock, exhilaration, and a deep sense of belonging. Satoru's arms tightened around me, his breathing still heavy against my shoulder, while Suguru's hand gently stroked my thigh, his own breaths slowly evening out. We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, the only discernible sound being the subtle ticking of the grandfather clock in the dimly lit room, each tick resonating with newfound weight and significance. Our once unbreakable friendship had undergone an irrevocable transformation, now woven into an intricate tapestry of unfathomable love and insatiable desire. It was a point of no return, a line crossed in the midst of a tempestuous night. Yet, as the vanishing sun cast a warm, golden light across the room, we found ourselves unburdened by regrets. Our gazes locked, and in that unspoken exchange, we silently pledged to embark on an uncharted journey as lovers, a course fraught with anticipation and boundless pleasure that we would brave together, whatever the future held. The discarded cat costume lay abandoned on the floor—a poignant symbol of the innocence we had shed in the fervor of our explosive passions.

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

Professor Dekarios Takes a Sick Day (GN!Reader x Gale)

Summary: Gale wakes up with a cough and a fever. No matter his protestations, you want nothing more than to care for him

Pairing: GN!Reader x Gale

Rating: E

Word count: 855

“I’m fine,” Gale choked out between body-wracking coughs. “Really.”

You eyed him skeptically and shook your head. “Sweetness, if you were fine, you wouldn’t be hacking up a lung right now.”

Gale faltered, trying to scrounge up another way to assuage your concerns about his well-being. He had classes to teach, papers to grade, and research to conduct. He opened his mouth to protest but fell into a coughing fit before he could speak.

“I know you love your work, but you won’t be very productive if you’re this bad off,” you insisted, stroking his hair. You brought the back of your hand to his forehead, noting how febrile he was. You pressed your lips into a firm line as you traced your fingers along his jawline, gently palpating his swollen lymph nodes.

Gale shifted restlessly in bed. “Really, my love, I must go —“

You pressed down on his shoulders gently, coaxing his head back onto the pillow. “You, Professor Dekarios, are not going anywhere today. You look like death warmed over and you have a raging fever.”

“But —“

You laid a finger to his lips. “Send your simulacrum in. You need to rest. Your students and colleagues will understand.”

Gale relented, knowing that you would not let him out of bed regardless of what he had to say on the matter.

He sighed inwardly. “Fine.” With a flick of the wrist and a hoarsely muttered incantation, Gale generated a simulacrum who quickly bustled out of the bedroom. Moments later, you could hear the front door open and shut as Gale’s translucent substitute left for the academy.

You laid a kiss to his feverish forehead and cupped his cheek. Gale closed his eyes and relaxed into your touch. “The chill of your hand is a respite like no other,” he murmured. He was still frustrated with being unable to see his students and conduct his research, but he knew that you were right; a day of rest was in order.

“Let me run you a hot bath,” you insisted, standing up from his bedside. “While you soak, I’ll make you some tea with a slippery elm tincture to soothe your throat.”

Gale allowed a soft smile to play at his lips. “Thank you, my love. You always know just what this old wizard needs.”

“You’re not that old,” you replied playfully, stroking his hair.

Gale huffed and rolled his eyes. “If my love so insists.” He closed his eyes and settled back into the soft solace of the bed you shared with him.

You disappeared into the washroom, casting Create Water into the claw-footed bathtub. The tub slowly filled with warm water while you lit the sconces on either side of the bath. You set out a fresh towel and clean sleep clothes on the side table, anticipating Gale’s every need as best you could. The finishing touch was a rose oil that you daringly sprinkled over the warm bath, filling the room with a floral scent.

“Come, my love,” you cooed, summoning Gale into the washroom. You could hear him easing himself out of bed, groaning as his joints ached in protest.

Gale trudged into the washroom and smiled softly. “Ah, you know precisely what I like,” he sighed.

“Comes with the territory,” you replied, removing his sweat-soaked bedclothes. “Now, take a nice soak and I’ll return with some tea.” You laid a cold wet towel on his forehead, eliciting a sigh of relief from Gale. Despite his initial protestations to your care, Gale was deeply appreciative of how attentive you were to his needs when he felt unwell.

