Rain getting fucked with a monster dildo and mountain walks in on him, watching him?
oh anon. sweet, sweet anon. you're getting a treat tonight.
i had a little too much fun with this one
Mountain watches him from the doorway, the heavy wooden thing cracked open just a sliver. From his angle, he can see Rain on his bed, lasciviously fucking himself with a dark purple toy. It’s a large one, spiraled and tentacle-like. Mountain watches as he slides it in and out, matching the twisting movements over the length of his cock. He can see it shining with precum, even in the dim evening light.
It’s hot. But he can’t help the pang of jealousy—Envy? Possessiveness?—that hits him in the chest. He palms himself over his jeans, hissing at the contact.
“Oh fuck, Mountain.”He freezes, hand still over his clothed cock. “I can—ah—smell you in the—mmpf—h-hallway.”
Mountain steps into his room and shuts the door behind him. “What’s this, tadpole?”
Rain turns his head lazily in his direction, thighs clamping together to keep the toy fully inside him while he reaches a sticky hand out to the earth ghoul, still pumping his cock with the other. Mountain steps close to him but doesn’t take his hand. Rain lets it hang limp.
He looks up at Mountain, mouth parted. “Cirrus gave me a new toy.” He looks at Mountain’s crotch, smiling at the bulge in his pants. “I like when you watch me,” he says quietly, breath hitching when he shifts his hips.
Rain nods, eyes fluttering shut as he teases the tip of his cock.
“Bigger than me?”
The water ghoul shakes his head and opens his legs, silently inviting Mountain to see for himself.
“Hm,” he thinks. He runs a finger down Rain’s body, from the end of his chin all the way down to the base of the toy. Rain whimpers as Mountain presses on it. He feels a little devious, mean even. “Pretty close. I’m not enough for you?” he says with an edge, raising a brow. His eyes trace a line back up to Rain’s face, who’s blushing a deep violet—almost as purple as the toy he’s fucking himself with.
But he’s not shy. “You don’t have a tentacle for a dick,” he says, a little brattiness rising to the surface. Oh, but that really gets Mountain going.
“Maybe not. But I can fuck you better than you’re doing by yourself.”
Mountain chuckles darkly. “Sure, raincloud.” He grasps the base of the dildo and pulls slowly, each inch shining with slick as it reveals itself. Now that he’s closer, Mountain can see the swirls of indigo that run throughout the silicone, curling around the molded suckers that spiral from base to curled tip.
“Perfect for a horny water devil, hm?”
Rain whines as the tip grazes his prostate on the way out, making him twitch. “’S nice, yeah.”
Mountain sets the toy aside. He looks down at Rain, taking in the sight beneath him; the wet little tendrils of hair stuck to his forehead, the glint of small white fangs poking into his bottom lip, the slick coating his inner thighs, and the violet tinge to his skin, from the tip of his ears to the tip of his cock, which was still appearing and disappearing in Rain’s fist.
Mountain can’t hide the way his cock kicks in his jeans. He palms himself again as he tugs Rain to sit on the edge of the bed. He nudges Rain’s knees apart, sliding between his legs and towering over him. Mountain tips his chin up, admiring the adoration and need on the water ghoul’s face.
“You’re so pretty. Pliant. Aren’t you?” Mountain leans down to kiss him, licking into Rain’s mouth hungrily. Rain moans into his mouth and clutches at Mountain’s shirt. He’s trying to pull Mountain on top of him, pull him onto the bed with him so he can take him like he always does.
But Mountain isn’t having any of that.
“No, no.” He pulls away and rises to his full height once more. He puts a hand on Rain’s shoulder. “On your knees. Want to fuck that pretty throat.” Rain whimpers, swallowing thickly.
He takes one step back, then another. Rain’s hands grab the air as he disentangles himself from the water ghoul. “And you’re going to watch.” He beckons him over to the large, gold-framed mirror in the corner of the bedroom.
