#lock-only angular happy now

[tokkiwrites]

Hi happy holidays! Can you please do a Sergei kravinoff smut x innocent female virgin reader “babe in the woods” trope. Sergei is immediately fixated on reader and wants her to be his grude & mother of his children. He immediately marries and later takes her virginity. He hopes to impregnate her from their first time together. Ty!

thank you for this request, anon! and sorry it took so long to post. I've had it written, but it just took a while for me to get the smut part going. i hope you like it!

Sergei Kravinoff × F!Reader ♰ themes of stalking, obsessive Sergei, kidnapping, Kraven is a weirdo and needs to be locked up, i would say innocent reader but more so an unbothered reader kind of, she is just confused, forced marriage, themes of Stockholm syndrome, loss of virginity, fingering (reader receiving), afab reader, unprotected p in v, Sergei wants to get the reader pregnant.

The woods were quiet, save for the whisper of wind threading through the branches above. You loved this time of day when the sun filtered gold and green through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the earth. It was your sanctuary, far from the clamor of town and the heavy, watchful eyes of others. Here, no one could accuse you of being strange, or sheltered, or too naive. You simply were.

The faint crack of a branch made you stop mid-step, your basket of wildflowers swinging lightly at your hip. “Hello?” You called, voice soft, hesitant. The forest had always been safe— or so it felt. until now, you had never had the need to question it.

He emerged from the shadows, and your breath caught. The man was massive. A towering figure, his broad shoulders draped in animal pelts and his chest bare save for the crisscrossing scars that marked him as something primal, dangerous. His face was angular, carved from stone, with piercing eyes that pinned you where you stood.

Sergei Kravinoff. The name would mean nothing to you, but to others, it struck fear—a hunter of men and beasts, a predator who bent the wilderness to his will. He did not speak at first. He only looked at you, as if you were some rare, delicate creature he had stumbled upon. The longer his eyes lingered, the hotter your cheeks burned.

“Who are you?” you asked, clutching the basket to your chest. His lips curved into a smile, though there was nothing warm in it. “I am Sergei,” he said, his voice low, thick with an accent you couldn’t place. “And you" he paused for a bit. " Should not wander alone in places like this. The world is not kind to lambs.” You blinked at him, confused. “Lambs?”

“You,” he clarified, taking a step closer. His sheer presence seemed to draw the air from your lungs. “Soft. Untouched. So trusting.” You took an instinctive step back, and his smile widened, as if he enjoyed your unease. “I—I’ve never seen you here before. Are you lost?”

“No,” he said simply, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. “But perhaps I have found something worth staying for.”

It reeked of dangerㅡ death. yet you still came back.

Over the next week, you saw him again and again. Always in the woods, always watching. At first, you told yourself it was a coincidence. this strange man simply shared your love for the forest. But his presence became impossible to ignore. He never tried to speak much, yet his eyes seemed to devour you every time, as though he were committing every detail of your face to memory. You should have been afraid. You should have stopped going to the woods entirely. But something about him fascinated you. He was so unlike the boys in town, who stammered and avoided your gaze, intimidated by your quietness. Sergei was bold, unflinching. He seemed to look right through you, to the parts of yourself you didn’t even understand.

you little lamb.

“Why do you keep following me?” He tilted his head, his gaze softening though not entirely. “Because you are mine.” The bluntness of his words made your breath hitch. “I don’t even know you.”

“You will,” he said, stepping closer. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and though you should have flinched away, you didn’t. His touch was surprisingly gentle, reverent even, even if his rough fingers scratched your skin. “I have decided. You will be my bride.”

“Bride?” You echoed the word foreign and strange on your tongue. “But we’ve only just—” you laughed. surely it must be a joke. “You are meant for me, little lamb” he interrupted, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “I have hunted all my life, little one. I know when I have found my prize.” Suddenly, the world went dark.

maybe it was all just a bad and confusing dream. though his touch still lingered.

You woke in the morning to find yourself not in your small, familiar room. outside the window that overlooked the bed you were in, the forest. The air smelled of pine and smoke, and outside, the trees loomed tall and unyielding. Panic gripped you as you sat up, heart racing. “Where—” The door creaked open, and there he was, filling the frame with his imposing presence. “You are awake,” Sergei said, his tone calm, almost pleasedㅡ excited. He carried a tray with food: fresh berries, bread, and cheese. “Eat. Now."

“Where am I?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why did you—” He set the tray down, cutting you off with a look. “You are safe. That is all you need to know.”

“I am not! This isn’t right,” you said, tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” he said sharply, though his expression softened as he stepped closer. “I have waited long enough. You do not understand, but you will. I will take care of you. Protect you. You will want for nothing, my little one.”

You shook your head, backing away from him, but he caught your wrist with startling ease. His touch was firm, yet not cruel. “Do not fear me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to something almost tender. “I would never hurt you. You are too precious.”

Sergei did not wait long to make you his.

The days in the cabin blurred together, each one steeped in an odd rhythm. Sergei’s presence was constant, protective, and overwhelming. He would watch you eat, his sharp eyes softening whenever you complied. He brought you small gifts: wildflowers, trinkets carved from wood, pelts to keep you warm. He never let you wander far, always ensuring you were within sight. And though he never forced his touch upon you, you could feel the tension thrumming beneath the surface, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

In the evening, as the fire crackled and cast flickering shadows on the walls, Sergei sat across from you. He leaned forward, large hands resting on his knees. “It is time,” he said, his voice calm but unyielding. “Time?” you echoed, your throat dry. “For us to marry.” You stared at him, heart pounding. “I… I can’t. I don’t even know what you want from me. I—I never— You kidnapped me!”

“You were made for this,” he said, cutting you off. his eyes were setting you a-light, it made your skin prickle. “You think I do not see it? Your purity. Your innocence. You were meant to be a wife. My wife.” Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “But I’m not— I need to marry someone I love!"

“You are ready,” he insisted, his tone softening only slightly. “I have waited long enough. It will be done."

And it was.

The ceremony was simple, ritualistic. Sergei had prepared everything. rings made from woven silver, a bearskin cloak to drape over your shoulders as a symbol of protection. There was no priest, no people, only the two of you and the forest as your witness. He spoke vows in a language you did not understand, his voice deep and reverent, as though he were offering you up to some ancient force. When it was your turn, your voice faltered, but under his watchful gaze, you repeated the words he taught you.

“You are mine,” he said at the end, taking your face in his hands. His eyes burned with possessive fire. “And I am yours.”

but every wolf gets hungry eventually.

When night fell, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the thick wool blanket. Sergei entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. He had shed his usual pelts, his bare chest glowing in the firelight.

“You are trembling,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. He knelt in front of you, his massive frame now not so intimidating. “Are you afraid of me?” You couldn’t meet his eyes. "I don’t know... what you expect from me? What you w-want...”

“I expect you to trust me,” he said simply, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You are my wife now. It is my duty to show you what that means.” Your breath stopped as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I will not hurt you,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “But you are mine, little lamb. Every part of you.”

His lips met yours— soft at first, testing, as though he feared you might shatter like porcelain. But when you didn’t pull away, his kiss deepened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His hands cradled your face, his touch reverent, almost worshipful.

“I have waited for this,” he said against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Waited to claim what is mine.” You didn’t resist as he laid you down, his hands tracing over your trembling form. He was patient, guiding you gently, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so fierce. But his intent was clear.

oh, little lamb.

rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his bearded face stays flush against your tender neck. he was ready to devour you. Sergei looked up into your eyes and for the first time you've seen him smile. and as if all of the things you felt caused you fears melted away, so did you into his embrace.

his lips meet yours, and it all finally made sense. you could feel the hunger, the will in him to give his all right here, right now. you wrapped around him like vines on a tree, his low growl of approval making you clench around nothing. it all felt so new, yet familiar, as if somehow, this wasn't the first time. the forest outside sung as your quiet moans filled the cabin. Sergei discards all of your clothes with ease, leaving you in nothing as you stayed splayed on the bed. the fur coverings under, pooled around your body, the moonlight dripped on you like dew in spring and you looked like a precious painting.

with no time to wait, sergei quickly gets naked. it wasn't the first time you saw him like this, but it was the first time you saw it. to say all that fear bubbled up into your stomach was an understatement. you gulped down as your glossy eyes looked at him up and down. "Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obey. spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and sergei throws his head back with a low groan. you finally speak up. "IㅡI am a...a virgin." it all seemed so silly to say now. "I know." he smiles in the corner of his mouth. "Smelled it on you the first time we met." and you whimper. "I will get you ready now." somehow, you knew what it meant. He kneels in front of you on the bed, pulling you so that you thighs are right over his, your puffy lips on full display. two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.

after that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. You whimpered softly and Sergei shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plushy thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers inside, and you can feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. the second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping them, swirling them around as his lips made contact with your swollen bud. Your eyes jot open as this feeling washes over you, and you can't help but let your legs shake uncontrollably. The fire wave envelopes you whole before it comes to an agonizing stop. You open your eyes again and above you is Sergei, his shaft in his hand as he aligns it with your asking entrance. "If it hurts...yell. Scream as much as you want. Hurt me back. I am here to teach you."

and teach you he does. he pushes in slowly and the stretch is agonizing, the pain making all of your muscles tense. "It's alright, I'm here, little girl." you let out a sigh, the tears slipping past your lids when you open your eyes. the moon engulfed Sergei in It's beautiful light, his silhouette looking as if it was carved out perfectly. a couple of inches, then some more, and some moreㅡ until he is fully inside. you bite down on your tongue, but Sergei preps soft kisses along your jaw and you seem to forget about the pain. "You're doing so, so good. So good for me." he hums, taking in a big breath of your smell before he snaps his hips slowly. In a few seconds, the burn turned into a delicious feeling you couldn’t quite describe. And though it felt so new, your body fell in place right into Sergei’s touch, as if it were meant to be.

When he finally started to move faster, his groan was one of triumph, a sound that you know will echo in your ears long after. “You will give me childrenㅡ" he said, voice low and ragged as he moved inside of you. “Strong sons and daughters. Our legacy will begin tonight.”

your legs quiver around him, but he leaves no room for mercy. Above you, he looked just as a predator ready to swallow his pray whole. you weren't one to fight back, and you really didn't want to. you back stayed arched against the coverings of the bed, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as he pumped into you. your tummy was churning, and your head was dizzyㅡ you were far gone, too drunk on the way he perfectly hit that spot with each thrust. "You were made for me, made to take meㅡ fuck, you are so beautiful." you whimper, feeling that fire wave starting to take over again. your velvet walls squeeze around him, causing him to growl. Sergei leans forward, propping one of your legs above his shoulder, the angle making you gasp for air. you look up at him, eyes glossy with tears. An animal. His eyes grew darker, lips crooked in a smile before he delivered his final blow.

you come undone right under his fingertips, writhing and shaking as small pleads fall from your lips. You can feel his seed deep within you, threatening to slip out around his cock that was still inside of you, pulsing. "Good girl."

he prays it sticks.

Sergei’s obsession with you only deepened—he barely let you out of his sight, his touch lingering whenever he could. Yet there was a softness in him, a desire to make you happy, even as he bent you to his will.

He began teaching you small things. how to tend the fire, how to skin an animal, how to defend yourself should a predator come. But you were never allowed to go far. “Why can’t I leave?” you asked one afternoon, your frustration bubbling over. Sergei turned to you, his eyes darkening. “Because the world is cruel, little one. It will devour you. You are too soft, too trusting. Here, you are safe.”

“Safe,” you repeated bitterly. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze softening. “I would rather you hate me than lose you.” you were beginning to see the truth of it. his love for you was consumin and obsessive, but it was real. He worshipped you, protected you, but at the cost of your freedom. And yet, part of you began to adapt. To find comfort in his arms, in the way he looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps you were.

[novaursa]

Where Dragons Dare (2/3)

- Summary: After your declaration to marry Alicent in the small council meeting, the day of the wedding finally comes. And so does your first wedding night.

- Pairing: male!targ reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin brother of Rhaenyra and is bonded with a dragon. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

- A/N: This was requested by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️ Battle of the Stepstones is add as a bonus, because I love writing dragon battles. The last part will be posted later tomorrow once it is done.

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

The grand hall of the Red Keep is awash with the glow of thousands of candles. The flames dance across golden tapestries depicting the histories of Old Valyria, but today the storied past pales in comparison to the momentous occasion unfolding before all in attendance. The wedding is one spoken of in whispers and rumors, but now it blooms before the gathered lords and ladies with all the splendor and gravitas worthy of House Targaryen. 

You stand at the altar draped in black and red, the rich silk of your doublet catching the light in subtle ways. The fine Valyrian embroidery at the hems speaks of dragons in flight, each thread imbued with dark crimson that shimmers like fresh blood. A black cloak, edged in deep scarlet, flows from your shoulders, fastened at your throat with a clasp shaped like a coiled dragon. Your hair, the silvery-white of pure Valyrian descent, is tied back, letting your angular features and sharp violet eyes take in every gaze, every emotion displayed openly or hidden away. At your side hangs Blackfyre—your birthright as Prince of Dragonstone—its pommel set with a ruby that gleams like a beating heart.

Before you, Alicent Hightower stands radiant in a gown of deep emerald green. The dress, fitted perfectly to her frame, billows out in layers of silk and fine lace, each shimmering with golden accents as she moves. A delicate crown of silver leaves and pearls rests atop her auburn hair, carefully arranged in elegant curls. Her eyes, a brilliant shade of brown, reflect a mixture of pride, joy, and the quiet steel she’s honed under the pressures of courtly life. There is a softness in her gaze, however, reserved only for you as her eyes meet yours—a silent understanding, a shared relief, and a promise of what is to come.

The Septon's voice rings out, leading the words of the traditional vows. Beside you, Rhaenyra is practically glowing with excitement. Her smile is unrestrained, her eyes darting between you and Alicent with genuine happiness, a sister’s joy at seeing her twin brother embrace his own fate. She wears a gown of pale red, adorned with the colors of House Targaryen and a crown of silver atop her flowing locks, her presence radiating confidence as the heir’s sister and a firm ally to your cause. 

King Viserys is seated in a place of honor, his face full of warmth and pride. His smile is wide as he watches his only son wed the woman who has become a daughter to him over the years. He has the contented look of a father who finally sees his children happy, a rare expression in a court filled with ambition and schemes. He lifts his cup in a subtle toast to you and Alicent, his eyes misting over slightly with emotion.

Daemon Targaryen, your uncle, stands near the rear of the gathered nobles, his silver hair catching the light as he observes the ceremony. His expression is inscrutable, but those who know him well enough can see the slight curve at the edge of his lips, the way his gaze sharpens whenever it falls upon you. For all his unpredictability, there is a flicker of pride there—a satisfaction, perhaps, that you finally asserted yourself against the forces that sought to control you. Daemon has always favored those who carve their own path, and today you have done just that.

As the ceremony draws to a close, you step forward to place a cloak upon Alicent’s shoulders, the symbol of House Targaryen enveloping her as you claim her as your own. The green of House Hightower blends now with the red and black of the dragon, a union that cements alliances but more importantly binds two hearts that have long yearned for this day. When you lean in to kiss her, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way her lips meet yours, and the hall erupts in applause, though the world shrinks to just the two of you in that fleeting moment.

As the applause dies down, Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, watches with a carefully controlled expression. His eyes flicker between you and Alicent, a mixture of satisfaction and unease buried beneath his calm demeanor. Though this is a victory for him in securing his daughter’s position, there’s a tension in his jaw—he had hoped to control this outcome more closely, but you’ve slipped from his grasp, a dragon untamed. He studies you with the gaze of a man who sees both a rival and a dangerous ally.

At the feast, Rhaenyra approaches you first, practically throwing herself into your arms. "You did it, Y/N! I knew you would," she beams, her joy infectious. "Alicent looks so beautiful, and you—you were magnificent. I’ve never seen the council so speechless!" Her eyes sparkle with mischief. "And Uncle Daemon, I think he’s actually proud of you for once."

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around your sister. “He probably is. But I didn’t do this for him or the council. This was always for her.” Your gaze drifts back to Alicent, who’s engaged in conversation with a group of highborn ladies, her laughter soft and genuine.

Viserys claps a hand on your shoulder. "You’ve brought honor to our house, Y/N. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. Your mother would be so proud, too." His voice carries a slight tremor as he mentions Queen Aemma, but it is quickly overshadowed by his joy.

You offer him a warm smile. "Thank you, father. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that this union strengthens our house."

Daemon is the next to approach, a goblet in hand and that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "I didn’t think you had it in you, nephew," he says, voice laced with amusement. "I was beginning to think you’d let others chart your course forever. But you’ve surprised us all, haven’t you?"

You meet his gaze squarely, your own smile more restrained but no less confident. "Some paths are worth fighting for, uncle. Even if they’re not what others expect."

Daemon raises his cup in a mock salute. “Spoken like a true Targaryen. Perhaps there’s more fire in you than I thought.”

The feast carries on with music, laughter, and the clinking of cups. You and Alicent share dances with the lords and ladies of the realm, but every now and then, your eyes find each other’s, and the world falls away again, leaving just the two of you in this sea of people.

When you finally manage to steal a private moment with her in a quiet corner of the hall, she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “I was so afraid,” she admits in a hushed voice, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Afraid that we’d never be able to reach this moment. But here we are.”

You brush a strand of hair from her face, letting your hand linger against her cheek. “You’re mine now, Alicent. I’ll fight for you, for us, against anyone who tries to tear us apart.”

A flicker of relief passes through her expression, followed by a warmth that softens her usually reserved emotions. “And I’ll stand by you, no matter the storm we face.”

The words hang between you like an unspoken vow—one more binding than anything recited before the Septon. 

The night deepens as the feast continues, a blur of music and the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the ornate dishes piled with food. Laughter and the sound of clinking goblets fill the Great Hall. You and Alicent sit side by side at the high table, your hands occasionally brushing against each other beneath the table. The touch is small, but each time it happens, there’s a comforting warmth, a silent reassurance between the two of you. Alicent’s soft smile, reserved just for you, never quite fades from her lips.

As you’re enjoying a brief moment of quiet conversation, the sound of footsteps approaches. Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, strides up, his eyes bright with joy. "Sister! Y/N!" he greets, his voice tinged with the exuberance of youth. His resemblance to Alicent is striking, though his features are more angular, his posture that of a man eager to prove himself. "I couldn’t let the night end without offering my congratulations." He gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder, his grin broad. "It’s about time someone put a spark in this old court! You’ve done well, my friend. I’ve known you since we were boys, and I’ve always believed you’d find your way."

You return his grin, reaching out to clasp his forearm in the familiar gesture of comrades. "Gwayne, your support has never gone unnoticed. I’ve always valued your friendship, even when we got ourselves into trouble as children. But I think this time, we’ve both stepped into something greater than mischief.”

Gwayne chuckles. “You certainly have, Y/N. And Alicent—” He turns to his sister, his tone softening with genuine affection. “I’ve never seen you look happier. I’m glad you’ve found this happiness, even if I’ll be the one who has to keep a closer eye on courtly matters with you from now on.”

Alicent smiles warmly at her brother, her hand gently resting over yours atop the table. “Thank you, Gwayne. Your words mean more to me than you know. And don’t worry, we’ll both make sure to keep you busy in your duties, though perhaps with fewer pranks than when we were children.”

The three of you share a laugh, the ease of old friendships and sibling bonds lightening the mood.

Soon after, the familiar figures of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys approach. The Sea Snake is every bit the powerful figure one expects, his deep blue doublet adorned with intricate silver embroidery resembling the waves of the sea. Rhaenys is resplendent in crimson and gold, her presence commanding yet warm. There’s a certain wisdom in her gaze as she looks between you and Alicent, as if she sees beyond what most do.

“Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent,” Corlys begins, his voice deep and steady. “Congratulations are in order. The union of Targaryen and Hightower is a strategic move, and one I hope will bring stability to the realm. But more than that, it’s clear to see the bond you share.” His eyes linger on you, a hint of approval in his expression. “And perhaps this is the start of a new chapter where the young find their own path amidst the expectations of the old.”

Princess Rhaenys nods, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “It is good to see love and strength walk hand in hand. The history of our houses has often been marked by conflict, but this—” she gestures subtly between you and Alicent, “—this has the potential to change much. You both carry the future on your shoulders now.”

You bow your head slightly in respect. “Thank you, Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys. Your wisdom is always welcome. I hope to earn that respect in time and prove that this union is more than just a political move.”

Rhaenys’ eyes glint with something sharp and approving. “Oh, I believe you will, Y/N. The blood of Old Valyria runs deep, and you’ve shown you’re willing to chart your own course. I, for one, look forward to seeing what comes next.”

As they step away, Lord Tyland Lannister, clad in rich reds and golds, approaches next. His sharp features and keen eyes give away his nature as a man ever mindful of the shifting tides of power. “Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent, it is a joyous day indeed.” His voice is smooth, practiced, yet there’s an undercurrent of genuine intent behind his words. “House Lannister is ever eager to lend its support to the Targaryen line. May your union be fruitful and prosperous. It seems the dragons have found a way to blend strength with the grace of the Reach.”

You nod, ever cautious with Tyland’s honeyed words. “Thank you, Lord Tyland. Your support will be remembered, and I hope our alliance will benefit all corners of the realm.”

He offers a slight bow before moving off, ever mindful of where the winds blow.

The feast begins to wind down, and as tradition demands, there is the looming expectation of the bedding ceremony. The air in the hall thickens with the anticipation of it. Some lords and ladies begin to gather, murmuring and glancing toward you and Alicent with barely hidden excitement. The tension, the ribald jokes, the whispers—it all threatens to reduce the sanctity of this moment to a spectacle.

Before anyone can make a move to initiate it, you rise to your feet, the air of command in your posture silencing the crowd before the teasing can begin. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” you declare, your voice clear and firm, leaving no room for argument. The hall quiets instantly, the murmur of protests caught in the throats of those who thought to see the night end in such a manner.

Daemon, standing with arms crossed at the edge of the hall, lets out a low chuckle, his approval evident in the sharp nod he gives you. “Let the young prince make his own choices,” he says, his voice carrying across the room. “There’s enough spectacle in these halls without turning the most sacred of nights into another charade.”

The crowd hesitates, unsure whether to push the matter. But when you meet your father’s gaze, Viserys nods slowly, an expression of both surprise and respect on his face. Otto Hightower, who had been watching with tension in his eyes, finally relaxes, a subtle sigh escaping him. His face settles into an expression that resembles something close to approval, a rare look from a man who values tradition and order above all.

Alicent looks at you with deep gratitude and admiration, her fingers squeezing yours as she stands. You turn to her, your expression softening as you offer her your arm. “Shall we retire, my lady?” you ask, your voice laced with tenderness.

She dips her head slightly, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Let’s,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper as she takes your arm.

Together, you walk down the long aisle toward the doors leading out of the Great Hall, every eye on you both as you leave. There is a certain weight lifted from your shoulders as the doors close behind you, the noise of the hall fading as you enter the quieter, more intimate corridors of the Keep.

As you walk side by side toward your chambers, the echoes of your footsteps and the distant flicker of torchlight create an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Neither of you speaks, the silence between you comfortable, filled with the knowledge that this is just the beginning. When you reach the doors to your shared chambers, you pause, turning to face her fully. You lift her hand to your lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles, your eyes never leaving hers.