“Chamomile, if you don’t mind,” he called after you as your footfalls faded into the hallway and down the stairs. Gale could hear you rummaging in his stash of exotic teas. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the warm water. He was still unaccustomed to letting others care for him. Nobody, save for perhaps his mother, ever tended to him with such care. ‘Let me love you,’ you insisted when he experienced residual pain from where the Netherese orb once resided. Slowly, Gale was learning that love should never come with a cost.

“Here,” you murmured, setting a cup of tea on the side table beside the tub. “Chamomile with slippery elm and two drops of honey — just how you like it.”

Gale’s eyes fluttered open and he took in the sight of you. “Thank you my love.” He took a sip from the teacup and appeared to relax once more. “Perfection.”

After a long soak and a cup of tea, you helped Gale back into bed. His color was returning as his fever began to break. You gave him a tender kiss and stroked his hair.

“I’ll have soup ready for you soon,” you told him. “Rest up, my darling.”

Gale furrowed his brow. “My dear, I fear you may catch whatever illness ails me.”

You shrugged passively. “Perhaps, but if it means that you’re well again, it will have been well worth it.”

The subtext in your words was clear: Gale was worth it. One day, perhaps, he would believe it entirely.

[b1rds3ye]

I really love your masked reader headcannons!! Especially the LED mask ones. I think it’s such a fun concept and the way all the boys react/ accommodate the reader and their preferences is so sweet!

So idk what your familiarity to Star Wars is but there’s a people (Mandalorians) who traditionally wear armor that covers their faces and bodies pretty much all the time. As such there’s something called a kelblade kiss and what that is is when two mandos press their helmeted foreheads together as a way to show affection when they’re all armored up. I was thinking about this and how the 141 would react if the masked reader leaned their forehead against them in lieu of kissing their cheek in a moment where they wanted to be affectionate but leave the mask on? If you have thoughts I would love to know! <3

OMG THIS IS SO CUTE!! I was raised on the og Star Wars trilogy, even the prequel 3 by George Lucas but I've completely fallen off since Disney's taken the reigns 😭😭 BUT YES I know Mandalorian I didn't know they had the little kiss thing though IT'S SO SWEET TO IMAGINE

Any physical contact with Price is generally rare when he's on duty, it comes with him just being busy and the natural commanding presence as captain. But when you first press your forehead against his, John's initial confusion gives him a respite from the stress of the military now that his entire focus is on you. It seems he needed the affection more than you did. Now your little forehead taps are his lifeline. Your mask always gets his bucket hat tilting off angle, the front rim a little crumpled when you pull away, but it always leaves him wearing a fond grin that is for you and you alone.

It's a little awkward trying to do it with Ghost, not only is Simon inconveniently tall but his own hard mask makes such a gesture of affection have the tact of a kid shoving the faces of two plastic dolls together. Simon is solid and immovable, and is far too entertained by you nearly self-concussing as you tap your forehead against his, stumbling back in a slight daze. Still, the intentions aren't lost on him and they're very much appreciated. He doesn't do them back, but in more serious moments, he lets you stay, forehead against his. He can't see your eyes but he makes sure you can see the emotions swimming in his.

Soap absolutely adores them! It's your own little form of affection and he loves the little quirks that come with your mask. But for whatever reason, he's taking your little forehead touch as a competition. "Did nae feel a thing!" Johnny would complain, taunting you to go harder next time. At this rate he's just asking to be clobbered across the head but he believes that if it's from you, that's a damn blessing and whatever bruise that comes from it he'll wear with pride. He always reciprocates in kind. It's more of a headbutt with his over-enthusiasm but he must have a forehead of steel or something because he always pulls away beaming.

Your little forehead taps always leave Gaz giggling and bashful. It's been a little harder as of late since he now wears a cap with a hard brim, for a while Kyle thought your lack of recent "mask kisses" was because the two of you had unfortunately drifted apart. He now foregoes the cap whenever you're around. When you enter the room he gives an exaggerated bow down to you, jerking his head up to signal to his forehead and he won't move an inch until you greet him with a forehead tap (this also happens if you ever have to leave the conversation). He tried to give a forehead tap back once but he was a little too enthusiastic and needed frozen peas to the head for the rest of the day.

Call of Duty Masterlist Masked Reader Masterlist

[ur-mousey]

Time Moves ~

Yandere! God! True Form! Sukuna x Disciple! F!Reader! Prt 1.