Rain rises on shaky legs, slinking over to Mountain and the mirror. His cock is hard and leaking between them, and Mountain can’t resist giving it a quick squeeze, right at the base. Rain keens, knees threatening to buckle.
Mountain leans into him, hand dipping lower. “Knees,” he purrs into Rain’s ear, pressing his fingers into his taint.
Rain’s legs really do give out at that, and he drops down in front of the earth ghoul. He presses his face into Mountain’s crotch, mouthing over his fly. Mountain cards his fingers into his hair and closes his hand, gripping lightly. The pressure is nice, but the way Rain drools over the fabric is nicer. He rocks his hips into his face, just to enjoy the debauched look already settling there.
Mountain pulls him off his crotch so he can free his cock from beneath the fabric. He unzips his jeans and pulls the elastic of his underwear just past his balls; he doesn’t disrobe any further, not for this.
Rain is back on him in an instant, mouthing over his length with his wet tongue. He laves against the underside, moving upwards to flick his tongue against the frenulum. Mountain growls and grabs his hair again, pulling him off. A string of saliva follows him, connecting tongue to tip.
“You’ll take what I give you, tadpole.” Rain’s eyes go wide, and he nods, almost imperceptibly. Mountain drops his hair and the water ghoul sinks back down a fraction of an inch.
Mountain traces his parted lips with the tip of his cock, not missing how a bead of precum catches on Rain’s tongue. The earth ghoul groans and turns his head to watch himself in the mirror.
Rain is a picture of debasement with his eyes just barely open, showing only a sliver of white and the bottom half of his pond green irises. His hands rest atop his quivering thighs, cock drooling onto the floor between them. Rain just lets Mountain smear his cock wherever he wants: around his lips, down his cheek, across his jaw. And it’s really fucking hot. It nearly makes Mountain forget he’s a little bit mad at the water ghoul.
He keeps his gaze on the mirror. “Open,” he says lowly, eyes fixed on Rain’s mouth. He opens obediently, tongue lolling out and waiting. His fingers dig into his thighs, leaving crescent moon marks in the flesh. Mountain bites back a fuck just starting to form on his lips as he pushes in.
Rain’s mouth is always nice—cool and wet, just like the rest of his body. Mountain looks back down at his actual figure, watching as he takes and sucks on the first half of his length.
“Yeah, take it all. Wanna make you a mess,” Mountain mutters, thrusting shallowly. He returns his hand to the back of Rain’s head, resting the other on the small of his own back. Rain moans in the back of his throat, drool already escaping from the corners of his mouth.
Mountain pushes in further. “More. That’s it,” he coaxes, smoothing the hair off his forehead absentmindedly. Tears are streaming from his eyes now; Mountain knows it’s not from discomfort, just another way he lives up to his water ghoul nature.
“You’re being so good, Rainy,” he praises, any anger now effectively dissolved. Rain just whines through his nose, taking him deeper. Mountain looks back in the mirror, groaning at the sight. “Touch yourself. Let me see.”
Rain lifts a shaky hand to his cock, jolting at the touch and sinking further onto Mountain’s cock.
“Oh fuck, look at you. Look at yourself.”
He does, eyes fluttering open and craning sideways. Rain moans immediately, eyes rolling back into his skull as he jerks himself faster, suddenly desperate.
“That’s good, fuuuck, that’s good,” Mountain groans. He’s panting, infatuated with their reflection.
Rain takes him as deep as he can go, the head of his cock visibly going down and past the back of his throat. He doesn’t know how he does it without breaking his jaw, gagging, anything. But he doesn’t wonder for long, because Rain is constricting his throat around him, swallowing him down. It’s completely sinful and he can’t hold back the sudden rush of pleasure that it sends straight to his gut; his eyes are rolling and he’s cumming with a surprised shout, hot spurts sliding down Rain’s tight throat.