“No more performances,” you murmur. “This is just us now.”

Alicent’s eyes shine as she steps closer, her other hand rising to rest against your cheek. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be with you, like this, away from prying eyes.”

With that, you open the door and guide her inside, the world outside forgotten as the heavy oak doors close behind you both, sealing away the courtly intrigue and the expectations of the realm. In this moment, it’s just you and her, bound together by choice, love, and a shared determination to forge your own destiny.

The chamber is bathed in the soft light of the fire, shadows flickering across the stone walls as the door closes behind you both. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable but full with the awareness of what comes next. For all the warmth you share, the affection that’s blossomed over years of quiet moments and unspoken glances, this is new for both of you. The air is tinged with the sweet fragrance of candles, the soft rustle of fabric as you both stand there, suddenly unsure how to proceed.

You turn to face her, meeting Alicent’s gaze. There’s a nervousness in her eyes, a slight quiver in her breath, but beneath it lies trust, and something more—desire, hesitant but real. You step closer, reaching out to take her hands in yours, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gentle, soothing motion. “Alicent,” you murmur, your voice softer than usual, tinged with both affection and concern. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready—”

“I am,” she interrupts softly, her voice a tender whisper in the quiet of the room. Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes never leave yours. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

You nod, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Slowly, you lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss, tender and delicate. Her lips are warm against yours, the kiss a gentle exploration rather than a fervent rush. You both linger in the simplicity of it, letting it ease the tension from your bodies. When you pull back, you see her chest rise and fall as she steadies her breath, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

Your hand moves to the clasp of her dress, fingers hesitating for a moment before you look at her once more. “May I?” you ask softly.

She nods, her voice catching slightly. “Yes… I want you to.”

With careful fingers, you undo the clasp and let the fabric slip from her shoulders, revealing the pale skin beneath. The dress pools at her feet, and she stands before you in just her shift, delicate and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker down, shyly avoiding your gaze as you take her in. In turn, she reaches out, her hands trembling slightly as she begins to unlace your doublet. There’s an unspoken agreement between you—a mutual understanding that this moment is as much about trust as it is about desire. You help her with the laces, guiding her hands until your clothing is cast aside, leaving you both bare in the warm glow of the fire.

For a long moment, you simply stand there, your breaths mingling, your eyes tracing the curves and lines of each other’s bodies. There’s a sense of curiosity mixed with reverence, your gazes shyly meeting before drifting again, both of you learning and memorizing the sight of each other.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. Alicent’s breath hitches at the word, her eyes shining as she looks up at you, her lips parting as if to say something, but words fail her. Instead, she just reaches out, fingers brushing over your chest, her touch sending a shiver through you.

You gently take her hand and guide her toward the bed, the furs soft beneath your feet as you lead her down onto the mattress. You lay her down with the utmost care, your eyes never leaving hers, searching for any sign of discomfort. Her lips part as she draws in a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her gaze is steady, trusting.

You lower yourself beside her, your hand caressing her cheek as you lean in to kiss her again. This time, the kiss is deeper, a gradual melding of lips as you both begin to relax into each other. Your hand trails down, brushing against her collarbone, then lower, until it rests just above her breast. You pause, your eyes flicking to hers for permission, and when she nods slightly, you continue, cupping her breast gently, your thumb brushing over the soft skin. A soft gasp escapes her lips, her back arching slightly as you explore her.

“You’re so beautiful, Alicent,” you murmur against her lips, and she responds with a soft sigh, her hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer.

Your kisses begin to wander, trailing down her jawline, to the tender skin of her neck. You feel her pulse quicken under your lips, her breath growing more uneven as you move lower. When your mouth finds her breast, she gasps, her fingers threading through your hair. You take your time, savoring each reaction, each soft sound she makes as your lips and tongue explore her.

As you move lower, her breath catches, her fingers tightening in your hair when you kiss the curve of her hip. You glance up at her, seeing the mixture of nerves and anticipation in her eyes. She’s never experienced anything like this, and neither have you—not truly. But you remember the lessons Daemon half-teased, half-instructed you on during that one visit to the brothel, showing you the ways of pleasure in a more practical, if unconventional, manner. While you hadn’t partaken that night, you watched, curious, and the knowledge lingers now, guiding your movements.

You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she lets out a soft whimper, her fingers clutching at the furs beneath her. You murmur a line from an old Valyrian poem, the words ancient and filled with meaning, letting the sounds roll off your tongue as your kisses grow more intimate. “Gevives isse tolvie jelevre—beauty in every breath,” you whisper, your breath warm against her skin.

When your mouth finally finds her core, she gasps, her body tensing for a moment before she melts into the sensation, her hips shifting instinctively toward you. Her breath comes in shallow bursts, her hand gripping your shoulder as you apply what you’ve learned, taking your time, listening to the way her body responds. When she lets out a soft moan, her voice trembling with pleasure, you smile against her, murmuring another line from the poem—words of love and devotion that have been passed down through generations.

Slowly, you trail your kisses back up her body, feeling her trembling beneath you. Her hands reach for you, pulling you close, and when your lips find hers again, the kiss is hungry, filled with the taste of her desire and the passion that’s been building between you both.

You position yourself above her, your eyes locked on hers as you ask one last time, “Are you sure, Alicent?”

Her response is a breathless nod, her hand cupping your cheek as she whispers, “I want this. I want you.”

You enter her gently, inch by inch, mindful of her innocence, watching her every expression for any sign of pain. She winces slightly at first, her brow furrowing, but her fingers dig into your back, holding you close as she adjusts. When she finally opens her eyes again, there’s no hesitation, only trust. “Move,” she breathes, her voice barely audible, but full of need.

You start slowly, each movement careful, deliberate, letting her body adjust, her warmth enveloping you. Her breaths come out in soft, quick bursts, her nails dragging lightly across your skin as she holds on to you. The tension in her body gradually gives way to something else, her hips meeting yours in a rhythm that’s both instinctive and hesitant.

As the moments pass, the awkwardness gives way to a deeper connection. The tenderness remains, but passion begins to take root. Alicent’s breath hitches when she wraps her legs around your waist, her hands pulling you closer. You respond to her need, moving with more urgency as she finds her own rhythm, her body moving against yours in a dance that’s both new and timeless.

When she pushes herself up, shifting into your lap, there’s a sudden surge of boldness in her gaze, something wild and free. You guide her movements, your hands steadying her as she takes control, her breathless gasps mingling with your own. The intimacy between you grows not just in the physical connection but in the way you respond to each other’s needs, desires, and unspoken fears. It’s a union forged in trust, love, and the desire to explore the depths of what you share.

Eventually, when the night reaches its quiet peak, you collapse together into the furs, breathless and spent, your limbs entangled as you hold her close. Here, in this moment, there’s only the warmth of her skin against yours, the sound of her steadying breaths, and the knowledge that this is only the beginning of your shared life together.

As sleep slowly claims you both, you press a final kiss to her forehead, murmuring words of love in Valyrian, promising her with every breath that this night is just the start of what you’ll build together.

The sky is a bruised shade of twilight, thick with smoke and ash. The stench of blood, sweat, and salt fills the air as the waves crash against the jagged rocks of the Stepstones. This place is a wasteland—a battlefield stained with the bodies of the dead and dying. For over two years, the Crabfeeder’s men have held these islands, turning them into a butcher’s yard. But today, you intend to end it. Today, the dragons return in fire and fury.

You sit atop Dallax, your black-scaled beast, perched on a ridge overlooking the main encampment of the Triarchy’s forces. His green eyes gleam in the dim light, and his body shifts restlessly beneath you, eager to unleash his wrath. His teeth, hidden within the dark flesh of his jaws, retract only when his rage is stoked—a menace lying in wait. You run a gloved hand along his neck, feeling the raw power coiled within him. “Soon,” you whisper, your voice firm yet laced with anticipation. “We will end this.”

Below, Daemon Targaryen plays his part to perfection. Clad in soot-streaked armor, a white banner clutched in one hand, he approaches the enemy lines. The Crabfeeder’s forces, a mix of hardened sellswords and conscripts, watch from behind their sharpened stakes and crude fortifications, unsure whether this is truly surrender or another of Daemon’s ruses. The Prince of the City moves with a calculated slowness, his steps deliberate, his head lowered just enough to give the impression of defeat. But you know him better. There’s a fire in his eyes—a fury barely contained behind that facade of submission. The plan hinges on this moment, on the Crabfeeder’s arrogance and greed.

From your vantage point, you spot Lord Corlys Velaryon’s forces hidden in the shallows, ready to pounce the moment the trap is sprung. The Sea Snake commands his men with a veteran’s precision, their silence a stark contrast to the braying jeers coming from the Crabfeeder’s ranks.

Daemon finally stops, mere feet from the Crabfeeder’s line, where a grotesque figure emerges from the shadows. Drahar, the Crabfeeder, is a ghastly sight, his face hidden behind a cracked and twisted mask, his skin mottled from disease. He raises a hand, halting the jeers, and for a moment, silence reigns.

Then, chaos erupts.

Daemon’s false surrender is cast aside as he draws Dark Sister in a blur of Valyrian steel, cutting through the nearest soldier in one swift, practiced motion. Blood sprays into the air, catching the dim light as the battlefield roars back to life. The Triarchy’s soldiers charge forward, desperate to claim the prize they believe within reach, but they are rushing headlong into a trap.

It’s your moment.

With a word in Valyrian, you urge Dallax into a dive. His wings unfurl, dark as midnight, blotting out the dying light. The air screams past you as you plummet toward the battlefield, the ground rushing up to meet you. “Dracarys!” you roar, the command slicing through the din of battle.

Dallax responds with a torrent of flame that incinerates everything in its path. The first line of the Crabfeeder’s men is engulfed in a roaring inferno, their screams swallowed by the relentless fire. Armor melts, flesh sizzles, and bone turns to ash in mere moments. You bank sharply, pulling Dallax into another dive, this time focusing on the siege engines positioned along the ridge. The ballistae, meant to keep the dragons at bay, are shattered under the crushing weight of dragonfire and claws. Timber explodes, splinters raining down on the screaming soldiers below as you rip through their defenses with ruthless efficiency.

You catch a glimpse of Daemon, now fully engaged in the melee, his sword a blur of lethal grace as he carves a bloody path through the Triarchy’s forces. He fights with a savage joy, laughing as he dodges and counters, the battlefield his stage. Corlys and his men surge from the shallows, catching the enemy in a brutal pincer. The once-confident soldiers of the Crabfeeder are thrown into disarray, their lines crumbling under the combined might of dragon and steel.

You circle back, eyes locked on Drahar, who attempts to retreat deeper into the labyrinth of stakes and pits his men have constructed. But there’s no escape. You guide Dallax lower, skimming the ground, his claws gouging the earth as you close in on your prey. The Crabfeeder looks up in desperation, his eyes wide behind his mask as he realizes his end is near.

“End him!” Daemon’s voice echoes in your mind like a phantom’s dare, though the words are drowned out by the roar of battle.

Dallax’s jaws snap open, his teeth glinting as they slide out from their hidden sheaths. With a snarl, he lunges, clamping down on Drahar with a sickening crunch. The Crabfeeder’s mask falls away, revealing a twisted visage frozen in terror before his body is torn apart in a spray of blood and gore. Dallax shakes his head, flinging what remains of Drahar’s corpse into the dirt before incinerating it with a final jet of flame.

Around you, the battlefield is a scene of utter carnage. The ground is slick with blood, littered with the hacked remains of soldiers. Men scream, their limbs severed, or burn as they try to flee, only to be cut down by Corlys’s disciplined troops. The cries of the dying are a symphony of suffering, underscored by the relentless roar of flames. Dallax moves among the survivors like a shadow, crushing and burning any who dare to resist.

As the last pockets of resistance are snuffed out, you land amidst the ruins, stepping down from Dallax’s back. You scan the battlefield, taking in the broken fortifications, the piles of charred corpses, and the men who now kneel in surrender. Victory is yours. The Stepstones are won.

Daemon approaches, blood splattered across his armor, a wild grin on his face. “Well done, nephew,” he says, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I thought I might have all the fun, but you’ve stolen quite the show.” His eyes gleam with shared triumph, the bond between you strengthened through battle and bloodshed. “The Crabfeeder will feast no more.”

You smirk, wiping sweat and grime from your brow. “Someone had to keep you from getting killed. I couldn’t let you take all the glory.”

He laughs, the sound cutting through the dying echoes of the battle. “You’re learning. Perhaps there’s more of me in you than anyone cares to admit.”

As Daemon moves to rally the remaining men, your thoughts drift, carried away on the winds of victory. The image of Alicent appears in your mind—her gentle smile, the way her hand rests on the curve of her belly, swollen with the child she carries. You think of your son, Aegon, barely more than a year old, his bright eyes so full of curiosity. It is for them that you fight, for the future you intend to build, for the family you have claimed as your own.

The taste of blood and ash lingers on your tongue, but underneath it all is the yearning to return to them, to hold Alicent in your arms and feel the soft weight of your son as he rests against your chest. You think of how you will recount this victory to them—how Aegon will listen in awe, his little hands reaching out as if to grasp the tales of dragons and battles. You smile to yourself, imagining the way Alicent will scold you softly for the bloodshed, though you know she will be proud all the same.

“Soon,” you murmur to yourself, the words almost lost in the wind. “Soon I’ll be home.”

But for now, the battle is done, and the Stepstones are yours. The fires burn low as you gaze out over the broken landscape, your thoughts with your family, even as your dragon’s shadow stretches long over the conquered land, a reminder of the price of victory.

[xo2dee]

🗨️ ROMANTIC DREAMS

PAIRING: Nanami Kento/(Fem)Reader. WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ Only. Post Shibuya AU, Post Shibuya!Nanami, Manga Spoilers, Mentions of Body Harm, Body Worship, Handjobs, Thigh Riding, Slight Angst. WORD COUNT: 9,833. SUMMARY: In time, in sync, tonight the stage is yours.

A/N: i wrote this like two years ago for nanami's bday and was supposed to post it again on his bday but im late for everything :/ but pls enjoy!

JJK MASTERLIST

Violet clouds tumbling about in various shapes and sizes and an orange sky waning to something cooler took the time to bathe Tokyo in its glory for the evening. And as gorgeous as it looked, you could not find the means to take in the beautiful sight outside your balcony window since you were too busy keeping all your attention on your surly lover and his disgruntled attitude from the moment he had woke up that morning.

“No peeking,” you reminded him, your hands still covering his eyes regardless before you placed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Kento sighed, his shoulders drooping and leaning his back from where he sat in the dining room to brush the crown of his head against your chest, “I’m not, and I told you this wasn’t necessary. You didn’t have to go out of your way to do anything for me.” His voice remained in that low grumble (tired, quiet, and nearly monotone), but you could vaguely hear the briefest bit of anticipation in way his vocal cords slightly shook. From the element of surprise or your clingy behavior? You weren’t sure.

You pulled your hands away after resting your chin on his shoulder, glancing over to make sure he still wasn’t peeking before you hummed and rubbed your hands along his upper arms, “So you say, but you of all people should know me.”

“I do, and I had a feeling from the moment you left this morning that you were up to something.”

You looked away from his long eyelashes brushing across his skin, noting the faintest shade of red coloring his cheek in the process, and looked in front of you both onto the dinner table where sat his ‘birthday cake’ and the polka-dotted candles lit up with the number 32 spread out. You moved your hands onto his shoulders and massaged them, your own sigh falling out of your mouth and kissed his temple at his ragged tone. “It’s nothing bad… And it’s not like I pulled a Gojo and nearly planned a whole surprise party; just a little of something to show my appreciation and love for you.”

“You already did this morning and gave me my gift. And you’ve told me, ‘Happy Birthday’ at least three times already today too.”

You squeezed his shoulders and rolled your eyes, remembering his sleepy grumbling when you had woken him up at three in the morning to tell him, when you had kissed his scarred cheek from behind as he stood in front of the mirror brushing his teeth and told him, and when you had texted him around lunch time with an excessive amount of emojis and letters full of caps lock and received a thumbs up emoji in response and just a, ‘Thank you, I love you’.

(Kento sucked at texting and it only seemed to be getting worse as he grew older, but you weren’t about to tell him that.)

But he could blush and sigh in exasperation all he wanted, you knew he liked attention from you. “So what? It’s like a national holiday to me today… Anyway, you can open your eyes now,” you combed your fingers through his hair, the undercut long since grown out as he had gotten older before throwing your arms around his shoulders once more as you pressed your cheek into his and smiled from the warmth it emitted, “I hope you like it.”

You could feel him sigh before you heard him, peeking in your peripheral vision as you watched his one eye open to give sight to the lone umber iris you treasured as it settled on the table in front of him. You bit the inside of your cheek as he took it in, the usual taut furrow in his brow lessening, his lips slightly parting as you watched the amber candlelight flicker across his sharp, angular features, and a glimmer of surprise taking over his expression altogether as he took in what was in front of him while remaining speechless. It made you giddy, a giggle bubbling out of your lungs from his apparent awe as you angled your mouth onto his jawline and kissed him there as well, leaving behind yet another lipstick stain in your wake.

“Happy Birthday, handsome. You said you weren’t up for a cake this year, so I had to compromise and I think I did pretty good.”

You folded your hands atop his chest (his steady heartbeat ricocheting off your palms setting itself as a reminder of what you nearly lost, and how it remained beating despite the rough exterior of his skin on the outside and the failed lung the doctors did their best to help causing him to have breathing problems still after four years) and embraced him from your stance behind him, basking yourself in his warmth as you heard his breathing pick up and his hand coming up to curl around your wrist.

“This is… I haven’t had this in –”

“Nearly ten years? I know,” you cheekily replied, tucking your face in his neck and curling yourself into his scent, “Would’ve been a hassle trying to find the place if it wasn’t for you telling me about it all the time.”

Kento made a noise in the back of his throat, releasing his hold on your wrist and turning his head as you removed your face from his neck so that your noses brushed across one and another, “You… Is that what you were scribbling on that piece of paper this morning…?” He hadn’t removed his eyepatch for the day, nor had he ever seemed to stop dressing down since the accident, but you knew it was more of a small insecurity he held within himself to remain looking as normal as he could. Not that he was particularly vain, but you knew he hated looking in the mirror sometimes thinking he was disfigured beyond being recognized and often it showed when it came to you regardless.

Nevertheless you felt your cheeks warm, realizing he had seen you doing that and casted a small glance to your purse that laid on the couch from when you came home and he took it from you. Kento’s own near indistinguishable glint in his eye brightened, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you into his lap and securing you there when you threw your legs across his own as you got ready for all the teasing you knew was to come. However, he seemingly spared you for the night, taking your hand to press a warm kiss to the inside of your wrist and murmuring against your skin so quietly and softly you nearly didn’t hear him.

“Tell me about your day.”

He wanted to know your thought process on why you did it and truly what you had done the entire day away from him.

The dreaded piece of paper with your destination scrabbled on it like chicken scratch had been crumbled and folded up in your purse as you had left your shared apartment in a haste, nearly your shoes on the wrong feet and almost forgetting your wallet in the process to race against the clock to get to work and to perhaps keep your husband under wraps for the surprise. However, going to the store and getting all the other supplies you needed was a walk in the park, but trying to find the exact location of… Hell, you weren’t even able read the damn name anymore by the time 4 P.M. rolled around, as the ink had blotted and the shitty pen you kept in your purse barely worked anyway, so you were left with squinting at it standing on the sidewalk trying to remember where in the fuck you were supposed to go in smack dab the middle of the Summer.

And, fuck, was it hot.

Unbearably and unbelievably hot.

July was seemingly always scalding in the Summer of Tokyo, and it didn’t really matter that the sun was only beginning to set for the temperature to remain the same as it was from noon until at least nine at night. Perspiration clung to your body with every step you took, your thighs beginning to chafe from how they had been rubbing together while you walked and you were then wondering if the sun had fried your brain from where it had been beating down on your scalp all day. You had lost count of the many times you had accidentally licked your upper lip free of any sweat, hoping to anyone above that your eyelash glue wasn’t melting off your fucking eyelid and your eyeliner wasn’t running and smudged underneath your eye with the amount times you had fiddled with your face, but more importantly you hoped that whatever you were doing worked out in the end and you didn’t look like an idiot.

It was July 3rd, and you had trotted out around on one of the world’s hottest, and most special days in desperation for a gift you had somehow thought of on your own to get.

It was July 3rd, and it was your husband’s  – Nanami Kento – birthday, and you were trying your damnedest to find that little, nook-and-cranny, locally owned (because Kento really preferred local businesses more than anything) bakery that he used to frequent constantly, and maybe beg for the recipe for his favorite sandwich so that you could make it for him for his birthday and any other day he wanted for the rest of his life.

Perhaps it was an oddball gift, as you had already asked Kento what he wanted –

(“What do you want for your birthday?”

“You don’t have to get me anything. Spending time with you that day is enough for me.”

“Corny. And you say that every year, and you still get me things for my birthday.”

“And I mean it every year. The greatest gift you have given me was when you agreed to marry me, so you’ve already given me everything I could have ever wanted.”

Okay, you’d admit, you giggled, squealed, and kicked your feet like a girl with a crush at that, the corny, dork of a man always one-upping you and making you feel like a Goddess, but God for once you wanted to make him feel the same way.)

– and he had said nothing despite the fact that whenever you gifted him that book he had been eyeballing in the book store he had literally sighed like he was fantasizing about getting home to watch his favorite cooking show, and it was then the lightbulb in your head went off when you remembered Kento only really sighed over very few things.

One: the crisp smell of a new book and the tightly wounded spine nearly making him bust in his pants whenever he got his hands on it.

Two: you.

And three: food. Not just any old food either; sandwiches that made him gush and launch into a detailed explanation about whenever the bread was baked just right, and the vegetables looked like edible art, and the meat to it was laid and folded just perfectly with the right amount of sauce and any seasoning, was really what could get Kento going and make him literal putty.

So, you thought, why not find that bakery he used to go to (and for some reason won’t go back, you weren’t about to ask why either) and get the little recipe of the sandwich he sometimes would whisper in your ear about like he was dirty talking to you again, and just make it for him? It was a perfect idea to you, and for once Kento wouldn’t practically kick you out of the kitchen whenever you offered to make something for him whenever you had the Holy Grail in your hands and could hover it over his head.

Yeah, it was a good gift, and you only had nonchalantly asked him the name of the place so you were all set the moment he spoke them without a thought in the world. Kento would be ecstatic, and it’d make you feel at ease if you got see that genuine smile spread across his face because he had looked miserable when you went to work that morning and lingered by the front door longer than usual and kissed you goodbye a little harder than normal before you left. Then he’d be less miserable having his favorite sandwich made out for him and sleep like a baby that night with one hand holding your boob like always.

Yeah, everything would work out perfectly.

And considering his reaction and how he was staring at you perched atop his lap embarrassed as you rambled on about everything, you assumed you hit the nail on the head.

Kento had propped an elbow up onto the table, his cheek resting against his knuckles and his thumb rubbing into your hipbone as you finished talking as he had listened so intently with a twinkle in his half-lidded eye and small, smile on his face. “Even when I think I know you, you still continue to surprise me.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, thoroughly smug that you had managed to surprise him in the end and batted your eyelashes at him, “It’s my charm. And it’s not a fun marriage unless we still continue to surprise each other like this.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily know, this is my first marriage.”