Part two

summary Sukuna demands attention from his out of breath disciple for leaving him alone. 2.2k warning mature, smut, possessive themes, mentions of bondage/imprisonment, pussy-eating, dub-con.

..............................

A god lies and waits, practically neglected. His legs are spread, his head rested on his hand, and that elbow dug into his thigh. These trips of hers get longer and longer, he thought to himself. He fought the urge to resist stroking his red-tipped hard-on. His other three arms found purchase somewhere on his hips. With other disciples, he didn't care for their comings and goings. He could easily find solace buried in another cunt.

His little pet, however, he needed to hold her down by a leash. Maybe it's because she's the only one at his side.

Sukuna, the God of Curses, was the first to cultivate spite, revenge, and war against the human race. But, he was needed more whenever your hands were held in a prayer nowadays. He was aware that the town below held wavering faith in his powers. Their earlier malice for other tribes settled throughout the centuries. And it is true that as a God, he has been weakened due to this time of peace. 

It disgusted him to no end.

The smoke below was no longer a symbol of families' homes ravished by flames or hunkered-down soldiers. But, of baked goods warming in the oven. 

You had begged for months to see the village below. The ghost of Sukuna's name from your lips weighted his balls with cum for you to drink. You gave kitten licks to his head, coaxing his pre-cum to splash the tip of your tongue. You earned your right to venture and partake in the new year markets below. Obedient to his demands despite how absurd. 

Once a year, he had promised. And a god can lie.

The first year, you had left and came with a bounty of sweets. Most of which you had forgotten existed: sweet red bean buns, daifuku, green tea cookies. And a plethora more that Sukuna had cared less for. He scolded you for the lack of satiating meat in your haul. "Then you go," you whispered into his ear with a sharpness that bit. 

"If only I could go without lifting a leg," Sukuna waved off.

That time, you sank to your knees, looking up at him. "My God! What is it that you want to try first? A sweet bun?"

So he took his favorite dessert. Your first year out of his sight bared its weight on your thighs. He discarded the bought goods across the floor. You had been gone merely three hours. However, Sukuna could not lift his head from your heat. Your saltiness kept his tongue pushed deep into her sopping hole.

Your feeble arms pushed against Sukuna, who has strapped you down at your waist. He knew that you were crying profusely. He wanted you to break down more upon his tongue. 

Your nails drew blood from his shoulder blades as he held your legs wide. You had struggled to kick out at his thighs. Now, they twitched at the bite of his teeth on your clit. Sukuna would have chuckled at the pleas you made to unlock your neck. But, the collar that secured you to the floor fit you so snug. You were his perfect pet. 

He sucked in between your flesh, tasting you over and over again to never forget that you were perfectly made for his sinful desires. 

He overreacted. Ten days were spent in his personal heaven. And Sukuna couldn't tell if she enjoyed it herself.

>>>

Your salvation is at the top of the mountain where your God resides. At least, that's what you had told yourself at the base of those stone steps.

When you were staring up into the endless sky. When you could feel the trees wave and the birds sing blessings upon your journey. Now, all within your heart was the sound of ringing, the pumping of blood which aided in the spasm of your muscles. How much longer?

You thought you hated making the trip down in fear of toppling over, but it was the climb up that made you appreciate the respite of the poor village. It felt more humane talking to the workers below than doing endless cardio.

But days like these were rare. The villagers do not recognize you anymore, nor do you recognize them. Every day spent in the village are new faces and you are just a humble stranger. You doubt that whatever family you had left out there would know it is you.

Time moves differently on the mountain. 

Your body felt like it would fall apart at the seams. Your bag was filled to the brim with food: savory meats, dried jerky, and sweets galore. You looked at the upcoming archway that marked the journey as being a third over with. The pillars hold familiarity fore this was as far as your God allowed you to step off of the immediate property. You can see the works of your crafted talisman plastered on every vertical surface. It’s maddening. Black ink smeared upon crimson parchment. Sukuna had glared at your work but he shrugged and let you be. That was long ago when humans gathered for his harem. You were the only left.

You knew that your God lied to you. Yearly visits to the mortal world easily showed you that more time has gone by. Today, a girl named Yumi worked at your favorite stall selling pastry goods. But the year before, it was the newly wedded Hiragashi couple. You remembered the young wife brimming with light, belly round and ready to pop. And you remembered how the husband begged his wife to sit while he handled the bustling night market. When you asked about the two, Yumi sighed, "They are my parents."