“Oh fuck Rain you—seven hells,” he says, voice cracking. Rain’s milking him through it, not backing off. His eyes are squeezed shut tight, eyebrows upturned, cheeks and lashes wet with streaks of tears.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Mountain chants, breath completely stolen from his lungs. Vaguely, he registers Rain’s hand flying over his own cock, jerking himself with fervor, frantic and wanton.
Rain lets out a strangled cry as he spills over his hand, spurts of cum dripping onto the floor. Mountain pulls out before Rain can accidentally clamp down on him. The water ghoul swallows and sucks in a breath, ragged and gasping.
“Mountain, oh, oh Lucifer unholy Father,” he coughs out, folding over himself and resting his forehead against the earth ghoul’s hip. “Wow, oh fuck,” he huffs, chest heaving.
“Unholy shit, Rain,” Mountain mutters. He pets his head, tracing around his horns. “That was . . .”
“You,” Rain laughs suddenly, the noise bubbling out of his throat, “you need to spy on me more often.”
finally finished the redone strength card!
I screen recorded me doing part of this because... i’ve always wanted to try. it could be better but if you’re curious, here is the link
ok wait i realized i can just use my gallery's text & draw thing this is great
this is what i mean by 'the clan au doesnt have a set story'. theres all these places that it can branch off of and the possibilities r endless and i have *counting* ..14 scenarios/storylines so far and every time i think of a new scenerio another gets added<3
[slight bit more info for all the branches so far]
i havent done much with the kny-canon leaning ones they're more just like if i did follow canon thats how it'd be done ykno? im thinking they get raided by the shinazugawas for control of the trade routes and either they both survive like that one post or only giyu survives, either way Sakonji takes in the living tomioka(s)
most of the stories arent tied down to canon theyre more whatever worldbuilding i have and stories pop up from them- one of the first ones was the shina-tomi failed peacetalks bc i wanted to draw sanemi & giyuu fighting (i just realized i placed the branches perfectly bc thats closer to canon than the others lol)
if the peacetalks worked(wouldve been later/after sanemi took over) then it kinda snowballed into a few nearby/allied clans forming a village, then from that theres the Tomi-Daki diplomat/trade envoy w the fox trio(giyu makomo & sabito)
the rescues are like. little to no formal interactions between any of the three clans(shina-kumeno is always allied), in the first one its winter and giyu's on his way home when he catches the trail of bloodline hunters and saves Genya & Masachika.
in the other one giyu's pinned by a rogue shinobi and sanemi & sabito both find him at the same time and they make a lil truce bc giyu has severe chakra exhastion and cant make it home
undercover mission has one thats purely sanegiyu; sanemi is disguised as Kazura & giyu as Gikuro and actually i looked back at my notes and this ones like. in the past before the village branch. so it connects to that one but it can also be a standalone. the other undercover mission is sabisanegiyu where sabito & giyuu went undercover as a master/servant thing and sanemi was disgusted by it and didnt know that it wasnt Real so he tried to 'save' giyuu and got invited to the polycule<3
the lil unnamed branches inbetween is that one where giyu got chased out the clan by tsutako for killing their mom, there was a spy who had taken her place and giyu noticed and killed the spy but tsutako only saw him killing their mom and she lost her shit in dispair & heartbreak. theres a branch for Giyu staying alone, Sabito ditching the urokodakis for his packmate while makomo stays behind to fix things with tsutako, and both Sabito & Makomo ditching the urokodakis for their packmate
the arranged marriages are sanegiyu with the first branch being after sanemi takes over and giyu asking for it ot of goodwill & he likes him(his pack gets to stay w him). other two Kyogo requested(demanded) it for trade routes, he doesnt allow the urokodakis to go with bc theyre Not Tomiokas and these routes more heavily portray the different biology of the southerners/mountain-pass(a/b/o)
ones angsty bc sanemi is like. CRUSHED that he cant find love on his own. his father takes literally everything away from him. while sanemi is kind & respects giyu he doesnt really care for him. and for giyu to go from a very close-knit family-oriented culture to the stone cold-cutthroat/conservative/severely traumatized/individualist culture of the shinazigawas with literally No One there for him he gets pretty fucked up w the emotional neglect
the other ones less angsty bc sanemi actually Tries in their relationship and finds that he actually enjoys giyu's company- and cuddles. the cuddles r fuckin great. but kyogo's still a cunt and a massive hindrance to emotional and mental healing of everyone around him. but sanemi's not alone now so its Better
remember, like, a week ago when I was like ‘oh ryder would be friends with the gang but he wouldn’t be that close to josh’ & now ryder is just *holds josh* ‘if anything happened to him, I would murder everyone on this mountain and then myself’
ya know I’ve made a lot of ‘decker bringing u dead animals’ posts & joking about how he’s like an overgrown cat but I’m thinking about it again and the implications ya know??