“And it better be your only.”

He rolled his eye back, tapping his index finger against his temple and flexing his thighs beneath your body as he stretched them out, as he knew you were only teasing him ever since you laughed in his ear at the old grannies down at Farmer’s Market with hearts in their eyes every time he went and grocery shopped. “I took my vows to heart that day –”

“I know, it was like two pages long –”

“ – Regardless,” he shot you a look, but his reddening cheeks spoke for the most of him, “I’m a monogamous man… for the rest of my life.”

“Like a penguin.”

Kento’s lips twisted into a curl, like he was trying to hold himself back from laughing, “You say my animal documentaries are boring, yet you remember things like that?”

You shrugged and brought yourself closer to him, locking your fingers behind his neck and bringing his cheek in for another kiss, “I think it’s sweet… Anyway, I take it you like your gifts?” you asked with a tilt of uncertainty in your voice, something he caught up on with his intuitive sixth sense when it came to all things regarding you.

Kento moved meticulously, removing his hand from his cheek and to yours as his other slid up to rest on your back with his fingers spread, and it took you a long moment to realize he was touching you with his left hand. All remnants of nearly flawless skin that was once there, and you nearly couldn’t even feel the callousness of it spread out to his fingertips as you had grown so used to it. Kento’s left hand was the hand that held the wedding band, and it was the hand you always took to hold, to kiss, to rub your cheek across in a semblance of your love whenever you couldn’t find the words to tell him and he was going through a bout and your actions spoke louder than your words ever could.

He still looked at you the same way he had whenever you were the first face he saw whenever he woke up from the hospital and the day he saw you at your wedding. And you still had trouble not shying away from his intense gaze like the days you could barely look him in eyes in the beginning of your relationship, but it was all worth it in the end whenever he spoke his affirmations to you.

Kento was not a man of many words per say, more showing his emotions through his actions, but when he did take the time to formulate words of comfort on his tongue to mouth into your skin, you knew he meant every word.

“Of course, anything and everything you given me I cherish, beloved. Getting my favorite sandwich, however…” he trailed off, and you could distinctly hear his stomach grumble in a sign that he had not yet ate. He took that time to drop his hand to rub at your arm, a sigh leaving him that sounded nearly forlorn and you just knew he was already calculating all the parts of the sandwich and critiquing them to his liking. And from what you could see (nearly the damn reflection of the sandwich shining in his eye with sparkles around it), he liked what he saw.

(Honestly, if he had never went into being a salaryman those short years or made his way back into Jujutsu Sorcery, Kento could’ve easily have became a chef if he so wanted. You could vouch for that for the many nights Kento cooked for you and sent you off to work with a packed lunch.)

Though looking at Kento reminded of you of part two for what you wanted to tell him, the corner of the receipt paper it was written on digging into your breast (and probably a little sweaty) as you straightened back up and pulled your face away from his.

“Ah – that reminds me –” you dropped your arms from around his neck before you began unbuttoning your shirt, discreetly eyeing Kento as you did and creasing your lips so that you didn’t laugh whenever you saw his eye widen and face turn that lovely shade of rose when you figured he was thinking you were turning to a more carnal side. Silly, cute, little man, he had seen you naked countless times, but still got slightly embarrassed and would start sweating whenever you started to show him your boobs, and it always fun to tease at him. You didn’t keep him on the edge, afraid he’d combust if you started undressing, and only unbuttoned two to reach into your bra and pull out the folded piece of paper, “Got another little surprise.”

Kento regarded you amused (possibly wondering what else you kept in your bra) before picking the paper up between two fingers and inspecting it with dubious concern. “…It’s wet.”

“I was sweating, okay? It’s hot, now just open it.” You could’ve done without his commentary.

He obliged you, unfolding the receipt carefully before he let his eye roll over the numerous words written down in a row with instructions written next to each one of them, with precise quantities and times because you knew it had to be just perfect. He blinked as he read over them fast, an eyebrow quirking up before looking at you curious to what it all meant, “Ingredients and instructions?”

You leant into him, pressing your forehead against the side of his head and toying with the top two buttons of his shirt, “To your favorite sandwich. Now you or I can make it anytime you want, and be forever grateful to the girl working for giving it to me without an argument.”

His looked somewhat excited as he inspected the paper in his hand, yet the drone of his voice nearly made it sound like he couldn’t bring himself to care. You knew better though, he was just too embarrassed to show his obvious happiness to what you had got him, but the little sigh he let out before speaking was the same one he made whenever you gave him that book. “And how did you manage this?”

“I’m the master of ass-kissing.” (Read: you begged and promised you’d come back with him if she had given it to you.)

“True.”

You slapped his chest lightly and nearly squealed at his little smile, situating yourself in his lap as you turned to look at his favorite sandwich topped off with the gaudy candles that was slowly beginning to wither away before snatching the birthday hat you bought and slapping it atop his head. He looked cute whenever he was disgruntled, especially when the elastic to the hat slapped his chin, but it was even funnier watching his expression wither when you sat the kazoo on your tongue and blew into it right in his face and ear while expressing your excitement, yet again.

“Happy Birthday, Kento! Now blow out your candles and make a wish, birthday boy.”

A few moments passed, and you watched the gears in his head turn as he sat the paper down onto the table, and you nearly wanted to groan when you realized where he was going with his idea.

“Stop. Before you say anything else corny. You have to keep your wish to yourself and maybe it’ll come true.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but did as you asked and blew them out without a second thought. The amber glow of the day fading away as the sky outside turned to dusky purple and left you and Kento alone to enjoy it together, yet you watched curiously as he tore off a part on one half of the sandwich, his arm curling around you to keep you sat snugly in his lap before he brought up the piece and held it against your lips. His voice but yet another warm, soft murmur, mouthed into your cheek and his tongue nearly swiping along your skin.

“Wanna help me eat it?”

The moment you got done eating with him and moved to cleaning (to which you had to ban Kento from the kitchen whenever he tried to even think about helping) and while you had been cleaning, the faintest scent of cigarette smoke and Kento’s preferred cologne reached your nostrils, a thin trail of the smog wiggling into the living from the open balcony door letting you know that Kento had been outside on the balcony where he usually smoked. If there was one thing about him, it was that he was pristine about not letting any smoke come into contact with anything inside, wanting to smoke outside as he did it very rarely before, but after the accident Kento had taken up smoking more than usual. You had told him it wasn’t too good for his lungs, but you couldn’t do much when you remembered he mainly did it as a form of an anxiety reliever and whenever he was stressed… Besides, where he wasn’t too worried about his own health, he constantly fretted over your own and refused to smoke anywhere near where you could secondhand do it.

He never smoked long and when you walked out of the kitchen it wasn’t an odd sight to see him on the couch by then, one hand swirling a glass of whiskey from the bottle that sat on your centerfold table with the blue bow around the neck (courtesy of Mr. Satoru, even adding a little note that said, “Happy Birthday! With Love, Gojo <3” combined with his own chibi drawing of himself throwing up peace signs) with the ice cubes clinking against the rim and his nose already buried in the book you had bought him. He was a sight to behold as well, his bright hair pushed back onto his head with the very small telling sign of a five o’clock shadow growing along his jawline that would be gone as soon as the morning came, his shirt having been deftly unbuttoned to grow accustomed to the heat coming from outside and his skin beginning to finally wane away from that sunburn he had gotten from the trip you two had gone on to Milan two weeks before.

He truly was beautiful, inside and outside, but it was heartbreaking to see him sometimes avoid mirrors or from going out into public on the days he was feeling particularly bad.

You didn’t take long to join him, the soft music he had put on soothing your ears as you eyed the sharpness of his jawline sculpted and shadowed from the sky outside and sat down on your side of couch. You stretched your legs out and toed at his thigh, appreciating his loose slacks on his figure while grabbing his attention, “You like the book?”

“Mm, very much. Thank you again.”

“I’m glad, you had been eyeing it for a while so I knew I just had to buy whenever you wouldn’t…” you reclined back into the many throw pillows on the couch (something was your doing as Kento had been the one to pick out the style and layout of the apartment, but you were giving the reigns to decorations as you seemed fit – especially if the fuzzy throw rug beneath you two spoke for anything) watching his eye move over every word and wondering if he was truly content to stay inside with you for the night. You bit the bullet in the end, knowing you’d only worry yourself to death over him if you didn’t ask. “You sure you don’t wanna go out anywhere else? Gojo and Shoko did invite us to that restaurant you like.”

He peered at you for a long moment before sighing, closing his book and set both it and his drink onto the end table next to him and grabbing your ankles to pull your feet into his lap to rub at them, “I’m more than glad to stay here and spend the night with you. Knowing Gojo he’ll tell the waiters it’s my birthday and I’ll have to sit there and endure that God awful singing… Besides,” he threw his back onto the edge of the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the hard swallow he took as he massaged a particular knotted spot in your foot, “I’m not really one for attention like that.”

Kento never was one for going out into public for celebrations, sure he would occasionally go out to eat and take you out on a date for your anniversary, and he also always made sure to have plans for your birthday, but never was one really for his celebrating his own. You had learned even as a child his mother normally baked him a cake on the day as he and his family celebrated it at their home; a quiet and mundane tradition he seemed to want to carry on into his adult life, and you had no problem obliging that. Kento never minded if only a few people gave him birthday wishes, but a part of you wondered if his newfound insistence to remain home on certain days was still the effect to what had happened to him in Shibuya. He had not seen Gojo in over a year, and the rest that remained even less, but you knew retirement meant usually staying away from all things that were work.

Sure you could hear Gojo’s voice over the phone at times, and you could hear Ijichi asking how he was at times in the night, and it was even better whenever you watched his phone light up with the name Itadori Yuji with text messages, but you knew only talking to them over the phone could only last so long and Kento had to at least go and see them when they all worried over him and constantly asked you about him. Not that you were annoyed over it, but more-so worried Kento was starting to shut himself out again from everyone and keeping his distance from everyone. You supposed he thought his birthday would come and go once more, just another day on the calendar to him and he could continue living out as the years passed and he was at peace with himself.

You weren’t going to dally on it, instead taking in his form that looked more taut with tension than it had been in a while as you preyed upon the slight sheen resting atop his collarbones. It had been awhile since you and Kento had been intimate, something that took some time to open him up to again and something that was still a hit-or-miss situation when it came down to him wanting to indulge in carnal desire, but you never pressed him for it to just instead opting to wait it out whenever he was ready. Though sex had been somewhat different from Kento at times taking you from behind as much as he could, to him not even thinking of himself as he buried his face into you and ate your pussy until you were crying from overstimulation and couldn’t take it anymore, you never really got the chance to worship him much like he did you.

Kento needed to relax, take all worry off his shoulders if just for the time being and enjoy life as he could in the moment. You weren’t about to let that opportunity pass up either whenever you had the chance on a day you were dead-set on showing him all the appreciation and love.

“Then –” you broke the silence, watching him reopen his eye to peek at you first before you wiggled your feet out of his grasp and spread your legs apart as an invitation, “something else for the night?” you asked coyly, refraining from biting your lip when you watched his chest rise and fall from the heavy exhale he took once the skin of your inner thighs came into his view.  

You had thought he’d perhaps politely decline again, telling you he’s not feeling up to it for the night, but you were mildly surprised when he moved for you, his body rolling off from his position as he found himself lowered down in-between your legs. You blinked at how fluidly he moved, having little to no time to even react yourself when he was already there, one on your legs hoisted up over his shoulder as he pressed the other one down into the sofa cushion. He was still gentle as ever; his hand skimming along your inner thighs, his cheeks brushing along your skin as you felt the roughness from the light facial hair and burnt remains on the left side of his face, and of course his lips finding their way to kiss every single inch of you he could until he got to where he wanted to be most.

You were nearly ready to just let him have it that way, your clit already throbbing in anticipation when you remembered just how good Kento was at eating you out and how good it felt when he knew just how to bob his nose along your clit, but you remembered that it wasn’t about you that night and you were set on a mission to make him feel the most good instead of his usual lenience to cater to you most of all. Kento kissed and sucked at a spot on your inner thigh for a brief moment, his fingers creeping up to find the edge of your panties before your hands shot down and one curled around his wrist and the other tangled into the locks of his hair in a gentle squeeze. You had done it in the heat of the moment to keep yourself from drowning into him; a knee-jerk reaction that made Kento balk and nearly push himself away from you if you hadn’t spoke for your intentions.

“Wait – not like this.”

Sneaking a peak down to him you almost wanted to reassure him from the slightly cautious look in his eye, his chin dipping back into his chest nearly like he was afraid to get to close to you again without knowing exactly what you wanted from him as he spoke slowly and so quietly you wanted to sigh at his brief relapse of insecurity.

“You don’t want me to eat you out?”

This man… It wasn’t that at all. You frowned, cheeks warm despite your annoyance to completely ignore himself and swatted at him from between your legs, “Are you forgetting today isn’t about me?”

Kento had the gall to look confused, brow knitted and cheeks turning pink as his lips fell into a thin line, “I always eat your pussy when we have sex.” Why did he have to say it like he was droning on about workplace harassment to Gojo again? Not only that, he nearly looked like he was ready to pout he couldn’t face dive into your pussy and drown himself in there like he was drinking from the scared rivers of Eden.

You leant back on your elbows and rolled your eyes, your skirt sliding up as you did and leaving you reeling in the slight satisfaction you got watching his eyes dart down for brief second to catch a glimpse of the panties you put on for him, and slid your leg off of his shoulder, “Yes, I know, and I do brag about it to my friends a lot –” He nearly looked mortified before rolling his eye. “ – but that’s not the point. Today I just wanna give you the appreciation you deserve…”

Kento only blinked at your words, his eye glazing over for a moment before he looked damn near ashamed and shy from his spot in-between your legs and released his hold on your thighs to sit back upright on the couch. He kept his body open however, legs spread and arms open to invite you into him, but you could still see the slight stiffness present in his shoulders as he sat there awaiting you into his arms. He swallowed once, looking unsure for but a brief moment, before he gave you his verbal consent that he wanted to continue, knowing you weren’t going to move unless you knew he wanted you to.

“Come here.”

You offered him a small smile in return before crawling over to him, not finding yourself in his lap just then as you gave him yet another kiss to cheek and trailed on over to his ear lobe, whispering into his ear in a churning murmur to let him know your true thoughts. “Something else for the night?” Only a rumbling hum was your answer, the heat behind your naval already burning with unbridled want as he leaned back fully and let you straddle his lap, your knees digging into the cushions of the couch and you breasts pushed up against the broadness of his own as you snuck your fingers up to his face once more. You were tracing over his brow bone when he answered you, a mumble as soft as the sheets felt whenever he took you on your wedding night and you fully became husband and wife with the kiss that you had dreamt of for years.

“Okay… Something else this time.”

Kento’s breath stuttered the moment you moved over to his eyepatch, meeting that one umber iris for a second before you got the approval and were able to remove it with his permission. You discarded it next to the both of you as you leaned in to place a soft kiss to where his left eye used to sit, his chest heaving with a hiccupping sigh as you moved a hand to comb through his hair and trailing down to trace his jawline with only but your fingertips. You didn’t waste any time to move your lips down to his own, planting a slow kiss there with as much passion as you always did because the scars never really did bother you, nor did the mismatched feeling of his mouth on your own or sucking along your skin turn you off to him in anyway whatsoever. It was a slow song you teetered to, opening up your arms to him as you swayed in front of him gently opening him up to the idea until he got comfortable to get up and join you.

When his hand landed on your lower back to knead in your skin and muscle with his knuckles, you knew he was complying to let you take control for the night and cater to him much like he did you all those times. Though he was still somewhat unsure as his sigh shakily and ran a finger up your spine while speaking into your kiss, “Can… can we just go slow… Just be easy tonight; no rush. And nothing too intense.”

You leant up to kiss his forehead, a sheen of light sweat making itself known on his skin there, and pushed his hair behind his ear as you answered, “Of course. Anything you want.”

You could smell the smoke and whiskey as he blew a breath of relief into your face, his mouth finding yours again for another kiss, “Thank you.”

You pulled away from his lips and cupped his cheeks, smiling against his lips as you whispered against them just what you thought about him, “You’re pretty.”

Within your palms you could feel his cheeks warm and watched his eyebrow tick upwards at the compliment, the evidence of his embarrassment there despite how steady his voice remained when he answered you, “I don’t think that word suits someone like me.”

“Don’t deflect,” you sighed, kissing the corner of his mouth as you knew good and well that he knew why you were saying it, “You’re handsome; beautiful; other-worldly… How about those?”

Kento’s face was visibly turning redder as you named off every word that you could to describe him, his fingers knotting in the back of your shirt as he balled it up and you felt his jaw shake to formulate a response. When he seemed unresponsive you settled for a kiss you placed onto his jawline to ease him, your fingers sliding down along his neck and collarbones until you found the buttons of his shirt and began plucking them free as his hands returned to smoothing out along your back. Sometimes it was better to play into Kento’s body language with your own, as he was a man of very few words at times and it was an easier route to show him your comfort through actions pertaining towards your delicate nature towards him instead of words that would only fluster and overstimulate him.

He let you map out his body as you pulled his shirt apart, fingertips gentle as they ran over the more predominate area of his skin covered in scars and lost skin. You could feel the uncertainty in his taut muscles, the desire to perhaps cover himself back up from the way you were following the moments of your fingers along his skin with your eyes, and you had to stop yourself for a moment as when you skimmed his abdomen it flexed harshly as you brushed across a long wounded scar from a fight years before the accident. You looked back up to him from underneath you eyelashes, his head having tipped back a fraction as you eased him back to look at you and to only admire his features in the violet dusk from outside for a moment before you remembered you had to keep up the reassurance.

“Is this okay?” you asked, running a thumb underneath the eye and enjoying the feeling of his eyelashes kissing your skin whenever he blinked.

You gauged his reaction as he held your gaze, something glimmering in the lonely iris as his pupil dilated when he stared for seconds longer and sighed shakily before finally answering, “It’s okay.”

It was the reassurance and encouragement you needed, keeping your touch light as you wiggled back onto his lap but a few inches and your hand on his hip trailed down to his pants, enough to reach and see what you had been easing him into already showing through his loose slacks. You spread your fingers across his pectoral, his heartbeat steady against your palm as you cupped him through his pants, running a finger along what you knew what the tip and switching to full on rubbing him through the cloth when you heard the sigh leave him as you touched him.

“Still okay?” you repeated once more, experimentally wrapping your fingers around what you could of his cock and squeezing him. Your skin prickled whenever he groaned softly, a pant on the edge of his tongue as your stomach twisted with phantom butterflies when you remembered all the breathy noises he would make in your ear and neck when he was losing himself to your touch or inside of you.

“Still okay,” he answered, his head falling back onto the back of the couch again and causing your hand to drift up towards the waistband of his pants when you took it as a sign to continue further and take the next step. You hummed as you leaned into him, pressing a kiss in the middle of his pectorals as you slid your hand into his pants and briefs fully to touch him.

His low sighs encouraged you, peppering kisses along his torso much like he did your own before in your own form of body worship. Once you got closer to his nipple and you allowed your lips to close around it for you to suck on, a higher-pitched noise sounding like a whine leaving him as he gave a full body jerk. You latched off his hardened nipple and blinked coyly up at him, watching as he kept his eyes on the ceiling and his parted, pink lips continuing to match the coloring on his cheeks while your hand finally pulled his cock free from his pants into the open air and for your eyes to see.

It was already deepening into a red, his veins engorged as it throbbed in your hand and you traced a finger along the vein protruding from the underside of him. You only watched with an inward sigh as precum began to leak from his head, feather-light touches you kept along the sensitive region as he jerked his hips underneath you while you lubed your hand up with his fluids, and whines disguised as hisses escaped through his clenched his teeth when you swirled your thumb along his tip the way you knew he liked it.

His tone was slightly shaky when he spoke again, chest heaving and his fingers digging into your shirt, “Don’t tease. Please – just touch me.” He was perhaps a bit too whiney for his own liking as his breathing began to speed up when you dipped back down to kiss along his chest and fully wrap your hand around his cock to jerk him off, but you realized he was in no place to necessarily to care when you were easing into comforted euphoria once more.

You hummed against his hot skin, amping up your ministrations a bit as you closed your teeth around the nipple you had in your mouth in a playful bite and only letting up when you heard the soft groan he gave while hips lifted marginally off the couch. You pressed a kiss to it afterwards before beginning to slide your lips down to kiss sweetly along the rest of his scars, and letting your hand fondle at his nipple instead, squeezing, tugging and all around fondling it as you kissed and sucked around rest of his body while your hand kept up a steady rhythm up and down his cock.

With Kento’s soft groans, slight whining, pants egging you on, you kissed some of the old, fading scars tenderly only knowing they existed in the times you spent tracing a finger around his skin those nights you spent cuddling. You kissed them with an overwhelming amount of affection, a reminder that he was still gorgeous with them and a reminder that he was strong enduring even the harshest of battles and coming out from them alive. He blew air through his mouth then again, a sigh so soft and full of longing it made you realize he had never been given attention towards his body like that without it being blatant ogling at his chest straining against his shirts.

Each kiss you placed onto his warm skin made you sigh afterwards, discreetly inhaling his scent each time you did so for how good he smelled and how his natural scent brought you comfort more than you could imagine. As you felt along his body, you began to feel the jittery nerves he had before slowly begin crawl back into the depths of his mind to be forgotten for the time and to be replaced with the carnal lust and the burning affection you both held for each other.  

A grunt fell out of him and his hand flew up to grip your nape when you felt him twitch from the all the overwhelming attention, pulling your body closer to him than you thought was possible as he maneuvered your head back up to him so that his breath sifted across and into your ear. You squirmed from the sensation as it made you rock your hips onto his lap when you remembered all the dampness present in your underwear and it was something he caught onto as it was beginning to seep through your panties and onto his pants.

Kento’s thumb rubbed at your nape, his lips pressing a kiss to ear lobe before he spoke, “You can’t sit here and only think about me,” his fingers left your back and you felt them dance along your inner thigh, creeping up your skirt and towards your panties as you kissed at his jaw once more, “Do you want me to touch you?”

You latched off of his skin and moved to slightly bite his earlobe, hotly whispering into his ear while your hand slowly picked up a pace, “It’s not about me.”

He was ever persistent though – a blessing to have a man like him more worried about your pleasure than his own in some cases, but also terribly inconvenient in situations like you were in then when you wanted to be the one in charge and making him feel good before yourself. His hand moved to grip your hip, his breaths falling from parted lips by then and his hips rocking upwards the follow the way you pumped his cock, “But –” he started off, a whine barely there hidden underneath his wavering voice of reason.

“It’s okay. Just relax,” you cut him off, reassuring him as you lifted up on your knees a fraction to maneuver your body to have his one thigh trapped between your legs. Kento only watched you as you slowly plopped down onto his thigh, your panties all but soaked by then and your clit tingling for attention as you leisurely rocked once and sighed whenever you felt your nerves calm down a fraction from the heated pleasure. It didn’t take long for you to build up a lethargic pace, and Kento only groaned in approval when he watched you start to ride his thigh, his arm wrapping around you to cage you closer into him and tensing and flexing his thigh whenever rolled down and back up atop him.