Hiragashi Yumi was that baby yet to be born, now she stood before you in her twenties. Her parents are significantly older when you're not.

Time moves differently on the mountain.

What were you to do? Your God wouldn't want to hear any of your plight. You doubt that this is a matter he would allow you to fight for.

He'd taunt you. He'd ask if it even matters when at the end of the day, you got to take the excursion. But, it terrifies you that you cannot tell the difference between a year and twenty.

You had to let it go. 

You had taken the moment to set down your bag. The pillar felt like stone against your forehead. It was obviously made out of stone and the realization slammed into your pounding head. It's hard and grainy like time. You realized there were no memories before you laid eyes on your God. You try to calm your breath. Did you even have a family or a childhood? When did life begin for you? Will your life ever end or will it be determined by your God?

Vines coiled up the stone pillar, its leaves brushed against your flushed cheeks. You watched them grow each day. Water droplets slid from them to you, on you cheek. A cause from the earlier drizzle, you presume. It made you wonder if it was safe to cry. After speaking to Yumi, you admitted that you wanted nothing more than the comfort of home. Despite knowing better, there is nothing for you outside of the arms of your God.

"Pet, why the long face." Your body went rigid and you shot your head up the path. The moon shows half its face to the world. And like the moon, your God sat encased primarily in shadows. His eyes showed bright vermillion. 

"My God, why have you come this far from the shrine?" You panted through the coils in your chest. You quickly gathered yourself to the best of your abilities. First, you start by kicking off your hard-to-walk-in sandals. Then you shimmed your hair from its tight bun, allowing the terraces to flow. The black rose pin that held the style together, you placed behind your ear. Lastly, you make work of the kimono. You had pestered your God to help tuck and tie to perfection. Now, it’s folded fabric that you set on top of your traveling pack. 

You stood straight to be beheld. "Here, I bare myself to you." You do not own undergarments, you don't remember a time in which you would have. You bowed till you were sure that your whole body felt flatted into the mountain's steps. "My God."

"Come," Your God beckoned. "Drop the God." 

"Yes Sukuna," You huffed out. "Shall I bring you any food or dessert? The night market was more lively than the last! I could hardly handle the long lines. And I thought we would have more fun watching the fireworks from within the courtyard."

"Quit yapping and come. I couldn't care less for mortal foods."

You make your ascent up the remaining steps separating you two. "Aw, I guess that I'm the only mortal food you'll eat." You let out a giggle through the racing questions. "I hope that you know that you are getting my stuff from below, it has been quite tedious for this mortal to make it this far."

Sukuna looked up into your eyes. You have made it in between his parted legs. You swayed there for a little bit before assuming your kneeling position. Your finger grazed Sukuna's hair before using his shoulder to brace your knees when hitting the slab below. Back straight. Bum placed directly over heel. And, your hands cling to each elbow behind your back in a straight line. "Bold to order me around."

"It was a suggestion."

"A hell of one." Sukuna placed his finger under your lips "Your chin should be lifted. Do you need a reminder? And where should your eyes be?"

"Retraining won’t be necessary." You lifted your chest higher to prove the point as you focused on Sukuna's manhood. His white robe left little to the imagination especially since he never ties it properly. His tattoos frame his sculpted abs and draw the eyes to his glorious v-line. And it's only if you don't do a double take of the smirking mouth protruding from the middle of his stomach. You are used to it and you have been more than aquatinted to how perverted it makes you feel. 

"The long face, pet?" Your nickname was held off long enough to feel somewhat like an afterthought or an attack on your ego.

You sighed, "At the market... This girl I met was twenty, but when I met her last year, she wasn't born yet. I had talked to her parents."

You dared look up into Sukuna's four eyes, searching from one to the other which all stared back at you. "Oh pet, are you mad?"

"Should I be?"

"Why no, pet," Sukuna whispered. He bowed his head to rest his forehead against yours, coated in a film of sweat. "I could make you forget the thoughts running in your dumb head. You are a pet that only needs to know of her master." He scraped a finger behind your ear, taking the black rose pin and with his other hand, he swept your hair back to his liking. "But, if you are mad, I will allow you to pierce me with this. Hold out your hand."