okay i have a joel request!! so yknow in the game where joel pushes ellie into the water as a joke, how about that situation with reader while they’re just playing around and reader pretends to drown or like not come back up to the surface to get back at him LOL and he’s just not happy
hey there! i love this idea, i did give it a lil of my own twist bc i like to write a very grumpy Joel lol - i hope you like it :)
Joel Miller x f!reader
joel miller masterlist
She's just trying to get him to lighten up, but Joel is far from amused.
warnings | 18+ angst, allusions to smut, joel is a stinker
“No. We’re supposed to be on patrol, not fucking around.” She huffs, turning heel and traipsing further away from him and closer to the lake they had just come across. It’s the middle of the summer, and even up in the mountains, the heat is nearly stifling, especially as they’ve been hiking around on patrol for the last three hours.
She kneels down at the water’s edge, dipping her hand into the lake. The water is refreshingly cool, and sends a shiver down her spine. She looks over her shoulder at Joel, who’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, a pursed look on his face as he squints at her. Rolling her eyes, she stands, dropping her rifle down alongside her as she starts to toe off her boots and peel off her shirt. She can hear him scoff behind her.
“What’re you doing?” Now bare from the waist up, she turns to look at him, enjoying his wide eyes and slack expression as he takes in her figure, like it isn’t the thousandth time he’s seen her like this.
“Our shift’s almost over and we haven’t seen a damn thing. I’m hot and tired and I’m gonna cool off in the lake. You don’t wanna join me? Fine. You can stay scowling like that and keep watch, Miller.” Before he can reply, she’s already turning back around, shucking off her pants and underwear in one brisk tug. She hears him gruffly sigh her name, but she gives it no acknowledgement, wading out into the lake until she can float lazily in the deepest part. It really does feel good, the cool water easing her aching muscles. She tips her head back, letting out a moan of relief, her eyes fluttering shut. When she cracks one eye open, she sees that Joel has sidled up along the water’s edge, his scowl softened into a little pout as he watches her.
“Just get in, Joel. Feels so good.” She can just barely hear his grumbles as she watches him sit down at the edge of the lake.
The moment she has the idea, she knows it’s mean, cruel even. But she’s sick of him taking everything so goddamn seriously. They’ve been living in Jackson for months now, the most comfortable and safe situation they’ve probably ever found themselves in, but Joel is still acting like a skittish asshole. So, she decides that if he can’t lighten up on his own, she’s gonna make him.
She calls his name to get his attention, acting like she’s about to say something more before letting out a dramatic gasp and starting to splash jerkily in the water. He’s up in a flash, calling her name in concern. Got him. She pushes herself down under the water, sinking slowly to the bottom of the lake.
Joel meanwhile is a frantic mess as he practically dives into the water still in his clothes. He keeps calling her name, dipping under the water, but it’s too murky to see anything. Even at the deepest part of the lake, the water only comes up to his chest as he moves around, eyes darting everywhere for her. He lets out a loud curse when something brushes against his leg.