One of your hands slid up to his shoulder, gripping him there as you nuzzled into his neck and followed the moments of your hand pumping his cock to the way your hips were rolling against his thigh. Your body moved in alternate pivots, long deep strokes around that taut, muscular appendage, or just circling your hips around so that your clothed clit was given the friction it so desired. He was burning in your hand, the veins throbbing and his lips pushing out every noise he could muster as you knew he wouldn’t last long; it had been far too long since you got Kento in that position and it had been far too long since had allowed himself to be laid upon a bed of pleasure. It made you sigh, legs closing around his thigh tighter as you rubbed your knee oh-so gently in a circle along his balls and had to bite your lip from moaning whenever that fucking whimper left him and made your pussy clench around nothing.

Your words drew another one of those damnable whimpers out of him, his chest all but heaving and his hips rocking desperately faster up into your hand as a silent plea for you to go faster. You only hummed in delight at his keening, peppering kisses across every inch of his face that you could and massaging your hand into the tautness along his shoulder when he seemed to melt into your touch. You could feel another thick trickle of precum ooze free from his cock, and you moved your face back into his to bring your foreheads together, a flutter erupting free inside of your pussy whenever Kento kept his eye locked onto yours, following each mouthwatering movement you gave to him and onto him and the look inside of his pupil was enough to set your entire soul ablaze from all the hues of passion bursting free like a kaleidoscope the longer he kept your gaze.

Your eyelashes fluttered when you took in his expression; kiss-swelled parted lips, his eye bright, clouded, and dilated, flustered cheeks, brow scrunched in an attractive crease, and the heavy sighs leaving his mouth as he bored his gaze over every inch of your face. It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as did knowing that he was glad to have you pleasing him like you were, but seeing his face really careened you down the path of your impending release that was growing oh-so close.

You could feel the patch of wetness you were leaving on his thigh, and you knew then that you weren’t going to last long – especially having Kento in your palm and riding off the thrill of you being in charge that time around in the throes of desire.

Kento sighed your name onto your lips, another whimper drawing free of him as his cock throbbed into his hand and his hand fell off of your nape to grip your hip and following in on your lascivious movements atop his thigh. “Please – Don’t stop.”

You kissed him before nibbling onto his bottom lip, nails beginning to dig through his shirt when each roll of your clit sent an electrifying pulse towards that knot steadily growing to its head just behind your naval. He groaned again whenever you pumped your hand faster, your knee gently caressing his balls still as you rocked yourself on his thigh before you sighed and breathily asked what you knew would tip him over the edge, “Are you gonna cum for me, Kento?”

A garbled variation of your name left him, fingers digging harder into your hip as his hips jerked up quicker in your hand and he tried his damnedest to get you to move faster – harder against his thigh, but you were giving no game for that. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the audible hard swallow he took, his eye fluttering with the heavy blinks from everything happening as his eye glazed over with the full emotion that was close to his release. “Oh, fuck – please. Please keep going.

“I know you can cum like this,” you moaned into his face, kissing him as you swallowed that whimper once more and rolled your hips harder along his tensed thigh, moving your mouth to suck at his jaw whenever his noises grew louder, “God, I know you want to, Kento. Let me see you cum like this.”

Your voice had tapered off at the end, a high-pitched moan leaving you when you pussy throbbed and clenched around nothing as you felt that ball begin to reach in end of spinning and slowly begin to unravel for a piece of nirvana you could find with him. His grunts you swallowed with your tongue, a kiss full of unbridled passion you two engaged in that he greedily accepted as you two no longer had any words to say. You both knew what was to come, and neither of you were going to be deterred to stop it.

Your neediness you were sure had him reeling, his cock throbbing excessively in your hand as you squeezed him and pumped him faster to help him reach his edge. You could feel him whimper again, a suspicious noise that vaguely sounded like him telling you he loved you before he broke away from the kiss, head falling back against the couch once more and a pleased and strained groan breaking free from his lungs to let you know he had came first. You took to kissing and tonguing at his neck, moaning and sighing your praise for him as he finally released all the pent up tension into your hand.

It was a second and then you felt his cock pulsate in your hand before it was spurting out against your shirt and hand, leaving behind warm cum in its wake. You quickly removed your hand knowing he was probably sensitive, but kept yourself securely atop his thigh rocking as he caught his breath. Kento’s chest was heaving and in the low light of your living room you were able to make a slight sheen of sweat across his forehead with his hair tussled from all your ministrations. It was enough to send you over as well, a particular slow roll of your hips up his thigh that he flexed once more and you were shuddering and twitching around him with a whine of his name as you came all over his thigh whilst throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face into his shoulder.

A hard tremor of extreme satisfaction stung from your cranium down to the tips of your toes, leaving you squirming as your shaking thighs tried to close around his own while he continued only encouraging you until you were at your very end and sagging into his awaiting arms. You were well aware you had probably soaked through pants, but you were none too caring since he didn’t seem to mind at all and at times it was a regular occurrence between you two. The soft music from before was still playing as the room became humid from your conjoined bodies, the city skyline having waned away to dark as the touch of the full moon came into play and brightened Tokyo for yet another time.

You could feel your heart pound against your ribcage while you both seemed to finally come to rest after cumming, and he was dragging your body off his own to look over you and blinking down at you like he wasn’t seeing you clearly. It was one blink, two, three, then the cloud in his eye lifted and his gaze was skating down from your face and all over the expanse of your figure, awareness coming to them when he spied the mess on your shirt and remembered that he came all over your hand, then he was bristling.   

Kento was shifting to sit up, taking precaution to not jostle you and his words coming out a low murmur, “Sorry… I’ll –”

You hushed him, placing a kiss to his lips and untangling yourself from his limbs and you stood somewhat wobbly and he reached forward to catch you by your hips to make sure you didn’t fall. You brushed out of his hands and pushed him back to sit into the couch, a soft smile on your lips before you straightened back up, “You’re okay, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Kento was generally the one who took to cleaning you both up afterwards, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to let him be the one to do so that time around when you were trying to make him feel the same way he usually did with you. He had complied you with staying put as you came back from the bathroom with a few sheets of tissues, eyeing you carefully as you wiped your hand off first before tending to him. You were meticulous in the way you catered to him, dabbing at some cum stains that had gotten onto his stomach, even some spots that had spattered against his chest before tending to the lipstick stains all over him as you watched his cheeks flush from all the attention you were giving him.

You nearly wanted to giggle at his embarrassment, but held it in to not ruin the gentle moment between you two as you finished up cleaning the both of you, discarded the tissues into the trash, and crawled your way back into his lap that he was awaiting for you once more with open arms. You curled into him as his hand stroked along your back, your own hands finding way to his scars again as you absentmindedly would do at night whenever he was tremoring from a long-lost memory. Kento shuddered when you passed by that one on his side again, curling his fingers around your wrist to bring it up his lips for kiss as you pulled yourself up into his face.

“Happy Birthday,” you reminded him again, kissing his hot cheek and relishing in the soft sigh he gave, “What’d you wish for?”

You were glad to see the humor return back to his expression, his lips quirking up at the edges and his eye sliding into yours as he reached for your cheek to pinch it, “Aren’t you the one who told me not to tell you my wish? That it’ll come true if I don’t say it aloud?”

A pout fell on your lips, “That’s never stopped you before… C’mon, please? For me?”

His eye rolled back at your whining, but he was never one not to cave into your begging as his hand smoothed out against your cheek while you toyed with a strand of his hair that had curled up from sweat. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone and he made a show to slowly move his mouth back to yours, lidding his eye almost suggestively as he kissed you so delicately and murmured against your mouth so silently you had to strain to hear him.

“I wished that I could spend the rest of my birthdays with you.”

You giggled into the kiss, corny as you expected, but also giddy with the intention behind his wish as you took your hand to place it back onto his chest, fingers spread and his heart beating in sync with your own. It was enough to let him know you wished for the same, but you confirmed it verbally with a playful bite to his lip and a sigh when you embraced him and tucked him into your neck, his lips pulled into a smile something you could feel burning along your throat.

“I think we can make that work.”

[fratttymatty]

You've Been Chosen

Nate and Elijah had been inseparable for years. From the day they'd met at the local library, both young, quiet, and awkward in their own ways, to the years that followed when they’d discovered not only a shared love for literature but an even deeper connection — one they hadn't realized they were capable of forming. Their friendship blossomed into something more: quiet kisses in the park, whispered confessions late at night. It was a bond they knew was unbreakable.

They were happy, in love, and understood each other in ways no one else did. Their world was peaceful, and they thought they could weather anything life threw at them — until one summer day when everything changed.

The change began innocuously enough. It started with a strange email, sent from an address they didn't recognize. The subject line simply read: "You’ve been chosen." It was vague, with cryptic language and strange, almost otherworldly promises of a new life — a better one, it said, filled with strength, confidence, and success. Curious, Elijah opened it up.

But there was something… off about it. The email didn’t feel like a scam, not like the usual spam messages they received. It felt personal.

He glanced at Nate, a playful smirk crossing his lips. "Hey, Nate. I think we won the lottery. Want to see what they’re offering us?"

Nate didn’t respond at first, but when Elijah read it aloud, he raised an eyebrow. "That’s… weird. I don’t know. What if it’s some sort of cult or, like, a scam?"

"Nah, man," Elijah laughed. "It’s probably just some marketing gimmick. Let’s see what happens."

Neither of them realized how wrong they were until they found themselves standing together, one week later, in a sleek, modern room at the address provided in the email.

It was a small, almost sterile room with dark metal walls and a single chair in the center. They had entered together, but as soon as the door shut behind them, it locked with a loud click, and the lights began to flicker. Panic surged in both their chests.

Before they could process what was happening, a smooth voice, deep and calm, echoed from the walls.

"You two have been selected for a transformation. Prepare yourselves. The process begins now."

The words were final, and though they both tried to resist, to run, their bodies refused to move as something… shifted.

Nate felt a strange sensation spread through his body. At first, it was subtle—his hands began to tingle, then his arms, his chest, his legs. A rush of heat followed, making him feel like he was burning from the inside out. He looked at Elijah, but the sight of his boyfriend seemed distant, blurry, as though they were being separated by an impenetrable glass wall.

Elijah's breath hitched, his heart racing. He reached for Nate but felt his body contorting against his will. His muscles grew tight, harder, firmer. His once-thin frame began to bulk up with unnatural speed. His face started to change too: his jawline squared, his nose became more pronounced, his lips thinner. His eyes, once full of quiet warmth, now had a piercing, competitive gleam.

Nate could feel his body doing the same. His slender build was replaced by thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders. His skin darkened slightly, and his eyes shifted from a soft brown to a sharper blue, the deep love and empathy in them turning into something more detached, more predatory. His facial features became more angular, harder, like a statue chiselled to perfection.

As the transformation progressed, a strange sensation tugged at the roots of Nate’s hair. He reached up instinctively to touch it, his fingers trembling as a sharp, tingling pressure ran through his scalp. It was as if something deep inside his hair follicles was being pulled and restructured.

At first, his hair darkened, shifting from its natural brown to a deep, rich shade of dark brown, almost black under the bright, artificial lights of the room. The soft waves that had once framed his face, so familiar and comforting, were now growing thick and dense, the texture becoming more coarse. His scalp tingled as the strands grew shorter—cutting down to a cropped, tousled style that gave off a carefree, athletic edge. The waves that had once been loose and soft were now effortlessly styled, falling into place as though the perfect amount of tousled mess was intentionally crafted.

The hair wasn’t just shorter—it was sharper. His bangs, which had once softly brushed against his forehead, now lifted in an effortlessly messy yet purposeful way, as if styled by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The way it framed his face accentuated the new, strong lines of his jaw, his angular cheekbones, and his newly defined, masculine features.

Nate—no, Jason—ran a hand through it, feeling the textured strands shift beneath his fingers, and he couldn't help but admire the way it looked. His hair now had volume, thick and strong, and he could tell that it would always look perfect—effortlessly sexy and rugged, the kind of hair that turned heads without even trying.

Beside him, Elijah’s transformation was no less intense. Elijah had always worn his hair curly, an unruly mass of dark tendrils that framed his face in a way that spoke of gentle chaos. But now, as the change took over him, his curls unraveled, twisting and straightening until they, too, darkened to a similar shade of deep brown. The once-wild curls became more controlled, shorter, but the same tousled, perfectly disheveled look that Jason’s hair now sported fell into place on Elijah’s head.

His hair was thick, but now it had that same rugged charm—messy, but in a way that suggested it had been styled by the hands of someone who knew how to pull off that effortless, “I woke up like this” look. The hair still had volume, but it was shorter and more structured, the kind of style that fit perfectly with his broad new shoulders and athletic frame. His hair seemed to have been designed to match his new, muscular persona: bold, attractive, and undeniably masculine.

As Jason and Tyler—formerly Nate and Elijah—stood together, they both reached up to feel their hair, marveling at the way it framed their faces now. It was so different from before—so right. The tousled texture suited them in ways they hadn’t even known they needed.

Jason ran his fingers through his dark, tousled locks, feeling the confidence surge within him again, that new, sharp, athletic swagger filling him as the weight of the transformation settled deeper within. He met Tyler’s gaze, his eyes full of an intense, competitive fire.

“Dude,” Jason said, grinning, “we look good.”

Tyler smiled back, his own tousled dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he shook his head. “We look unstoppable,” he said.

And with that, the two of them—no longer Nate and Elijah—stepped out into their new lives, their hair styled to perfection, their bodies transformed into something strong, athletic, and undeniably right for their new roles. The world felt like it was theirs for the taking.

The transformation wasn’t just physical. Their minds began to change too. Memories of books and poetry — the things that had once meant so much to them — began to fade away, replaced by thoughts of weights, gym routines, and the thrill of competition. They felt a strange sense of pride surge within them as their new identities took root.

For the first time in their lives, both Elijah and Nate felt strong, undeniably powerful. But it was an overwhelming, alien feeling. It felt right in ways they couldn’t explain, and the weight of it nearly crushed them as their old selves—soft, introspective, sensitive—began to feel like a distant dream.

The voice spoke again, like a final verdict.

"You are no longer who you were. You are now Jason and Tyler — young, athletic, confident men. Your previous lives no longer matter. You are made for greatness. You will no longer seek love in the way you once did. The bonds you had are severed."

Jason—Nate, now no longer holding onto his past—felt a surge of pride. He looked at Tyler—Elijah—and for the first time in what felt like forever, the attraction was... different. His mind registered his boyfriend, but there was something else. Something about the new version of Tyler made him feel... competitive. Desirable in a different way. He wasn’t sure how to reconcile it. He just knew it felt right. The confusion was buried beneath layers of muscle, of physicality, of instinct.

Tyler—Elijah—didn’t resist either. He looked at Jason, his new, broad chest puffing out as a rush of dopamine flooded his mind. He smiled, feeling the weight of his new body and the confidence that came with it. This new life, as a jock, a bro, was exhilarating.

The door opened, and they were led out, no longer the quiet, tender souls they had been, but two young men with a new sense of purpose. Their old relationship—soft, tender, intellectual—was gone. Their bond now, their connection, was forged in shared strength, in the thrill of physical dominance, in the unspoken power that surged through their veins.

Jason, with his broad, muscular shoulders and chiseled abs, nudged Tyler with a grin. “Yo, let’s hit the gym. We’ve got work to do.”

Tyler, now as tall and athletic as Jason, returned the smile. “Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

They were no longer Nate and Elijah. They were Jason and Tyler, and they didn’t want to go back. In this new life, they were strong. They were perfect. And for the first time, they felt like they had found where they truly belonged.

As they walked into the bright sunlight, muscles flexing beneath their tight gym shirts, they couldn’t help but laugh. It felt so good. So right.

The past was forgotten.

And their future—together—was unstoppable.

As Jason and Tyler left the strange, metallic room, the world outside seemed brighter, louder, and somehow better. Their bodies felt different—stronger, more confident. And something deep within their minds had shifted too. The connection they once shared, tender and intimate, now felt distant. The quiet bond of their past lives seemed like a distant memory. They weren’t the same people anymore.

It was hard to explain, but as the minutes passed, it became clearer: they weren’t just different in appearance. They were changed, in the deepest parts of them. The world around them—once a place full of quiet contemplation and hidden desires—was now something else. Something simple. Something new. They felt a surge of straight masculinity rushing through them, their minds rewiring to focus on new things: sports, strength, competition. And, of course, women.

Jason turned to Tyler, his voice suddenly rough and confident. "Dude, we gotta hit the gym. Get those gains. We can totally crush it at the football tryouts next week."

Tyler, standing tall beside him with that signature, broad-chested swagger, grinned. "Totes, man. I’m ready to dominate. The ladies are gonna be all over us."

For the first time, Jason felt the thrill of wanting women in the way Tyler spoke of. He wasn’t looking at Tyler the same way anymore. He was looking at him as a bro, someone to team up with. That old, deep feeling of love for each other had been buried beneath this new, primal sense of camaraderie.

And sure enough, not long after, their transformation was complete in every way. The world they walked into was different, and it embraced them. They both began to notice the women around them, their new bodies and newfound swagger immediately attracting attention. In their minds, they were no longer Nate and Elijah. They were Jason and Tyler, and they were ready to conquer everything—starting with the opposite sex.

It didn't take long before they met the two girls who would change their lives: Hailey and Kelsey.

They were everything Jason and Tyler had never noticed before. Blonde, bubbly, and a little bit ditzy, they wore skintight leggings and crop tops that barely covered their chests, their eyes bright with naive excitement. Hailey, with her long, bleached blonde hair and impossibly tan skin, smiled at Jason and Tyler like they were her ticket to something new and exciting.

"Oh my God, you guys are, like, so cute," Hailey said, flipping her hair dramatically as she approached them, her voice thick with that slightly high-pitched, breathy tone that spoke of a lack of concern for anything outside her immediate world. She blinked a few times, taking in their chiseled, athletic builds, and giggled. "Totes, like, you guys look like such jocks. Are you into, like, football or something? My ex totally played football."

Jason, now fully embracing his new identity, grinned at her, his mind instantly shifting into alpha male mode. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and gave her a once-over, appreciating the way her curves filled out the tight, pink tank top she wore. "Yeah, babe. Football’s our thing. We're on the varsity team," he said with a cocky smirk, leaning back slightly to show off his chest.

Kelsey, standing next to Hailey, took one look at Tyler and squealed, practically bouncing up and down. "Oh my God, you’re like, so hot!" she gushed, her wide blue eyes scanning him with clear admiration. "I just love a guy with abs, y'know?" She laughed, looking a little too excited for Jason’s taste but in a way that was undeniably flattering. "Like, you're, like, totally the type of guy I could, like, see myself with! Do you, like, work out a lot or whatever?"

Tyler couldn’t help but smirk, flexing his arm slightly, his muscles popping in his tight gym shirt. He hadn’t worked out this much in his life, but he could see that it was paying off. "Oh, you know," he said with an air of casual arrogance, his deep voice now a clear reflection of his transformation. "I’m at the gym, like, every day. Gotta keep the body tight for the ladies."

Hailey giggled at that, nodding enthusiastically. "Omg, yes, totes! I love when guys are, like, super fit and stuff. It’s, like, so hot." She tilted her head and pouted, giving Jason a flirty smile. "Do you, like, want to go out sometime? You know, like, maybe grab a smoothie or whatever?"

Jason felt the surge of masculinity flow through him, the confidence making him feel unstoppable. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Yeah, sounds good," he said casually, already picturing the kind of date they would have—a simple, straight-forward affair with Hailey, where his new identity would be put to the test.

As the four of them stood there, chatting about workouts and the latest school gossip, the feeling of the old Nate and Elijah—their quiet, intellectual selves—seemed more and more like a distant, meaningless memory. They couldn’t even remember the last time they'd shared a moment of vulnerability or tenderness. In fact, the more they spoke to Hailey and Kelsey, the more they realized how little they missed that past life.

Their conversations now revolved around flexing muscles, sharing workout tips, and planning group outings. Hailey would giggle and run her fingers through her hair, occasionally tossing out phrases like, "Oh my God, like, totes!" while Kelsey would swoon over Tyler's abs, telling him how she "just loved a guy who could throw a football."

Jason, now fully in sync with his new identity, couldn’t help but laugh at how different everything felt. It wasn’t that he missed who he was before—it was that he didn’t even want to be Nate anymore. He wasn’t looking for poetry or deep conversation anymore. He was looking for the next adrenaline rush, the next win on the field, the next perfect girl to date.

And with Hailey, and with Kelsey, the world felt right. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders confidently, pulling her closer, feeling the perfect balance of masculinity and attraction.

Tyler did the same with Kelsey, his grin wide, his posture a perfect reflection of a new life.

"We’re gonna crush it this season, bro," Jason said to Tyler, his voice now heavy with the satisfaction of their transformation.

"Yeah, man," Tyler agreed, his voice thick with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. "With these girls by our side, nothing can stop us."

In this new life, as Jason and Tyler walked away with Hailey and Kelsey, the past seemed like nothing more than a fading dream. The transformation was complete. There was no room for doubts, no room for second thoughts. They were jocks now, strong, straight, and fully entrenched in the world they had been designed for.

And as they left behind the old versions of themselves, they couldn’t help but think, with a satisfied smile: This is it. This is who we’re meant to be.

[star-cosmos]

now that Hollyberry's Awakening Form's officially been revealed, I want to talk about an interesting pattern I've noticed with the Awakened Ancients.

And that's the fact that it seems like the Ancients' Awakened forms take a bit of inspiration from their respective Beasts. With each new Awakening making it more and more obvious.

Dark Cacao and Golden Cheese show this the least. Since their Awakened forms seem to mainly just add or incorporate more of their Beasts' main color into their designs. Awakened Dark Cacao gets more white in his hair and outfit, while Golden Cheese gets red accents.

Then Pure Vanilla not only gets more blue in his design, but he also gets a starry pattern in the blue of his hat and cape. AND he also gets multiple closed eyes on the inside of his cape. Two things which are pretty associated with Shadow Milk.

(his Awakened lobby also looks nearly identical to Shadow Milk's, with his A6 lobby having keys to match Shadow Milk's locks)

And now we have Hollyberry.

Her and Eternal Sugar already have similar color schemes (though I think there's some lighter pinks similar to Eternal Sugar's in Hollyberry's awakened form), so there's not too much to say about that. But there's other things. For example, the multiple wings in Hollyberry's design. Two sets on her helmet (kinda like Sugar of Happiness' crown), two sets on her shield, one on the back and the other on the front.

Then there's the Soul Jam, which actually changes shape. It's still a heart, but it's a lot more angular than before, though not as angular as Eternal Sugar's.

I wonder if this pattern means something. Like is it based on how much the Ancients understand their Beasts? Or is it Devsis' way to hammer in the fact that the Beast and Ancients are Soulmates (not inherently in a romantic sense, they just literally share a soul jam)

And if this really is the pattern, then knight White Lilly Cookie is on the table.

It also makes me wonder, if by any chance the Beasts ever get something similar to Awakening, could their forms also take inspiration from their Ancient counterparts?