You did as told. Now the metallic warmth of the pin weighed heavy on your conscious. "I don't wish to hurt you. And if I do this, you'll punish me."

"I lied. Pierce me for all I care. You are mad like me.” His blazed eyes hunger for the fear in yours “Your punishment will be a light one."

You shook your head, "No! No no no. I want to let this go! Let's enjoy the food and the fireworks. Please!" Before you could yank your arm away, your God gripped tight enough to bruise. With full awareness, you watched as Sukuna used your hand to shove the pin repeatedly into his chest.

At first, the skin doesn't break. Your hand throbbed from the forced handle you had to take. Your arms ached all over as you tried pulling away from the slashing. Screaming felt foreign but not unheard of coming from your throat. Moments like theses caused your mind to wonder. Were those cries even yours or someone else's? A spectator could be in the woods regarding the nakedness of your skin.

They could be the one screaming. The spectator has front-row seats to view the enormous stomach mouth gulp down blood. Or they were the one fighting, not you, to get away from Your God.

"Su-uuh kuna! Wh- why, why! Why are you doing this!?" You bellowed through gritted teeth, smacking against his chest. 

"What did I even do wrong?" You felt the crash of your lungs. You felt the heaviness of your knees losing balance on the pavement which caused you to smack into Sukuna's right thigh. Your face felt hot. "I can't be mad! I don't have the right!" You shook your head, whipping hair everywhere. Snot ran down to your lips as you kept screaming. "I don't care if you lied! Why should I! I'm nothing more than a pet who would be nothing without their god!"

Sukuna squeezed your hand as he pushed the sharp pin in one last time before ripping your arms away. You fell backwards. catching yourself on the step below you. Your main find at last year's market, the black rose pin, looked dimmed when coated in blood. It stuck out of your God's chest where it rises and falls to the normal beat of his lungs. Whatever compelled you to buy the article of jewelry made you gag into your hands.

"Pet, I hate these excursions of yours. You know that."

.............................. Thank you for reading! This is my first attempt on making a smut! There will be a part two because I wanted to get this out on new years day! Please leave ideas in the comments! Request rules are here! I have an idea of where I want part two to go, but there is always room to stir the pot. HAPPY NEW YEARS!!! (technically a day late)

>>>

NEXT JJK POST: Yandere! Landlord! Geto Suguru x F!Reader

[vigilxnte-shit]

i want your midnights || matt murdock x reader

summary: you sleep better when matt is around, but the last thing you want is to make him choose between you and the city.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: NOT EDITED NOT EDITED AT ALL SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY also mentions of anxiety

a/n: based on my own insomnia as of late and also the fact that there is not a single member of the tuna team with a normal sleep schedule

this is an 18+ blog. minors dni. || masterlist

you didn’t know what time it was.

you knew it was dark, that it was raining, and that there was a slight, tugging tension in your arm where it rested under your pillow, bearing the weight of your head. you knew that the empty pillow next to yours felt smooth and empty and cold, that it faintly smelled of coffee and whiskey and, in a perfect world, would be cradling perfect chestnut waves and supporting the man you loved. 

but the world wasn’t perfect. it was dark, it was raining, and there was an intense, stifling lack of matthew murdock in your bed. 

you tossed and turned, shoved your head into the pile of pillows, snuggled with the sheets to get a whiff of his lingering cologne- nothing helped. he wasn’t the sheets or the pillows, he was actual warmth and the comfiest set of arms you’d ever been wrapped up in. he was real, he was yours, and he was out saving the world, just like he did every night.

you took some comfort in knowing that he was listening, that he was always leaving an ear open. he’d told you several times that on the more stressful nights, the evenings where the punches landed harder and the blood ran heavier, he’d look to you for respite. you liked to imagine it, exactly as he said- his gaze always veered up, in the direction of your apartment, seeking you out the same way he did god, zeroing in to listen to your heartbeat and your breath. to the one thing that brought him back to earth. you. the sounds of you living, not even conscious, just existing and waiting and his.

it was comforting to think about, but it wasn’t a substitute. you were still left matt-less, still alone. with an upset huff, you turned onto your back and stared at your dark void of a ceiling, your mind leading you to the morning. you wanted to bring this up with him. you wanted to talk it out, find a compromise and start spending your evenings in his arms, but that would leave out one very important detail that made matt, matt. that detail was this little thing called daredevil.