She pops out of the water with a spluttering laugh, quickly wrapping her arms around his neck as he tries to jerk away. His hands find purchase on her waist, squeezing harshly as he lets out another string of curses. She can’t stop laughing, trying to lightly shush his exclamations, but judging from the look on Joel’s face, he doesn’t find anything about this funny.
“Oh, c’mon, Joel–” he doesn’t let her finish before he’s shrugging out of her hold, leaving her splashing back into the water as he trudges back onto shore. He doesn’t even look at her as he wrings out the ends of his shirt, sliding his rifle back onto his shoulder.
“Get out and get dressed. We’re going home, goddamnit.” She swallows hard, still treading lightly in the middle of the lake, clearly not moving quick enough for Joel as he finally turns and fixes her with a steely glare.
“Now!” She jumps in her skin at his raspy shout, quickly swimming back to land before his temper fires any further.
It’s a very quiet hike back to Jackson, and she winces when Tommy greets them at the gate, slapping Joel on the shoulder before looking at his brother questioningly.
“What the fuck happened to your clothes, man?” Joel huffs, shrugging off Tommy’s hand and stomping off toward their home. She smiles apologetically at Tommy before trailing behind Joel, entirely dreading the groveling she’s going to have to do.
When they both get home, he still won’t talk to her, won’t even look at her as she follows him into their bedroom, watching him shuck off his damp clothes for a dry shirt and pants.
“Joel, I’m sorry, ok? Will you please just–” he holds up his hand, and she stutters into silence.
“Don’t– just don’t.” Before she can say anything else, he’s already shuffling out of the room with a huff. She sighs when she hears the front door open and slam behind him.
She spends the rest of the afternoon helping at the greenhouses, only being shaken out of her guilty thoughts when Ellie joins her, kneeling down alongside her and the garden beds.
“Just ran into the old man at the stables. Is there a reason he looks more pissed off than usual?” She huffs, sitting back on her haunches where she had been tending several plants.
“Think I’m in the doghouse, kid. Did something kinda mean to him on patrol today.” Ellie snorts, shrugging lightly.
“Eh, he probably deserved it. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. Joel couldn’t stay mad at you even if he tried.” She sighs, offering the girl a small smile as she squeezes her shoulder.
“I’d rather not think about it anymore. What’re you up to, huh?” Ellie grins.
“Just stopping by to let you know I’m hanging out with Dina tonight. Probably won’t be home until late so don’t wait up.” She can’t help but smile at the girl’s obvious excitement, laughing lightly.
“Alright, kid. Just be safe, ok? And smart.” Ellie nods as she gets up, already backpedaling away.
“Yes ma’am! And hey, seriously, don’t sweat whatever funk you put the old man in. I’m sure it’ll blow over soon enough.” She does her best to give Ellie one more smile, but it quickly wilts away once the girl is out of sight. The truth is, she hadn’t seen him quite that angry in a long time, and for it to be over something so silly, it has her worried. It was an unnecessarily dumb thing to do, sure, but it certainly didn’t merit such a backlash of a response from him.
She sighs, getting back to work, but she can’t shake the swirling thought that she’s really not looking forward to talking with him again.
She lingers well into dusk at the greenhouses, knowing full well it’s not because she has a particular fondness for mulch. By the time she reaches their house, the sun has set and a faint glow comes from the windows. It’s quiet when she steps inside, she can just make out the faint twang of guitar strings coming from upstairs. Not a great sign, she knows Joel tends to play when he wants to be left alone.
As she makes her way upstairs, she takes a few steadying breaths, padding quietly into their bedroom. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, brow furrowed in concentration on his fingers lightly plucking at the guitar strings. He doesn’t even look her way, continuing to play nonsense chords. She sighs, getting up on the bed to kneel behind him. She can feel his muscles tense when she brings her palms to his shoulders, but he slackens slightly when she lays a kiss between his shoulder blades.