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Someone Who Doesn’t Want To Be Saved

Author: RedCraneFalling

Artist: Callion

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/ Dean Winchester, minor Andrea Howl/ Sam Winchester

Length: 49000

Warnings: Temporary Major Character Death, Child Abuse, Implied/ Referenced Underage Prostitution, Canon Typical Violence, Homophobia/ Parental Homophobia, One use of the F slur

Tags: Childhood Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Wing Fic, Grace-Soul Bonds, Loss of Virginity, AU - Canon Divergence, Parental Guardian Gabriel, !Kid Sam

Posting Date: October 2, 2023

Summary: A child shall be born of twice-tainted blood, the eldest of two and the two soldiers’ son. A saint’s soul emerges, yet a hunter is made. Born martyr from love, built killer by pain. On his hundredth season, the lock he will break, as Mother kills Child for her Father’s sake.  All God’s angels shall perish by creatures of ol’ ‘less a Seraph gone wayward does hopelessly fall Fledgling angel, Castiel gets in an accident shortly before his seventh birthday, and quite literally falls out of the sky and into Dean’s lap. The two quickly become close, but both of their families are hiding dark secrets. Dean’s in the form of an absent father who seems to drain all happiness from his two children whenever he’s around, and Castiel’s in the form of a prophecy which unites the two boys, but may ultimately tear them apart.

Excerpt: Dean starts climbing and Castiel waits for him to be about halfway up before he flaps his wings twice and jumps to the branch. “Hey no fair!” Dean calls after him, “I forgot you could fly. Flying is cheating.” “You didn’t specify no flying when you made the rules,” Castiel calls back laughing from his perch on the branch.  Castiel watches Dean climb the rest of the way up, his muscles stretching and coiling under the skin of his arms. He’s strong and lithe, graceful and sure of his movements in a way that Castiel can only imitate in flight. On the ground, the calculated angular movements of an Angel make him look robotic in comparison. He is unnatural where Dean is at home, as a true son of the Earth. And God took clay from Earth’s four corners and gave it the breath of life. Man is better than angel. Created for more than just the divine. Their perfect imperfections leave room for beauty. When Dean gets up to the branch he’s huffing with exertion. There’s sweat on his brow where his hair sticks to his forehead, and his cheeks are bright red around his freckles. The flush brings out the green in his eyes.  “Cheater,” Dean accuses when he sees Castiel’s cocky grin. He reaches out and gives Castiel a light shove.  Castiel moves exaggeratedly with the shove, and falls sideways off the tree branch.  “Cas!” Dean yells in alarm before he realizes that Castiel is simply floating in the air slightly under the branch with one leg still hooked over it. “Gonna give me a heart attack,.” Dean grumbles.  Castiel laughs and uses his wings to right himself so he’s sitting on the branch again. He straddles it, facing Dean.  “Would you like to race back down?” he says with a cheeky grin.  “No,” Dean pouts, crossing his arms “You’d probably just jump, Mister I-Can-Survive-a-Tornado.” Castiel laughs boisterously, and it seems his laugh is contagious because Dean starts laughing as well. They both smile, looking at each other. The sun dapples Dean’s skin with patches of light through the leaves.  Castiel walks with the brothers back to the nearby motel they’re staying at. Dean is in an uncharacteristically carefree mood, skipping and chattering on like the first time Castiel met him. When they reach the motel, Dean’s face falls as he looks at a big black car parked outside their room. He picks up Sam and turns towards Cas frowning.  “You gotta go home now, Cas, but we can watch Scooby Doo another day, okay?” he says. Castiel is confused but agrees and flies away.  The next time he sees the Winchester brothers, Dean has a black eye. He won’t tell Castiel where it’s from.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[xdepthsofwinterx]

Pulled by Fate: In which Dhana is finally reunited with Elithrar (@waterdeephero @pyritea) and Deekin in Cania. {{A couple years after I promised I would write this, Baka comes back swinging with fluffy angst. Hope Dhana is as good as she used to be!}}

-

Frigid cold arched across her skin, burning bone deep. But beyond that, to a point that her very soul ached. Booted feet trudged through the snow, crunching and crimping in the deeper drifts. Cheeks burned red, and even her furs couldn't keep the cold at bay. Days, she guessed, had passed, but it could be an eternity for all she knew.

One thing was for certain. Dhana wasn't in the overworld anymore.

The Reaper had confirmed that. Sucked through to their pocket plane, face first into cool obsidian tiles, Dhana had awoken with a start. Last she knew, a denizen of Mephistopheles had thrust a greatsword through her chest. Panicking, scrambling to het feet, the meticulous monotone of the ethereal presence filled her mind.

"What is your will, sojourner?"

Now she was cast out into the baltic, infernal infested hellscape, awaiting what, she knew not. Crouched down by a measley fire, those berries filling a hole and heat in her belly for a short time. Once vibrant sepia eyes look on vacantly into the space before her.

"Deekin isn't sure, but perhaps Boss might find out?"

Those words rip her heart wide open, until she bleeds salty tears in its wake. Soft pattering, clawed feet, hopping through the snow after their leader. Her tongue feels like cotton in her mouth, her head too full of both painful and familiar memories that she feels like she might faint.

Deekin. Of course, the lovable scaley kobold hopped along beside a taller, willowy cloaked figure, with an equally familiar and graceful gait.

Hunting for recognisable features beneath the tanned, furlined cloak, Dhana spies the gorgeous shock of gingery gold hair, angular features, soft lips. Another painful clench of her heart, and her feet are stumbling after the pair in the snow.

How can she not?! Like a string of fate, her soul and being was bound to those walking only a couple feet ahead. But her throat is clenched shut with unspoken grief and need for them both. Her hand outstretched, all long, slender fingers, tattooed and calloused. Her lips part, eyes filling with tears as she wills this not to be another fever dream.

"E-Eli...thrar-"

Emotion cracks her voice, turning it gravelly as it echoes out in the space between them. The reaction is instant, as if both figures before her are struck with an arrow, the taller of the two freezing in place.

Deekin is the first to turn. And when his beady eyes lock onto Dhana's form, a shrill cry of anguish and disbelief emits the kobold.

"B-Boss?!"

He doesn't wait on ceremony, doesn't care for her apologies or excuses. No, Deekin charges towards the sorceress and latches onto her leg as tightly as he can. From the wetting of her leggings, it is clear the proof reptilian is equally moved.

Instinct has her bending down to him, bundling the little fella in her arms and letting out a mournful sound as she buries her head into his scaley shoulder. She rocks him for a moment, unleashing their shared grief. When at last Dhana pulls back, warpaint smudged, eyes red and nose snuffly, her eyes catch on the sight of leather boots in her periphery.

A quiver of pure, unadulterated joy and happiness washes over her as Elithrar's face comes into full view. Golden eyes are round, tears wavering as he barely holds himself back. Straightening, the blackette barely gets a breath in before the elf is engulfing her in a tight squeeze, mouth uttering words of shaky disbelief.

"D-Dhana...God's be good."

His warmth filled her nostrils; that familiar scent of incense, musky amd slight sweat, it was all so nostalgic. Dhana let herself settle into Elithrar's tight embrace, relishing in his soft caresses to her back.

"I-I n-never thought I would

get the c-chance to see you again," The cleric squeezed her tighter, and sliding up her back as that soft, tanned nose is pressed into her shoulder. Tears trickle silently down her cheeks, pressing herself firmly against his warm form. Heart clenching, arms tightning about him, Dhana manages out words that Elithrar is also trying to communicate.

"Gods I have missed you, so much."

Fingers delve into fabric, desperately seeking more contact, the need to be closer almost all consuming.

But here, in Elithrar's arms is exactly where her heart belongs, with Deekin at their side. Just...just like old times...like it should be...

And this time, Dhana would fight tooth and nail to remain there. Even the Archdevil himself.

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Greetings, Bard! Actually really worried to send this to you. I really like your works! You are one of small amount of people, who writes for gorons, and I really love your work! I was crying, while reading Daruk x sick!reader. Thank you very much for that!

Actually, if it's doesn't bother you too much, you have some time and wish to write. Then may I request Daruk x reader. Where reader helps Daruk wash his hair. This man has beautiful hair. And I don't know why, but I feel like he will be like cloud after washing them. And maybe some fluff??

Thank you very much for your work again!

So I got this request more than once and there’s something about washing someone else’s hair that signifies such a deep level of love and care for the person having their hair washed. I’d honestly be happy to write this for all three of our Goron faves.

Darunia

While grateful to you for being considerate of his jagged mop, the chief isn’t exactly keen on washing his hair too often. He mentions something about the earth of Death Mountain enriching his hair and building character - but you can tell with the way that he’s not cross his arms that he’s more or less bluffing. Set your hands on your hips and give him a look of ‘you can’t lie to me’, and he’ll eventually relent, being unable to resist your determined look.

Grabbing some well water from Kakariko Village, you make your way back up with it and into Goron City where you start by dunking a bowlful over Darunia’s head. The Goron chief sits impatiently with his legs crossed as you get to lathering at his scalp. You’re mindful to hold your tongue as you scrub the ash from his stony white pointed locks, slowly causing them to lose their angular shape as the water clears out all the impurities in his hair. He chooses not to say much as you work, though his arms are fully crossed over his chest and his knee is tapping steadily into the ground. You can’t help but smile though, despite his reluctant nature, he was amenable pretty quickly to your offer and you internally gave him brownie points for not being a total sourpuss. When you finish, you move to get a towel, but he stops you. A rough shake of his head has his drenched hair immediately springing back into their sharper ends, though noticeably whiter. You gawk in surprise, but a hand covering the top of your head breaks your thoughts. His smirk is small, but it’s a genuine Darunia smile - and he gives you his thanks to go along with it.

Daruk

Over the moon that you’d offer to do something so nice for him!

He wastes no time taking you over to the hot springs on the outskirts of the city, finding the biggest one so you both can comfortable relax. Daruk looks the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him: content smile, hands resting neatly in his lap, so opposite from the boisterous and stand tall pride that personified him. As you poured the warm water over his head and began sudsing up his hair, you were genuinely surprised his hair was incredibly soft already. This made you giggle, having heard so many people mention his beard and hair being comparable to clouds. Gently your fingers weaved through his long white locks, washing away all of the ash and dirt that he rolled through on a daily basis. The Goron champion hummed low in enjoyment, your fingers providing a comfort he’d never felt before. Being a sought after name in Goron City had Daruk so ready to handle any situation that he often what it was like not to have much to think about.

“I could get used to this” he sighs relaxedly. His eyes are fully closed now, and you take this opportunity to come around to his beard. Being this close to his face makes you a tad nervous because of the proximity, but his slacken posture eases your apprehension. Your fingertips scrub into his facial hair, the soap lathering in bunches and truly shaping him up to look more like a cloud than ever. When you reach his cheeks, a brief wave of affection washes over you. You hold his face for only a few seconds, and though he does not notice that you’ve stopped, you commit to memory the calm of that has completely engulfed him. At the end of your washing, you carefully doused his head in more warm spring water, making sure to wring out the excess at the ends of his hair and beard. The towel that you brought with you, now cozy from the heat of the springs, was brought to his face and head to dry off any remaining water.

When you were finally finished, you lent him the biggest smile you could muster. The white of his mane looked pristine and even he seem impressed as his large hand felt the softness he touched. Without missing a beat, you were scooped up in his giant arms, squeezed affectionately to his chest. “I feel better than ever!” roared Daruk, swinging you in his hold before slowly easing you away from him. His grin was about as jovial as it gets, “I owe ya one, sweetheart,” he said, the appreciation warm on his tongue. He held you close once more, opting for a more tender hug now as he softly murmured, “Thank you.”

Yunobo

This Goron is instantly touched that you’d be willing to do something so sweet.

Taking a page out Daruk’s book, he offers to sit with you at the nearby hot springs. Yunobo doesn’t have a tremendous amount of hair, but the flowy swirl of white on his head is pretty soft to the touch; this allows you to instead have the idea of giving his head a nice massage! Scratching gently at his scalp once you’ve lathered up his hair, you knead carefully into the skin of his head. Your fingertips squeeze and release gently in intervals, slowly releasing any tension Yunobo had locked at his head. The sigh he lets out is one of complete comfort, and it makes your heart thump hearing him sound so relaxed. Using your palms, you carefully scoop at his neck, applying gentle pressure and moving into slow, deliberate strokes in order to soften the muscles there. As you massage and compress across his entire head, you can see Yunobo struggling to stay awake from your ministrations. A gentle giggle escapes you, arms coming around his shoulders as you lean on his rocky back from behind, “Don’t drift off just yet, sleepyhead, I gotta dry you off.”

He chuckles with some embarrassment after waking back up, “S-Sorry! I’m just so relaxed, y’know? Who’d a thunk getting your head rubbed felt this good, goro?” It’s your turn to laugh as you tell him you’re happy to have helped him loosen up a bit. You rinse the remaining soap from his head before completely patting him dry, the warmth of the towel feeling good on both his head and your hands. At the signal of your completion, Yunobo lets out a generous yawn.

“I’m ready for a nap now,” he says, voice laced with sleepy tones. Before you can even respond, he sweeps you into his arms bridal style, carrying you off back to the city. You ask him in a stammer where you’re both going and he raises an eyebrow in slight confusion, “We’re gonna take a nap, like I said, goro,” he smiles down at you, “You don’t think you deserve some rest too?” You stay silent at his question, choosing your response to instead be your shuffle of comfort into his arms. He pulls you a little closer to his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Thanks for doing somethin’ so nice for me.”

You find yourself getting sleepy with the warmth that radiates from him, but you whisper out how much of a pleasure it was as you look forward to falling asleep in his embrace soon enough.

[woozyvee]

quits

word count: 3.6

synopsis: seungmin wasn't aware that a way to counteract his perpetual insomnia was for the heating in his neighbor’s apartment to stop working.

tags: seungmin x reader, neighbors au, fluff, mild angst, hurt/comfort.

author's note: a twist on the "there is only one bed" trope, i suppose. reposted from my old blog, edited for seukijeu. ew, why was i a better writer when i wrote this four years ago? rip.

Seungmin is sure he could map the cracks littering his ceiling from memory by now.

His limbs ache against his sheets from having been inactive for too long, lips drying and ears ringing beneath still silence. Heavy silence swallows the occasional shudder of his window under harsh winds, round snowflakes turning the midnight’s sky a blurry gray. Seungmin stays unmoving, eyelids weighty but remaining open, scrutinizing the aged white paint hovering a couple feet above him.

It is cold too. He would be more peeved with his apartment complex’s stinginess concerning temperature control if he were not sheltered beneath his thick covers, more or less his only escape from shivering in his own home in the winter.

A big toe twitches, a car is heard driving by along the street outside, someone drops something on the floor in the apartment overhead.

Seungmin has a semi-important meeting tomorrow. Twisting his neck, he is met with red, angular numbers informing him that the third hour since midnight is fast approaching. An exasperated sigh breaks the silence. His eyelids force themselves shut.

He knows it will not work. No matter how slowly he makes himself breathe, no matter how many sheep he counts, no matter how still he lies. It does not work.

Eyes snap open after an unmeasured amount of time, familiar cracks above always too happy to meet them.

“Fuck it,” he tells himself before sitting up, bare feet flinching at first when they touch the cold wood covering his floors. His alarm clock is left to its own lonesome on his nightstand when the round glasses previously accompanying it find their rightful place on the bridge of Seungmin’s nose.

Light taps sound throughout his apartment as he guides himself to the kitchen, momentarily swaying due to the fatigue clouding his consciousness. Seungmin shakes his head lazily before pouring himself a cup of water, all five of his drinking glasses standing uncleaned in his sink. Chilly water slips down his throat.

The soothing effect of rehydrating himself has faded with the years, Seungmin is poignantly reminded. It no longer compared once he found a better way to fight his insomnia and it never will again. Not even when the better way is no longer available to him. At least his tongue feels less dry now.

He sobers a little when there is a sudden knock against his door.

It takes Seungmin a few seconds to glance at his clock, just a minute or two having passed since it struck three. He wonders if he should grab his utility knife, just in case, but is already walking toward the noise’s source before he can be bothered to entertain the idea.

In his all but intoxicated weariness, he forgets to exploit his peephole before his fingers have already undone the lock and he pulls the door open.

He sobers even a little more when his squinting eyes find you staring up at him with your wide ones, easily recognized surprise arching your brows. Seungmin probably looks something similar, he would guess.

Your name falls from his stiff lips in the form of a question.

“Oh,” you sound and Seungmin duly notices how somehow blue and shaky your lips are. And how a thick jacket is hanging over your shoulders. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

Seungmin remembers how gentle the knock had been and how it under no circumstances could have woken anyone up. Which was probably intentional.

“You didn’t,” he reassures and watches you fidget under his stare.

This is awkward, he realizes. The two of you do not speak often, the typical encounter being a hushed greeting as you pass each other in the stairwell, or merely a polite smile. Of course, there was that one time when Seungmin was justly wasted and his friends—well, Minho—locked him out of his own apartment as a prank. Miraculously, you were coming home as this happened and let him into your place for a while. He remembers drinking a lot of water, giggling too much and watching you laugh at him. He also remembers thinking your laugh was kind of cute. And how embarrassed he was when he woke up hungover the next day.

Yes, this is awkward, especially at three in the morning but Seungmin finds himself unaffected. You are nervous, though. You always are around him, always have been. He wonders if you know he has noticed.

A halfway emptied cup of water is still balanced between Seungmin’s fingers, he suddenly realizes.

“So,” you start with an obvious distress altering your usually soft voice, seemingly tense hands gripping the sleeves of your jacket. “Hate to disturb you but-” You hesitate, finding difficulty in meeting Seungmin’s stare. He patiently lets you collect your thoughts, hoping that the heavy bags adorning his eyes are not too discouraging. “The heating in my apartment shut off some time earlier today and well… It’s really cold.”

You do not need to elaborate for Seungmin to understand. If his apartment is as cold as it is with the heating on, he can only imagine what type of freezer your place must have turned into with these sub-zero temperatures outside.

“Shit,” he comments.

“Uh, yeah, so…” You purse your lips for a moment and Seungmin’s feet feel cold beneath him. “I- I tried to sleep but, I really can’t. I’m supposed to help my friend move tomorrow and need to get up kind of early and I just-…”

Seungmin, despite how unthinkably tired he is, quickly connects the dots and understands what question you are working your way up to asking. He still wants to let you ask it though, in the slim chance that he is wrong. Even if he knows he is not.

A shaky hand pokes out from your thick sleeve and you scratch your scalp in the silence. Seungmin finds himself hoping you speak soon again, the lack of any sounds too loud and too recognizable in his ears. A sip of water slides smoothly down his throat.

“I just- I’m really sorry but, just know that I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t-” You stop and inhale, feet fidgeting atop the floor. Seungmin thinks he might be smiling a little, he is not sure. “Is it- Can I sleep here tonight? Just on the couch or- or floor or whatever you are most okay with. I’ll leave early in the morning, I just really need someplace.. warmer to rest for a few hours.”

It is an odd request. And somehow, Seungmin does not like that you are asking it. You do not know him well enough to justifiably feel comfortable sleeping in his apartment. As far as you know, Seungmin could be some creep that collects his own nail clippings or something weird like that.

He does not really like the obvious crush you have on him either. You started liking him too easily, he thinks. How could you think it appropriate to develop such a fast crush on him when the most you know about him is his name and that he has friends that like pulling pranks on him?

A part of Seungmin wants to deny you for these reasons. He probably would, under less dire circumstances. But he quickly remembers your desperate situation and how unthinkably cold your apartment must be and that it is something past three in the morning. You are lucky that he is not some creep that collects his own nail clippings. And that the blush that is slowly coloring your cheeks is kind of endearing.

He empties his drink down his throat finally and opens his door further.

“Sure,” he accepts and takes a step sideways. “Come in.”

You look surprised as you carefully enter his home and it only then strikes Seungmin that he is actually letting all but a stranger into his own apartment for the night. He really needs to sleep. Jokes on him.

Worry is not a prominent emotion that he feels then, however, as you could not look any more harmless with your wide eyes scanning his dimly lit living room shyly. Maybe he did a good thing for someone, for once.

“You can sleep on the couch right there,” he gestures to said piece of furniture and your head bobs in a nod. “And use as many blankets as you need.” Windows shake and cut through an approaching silence from the storm on the other side.

Seungmin is oddly comfortable in this setting.

He is too tired.

Lifting his cup to his lips again, he is promptly reminded that it is empty. It would not work anyway, he scoffs.

You turn to him, fingers clutching the clothing covering your chest. “Thank you so much. Really. I seriously owe you now. It was fucking freezing in there. Just- thank you.”

The sides of Seungmin’s lips curl just a bit before he can prevent it as he waves a dismissive hand your way. “Don’t worry about it. We can be quits now, after… that time I was really drunk.”

He thinks your lips purse to suppress a smile. Seungmin’s ears feel warmer.

“No, no, seriously,” you say. “If you ever need a favor after this, knock on my door.”

Seungmin nods, folding under your seemingly decided offer and you quietly stalk toward his couch. He leaves his empty cup in the kitchen and tells you to make yourself at home which earns him yet another thank you before he is sneaking back into his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

And he is back to tracing the cracks decorating his ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes and darkening circles below them to match.

Fists tighten around the sheets he rests upon, the insides of his cheeks falling victim to restless teeth. He only wants to sleep, if just for an hour. An hour, he fantasizes, would be enough. Would save him from having to get high on caffeine to stay awake at work tomorrow. Or only half an hour, he is not greedy. Anything.

He thinks of a warm embrace and his heart launches upward and gets stuck in his throat. Slow fingers combing through his unkempt hair, heartbeat grounding and relaxing against his ear. Tender and reassuring hums that would lull him to sleep, decelerate his heart’s thumping and calm his breathing.

The muscle sheltered beneath his rib cage only raps at the thought, pounds in his ears worse than silence does, the memory of a certain voice anything but sedative in his ear.

He shoots upward quickly, chest all but heaving up and down under loud inhales and exhales as he sits and stares out his window, at the relentless snow descending from thick clouds blanketing the sky.

The better way to rebut his insomnia is gone, the memory of it tainted with shitty lies and raised voices.

“Fuck,” he sighs, face landing in the palms of his hands and he rubs and rubs and rubs-

Until his toilet flushes and he remembers that he has a guest, of sorts.

His eyes sneak a peek at his clock again and it tells him that it has been forty minutes or so since he crawled back beneath his duvet. And you are still awake.

Strong gusts of wind shake against Seungmin’s window and he sits still, contemplating what to do. His muscles are sluggish, his eyes ache, his hairline is sticky. But he is not going to fall asleep anyway.

Wobbling a little, he opens his door again and proceeds with gentle steps into his living room. There you sit, on his couch with your phone in hand. Wood creaks beneath Seungmin’s foot and his shoulders tighten as your head whips around and your round eyes meet his apologetic ones through the dark.

A brief silence passes. That Seungmin ends quickly.

“Can’t sleep?”

Your lips part, phone dismissed by your side. “Uh, no, I-… I have a hard time sleeping in new places sometimes,” you explain, hands squeezing at your arms as you hold yourself. “But I’m warmer now at least, so…”

Seungmin nods, watching your chin dip downward for a second before your voice interrupts the taut silence again. He is thankful.

“Sorry if I uh, woke you up when I-”

“No, no, you didn’t,” Seungmin reassures, like how he did earlier in the night. He approaches you slowly and notices how your back straightens when he sits down beside you. “I’m a bit of an insomniac, actually.”