you knew it when you’d fallen in love, that daredevil came with matt murdock, and you knew you would never understand it. you’d had your experiences in double lives, one face with your parents and another with your friends, but you couldn’t even begin to fathom it on this level, the torment and anguish that the catholic felt for engaging the vigilante. you knew it was difficult, you knew it was important to him, and you knew that, whether you liked it or not, your heart belonged to the devil of hell’s kitchen just as much as it belonged to the lawyer fighting for justice- but that knowledge didn’t take away the anxiety, or the missing him, or the lonely nights. 

the emptiness of your ceiling made your mind envious as you went through the options. of course, you could call him- maybe it was a slower night, maybe he could call it early and come in from the rain to your arms. the longer you thought about it, though, the more that plan fell apart. you tried to save the burner he’d given you for emergencies; it had been used exactly once since you’d received it and only because he’d heard a fire alarm go off in your building. he probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption, especially if it wasn’t a slower night. 

you could wait up for him, but that would upset him, too. he’d spent the past weeks begging you to try melatonin and offering to find you a therapist for the anxiety that plagued you, insisting that your rest was more important than him having someone waiting. him and his lawyer ways, of course, had tried to convince you that even falling asleep while waiting still counted, but you didn’t believe that. you knew if he climbed through that window bleeding and bruised only to find you sound asleep, he would never wake you up. he wouldn’t even consider it, and this was where the problem came to its head. 

you slept better with matt murdock next to you. that was a fact, plain and simple. no anxiety medications could replace that, no weighted blanket could make up for his arms. you slept your best when he was next to you, tangible and warm and smelling like the faintest hints of coffee and whiskey as he held you to his chest, and the nights that you got to experience that were paradise. and yet, you could never tell him that. you could never put that on him. he could choose between helping you sleep and protecting the city over your dead body, and you didn’t care how dramatic that sounded. you loved matt. you loved daredevil. you loved the devotion he held to his city, his ceaseless passion for keeping the streets as safe as he could, and you could never be cruel enough to ask him to choose between that and yourself. 

you forgot to blink with how you stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. you were stuck. you had no clue what to do, and you were only roused from your swirling brainstorm by the sound of the actual storm outside entering your window for the briefest of moments with its opening and immediate re-closing. 

“you should be asleep.” 

his voice was gruff, deep, just like always when he returned home- a bit hoarse from the tone he adopted, from the occasional yelled conversation. you could hear the rain dripping off of him, the way he lightened his steps in the boots he always wore so he didn’t seem like he was stomping. the little things, the details where your matty shone through the suit and armor. 

“can’t,” you answered. that was all you needed to say. you knew he could hear your heartbeat, pick up on your temperature and focus on your breathing. he was doing it now- the silence gave it away with the intense feeling of somehow being watched. 

“we’ve gotta get you in therapy, sweetheart,” he said softly. you heard his mask thud onto the bedside table, a gentle dropping sound accompanied with his softened footsteps before you felt his icy, rained-upon lips press your forehead. “i’m worried about how little you’re sleeping.” 

you answered with a low hum, finally turning onto your side. “are you at least coming to bed soon?” 

you loved how he looked, mask-less in his signature reds. he looked worn out and tired and accomplished for the night- that sparkle in his hazel eyes would fade in the shower as he pondered whether god was proud of him yet, but for now, you savored it. he smiled at you- a soft, affectionate little pull of his lips, followed by a nod. 

“let me go shower. i’ll be back in five.” 

he gave your hand a small squeeze. you returned it before nestling into your pillow. your eyes rested easier now, the pillow felt softer and the air felt warmer just from his presence. your eyelids became so heavy you had to close them, focusing on the sound of the running water and the slowing patter of the rain. 

matt was listening, too. he had been the whole night- it had been quieter, like you’d hoped, and he’d spent most of the night listening for you. he’d known you hadn’t slept, your heart rate spiking and sinking and back again, your breath too fast to be unconscious. 

that was why as he stood in the shower, hot water running down his back and rain still audible on the roof, he smiled. he had been monitoring you since his arrival home, listening with a feeling of pride as your heartbeat steadily decreased and your breathing became more even. 

you were nearly asleep when he came to join you, only roused slightly by the sudden feeling of his arms around you. you stretched and yawned, calling a soft “yeah?” as you adjusted. he just chuckled, squeezing you before kissing your cheek. 