“I’m sorry, Joel. I really am.” She murmurs it into the worn material of his t-shirt, pressing her forehead into his back. She can feel the push and pull of the sigh he lets out, can hear the sound of him gently setting his guitar down. One of his hands tangles with hers where it’s resting over his shoulder. His voice is low and thick when he speaks, what remains of his southern drawl muddling the words together.
“Fucking scared me. What were you thinking? I just– I–” She shushes him, moving to sit next to him, but Joel has something else in mind, squeezing her hip to guide her to straddle his thighs. Now that he’s finally looking at her, she kind of wishes he’d stop, his eyes so intensely staring her down. She huffs, winding her arms behind his neck.
“I wasn’t thinking, alright? It was stupid– just a stupid thing to do and I’m sorry. But Joel, you just– you got so angry. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time. I just feel like it was a little blown out of proportion.” He sighs, his fingers flexing into the plush of her hips as he studies her face.
“I know you’re right, but christ– I just feel restless. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, I guess. For all this to be too good to be true.” Her brow furrows and she dips her head to catch his downturned gaze.
“What if it isn’t too good to be true, huh? This is the longest we’ve stayed anywhere in a long time, hell, maybe ever. I understand, I really do. But I think we have a really good thing here, and you’re so skittish it’s passing right by you.” A deep frown still creases his face, his gaze not quite meeting hers. She starts laying smacking kisses to his cheeks, the downturned corners of his mouth, punctuating each with reassuring mantras.
“I’m safe. You’re safe. Ellie’s safe. We’re safe.” He grumbles under her ministrations, squeezing her hips, but she can tell by the way his features are softening that he’s finally starting to give in to her coaxing, letting out a long sigh as he looks at her.
“You’re right– but I can’t help being on edge. Just the thought of something happening to you or Ellie– I don’t even–” She cuts him off, tugging lightly at the curls at the nape of his neck.
“So don’t. Just be here with us, right now. Here with me.” She presses a chaste peck to his lips to seal her words, but as she pulls away, he chases after it, pulling her into a deeper kiss. They’re both a bit breathless once they finally separate, a smile daring to tug at the corners of Joel’s lips.
“Still a little mad at you.” She huffs, pouting out her lip at him.
“Aw, poor baby. Want me to make it up to you?” He lets out a breathy chuckle as she’s already slinking out of his hold, down onto her knees between his legs. She rubs her palms up his thighs and he shakes his head at her, nothing but fondness in his eyes.
“Gonna be the death of me, woman.”
you are the sun (and all that i bask in)
pairings (separately!) - diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, albedo, childe/tartaglia, zhongli, xiao, kaedehara kazuha, scaramouche, dainsleif, thoma, arataki itto, gorou x gender neutral reader
word count - 3549
genre - fluff
format - headcanons + blurbs
warnings - kissing, skinship, sharing a bed, vague spoiler for dain's identity, consensual waking with kisses
summary - good morning kisses with the boys :)
a/n - this is my submission for @xiaosmoon's valentines collab for the 7th day prompt: good morning kisses! :) it's also my first post in a while (i'm a lil rusty on writing so forgive me if i don't make sense in some parts aaa), and i just wanted to say thank you all for the neverending support and love i receive on this blog despite my inactivity, it means the world to me :) i hope you enjoy the post! <3
there's never a morning where diluc doesn't kiss you upon awakening
it's how he starts his day and as necessary and mundane as eating breakfast or brushing his teeth (or breathing, dare he say)
good morning kisses are among his favorites because to him, there's no better way to be welcomed into the waking world that with the softness of your lips against his
he'll sacrifice some of his time allotted for his morning routine, but it's worth it just to spend a few more minutes with you
his kisses are firm and bathed in unwavering love, yet they shield a trembling longing that's caged beneath the flesh of his skin. every ticklish traversal of your fingertips, warm from sleep, stemming upwards from the small of his back to the apples of his cheeks set his heart ablaze and body alight. you'd cup his cheeks and welcome him to the world of consciousness with a smile that rivalled the stars themselves and a kiss tasting of the remnants of sweet dreams.