“Oh,” you react and Seungmin is too tired to dislike the hint of pity in your eyes. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

A deep chuckle rumbles within Seungmin’s chest. “It’s not your fault. Unless you’re a witch who put a curse on me, or something.”

You huff at that and Seungmin feels drunk again because it is a little cuter than it should be. His smirk is too wide for this late hour. Early hour. Whatever.

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m just saying sorry on the universe’s behalf because, well, it won’t do it itself…”

Seungmin’s head dips, a tight smile across his lips. There are many things he would like to hear the universe apologize for. But somehow, the notion feels like a sweet, deceptive lie.

He meets your open stare and shoots you a polite smile. And sighs. He really just wants to sleep. Just.

“Is-… Don’t you have like, some technique for falling asleep?” The question is innocent and reasonable enough, so Seungmin tries to hide the way in which his eyebrows pinch when he averts his gaze. “Like, medicine or something?”

His fingers clench.

“Uh,” he starts, tongue loose after so many hours of sleeplessness. So many years. “I used to.”

You remain silent and Seungmin hates it, has to keep talking.

“I was in a relationship. Whenever I slept with her, that’s when I could actually sleep for whole nights.” It has been so long, his twisting heart recognizes. He tries not to think about it.

He notices how you shift awkwardly in his periphery, suddenly reminded of your crush on him. Guilt, he feels a bit of that.

“Oh,” you say again and he is pleasantly surprised when the sound is not accompanied by another apology.

You are staring at your fingers when he looks over at you, your profile contorting with faint sheepishness. The large sweater you wear kind of swallows you, socks big and fuzzy over your feet that are criss-cross in front of you. A sight that revives his smile more easily than he would like.

His smile that dies quite rapidly once more when he notices that you are still shivering.

The heavy duvet laid out across his sheets comes to mind, the warmth and comfort it provides. Seungmin’s teeth begin chewing at his lip as he stares at you.

He is not sure for how long the silence has stretched before you turn to meet his eye with a mildly questioning expression. His thoughts were too loud that he did not realize the lack of any conversing.

“You’re still cold,” is all he can think to say.

Quickly, you grip one hand with the other, probably as to hide your shaking. Seungmin frowns.

“I’m really fine,” you insist. “Compared to my place, this is so much better. I- I just need a moment to… warm up.”

Seungmin really is much too tired, as ridiculous ideas swim in his head and do not sound as ridiculous as he knows them to be. Sleep, he needs to sleep.

He thinks he sees your jaw quivering a bit, teeth probably hacking. His lungs constrict.

“You could- ahh…” Seungmin’s eyes fall closed, mind whirring with restless delusions.

He is not in his right mind, he should not make this offer. It is weird. It is creepier than collecting your own nail clippings, he is sure. Sleep, he just needs some sleep.

The clock hanging on the wall ticks and tocks and Seungmin’s toes curl.

You look puzzled when his eyes reopen.

“I have a big bed.” He internally curses the opening sentence, cheeks heating and distracting him. “Uh, and warm covers. It’s- It’s really the only warm place in here and- ugh, I sound like a freak, don’t I?”

A small smile grows across your lips and Seungmin cannot decide whether it relieves him or bothers him.

“I guess it’s a bit weird but- this whole situation is kind of, weird too.”

Seungmin nods, hairline still sticky as his fingers slide along it. Or sticky again. “Yeah, so, I just- Two people can fit in there pretty well. I mean- You might get a cold if you, stay here and- I don’t know.”

“I mean...” Your fingers pick at each other over your lap as you watch them.

Seungmin remembers your crush again and knows that if he were in his right mind, he would not entertain your liking toward him so easily. Hell, he would not offer sharing his bed with anyone he barely knows, no matter who the anyone was. He really, really needs to sleep.

“I guess,” you continue and Seungmin feels somehow relieved that you seem reluctant. “Okay.”

A stillness encases the two of you then and no one moves for a long moment. Until the rate at which Seungmin’s heart beats begins picking up, just a bit.

The short trip to Seungmin’s bed feels long and slow and he presses himself as close to the wall as he can muster when he crawls on to his mattress for the third time that night. He notices that you also lie as far from him as the bed allows and only hopes that you will not fall over the edge.

“Thank you,” you whisper, duvet quickly pulled up to your chin.

“No problem,” he replies and snow still falls to cover the roads and pavements on the other side of the window. Though, the storm has calmed some.

Those words were your respective wishes for a good night. Or morning, rather.

But Seungmin can tell with the time that passes and passes, that you are both still awake. He hears it in your controlled breathing, back turned to you as he stares into his wall. A wall whose marks he is familiar with in the same fashion he is with the ones on his ceiling. His ears ring again, always. It is too quiet still.

Having another body near him proves to not be enough, his tired eyes tell him. A sigh is suppressed within his lungs, as to not alarm you. His fist tightens beside his face.

Surprise alerts him when you are the one to break the silence.

“You still awake?” you ask quietly, though it is loud while vibrating against the shells of Seungmin’s ears. He appreciates it, it unwinds his fist.

A second or a couple pass before he answers.

“Yeah.”

He feels the mattress move beneath him as you presumably shift, stiffening him in his position. Anticipation widens his eyes as he awaits your next move.

“Do you-” You cut yourself off and Seungmin can hear his heartbeat. He wonders briefly if you can, too. “I can hold you if- if you, want.”

That catches the man off guard and he needs a moment to register your proposal. You can hold him. If he wants.

The thought causes something to bloom and spread inside his chest, something he cannot quite pinpoint, something he has not felt in too long. It is almost uncomfortable.

Seungmin turns clumsily atop his sheets, springs whimpering within the mattress, until he is met with your wide-eyed stare. He imagines your cheeks to be stained a rosy kind of color but it is too dark to confirm it.

You wait patiently for his reply, seemingly readying yourself for rejection and the following embarrassment by troubling your lip.

He wants to save you from feeling that. He wants to sleep.

“You sure?” he questions.

He notices how you inhale deeply, eyelids blinking at him for a while.

“Yes, of course,” you assure, exhaling and Seungmin feels your breath tickling his nose. You like him too easily. He accepts too easily.

“Okay.”

Neither of you move at first, waiting for the other to do so, before your lips curl and the both of you cannot help but let hushed laughter slip and mingle in the air still separating you.

You scoot forward slightly and Seungmin quickly follows suit, until his head is suddenly tucked beneath your chin and his cheek is pressed against your chest. It is an effortless fit. Or Seungmin is just too tired.

This is weird, he knows. But it does not feel weird. He really needs to fucking sleep.

It takes a moment, his eyes wide and his heart jumping against his ribs. He hears that yours sounds similar, Seungmin’s ear hot while pressed to your sweater. And dread almost starts to boil in the pit of his stomach as he slowly begins feeling like this will not work. That this was a horribly awkward mistake and that he will never be able to meet your eye again.

But your palm resting on his back distracts him from the looming distress, other hand eventually rising to hold the side of his head, near his temple. Your heartbeat slows beneath your sweater, chest rising and falling and demanding Seungmin’s attention.

It is warm, it is no longer too silent and Seungmin places a careful arm across your waist. His weight sinks into the mattress below, limbs heavy alike his eyelids that he soon realizes have fallen shut. You smell kind of sweet beneath Seungmin’s deep breaths, his lips parting when his jaw slackens.

He wonders who will be indebted to who when the sun soon rises. And that becomes his last thought before a wave of slumber washes him away.

copyright © 2024 woozyvee. all rights reserved.

[jargonautical]

Somewhere To Be / A chapter at a time

Security

TRUE TO HER word she has the brooch ready for his inspection just before dusk, laid out under the same magnifier as last time. It’s unrecognisable as the muddy blob from earlier. Bright metal gleams back at him as he angles the light, intricate angular patterns that cover the whole surface. It’s far more sparse than the so-called chieftain’s brooch, the only gems a trio of pale ovals at one terminal. He brings the magnifier closer, stooping to get a better look - common banded agate, and one off-white quartz with a deep crack across it.

If he’d hoped to identify his betrayer from this single clue he’s out of luck. It’s much too common a style. Earth affinity certainly, but it’s been too long - what was the name of that stoneworker, the one who used to harass the girls in town before Mainder packed him off Home? Could have been him. He can see the face as clear as anything, but the name eludes him. And what’s-his-name, Alaric? Roderic? The huntsman would remember, the lad rode with the hunt for a while before the Closing. If he can get a hold of him or the sculptor somehow …

“Any idea why there are so many artefacts in this style buried around these parts?”

He stares blankly, dragged back to the present. Does she expect him to know? Of course he does know, but how could she know that he knows?

“You must have a theory.” she presses. ‘It’s very unusual, most digs this size will only find one high-status piece like this if they’re lucky, and we have two without even a single grave site. And there’s the dolphin brooch, isn’t there, the one in the museum. Is Patterson right? Was this place actually like a Bronze Age brooch factory or something?”

Damn. Of course they’d have to make that connection eventually, he’d be a fool to have thought otherwise. He toys with the idea of supporting her line of questioning, staring at the blank wall ahead. It could work, if he can find a way to come back later and seed something else that supports it -

“Mainder.” she says softly, and there’s a note of compulsion in her voice. What is it about the girl? He finds himself wanting to give her answers, to make her happy, to maybe even see the glimmer of her smile - and compresses his lips to prevent words from tumbling out before he’s had a chance to review them.

“No.” he says with finality. “Not a production centre, just a lot of people used to have one of these, and - “ he catches himself just in time. “ - maybe something happened.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“AND WHAT ARE you doing in here so late, young lady?”

It’s probably a good thing the security guard can’t see Evie’s expression when he comes up behind her. She’s not startled, having heard his heavy footsteps coming long before he arrived, but his overbearing paternal tone could almost be calculated to irritate. She finishes returning the brooch to its numbered shelf and locks the cupboard door.

“I’ll be done soon.”

“It’s not a question of how long you’ll be.” The floorboards creak in protest as he brings his bulk further into the room, taking up a position just behind her left shoulder. It’s altogether too near for her comfort. If she turned now to look at him, judging by his cloying-sweet breath ruffling her hair, they’d be nose to nose. “You understand me, love? It’s a question of whether it’s on my schedule. I’ll need your name, and your manager’s name.” The clipboard is flourished, pen poised, ready to take names and make trouble.

Chris’s return couldn’t have been better timed, stepping through the open doorway and saying coolly “That would be me. Who left this door open, please? This is supposed to be a secure site.”

The man steps smartly back, and Evie can finally turn to review him. He doesn’t look like a predator, but then the worst of them never do. He radiates an instantly forgettable bloke-next-door vibe, with a mop of iron-grey hair combed in a swirl around his very obvious bald spot, and a fussy toothbrush moustache recently committed to. His uniform jacket and high-vis vest fit remarkably well considering he’s about twenty years older and several stones heavier than the rest of the security crew. There’s no menace in him now, on the surface at least; now there’s another male in the room he’s as affable and as harmless as a tipsy uncle at a wedding. His official security pass announces him to be T. Clegg. (Night Shift). Fixed in the glare of the camera’s flash he looks like an unrepentant Mr Toad caught joyfully speeding, florid cheeks merging into his non-existent neck and what he probably imagined was a friendly smile. Evie can still feel his breath on her neck, goading her to turn around and open herself up to assault.

He shrugs off the question of the door left open - security is on the case, no need to be alarmed - and delicately hints that, even with his mighty protection, foolish little girls shouldn’t be sitting with their backs to doors after dark. He flourishes the clipboard like a token of power and ends with “If it’s not on my schedule, it’s not happening. I don’t make the rules.”

“There’s a schedule?” Chris says blankly, glancing at Evie to see if she knows what Clegg is talking about. “Is this a new thing? It’s the first we’ve heard of it.”

“The Professor and I discussed it this afternoon. You’re supposed to let Security know if your people are going to be on site after six. Don’t want anyone getting into trouble now, do we?”

Exactly how overtime they didn’t know they needed could be submitted to a schedule they didn’t know existed isn’t specified; Chris is about to point this out when Evie intercepts.

“Of course not.” she says smoothly. “We’ll check in with the Professor’s office first thing.”

Clegg gives her a patronising nod. “You do that, sweetheart. Can’t be having your boss always running around to get you out of trouble, eh? I’m sure he has more important things to do.”

He makes a show of peering into each corner of the office, doubles back to rattle the cupboard door handles and, apparently satisfied all is secure, ticks off something on his clipboard with heavy emphasis and departs.

[hwats-the-big-idea]

OCtober

Here are my drawings and writings for some OCtober prompts I found. I've never fully entered in a promptober event since my art generally takes me a long time to do (damn my hand tremor) so I'll dump my entries every few days. I have the entries for prompt 1-5 today.

Prompts I'm using this month

Prompt 1: favorite OC.

How could I ever list just one? I could never pick a favorite from these four, so here's the whole group. From left to right: Skipper King, Isaiah Ross, Midas, and Dawnfire.

Dawnfire was my main fursona (scalesona, semantics semantics) for years and years. I originally developed her when I was 12/13 a few years before I even knew of the furry community. She's changed a lot since then. She started out as a blend of a Warrior Cats OC, a wild Kratts OC, and my persona on animal jam. She was lanky and angular, but is now a round, fat, bara dragon. Her pattern though has basically been the same since her origins with very minor tweaks. Her inside flesh is blue and glows. She's taken second seat to my fursona recently since I knew I wanted to develop a fursona who better represented me, Dawnfire is practically the opposite of me.

Midas is the one who's taken first seat as my fursona. He's a kaprosuchus with the ability to transform into a daeodon monster form. I love the aesthetics of gold teeth/claws/bones on furries, and he's further inspired by king Midas himself as well as the song My Ordinary Life by The Living Tombstone. He's kind of my "dog croc" sona, even if a more terrestrial interpretation of the kapro is less than scientific, he's still a master of both water and land. His aesthetics are further inspired by both Dawnfire as well as clowns/circuses. I've tried many, many, many fursonas but I could never move on from Dawnfire until eventually I took my favorite pseudosuchian (the pseudosuchians are my favorite animals as well) and basically made him Dawnfire with his patterns and silhouette and finally I found a fursona who's here to stay. His personality matches much more closely to me/a version of me who's not riddled by social anxiety, and his hair is directly inspired by my hair; a bright red curly mullet. And ofc both he and Dawnfire are monster sonas, because what would I be without my monsters?

Isaiah and Skipper come from the same universe. They came to me when I was in my first year of high school about. They're boyfriends and their world is the one I escape to in my daydreams. Isaiah is a tall, depressed, mentally troubled musical prodigy with delusions of grandeur while Skipper is a happy go lucky, loyal af, protective and aggressive short king best friend you could ever have. They belong to two primary worlds/AUs: the first world, their world of origin, is a magical medieval esc world where if upon witnessing the sudden death of a family member or close friend you develop a super power themed around their death and are cast away from society as being seen as "marked by Satan himself". These people are known as "the marked". Isaiah is a fire bender after witnessing the death of his sister in a house fire, and Skipper is markless but living amongst the marked after running away from his very abusive household. He meets Isaiah who becomes fiercely protective of Skipper. Unfortunately in their world to develop your ability you start to lose your sanity and become obsessed with your power as the power begins to fully take over the brain. It's Isaiah's struggle as he becomes stronger to defend Skipper but still hold onto what he can of himself to even be with Skipper.

Their other world is a modern world where humans have no supernatural abilities. Isaiah and Skipper met in high school only for Isaiah's parents to lock him away from the world when they discovered he was queer. Later in life after Isaiah escaped, he eventually is reunited with Skipper but their lives are still troubled. Isaiah is riddled with depression, anxiety, and developing schizophrenia. Skipper, when reunited with Isaiah, had been dating someone else but still wants to give the homeless Isaiah a home and his loyalty is tested. He's a good person though, he cares deeply for people and is studying to be in a medical field.

...

Prompt 2: first OC.

I didn't spend a lot of time on this, just a doodle really. She's no longer with me really, she's just a ghost. But she was fleshed out before Dawnfire was and is technically my first (documented) OC. Her name is Snow/Wildberry. In the height of the warriors fandom with every other animator developing their own warriors knockoff with wolves, I had my own story as well. The main characters were Mouse and Snow. Snow was a part of the omegas, a group of wolves isolated from the main pack. Her father was very abusive and wanted a strong army of children to revolt against the pack and claim it as their own. Snow, upon her birth, had only 3 legs and he saw her as the weakest of them all. In a rage one day he grabbed her by the tail and tossed her against a stone, ripping her tail in half in the process. Snow, however, despised her father and would never work for him. She mingled with the pack and developed feelings for Mouse, the motherless half dog child of the alpha. Mouse, though, didn't love Snow, and eventually she decided to run away into the Dark Forest. The dark forest had magical properties that would drive someone crazy, dire wolves, war owls, and many more threats. In this forest Snow decided to rebuke the white coat of her father, and as well in an attempt to cover the blood that coated her white fur, stained her fur with the juice of wild berries and donned the name of Wildberry. In the forest she became the ultimate threat. A killer her father could only ever have dreamed of having as his ally. Her small stature and missing leg drove her to overcome her shortcomings and become the cruelest threat of the forest.

...

Prompt 3: newest OC.

Okay, I didn't draw this one for OCtober but I figured I'd drop my pfp here anyway. Midas is my newest sona and hopefully I'll get the chance to draw him for a later prompt.

...

Prompt 4: strongest OC. Prompt 5: weakest OC.

I've combined these two prompts. Don't mind the background 😭 it was a 5 minutes shit fest. I want to do so much more for this piece but it'd take me too long for keeping up with prompts so for now I've slapped my child esc tree sketch down for some background substance.

Anyway, my strongest and weakest OC is kind of debatable. In each of their respected universes both Dawnfire and Isaiah are the strongest. In this picture I have them fighting, something that realistically would never happen they'd never meet, but Isaiah will be completely crushed within seconds.

Dawnfire has been a power creep experiment for me, and is a speculative biology project of mine as well. I could drone on for hours about all the specifics of her anatomy, but I'll keep it as brief as I can.

She's depicted here in her anthro form because as an anthro she has the ability to size shift. At her shortest she's 10 ft tall, but can grow up to 130 ft tall, and I wanted to make sure she could fit in the drawing since in her feral form she is just always at her largest size. She has many more adaptations that make her completely op as well.

First, while Isaiah has orange fire, she has blue fire. And Isaiah is much more skilled in his fire bending than she is, she still can create many different shapes of fire breath using her tongue and lips to shape the flame.

In addition to her size and fire, her hide is basically armor. Her scales molecularly are similar to diamonds, an evolutionary adaptation to defend against her biggest enemy: humans with their swords and guns.

Dawnfire is also incredibly strong. She can lift well over her own weight and is just not someone you'd want to be in a fight with.

And ofc, as a dragon, she's fireproof. Literally nothing Isaiah does could hurt her.

Isaiah, though, in his world, is one of the strongest. He's lost a lot of his humanity to developing his powers ability and it's given him great strength. As well, being a world where everyone still has a human body, they all can still burn. Isaiah can heat his body up to the temperature of his fire and is unbearable to touch. He also has great precision with his fire, able to ignite individual leaves on a tree or create complex shapes and sculptures from his flame. Not only does he have precision but he also has intensity. He's able to push out fire from his body that could set a whole forest aflame. He's a dangerous threat and won't let anyone come between him and Skipper.

Skipper, in this world, is the weakest, just simply because literally everyone around him has an ability.

In their modern AU tho, Isaiah is weaker than Skipper. Isaiah is pathetic, tho much of it is by his choice. Skipper, being protective and short has developed his strength and learned how to fight. He could take on quite a few people just by that merit.

Midas could also be argued to be my weakest OC. In his kapro form he's of similar strength to me which is, well, none. But he can transform into his daeodon form which is just an 8 ft tall bara hell pig, so he's never without strength.

Here's the picture without a background.

[dearyvicious]

she'd thought she'd left a garden of felicity-dulled memories in that town of ppel, bottling flickering memories in bottles hanging from the old oak tree in her backyard, clinging to that kaleidoscopic sense that there had been glorious mornings between them, when their bodies entwined in a warm bond under the sheets. but that had been a lie she chose to believe on her own. the two of them were one great war, as she punished him for things he never did, trying to justify those ruthless actions by her unhappiness. this became something bigger. they were wreckage of something that could have been beautiful. but now they were just blue and broken and she knew she had lost andrew. that she would lose him when the truth left her lips.

the sepukcral silence between them was haunted by all that grief, sorrow and unspoken words, by that damn fiery gaze of andrew's, engulfing her in his flames until they were both burning. trembling lips tinged with crimson prepared to protest when she saw him pick up her luggage, but any sentence faded on her tongue as she saw the stern countenance deepen until she was sure that remaining imprisoned in his gaze would only make her drown. and, god, gilly had never been an accomplished swimmer. she had left the inside of the pub in hesitant steps, following him into streets that held memories of them, for that whole city had been their house of cards, when they believed they could survive the destruction that they were.

her angular chin lifted, pushing her golden locks behind her shoulders and fixing her gaze on his, not strong enough not to follow the movement of his tongue as it brushed his lower lip. the papers were clutched by the journalist's delicate fingers, fearing she might crumple them as the waves of her anxiety drowned her in front of her husband's eyes. " andrew… please. " the plea had fallen between them both as she took the first step towards him. how could she say she betrayed him. she had drunk that poison alone for so many years, not caring how close it would bring her to death, but there it was. " i wouldn't need to be here if you'd made it easier for me… for both of us. but enough. it's over, andrew. " there was an almost brittle exhaustion in her tone, her eyes turned watery with what had left his lips, hitting her straight in the heart. she couldn't contain the urge to hug herself, stepping back a few steps, eyes pressed to the horizon and that bitter taste taking over her mouth, eating her up from the inside out, making her sick as she tried to push those words out. " i'll get married. " the truth had dropped between them like an atomic bomb, exploding any hope he might have had. " i didn't want you to know. i didn't want to have to tell you… but then, you never signed the damn papers, you… you made me come here. and, damn it, just sign those damn papers so i can leave, my flight's early tomorrow. " her eyes rose to his. she knew there was a lot to apologise for, she had did what she swore she wouldn't do. she had crossed the line. " you need to understand… " organising her thoughts had never been as hard as it was at that moment, what could andrew have given her? happiness? love? she didn't want that, she wanted a career, fame and a name she could be proud of, she wanted everything that this city could never provide and andrew had always seemed happy there, like he belonged to this simplicity that she had never been able to fit in. " i… i'm sorry. "

Miller…Hearing that roll of the tip of her tongue. Felt like daggers stabbing relentlessly into his heart, but god how his heart still yearn for that woman. Even after all the years of the affirmations he made daily to himself that they weren’t ever good for one another. Every single emotion that was flowing through him like a forceful downstream river. He hid it under the facade of a blank expression. The dark golden brown eyes simply holding an emotionless stare at the woman, that was his wife. Was…a gut wrenching feeling that he didn’t know the woman no longer in front of him…Or would he? It would be a damn lie to say that Drew didn’t want to turn a cold shoulder, tell her to get out of HIS bar, and go back to whatever pompous ass city she came from. Since to Drew every session of endless yelling at one another, and countless night slept in separate bedrooms. Had him coming to conclusion that she was felt above this place, and the people in it. A assumption? Yes, but he wouldn’t change on it. Because maybe it made him feel less, and less like the bad guy in this situation.