“go to sleep. i’m right here.” 

your wordless response was to snuggle into his chest, that coffee cologne pushing it’s last, most faint notes to your nose with the warm backdrop of his embrace. you took less than a minute to fall to unconsciousness, your soft exhales brushing his chest and your forehead under his chin.

matt smiled to himself, his own eyes falling closed to the rhythmic melody of your heartbeat.

[the-fiction-witch]

I Like Him P6

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - (OC) Jaerra Targaryen [Daughter of Daemon Targaryen & Rhea Royce] Rating - 15 + Word Count - 1635

Jaerra strolled through the ancient, decaying godswoods of Harrenhal, surrounded by towering, gnarled trees. She was clad in one of her simple, small grey gowns, the fabric gently swaying as she moved. The afternoon sun cast dappled shadows on the ground, and the air was filled with the earthy scents of moss and fallen leaves. Despite the daily influx of men joining Daemon's army and the ceaseless construction efforts at Harrenhal, Jaerra sought relief in her solitary walk, hoping to find respite from the chaos and noise of the ongoing work. Unbeknownst to her, Oscar had quietly followed.

Oscar had caught a glimpse of Jaerra as she walked away and had impulsively decided to follow her, eager to engage her in conversation. However, as he shadowed her, he found himself unable to find the right words to call out or announce his presence, still feeling the warmth of the kiss she had planted on his cheek just days before. He struggled to articulate his emotions and remained silent, trailing her like a lost puppy or a fledgling dragon. Positioning himself discreetly by the stairs leading to the godswoods, he couldn't help but continue to observe her as she strolled, feeling somewhat intrusive but unable to tear himself away.

“Jaerra,” He confidently made himself known by speaking up and stepping into view. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, stood with an air of determination, and subtly puffed out his chest, exuding an aura of bravery.

“Afternoon Oscar,” As she turned to see him, a warm smile lit up her face. She couldn't help but chuckle softly as she noticed how he was trying to stand brave and tall for her. Walking over to him, she pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, enjoying the sight of the blush that spread across his skin. “How can I help you, Lord Tully?” she asked,

“I was just well, I wanted to make sure to accompany you. Lots of very rough soldiers around the castle now, I wanted to make sure you’re safe.”

“I can take care of myself, Oscar,” She chuckled, “But your company is appreciated none the less,”

“I’m glad,” he smiled offering his hand,

She softly took his hand and gently intertwined their fingers,

He led her softly on a small stroll of the godswood, chatting quietly with each other about the work going on and the plans being made until Oscar turned the topic.

“I- I don’t often see you and his grace together?”

“No, I suppose not,” she softly sighed, “Daemon and I often don’t spend time together let alone speak, outside of the essential,”

“May I ask… why not?”

Jaerra gently sat herself down on one of the many fallen rocks, Oscar sat down beside her his knee brushing hers as their hands remained locked together, “I suppose it’s sort of always been that way,” she said, “What about your father?” She asked,

“Oh I-”

“It’s alright, forgive me. I shouldn’t have been so bold.”

“No, no it’s alright,” he smiled squeezing her hand softly, “I… didn’t know the man all that well,” he began, “He died a young man,”

“I’m sorry Oscar,” she softly squeezed his hand and did her best to be of comfort,

“I was merely a boy,”

“You’re still a boy,” she gently teased him,

He scoffed in mock offence, “My lady, I am Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and Lord of Riverrun,” he joked, “I assure you, I am a big, strong, man. Well skilled to protect you,”

“I’m sure you are Oscar,” She laughed,

“My grandsire… he was a good man, I loved him like a father. I suppose I had more time with him,” he softly smiled, “But I do cherish what little time I had with my father,”

“I don’t, I tend to dread most of the time with my father,” she replied,

“I understand,” he nodded, “I can’t say I blame you for such feelings Jaerra.”

“Would you tell me? About your father.”

“Of course,” Oscar smiled, “My father was a very kind man, he often tried to advise my grandsire on matters in Riverrun,” He softly smiled, “He would often tell tales about my mother, about Riverrun’s history, about our family,” He chuckled, “I remember, being scared one night. During a harsh storm with the rain pouring, the wind howling like a dire wolf, the trident’s waves tackling the walls of Riverrun… So I climbed down from my bed and scurried around the halls like a little mouse until I found my father's room. I crawled up into his bed and hid under his covers… but he tucked me in and told me stories until I fell asleep,”

Jaerra smiled softly, imagining little Oscar all frightened and wide-eyed like a little cute Tully fish.

“I wish I had him for longer…” He said sadly, “But I had my grandsire and he was kind to me, stern but kind all the same. He wanted me to grow up into a leader but… never stopped me being myself. The older I get the more I thank him for that,” He smiled, “Sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“No, no it’s so sweet.” She cooed, “I’m happy you have such nice memories of him, and of your Grandsire.”

“Don’t you have nice memories of Daemon? Anything at all?” He asked,

It took Jaerra a while to answer which only made Oscar feel worse for her, “I do have one… When Iēdar lilagon was first big enough to be ridden. Daemon came from Pentos to visit me on Caraxes. He took me out onto the Moores and taught me everything I needed to know, how to sit, how to chain myself into a saddle, how to control him, how to fly and spark fires it… it was nice,” she explained, “He didn’t have to do it, and I am grateful he took the time to.”

“Do you ever wish he’d spent more time with you, when you were young?”

“No, I think even if he tried I wouldn’t have been receptive to it. I don’t think he’d have made my childhood any better,” she answered,

He softly squeezed her hand in his and gave her a tender smile, “I’m so sorry, it breaks my heart to hear of the struggles and pain of your past my lady, and I know with the coming war, the days before us are not to be easy either. But if I make an offer?”

“An offer, My lord Tully?” she asked, her eyebrow slightly raised,

“When this war is over, and peace is restored to the kingdom and our lives…” He hesitated for a brief moment, feeling unable to hold her gaze. However, he summoned his courage and finally met her eyes with a determined look. “Come to Riverrun with me,” he offered,

Jaerra gasped, her eyes a little wide not having been expecting such an offer,

“Please do not think I’m imposing, but… Riverrun is my home and I promise you as long as I breathe and even beyond, you will have a home in my keep. Always a seat beside my hearth, always a warm bed under my roof I swear this to you. By the old gods and the new.” He told her, “You and Iēdar lilagon, both. I will happily take care of you both, and keep you safe, and if you wish never to see Daemon again I will mount a thousand scorpion bolts to the walls of Riverrun and bring down Caraxes the moment he so much as flies over my lands. You will never fear his words, never shudder under the glances of people, and every day I will tell you of all the things that make you so beautiful, and so priceless beyond your blood, your hair and your gender.” he cooed,

Jaerra sat for a second her chest slowly heaving unable to break contact with his eyes, processing all he had just come tumbling from his lips,

“Forgive me I -” He tried to correct himself and apologize,

Jaerra’s fingers softly gripped the edges of armour and without word or hesitation she cut him off with a soft press of her lips to his, her warm tender lips met his own in a quick but full kiss that.

Oscar’s eyes went wide, all the air left his lungs, and his heart stopped suddenly his whole body reeling from his first kiss, as his smooth lips met her own slightly chapped lips, he was screaming at the top of his lungs but outside merely silence.

She pulled back enough to have their eyes meet, “Sorry I just-” she began,

But Oscar pulled her own trick back on her, closing his eyes and meeting their lips once more, his hands moving to settle on her waist,

Jaerra kissed him back, her eyes fluttering shut, her hands relaxing to slide softly against the leather he wore, both slowly adjusting and finding the best ways to breathe while trying to keep their hearts at a decent pace, even if their minds filled with utter love and devotion.

They shared the kiss for what could have been hours, their lips gliding against one another treading the line before the kiss became more intimate.

Jaerra was the first to pull back, her eyes met Oscar’s and she couldn’t hold back a simple but warm smile almost laughing after the rush of emotions, heat flooding her face,

Oscar smiled back unable to break staring into her eyes with his own half-lidded eyes almost drunk on the adrenaline of their kiss, his hands slowly slid from her waist to take both her hands in his,

“Do- do you mean this?” She whispered,

“With all my heart Jaerra,” He smiled,

“… Then I gladly, accept your offer.” She nodded almost tearful,

He began to shed a small tear of joy too before he softly pulled her into another sweet and joyful kiss.