He couldn’t…He couldn’t just throw her out of the bar, and out of his life like that. As much as he wanted to, that heart of his still yearn to even get inches closer with her. The blank expression fell from his face with a simple sigh, before he looked back at the bar. “Hey Murph buddy! I’m steppin out, you give one more damn drink away. You know what’s coming man!” He shouted over the loud music that was blaring through the surround sound system. His gaze flickering back onto her, a soften look within the golden brown hues of his eyes. That soften look disappeared at a second notice, almost as he was forcing away that softness.

“Don’t think we got much to talk about, sweetheart.” Drew muttered as he grabbed onto the handle of her luggage, as he gestured to the door so they could speak outside. The luggage clunking against the old wooden steps as he lead them around the corner of the building that been scattered with cigarette buds along the ground. His eyes flickered to the file that she been clenching on in her gasp, a small huff of a chuckle leaving his lips. As a hand hastily dragged across his face, before his tongue poked out licking his bottom lip. As his six foot frame loomed over her. “Gotta be kiddin me. This crap again. Come on, tellin me your big fancy lawyer has given up so you gotta be your own delivery boy now.” Because oh Drew had caused hell not signing the countless papers that ended up in the trash each, and every time. “Why you gotta be poking your nose round here? Thought you were above this place to ever come back.” his words weren’t harsh, but upset more than anything. A disbelief that after these two long ass years this why she come back to this town that couldn’t offer her anything she wanted. Her eyes feeling more like a dig at him. That he couldn’t give her what she wanted. Even though til this day he was trying to prove he could.

[dr4kenlvr]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

ft. ran haitani, baji keisuke, hanma shuji, shinichiro sano, draken x gn!reader- fluff (1.0k+)

nana's note: been obsessed with isabel larosa's "i'm yours" and had writers block until i heard it for the first time so please take this and THANK YOU MISS LAROSA!!! happy november everyone!! ^^

warnings: use of "pretty" in ran's, reader smokes in hanma's, super vague religious talk in hanma's, shinichiro's is LOWKEY suggestive LMAOOO, also this shit is not proof red im sorry

"i know that you love me. darling, you don't have to say it."

ran's hands grazed against your waist with a touch you could almost call ghostly. his fingers glided themselves across the expanse of your skin before he treads ahead of you in the busy streets of roppongi. tonight, he promised to take you out for some fun after his gang's business. and as everybody else was too preoccupied with their own business, you were the only one notice the smug smile he wore as he turned around. "you comin'?" he calls out, laughing as he reached for your hand. "wouldn't want to leave a pretty thing like you behind, ah?" his fingers interlocked with yours, following a familiar warmth engulfing the two of you. you gaze up at the man, a certain admiration evident in your eyes at the feeling of him so close to you. his presence spoke volumes to you, and his actions tenfold. you suppose the word "love" didn't need to be spoken out loud to be felt.

more under the cut! ;)

"nervous trip over my words, you're so pretty, it hurts."

baji's arms flexed under his white tee as he tied his hair back. blunt nails raked back the raven strands that splayed over his face during the day, and you flush at the thought of you being one of the only people to see him so late in the evening. the dull lamp light illuminates his face in a light you found oddly heavenly—but you supposed that was because it was baji who was in focus. you watch as he expertly knots the tie over and around to secure his locks. you let yourself fall mesmerized with his angular features, now rid of any distracting hairs, and decide: baji keisuke was so, so pretty. his brown eyes glance at you, "what's up? something on m'face?" your eyes dart to his, already feeling a palpitation in your chest faintly ached. "n-nothing! you just, look good.. is all." you smile, and baji hopes you miss the way his exposed ears flush at your words.

"i need something more, i pray to the lord, that baby i'm yours."

in no reality, would hanma shuji consider himself a man of god—his vicious behaviour and callous tactics were borderline sadistic to most. he tells himself this, as hanma questions why he finds himself imploring on a higher being in this very moment: you're looking at him like he's the only person on this planet, as you sit far too close to be labelled as simply "friends". your hands rest against his thigh, as you lean forward on the cramped seat of his bike. his hand, inked with the kanji of sin travels up your back, unconsciously pulling you even closer. you breathe out, so close that hanma can feel it on his neck. his other hand lifts with a cigarette, as he takes a long drag before casually blowing the smoke out. hanma doesn't let his nonchalant facade falter—not even when you gesture for his cigarette, silently telling him to put it in your mouth. and when you inhale and exhale directly onto him with a lazy grin, hanma begs to any and every lord that one day, he'll be yours.

"is it too late to see you? i love the view of your headlights."

you chew your lip as you glance at the time: 11:27 PM, the fluttering bang of your chest becoming louder in your ears. you take a deep breath, 'calm down, it's only shinichiro'. suddenly, a set of lights turn the corner of your street. its lights were bright enough to make you squint, before your eyes settled on shinichiro's dark orbs through his lightly tinted windows. you grin shamelessly as he reaches over to unlock the door for you, smiling warmly when you enter his car and shut the door. the two of you converse like you always do, plain old conversation and laughter bounced around as easy as ever. but the growing presence of his hand inching towards your's was far too overwhelming. you stare at him, his eyes are focused on the road—but his fingers danced their way across, faintly grazing the skin of your knuckle. your breath hitches, before you turn your palm up and interlock your fingers with his. there's a red light, and his car halts to a smooth stop,—"...shinichiro?" he turns to face you, engulfing your hand tightly. "yeah, darling?" "let's go home."

"we're getting closer, inches away. lose composure, favourite mistake."

draken wipes off his sweat and grime from a day's hard work with his cloth, before drying his hands off and standing up. "ah fuck, that hunch is gonna kill me one day." he groans, stretching his arms up and over his head. you laugh, sitting off to the side of the shop as you await him to finish up. draken had promised to take you home tonight, and wouldn't let you choose otherwise because it had gotten late. "oh! ken," you stand up and jog over to him, "you missed a spot, silly." he shoots you a confused look—before you gesture to his temple with a smirk. "you've got some dirt left on your head, lemme clean it for ya'" grabbing his towel, you lean up to diligently wipe away the residue, not realizing that you reduced the space between you two to practically zero. draken tilts his head, angling it to make things easier for you—but his eyes stay trained on your face. and when you move away, he places a large hand on your waist to stabilize you. "ken?" you gape up at him, your mind freezing and your body losing composure at the close contact. draken begins to lean in closer, his face now inches away from yours. and when you feel the soft mold of his lips against your own and the feel of his hands pushing you tightly against him, you're content with calling this your favourite mistake.

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @kazuhoya @gwynsapphire @sscarchiyo @reiners-milkbiddies @smileyswifeyy @bontensimp-blog @thisbicc @megumisemo (send me an ask or dm to be added!)

reblogs and comments are very appreciated!

[yesimwriting]

Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

--

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

--

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

--

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

[emeren]

speed racer pt.2 - eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 4.3 k 

content warnings: 18+, smut, car sex, possessiveness, choking, dangerous driving idk LMAO

notes: it’s my birthday today! my gift to you all is speed racer pt. 2!!!! pt. 1 is not necessary to enjoy this oneshot, but may help with some context. here is that! 

SUMMARY: eren takes the reader for a drive where he decides to clear some things up about their relationship in his own special way. 

“it’ll be quick; i promise,” eren’s voice brought you from your daydream, head shifting against the cold window to look at him in the driver’s seat. his hair was up, brows furrowed in guilt as he waited for your response. 

you let out a dramatic sigh, reaching to unbuckle your seatbelt. “fine, but i’m not going to wait in the car.” 

“once it’s over i’ll buy you some food,” he rationed, unbuckling his seatbelt the same. you eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the inevitable sexual innuendo to leave his lips. “n’then i’ll take you back to mine and fuck you, just like you want.”

your unspoken agreement with eren had become routine at this point. after your mutually discovered attraction a couple weeks prior, the two of you had spent many a night in his bed, unashamedly basking in your sexual tension. 

the concept of sex buddies hadn’t been one you’d previously dived into, and you would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t want to be exclusive. it only made matters worse that eren insisted on doing everything with you at this point, including dragging you to his board meetings for his sponsorship. he was a pain in the ass, but he was a pain in the ass that treated you like his girlfriend. 

you wanted to make it official, but were too scared of embarrassing yourself, so you resorted to enjoying things the way they were. frienemies with benefits, as eren would say. 

“c’mon, don’t be so vulgar,” you responded, slipping out of the car as eren snickered to himself quietly. you hated the fact that his comments made your face heat up. you were beginning to act like a schoolgirl around him, infatuated by your little crush. 

“you know you love it,” eren smirked over the top of the car as he joined you, locking the vehicle. it was dark outside, the stadium brightly illuminated against the navy sky. “what was it you said again? ‘i want this just as much as you do’?”

you scowled, giving his arm a hard shove. he would not let you forget the things you’d said in the heat of the moment. “oh, fuck off.” you snipped. 

eren laughed again, jokingly rubbing his arm as the two of you walked up to the stadium. it was around eight, the building being nearly vacant save for the members of eren’s sponsorship board inside. 

“what’s the meeting about?” you asked as he held the door open for you, a gush of air conditioning making you shudder. 

“if i’m being honest, i don’t know,” eren replied, his eyes settling past you. as you turned your head, you saw a group of exhausted looking men in worn grey suits talking quietly amongst themselves. they stopped whispering at the sound of the door opening; a short, balding man making his way over. 

“mr. jaeger, thank you for coming on such short notice,” his voice was thick as he spoke, obviously a smoker. eren reached out to shake his hand, the man’s beady eyes settling on your face as he did so. “i’m sorry, but we won’t be allowing any unauthorized people in this meeting.” 

startled, you looked to eren, whose face did all but curse at the short man. “do you mind waiting out here?” 

“oh, yeah, no biggie,” you smiled reassuringly. he shot you a look of gratitude, mouthing the words “i’m sorry” as he walked off with the group. it was funny to watch him go; surrounded by serious men in suits while he wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers. not to mention he was about a foot taller than the rest of them. 

a sigh escaped your lips as they disappeared around the corner. the building was ominous when you were alone; large and vacant, normally filled with people excitedly bustling to watch a race. without the energy, it was downright creepy. 

you decided to stand against the wall while you waited, anxiously toying with the hem of your skirt and counting the number of fluorescent bulbs that flickered in the ceiling. 

the distant rumble of talking suddenly hit your ears, head snapping in the direction of the sound. it was getting louder, obviously two people approaching. you readied yourself to launch into an explanation as to why you were sitting alone in the stadium, after hours, only to be pleasantly surprised at who rounded the corner. 

“yo, what’re you doing here?” connie cried out in excitement, a smile splitting across his face. he was with jean, the two of them spattered with engine oil and dirt. 

you grinned back, pushing yourself off the wall to meet them halfway. “eren had a sponsorship meeting and dragged me along. what about you guys?” 

jean smirked at your response, sharing a look with connie that went unnoticed by you. “well, connie accidentally told the boss that we don’t know jack-shit about car mechanics, so now we have to go to a stupid workshop five days a week.” 

“hey, it’s not my fault he was eavesdropping on our conversation with armin,” connie retorted, coming to stand beside you. you smiled at your friends, happy they were there. “we’ll wait with you, if you want?” he proposed. 

“that’d be great,” you sighed. “eren said they’re usually only like thirty minutes long, so we won’t be here all night.” 

“about that,” jean started, uncomfortably bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. you frowned, wondering where he was going with this. “are you and him, like, y’know...” 

you paused for a moment, deciding to play dumb. “huh?” 

“are you and jaeger-meister dating?” connie interjected, wiggling his brows. despite knowing that this is where the conversation was going, you couldn’t help the wave of embarrassment that washed over you. you shifted uncomfortably in place, looking between your friends. 

“i don’t know,” you answered honestly. “i can’t tell if he likes me or not. god, this is so high school.” you muttered. 

jean gave you an apologetic smile, opening his mouth to speak before connie decided to give his own advice. “huh? why wouldn’t he like you? you’re a hot piece of ass!” 

a laugh escaped your mouth at his idiocy, jean dishing him a scowl. “don’t listen to him. personally, i can’t see why you’d want to date that little shit.” 

“yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing,” you replied demurely. 

“well, if you like him that much, i say go for it,” connie shrugged. you eyed him warily, waiting for the ‘but’. the three of you stood in silence for a moment longer, considering what to say next. 

“do you want my help?” jean asked apprehensively. he looked put-off by something, but you couldn’t tell exactly what. connie gave him an incredulous look. 

“sure, i guess,” you responded. in some ways, you felt bad for jean. your friendship had been built off of a mutual distaste of eren, and now that you two were sleeping together, the playful mockery with jean had died down. he motioned his head back towards the wall, indicating that you and connie should follow. 

“alright, here’s my plan,” he whispered dramatically. connie nodded his head, the two of you leaning in as if it were some grand escapade. “eren is a dumbass. in fact, i think he still has the brain of an ape.” 

you rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh as connie nodded once again in agreement. “get to the point, he’ll be out here any minute now.” 

“alright, alright!” jean held his hands up defensively. “i genuinely don’t think he’s capable of intelligent thought. that being said, i believe the right way to gage his feelings are to activate his instincts.” 

“dude, how long have you been planning this?” connie snorted. you couldn’t help but smile at just how funny the two of them were. 

 “never mind that,” jean shooed him back in annoyance. you raised your brow impatiently. “we need to make him jealous. if my assumptions are correct, it’ll piss him off and then you can tell him that he’s the only one you’re interested in.” 

you pulled back from the huddle, unsure about his grand plan. “i dunno, jean. this sounds kinda stupid, if i’m being honest.” 

“oh, c’mon,” jean begged, a devious smile on his features. “this’ll be our last chance to taunt him together.” 

connie grinned as you contemplated it. “i think this is a great plan!” 

you groaned, the small side of you that liked to make fun of eren starting to grow once again. “okay, fine. how’re we gonna do this?” 

“leave that to me,” jean smirked. as if on cue, you could hear the bustle of the sponsorship men coming down the hallway. your tall friend was quick to step behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and placing his chin on your shoulder, effectively pulling you to his chest. “follow my lead.” he whispered into your ear. 

you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the action. jean was respectfully keeping a distance between your ass and his groin, but he was close enough that it wasn’t very obvious. 

connie started to babble about a new korean barbecue restaurant that he and sasha were planning on going to, you rocking in jean’s arms to make the sight believable. 

your heartbeat was drumming in your chest as eren rounded the corner, his professional smile plastered on his angular face. he was in the middle of talking with the balding man from earlier, eyes fixed on him. jean gave your waist a squeeze in reassurance. 

eren’s gaze peeled from the short man, teal eyes landing on you and jean all cozy. it was as if a flip was switched; the professional smile he’d been wearing slid off his features with ease, face hardening. 

you held his angry stare for a moment before turning to connie, laughing at whatever had been said, the feeling of jean’s breath against the shell of your ear as he let out a light chuckle. “it’s working.” 

you heaved out a deep breath, focusing on connie instead of eren. you could feel his eyes practically burning holes in your head, shifting your neck so that yours fell back on jean’s opposite shoulder. 

“alright, that should be it for tonight,” you heard one of the men say, glancing back over to them. you didn’t look for long though, quickly noticing that eren’s stare was intently focused on you and jean. 

the men shuffled past the three of you, leaving the building. “hey, jaeger. we ran into y/n as we were leaving.” jean hummed against your shoulder. 

you looked back at eren, who was standing in front of you with his eyebrows furrowed. jean must’ve been right, judging by eren’s face. 

“we’re leaving.” eren deadpanned, taking a step forward. he wasn’t looking at jean, rather staring directly at you. you could feel a slight amount of guilt creep up your spine, jean sighing exceptionally loud as he pulled away from you.

“do you guys wanna come to the korean barbecue place with us? it’s gonna be real good,” connie asked innocently. eren didn’t look away from you, his jaw clenching. 

“no. we’ve got other plans.” he said seriously, reaching forward to grab your hand and tug you the opposite way from the doors. 

“woah, eren, you’re going the wrong way,” you huffed in confusion, trying not to trip as he yanked you away from your friends. he continued forward, not looking back. 

“uh, bye i guess?” jean yelled. you looked over your shoulder to see the two of them giving you a thumbs up. you dished them an appreciative smile as you rounded the corner. 

“eren, where are we going?” 

eren stayed silent for a moment, not letting go of your wrist. “for a drive.” 

“huh? but your car is in the lot out front?” you mumbled, absolutely dumbfounded. the tall man didn’t respond, large hand still wrapped around your wrist. 

it wasn’t until you came to a familiar large door, eren giving it an unnecessarily hard shove. the lights flicked on, revealing ten shiny race cars, all perfectly lined up. 

eren let go of your wrist, making his way over to his own car. it was a sleek black with white checker decals, much like the rest of the vehicles in the garage. you’d seen it before, as it was quite literally one of eren’s most prized possessions. 

you stood in the doorway, eyeing him warily. “your race car? you never take it out on regular roads.”

eren’s jaw clenched as he unlocked the car, pieces of hair falling in his face. he looked upset, muscular arm propped on the roof and brows laced with annoyance. 

he walked around to the other side, opening the passenger door for you. it was strange, seeing him dressed in his regular clothes next to his race car. something about the nonchalance was attractive, teal eyes looking at you expectantly. “c’mon. be a good girl and get in the car.” 

at his choice of words you swallowed, inwardly cursing jean for his plan. you knew you were in for it, judging by the fact that eren only referred to you as good girl when he had his most sinful plans in mind. maybe you should’ve just talked to eren about making things official rather than making him jealous, you thought. too late now. 

“okay,” you sighed, resolutely deciding to accept whatever fate it was that jean had painted for you. you crossed your arms, slowly approaching eren. you stopped right as you were about to slip into the car, looking up at him through your lashes. he stared down at you, eyes serious. 

you slipped into the dark interior of the car without further discussion, the cold leather making you shiver as eren shut the door. you observed him through the windshield as he pressed a button to open the garage before getting in the car himself. 

the smell of his cologne filled the car, your teeth nervously nibbling at the skin on the inside of your lip as he turned the vehicle on. you’d never been inside the car before, only seeing it on the track and in the garage when you came to pester your friends before a race. 

it rode impossibly smooth, eren bringing his hand to the back of your seat as he backed out of the garage. you tried not to stare at the way his arm flexed, jawline enhanced as he strained his neck, but you couldn’t help yourself. he was just so hot. 

eren must’ve felt your eyes, glancing down at you momentarily with an expressionless look. you quickly shifted in your seat to stare out the window, heat burning in your cheeks. god, why was this suddenly so awkward?

it was silent as he drove out of the arena, the dark city glittering against the sky. it was beautiful at night, skyscrapers lit up all pretty. you quickly found yourself distracted by the view, leaning your head against the cool glass. you were so consumed that you didn’t notice eren merging onto the freeway. 

you were brought out of your trance at the feeling of his large hand resting on your upper thigh, grip tight and possessive. you glanced to him again, lifting your head from the window. 

he was staring straight forward, foot slowly increasing the gas. you felt your chest tighten, seeing how he was riding the tail of a minivan in front of you. 

“eren,” you warned, insinuating that he slow down. his index finger tapped tauntingly on your bare thigh, slowly rising up the skin. the fabric of your skirt rode up, eren weaving past the minivan with one hand on the wheel. 

“i have a question for you,” he said lowly, eyes not leaving the road. you gulped, a strange mix of arousal and anxiety pitting itself in your stomach as his hand reached the apex of your thigh. the side of his pinky brushed against your pelvis. “hm, no underwear?” 

you felt a pang of embarrassment. in your defense, you’d thought tonight was just going to be spent hooking up with the man, not going to the arena. “i, uh-”

“so, jean had his dick pressed against your ass and you didn’t have underwear on?” his voice was deep, jealously dripping from every word. your breath hitched as his middle and ring finger slid against your clit with ease, already soaking wet. 

eren’s shoe pressed down on the gas again, the car zipping in and out between other vehicles on the freeway. his fingers rubbed against your clit slowly, your legs subconsciously spreading to give him better access. it felt so good, the way he was circling the nerves with desirable pressure. 

“mmm, eren slow down, you’re going to crash the car,” you mumbled, watching as he sped up, whipping past the other vehicles. he was easily approaching 100 mph, your anxiety beginning to outweigh the pleasure. as if sensing this, eren sped up his fingers as well, a whimper leaving your mouth. 

“i know it’s bad for me to be so jealous,” eren said flatly, his middle finger deviating from the ring finger to slowly insert itself into your tight cunt. he pumped it slowly, still not looking at you. he was pushing 110 at this point, doing so with ease. “but something about jean touching you. being so close to you like that.” 

his ring finger joined the middle, the two sliding in and out of you, curling slightly. it was hard to stay focused on his reckless driving when he was fucking you with his fingers like that, your mind feeling fuzzy as a passing car laid on its horn. 

“eren,” you breathed out in worry, his fingers hitting your sweet spot in order to make you shut up. “you gotta slo-” 

an involuntary whimper left your lips as he curled his fingers particularly deep, the tingling sensation at your core beginning to build. you looked over to him, and boy what a mistake that was. 

his one arm was flexed, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. he was entirely focused on the road, eyebrows furrowed intently as his other hand purposefully increased its speed. he was so so hot.

you stifled another moan as your eyes looked forward again, the sight of eren nearly clipping a subaru outback making you sit forward.

“you’re going to crash!” you gasped. 

“i’ll slow down if you answer my question,” eren growled, his thumb coming to rub your clit rapidly as his fingers continued to pump in and out of your cunt. you hissed at the newfound pleasure, your head coming back to rest against the seat. 

“yes, yes, okay,” you agreed, screwing your eyes shut to avoid looking at how fast he was driving. 

eren took a deep breath, giving you a sideways glance. he’d never done this before, but he’d also never felt this way about someone. the way you clenched so good around his fingers making his chest tighten. he made you feel this good, not jean. the thought brought a smirk to his face as you let out a strangled moan. 

“i’ll stop speeding if you agree to be my girlfriend,” eren’s words shocked you right out of your pleasure coma, eyes widening as you jolted upright in your seat. did he really just say that? did jean’s plan actually work?

his hand jerked the steering wheel to the side, your mind too preoccupied with his statement to even notice his fingers had stilled inside of you, anxious for your answer. he wasn’t looking at you, eyes still locked on the road. 

you held your breath as you noticed how fast your heart was beating. “i thought you’d never ask.” you responded, cheeks burning. 

eren’s lips curled upwards, pulling his fingers from inside of you. your eyes followed his long digits as he popped the middle two into his mouth, sucking your bitter sheen from his knuckles. he was your boyfriend. he wanted you to be his girlfriend. “good girl.” he mumbled. 

you glanced back at the freeway, surprised as eren jerked the steering wheel, making an abrupt exit. it appeared to deviate into the woods, your eyes flitting nervously to the man beside you. “um, where are you taking me?” 

“i’m just fulfilling my promise,” he answered, bringing his hand back to grip your thigh. his fingers were wet with his saliva, the sight bringing a strong throb to your core. oh yeah, i never finished. “’member? i said once we were done with my meeting i was going to fuck you.” 

you suppressed an excited smile at his vulgar words, pressing your thighs together for some form of relief. you were painfully aroused, the burning sensation almost too much to bear. 

“plus, it seems like you never learn,” eren’s words were suddenly serious as he pulled the car up a gravel road. there was a sharp drop off to the side, the city skyline sparkling in the distance. you cocked a brow at him. “you’re my girlfriend now, but i’m still pissed about that stunt you pulled with jean. gonna have to punish you, of course.” 

you swallowed as he shut the car off, the city sitting innocently in view. the spot between your legs was aching, desperate for some form of release. you couldn’t help the swell in your chest at the fact that eren was your boyfriend now, anxiously awaiting whatever he had in mind. 

eren leaned over you, maintaining a deep stare as he shifted your seat into a flat position. his fingers lightly danced across your skin as he unbuckled your belt, face hovering above the hem of your skirt. he glanced back up to you, teal eyes glinting in the darkness. 

“can’t wait to fuck my new girlfriend,” eren growled, wasting no time in climbing on top of you. he shifted your legs so that your knees were bent by your head, wet cunt on full display in front of him. he stared down at you, a hand on each knee. “shit, you’re so hot like this.” 

he slowly brought a finger to your center, the feeling of his cold digit gliding against you bringing slight relief to the deep ache. his eyes were focused below your waist, lazily flitting upwards as he brought his finger to your lips. “taste.” 

you happily accepted, wrapping your lips around his finger. your tongue swirled around his knuckle, the saccharin taste filling your mouth. he pulled it from your lips, a devilish grin on his features. 

“i can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. the kiss was deep and heated, however it felt different from all the others you’d shared in the past. it was meaningful and tender, slow and deliberate. his tongue swiped your lip, slipping into your mouth with a sigh. 

his hands undid his pants as you kissed, the sound of his belt being undone filling the small space. you could feel him positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance, sliding it against your slick. 

eren pulled back to look at you, breaths mingled for a moment before he pushed past your entrance, burying himself deep within you. the stretch was slightly uncomfortable and you were convinced you’d never get accustomed to the sheer size of his dick.

eren didn’t wait for you to adjust, flexing his hips back to give you another purposeful thrust. a whimper slipped past your lips at the feeling, his hand leaving your leg and lightly wrapping around your neck. 

“fuck,” he hissed, speeding up his pace. your walls clenched around him, climax fast approaching with every deep thrust of his cock within your cunt. “feels so good fucking you when you’re all mine.” 

his hand tightened around your throat, the combined pressure at both ends of your body only adding to the pleasure as he rammed into you. he grunted as his other hand pressed your legs forward, getting a better angle so that he could fill you to the hilt. 

a strangled cry ripped from your throat as he hit particularly deep, bringing his face down to roughly kiss your lips. he was breathing heavily, the car shaking as he bucked his hips into yours.

eren craned his neck down to look at where his length disappeared inside of you, a small smile toying at his features. the sight caused his cock to twitch, relishing in just how nicely he filled you up. you were his, and he was yours. 

just the thought of you being his girlfriend was enough; a loud groan leaving his chest as he pressed his hips against yours. you could feel him release himself inside of you, the thick sensation bringing on a much anticipated orgasm. your limbs grew cold, the pleasure reaching the tips of your fingers. 

eren placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, gazing down at you. “my girlfriend is so fucking hot.” he grinned. 

you rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, swatting his chest playfully. he carefully removed himself from you, trying not to drip onto the car seat. 

“here, pretty. you’ll have to keep your legs up,” he instructed as he pulled his pants back up. you frowned, the thought of holding this position the whole way back somewhat daunting. 

“huh? but how am i supposed to keep this stuff from coming out?” you whined, still trying to regain your composure. eren’s face was flushed as he smirked at you. 

“that’ll be your punishment, m’kay?” he said smugly. you scoffed, holding your knees in each hand. 

“but that’ll be impossible!” 

“don’t worry,” he leaned forward to kiss your lips once again. “i’ll drive slow.” 

<3 <3 <3

[writertitan]

Grandfather Clock

pairing: levi x f!reader

word count: 4173

themes: adult f!reader, arranged marriage, multi-part fic, levi is a stubborn asshole at first, no love at first sight here folks

requested by anon

a/n: hi guys! i’ve never done a multi-part fic on Tumblr before, but this fic requested ended up being super long, and i figured it would be fun (and easier) to break into parts! here is part 1!

PART 1

With the parchment clutched in one hand, Levi had only one thought in mind. 

“This is ridiculous.” 

Erwin gazed at him calmly, but Levi knew him well enough to see the hint of sympathy behind those emotionless blue eyes. Sympathy that meant nothing to the shorter man. 

“I’m not doing it.” 

“You’re going to do it, because you must,” Erwin answered smoothly. “We need Lord Reader’s generous funding, and he evidently needs to marry off his daughter. Believe me, Levi, I tried to have it fall on me. The lord didn’t take too kindly to the idea.” 

Levi scoffed, a brow raised. “And he was happier about me?” 

“Humanity’s Strongest is less likely to make a widow out of her,” Erwin explained. 

He had an answer for everything. Levi could tell the commander had come well-prepared for what was sure to be a hard conversation. 

He glanced down at the papers again, detailing the terms for marriage, and he grimaced despite trying desperately to keep an aloof facade. They were practically buying this girl and it was all political. 

“She’s not too young, is she?” Levi asked, voice lower, quieter. 

“Wouldn’t have agreed to a child bride,” Erwin assured him, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m not that much of a devil.” 

“Can I meet her first?” Levi sighed, running a hand through his hair. The tightness in his chest wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, and it irritated him to know that. 

“Will it make a difference? You’ve already agreed.” 

“I haven’t.” 

“I know you, Levi. You agreed the moment I asked. And I’m sorry.” 

-----

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror for a final time before straightening up and letting out the shaky breath you’d been holding in. 

Before last month, you’d never been mixed into your father’s business deals. If anything, you tried hard to stay out of his way. As if hiding would make him forget about you, forget that he could use you as a pawn. 

As his daughter, you were born to be married off, most likely to someone of equal status. To say that annoyed you and saddened you would be an understatement. There was no freedom of choice for you, ever. And now here you were, found by your father after a lifetime of hiding from him, to be used for political gain, the very thing you wanted to avoid. 

“Ready?” your mother asked from the doorway. She looked proper, clean, and poised as she stood at your bedroom door, hands neatly clasped in front of her. A very stark difference from how you felt and looked. 

“No,” you admitted. “What if he doesn’t like me?” 

“He probably won’t,” your mother answered, truthful as ever. “Your father and I didn’t like each other when we first met. It comes with time, my darling.”

That didn’t really make you feel better. Like is not the same as love. And, judging from what you’d witnessed over your life, your parents didn’t much love each other. They liked each other well enough, as your mother had said, but didn’t love each other. 

You hadn’t been fretting about if Captain Levi would like you. You’d been fretting that he’d never love you. 

Still, you steeled your nerves and followed your mother out of your room and towards the dining room, where you’d meet your fiance for the first time and get to know each other, and perhaps talk engagement plans throughout the evening. 

You’d heard plenty of rumours about Captain Levi, the overwhelming amount detailing him to be incredibly strong, incredibly small, and incredibly stoic. Now, you’d get to see for yourself. 

Two servant girls opened the double doors for you and your mother and you let her step in first, following behind her like a shy little child. Your heart hammered in your chest as you scanned the room, first spotting the familiar blue eyes that belonged to Commander Erwin, and then stopping when your eyes met a pair of grey ones that held no emotion. 

Captain Levi. 

You gulped. Stoic, check. 

Instantly, you noticed that even sitting down, Erwin looked much bigger than him. 

Small, check. 

Your face grew hot as Commander Erwin and Captain Levi both stood at your arrival, and your gaze turned to your feet when they both nodded their greetings to you. You gave a small curtsy and sat down across from Levi when ushered to your seat, and offered him a small smile. 

He was handsome. Very much so, in fact. His face was angular and quite masculine, and you found yourself taking in his thin brows and neatly combed hair. 

You gave him your name, shuffling nervously in your seat as you followed up with, “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Captain Levi.” 

For a moment, Levi said nothing. The room was quiet and the silence was suffocating. From the next room over, you could hear the grandfather clock ticking away. 

“Likewise,” he finally said, voice gruff, and he looked away from you quickly, as if you weren’t important. 

As if you were nothing. 

Your heart sunk. 

You hadn’t made a good first impression. 

Granted, neither did he, but your father had already pounded into your brain how important this dinner was. You would have to be on your best behavior. You’d have to make sure Levi liked what he saw. Judging by his reaction towards you, he most certainly did not like what he saw. 

Don’t cry, you scolded yourself in your mind when you felt tears threaten to prickle out. No time for crying now. Try again. 

“Thank you for agreeing to come out and spend the evening with us,” you said as you unfolded your napkin onto your lap. Levi wouldn’t meet your gaze. Your father and Erwin were already deep in a conversation together, with your mother politely nodding along, and Levi looked as though he would rather be involved in that conversation than the one you were trying to initiate. 

He hummed some response you couldn’t make out before turning his attention towards Erwin and your father, leaving you to your own devices. The tears threatened to prick your lash line again but you blinked them away and looked down to the plate of supper you were served moments later. 

The rest of dinner was spent with you silent at the end of the table and Levi eventually moving his chair to huddle closer to everyone else, with your father passionately talking about the scouting regiment and his views on the Military Police.

At one point, you had scooted closer as well, and tried to give one final shot at making a good first impression. 

“I really admire the Scouts. I think I got that from my father,” you said, leaning towards Levi. Your father was still babbling away, so you kept your voice at a whisper that only Levi would be able to hear. 

He spared you a glance but said nothing, immediately turning back to listen to whatever your father was saying. 

That was it. 

You felt fully discarded as Levi’s body turned from you, and though he was only across the table from you, the distance you felt mentally and emotionally made him appear worlds away. 

But you could take the hint. You shut up after that and kept to yourself, forcing down the resentment you were beginning to feel. 

Of course Captain Levi wouldn’t be happy about this arrangement. He probably had girls throwing themselves at him. He probably could have had his pick if he hadn’t been forced into this marriage with you. 

No, not marriage.

A deal. A business deal. 

No matter how much you wanted to, it would have been impolite to just walk back to your room. After all, the deed was done, and you just had to play nice to appease your parents and make sure all went smoothly. 

But how was this smooth? 

Nothing about this was going smoothly. 

Still, you stayed silent and stood up straight in your chair while brandy was poured and dessert was served. You picked at the food but downed the brandy in one swig when you felt nobody was watching. 

But when you met Levi’s empty gaze as you set your glass down, you froze in embarrassment, quickly looking away. After several failed attempts at starting a conversation with him, you decided to keep quiet. A girl could take a hint. Unladylike behavior wasn’t something you wanted to discuss, anyway. 

And when Commander Erwin finally stood with your father, Levi following suit a little too quickly, you also stood with relief and a twinge of sadness and said your goodbyes to the two men. 

“Lovely to meet you,” you said to Erwin and Levi; you found it much easier to address them both at the same time rather than embarrass yourself any more than you already had. 

Another curtsy, and then you were free to leave. You barely listened to Erwin’s polite goodbye, and you knew better than to hope for a word out of Levi. 

The tears came before you could even find solace in your bedroom. As you hurried up the stairs, they sprang to your eyes and blurred your vision as you fumbled with the doorknob, until at long last it gave way and you could let yourself inside. 

You closed the door quietly and then locked it, slumping against the solid wood as you sniffled and wiped at your face with the back of your hand. 

So this was what awaited you? A cold and distant husband. He’d take you away from the only home you’d ever known and marry you and resent you, even though you knew in your heart of hearts that you were the one entitled to the resentment. To be taken away from your family, to be taken away from your home, to be married off to some grumpy, little man who could barely put two words together...it was such a slap in the face. 

Truthfully, you’d been so hopeful today. Part of you had secretly hoped for a nice first meeting. Part of you had secretly hoped that you’d walk into the room and see Levi and instantly be infatuated, and that he’d look at you and be pleasantly surprised, maybe even a little awed (a girl could dream), and things would flow. You’d been hoping to hold onto the hope of love. You’d wanted to believe there was a chance that he could love you down the line. 

As you shrugged out of your dress to change into your nightgown, your naivety weighed heavily on you. 

You would never know of love like that. 

-----

Erwin’s disapproval buzzed around him like an aura on the ride home. 

The lord had sent out for a carriage to fetch them, and Levi decided that he wasn’t the biggest fan of carriage rides. Not when they forced him to be stuck inside a confined space with someone who was angry at him. 

“She’s innocent in this entire thing, Levi, like you are,” Erwin finally spoke up, after what Levi felt was ages of tense silence. “It was unfair of you to treat her that way. She was trying to get to know you, and you should have been trying to do the same. Remember that you were the one who pushed for this dinner.” 

Levi clicked his tongue in dismay, scoffing a bit before meeting Erwin’s eyes. 

“You asked me for one big fucking favor, Erwin, and I agreed to it. I’m doing this because I trust you. But don’t expect me to treat her as anything but a spoiled brat who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. That’s all she is to me,” he said with arms folded across his chest. He’d never felt so on guard before. 

“She’ll be your wife,” Erwin reminded him, and the reminder only served to start the beginning of a headache. 

Levi frowned, rubbing his head with one hand, before folding his arms again and looking out the small window of the carriage. Hardly anyone was out now, and he tried to get lost in his thoughts, anything that didn’t revolve around this ridiculous farce of a marriage. Was this really how nobles did things? Was this actually normal, to pawn off their children once it was convenient? 

It made him sick. 

“All I’m asking is that you show her some decency,” Erwin murmured. 

Levi remained quiet. But when he thought back to your hurt face after each blatant rejection he’d given you, he felt the small pang of guilt he’d wanted to keep at bay. 

You were just some spoiled little brat, he was sure of it. The fact that he was being given orders to be nice to you told him as much. 

But Erwin was, unfortunately, right about one thing. You were innocent in all this. Despite what Levi thought of you, he knew that if you were feeling even a fraction of the turmoil he was feeling now, it would be best to at least tolerate you. 

It would make things easier in an already quite uneasy situation. 

Erwin seemed to pick up on Levi’s silent decision to do better. After that, the silence was comfortable. 

-----

You would have thought the world would end before hearing from Captain Levi himself. The last thing you could have ever expected was now between your fingers, handed to you by a young apprentice boy.

“A letter? From Captain Levi?” you asked, still not quite comprehending. 

“Yes, m’lady,” the boy confirmed, bowing once before backing out of the parlor where you were situated. Then, he sprinted out, bag of correspondence flying behind him. It made you smile. 

When you looked back at the letter in your hands, with your name scrawled out in very neat handwriting, you felt your heart skip a beat in both fear and - unfortunately - hope. 

You reached for the letter opener and tore the envelope open carefully, plucking out the parchment that held a very curt and concise message to you. 

I’ll be visiting today for lunch. 

- Captain Levi 

A man of few words, as always. 

You folded the letter again and shoved it back into the envelope, heart racing as a million theories whirled through your mind. 

Why was he coming? Was he calling off the whole arrangement? Was he warming up to you? Did he need something? Did he feel bad about the other night? 

The nerves were too much. 

And then the reality set in. 

With a startled gasp, you looked up to the grandfather clock in the parlor to check the time. 

“Oh, hell,” you cursed, jumping up from your seat to hurry back to your room and freshen up. It was ten o’clock, and maybe Levi was the type to stop by exactly at noon, when lunch would be served. It left you with only a couple of hours to get your wits about you and make sure his visit went smoothly. 

You stopped one of the kitchen maids on your way to your room; she’d been clearing out the breakfast tray from your father’s room, and you couldn’t be bothered to care if she saw you frazzled like this. 

“Captain Levi will be stopping by for lunch today. Make sure that Chef Erlo knows that,” you said in passing, half your instructions called out from over your shoulder. You barely registered her nod as you barged into your room to change into a prettier dress and check your appearance in the mirror. 

Your eyes were wild, a little bright from adrenaline, but you looked fine otherwise. Hair still styled perfectly, jewelry in place. Nothing for him to complain about. You looked every bit the part of a lord’s daughter.

But the nerves had overtaken you. Only two hours. There was no time to waste. 

-----

When Levi arrived for your lunch date, if you could even call it that, it was barely a quarter past noon. Your mother and father had agreed to let you lunch alone without their company, but you knew they’d be somewhere closeby, nosy as ever. 

With the nice weather, you’d thought it would be a good idea to have lunch outside in the garden. The kitchen maids had already served out the lunch on the table outside, where you sat waiting for Captain Levi. 

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself from fidgeting around with all your nerves. The two-hour notice you’d been given apparently hadn’t been enough time to calm yourself down.

And your nerves only spiked when one of the maids stepped out and made way for Captain Levi.

He strode into the garden with a hard gaze, which landed on you immediately, and the maid scurried off as you practically jumped up from your seat to curtsy. 

“Captain Levi,” you greeted him, voice a little shaky, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice. 

Damn. You’d forgotten how handsome he was. It made your nerves even worse. 

“Thank you for agreeing to see me today,” he said stiffly before sitting down. 

“I was...surprised,” you found yourself admitting, and then cleared your throat awkwardly when you realized what you’d said.

Levi sighed, eyes on the platters of food in front of him, and his already somber gaze seemed to grow even harder, more closed off. 

“Do you not like any of the lunch options?” you asked him, trying to read his expression. “It’s really no trouble to tell Chef Er-” 

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, eyes meeting yours. “Just seems excessive for two people.” 

Your face grew hot at that, and you nodded once in agreement. 

“Yes, I agree.” 

“Shame it’ll go to waste. I’m sure you’ll just be throwing it away?” 

The way he posed the question also made it seem like a statement. Like he was answering his own question. It made your brow twitch in annoyance. So, Captain Levi thought himself a know-it-all. 

Though, you couldn’t fault him for generalizing you with all the other noble families. 

You decided to ignore the question, a little annoyed now, and even more impatient. 

“Why are you here, Captain Levi?” 

He sighed then, leaning back in his chair while he stared pointedly at the sliced lamb in front of him. Then, in a flash, his eyes were back on you.

“If we’re going through with this, I want to set some ground rules,” he began. 

Again, your heart sank, just like it did when you’d first met him. 

More rules to adhere to. As if you didn’t have to follow enough of them already. 

“I’ll make more of an effort to...not be an asshole. But I also want you to understand that this isn’t ideal for me. I’m sure it’s not ideal for either of us.” 

“Right,” you whispered sullenly, no longer meeting his gaze. You looked at your lap instead. “Not ideal.”

You could still feel Levi’s eyes on you as he spoke. 

“I don’t want to rush the engagement. I think the more time we set aside, the better. It’ll help, having time to...get used to each other.” 

“Okay,” you agreed, lifting your gaze to meet his again. “Anything else?” 

Levi pausd for a moment, and then met your eyes directly. There was no wavering in his gaze. 

“And I don’t want a wedding. I don’t want this to be some sort of spectacle where you invite all of your bratty friends. Just the ceremony so we can get this over with. I’m not a fan of parties.”

Though you really hadn’t given much thought to your wedding day, this request hit you hard. 

He was asking you to give up your wedding day. When you were already giving up so much.

“Captain Levi…,” you started, but then trailed off, unable to find the words. 

“It’s not up for discussion,” he told you, eyes hard again. 

And what could you say? It wasn’t like you could refuse, and Levi knew that. 

You’d never know love. You’d never know true freedom to make your own choices. And now, you wouldn’t even have one day to celebrate a milestone in your life, a day that would have at least been fun and eased all the other pain you’d have to endure. 

You’d never have a real wedding day. 

“Fine,” you said, voice just barely loud enough for Levi to hear. “Anything else?” 

“No,” he said, and then filled his plate and began to eat. 

He eyed the brandy with a suspicious look in his eye, one that you could have found endearing if it had happened a few minutes ago, but not now. 

The lunch itself was mostly quiet. Levi even tried to start up some painful small talk, but you shut that down quickly with curt answers and no eye contact. It didn’t matter to you to act proper around him now. You’d agreed to his terms, it was settled. It was happening. And you were miserable. 

When you heard the grandfather clock sound at the top of the hour, you had to suppress your sigh of relief as Levi stood. 

“Thank you for lunch,” he said, and it sounded forced, even to you. 

“Would you like to take some back to headquarters?” you asked, mostly out of politeness, but you paused when you saw Levi sincerely consider it, eyes conflicted.

But as suddenly as the emotion appeared on his face, it left, and he shook his head. 

“No, but thank you.” 

You nodded, silent, and turned when the same maid that had led Levi outside appeared, likely to lead him out. Her timing was impeccable. No doubt the work of your parents, watching from somewhere. 

“Miss, I’ll send someone to clear away the trays,” she told you, and you shook your head quickly as you began to do the work yourself. 

“Don’t be silly, I’ll do it myself,” you assured her, balancing a few trays on your arms. 

You nodded once to Captain Levi, then gestured to the maid. 

“Greta will see you out. Thank you for your company.” 

With that, you wandered back inside, heading straight for the servants’ quarters. There was still quite a bit of food left, like Levi had predicted, but he’d been incorrect about it going to waste. 

You knew that the sliced lamb was Greta’s favorite dish at the moment, and you knew that Chef Erlo could never turn down lemon pie, especially when he’d worked so hard to bake it himself. The new apprentice boy, Charlie, loved wild rice, which you still had plenty of. It would be enough for the entire staff to snack on. 

Nothing would ever go to waste, and you’d be damned if you’d ever resort to not caring about your staff. 

-----

As Levi approached the front door, his horse waiting for him outside, he turned to nod at the maid in gratitude. He couldn’t remember her name for the life of him, but that didn’t quite matter. He was just saying goodbye. 

“Greta! Greta! Come quick before the lamb is gone!” 

A boy, no older than ten, came bounding up to the maid, Greta, before Levi could get out the door. 

Under any other circumstance, Levi would have just ignored the boy and left. But what he’d said made him pause.

Lamb? 

The maid, Greta, shushed the boy while her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, knowing Levi was still there and witnessing such uncouth behavior. 

“Lamb? The servants eat pretty well here, then, I take it,” Levi observed. “Unless you’re stealing.”

The boy’s ears turned pink at the accusation, and he shook his head quickly to deny it. 

“No, sir! The lord’s daughter always brings us whatever’s leftover from the family’s meals, and helps us with chores sometimes. Greta says she thinks the miss leaves a lot of trays untouched on purpose for us!” 

“Charlie!” Greta scolded, absolutely miffed, but if anything, it spurred the boy on.

“I’ll be sad when she leaves, but Greta says she’s getting married. Greta, let’s go before it’s all gone!” 

Levi nodded his goodbye to the two of them and shuffled out the door before the poor girl could get any more embarrassed. 

As he mounted his horse, his mind actually drifted back to you. This new information conflicted with his opinion of you, and it startled him. 

Levi tugged on the reins of his horse to head back to base, but he caught one last glimpse of you in the window that peered into your dining room, sitting with what he assumed to be a cook on your staff judging by the outfit, the two of you laughing with plates of lemon pie in your hands. 

He furrowed his brows, and let his gaze linger a little on your smile. He hadn’t seen you smile like that before. 

Then, he nudged his horse and began trudging back to base. All he wanted to do was get back to work and erase the smiling image of you from his mind.