diluc would murmur words of insistence: that with the sun's blossom over the rolling hills and mountains of mondstat, he too should rise and tend to his duties. but within your arms under thick, wooly sheets was where he longed to be and desired to remain. it was easy to persuade him to spend an extra five minutes wrapped up in your arms: embarrassingly so. he'd pay the price when he scrambled to get ready, sands of time running so quickly through his hands as he would later hop around on one leg with half his leg in the pants hole, ruby broach tugged halfway over his face.
but it was all worth it to spend just a little more time basking in the morning sun and waking up to the feeling of your lips on his. so he stays for just "five more minutes" and lets his lips and soul connect against yours.
more characters utc!
kaeya loves to wake you up in the same way each morning: with his kisses
morning sun is always too hot for someone like him but you ground him back in reality and let him know that to live is to burn as much as it is to freeze
there are no teasing remarks, no neatly folded smiles or careful laughs
just your sweet kaeya and his loving kisses to greet you with the morning sun
dawn was never preferable for a man who thrived in shadows: but you were a different kind of light.
gentle as a firefly, ethereal and milky as the moon and tender as lakewater in the depths of midnight: you were his sun if sunshine were bathed in an inky mist.
with his arms wound tight around your body and a caress of his thumb just beneath your eye—shut in bliss and slumber—kaeya observed the rise of dawn and felt his skin tingle with a cathartic release, leaving the calm rise and fall of your chest and gentle pitter patter of your heartbeat to soothe the aches and sores that came with the sun.
he'd wake you up first with a kiss to your forehead (because blessed was the brain beneath your skull that looked at him and found love, solace, and home). your nose would scrunch up adorably, but settle back to baseline; this would not do. then, another to your cheeks (both of them, because he loved how supple and sweet they felt beneath his lips). next were your eyelids, where he longed to see the beautiful (e/c) gems hidden beneath the tenderness of your skin and recite poems of love with nothing but his eyes.
finally were your lips, where you became his muse and breathed life into him. by this point, you'd awaken (though you usually awoke when he kissed your eyelids but feigned sleep with a tricky smile on your face) and wrung your arms around his neck to tug him closer; and he'd let you, just like he did every morning.
but kaeya decided to prolong his usual morning kiss routine with you today: the early morning sun fancied you a divinity and bathed you in its glow, and though he was just a mere sinner, he longed to lay within your embrace and commit every inch of your beautiful face to his memory by heart.
waking up to albedo makes you question if you're still dreaming
he's most likely still asleep, resting after a fruitful day of work of all kinds
but even in sleep his love is more tender and sweet than a droplet of honey
albedo often woke up to the tickle of your fingertips gliding over his scalp, just barely grazing over the roots of his thick locks. but he preferred his eyes to remain shut just so you'd continue for a little longer. when he eventually did open his eyes, he peered into your own pools and saw within them his entire world and all that he loved.
albedo wasn't much of a poet: he preferred to pour his creativity into blossoming pieces of art from his fingertips. but when you laid so calmly and warm in his arms and peered up at him with what looked like twinkling stars in your eyes, a plethora of thoughts washed over him like a gentle tsunami.
"radiant", "exquisite", "luminous", "ethereal", were just a few adjectives that came to mind whenever you looked at him with the gentle caress of morning sun on your face and a hazy smile on your lips.
he was sure that the flowery words of love that he wanted to convey to you were translated over when his lips met yours and all in the world fell silent.
should he wake up first (which occurs more regularly), childe will first study your face as if he'd be quizzed on it later
but really he adores how the sunlight contours the grooves and dips of your face and his attention is tethered tight to your lips like a metal coil
try as you might to persuade him that your morning breath isn't worth his kisses—he won't listen
because when childe wants something, be it glory, power, or the world even, he'll do what it takes to get his hands on it
even the strongest of knights need a kiss from their beloved to start the day right
childe takes his opportunities by the horns and slings reins upon them so that with a flick of his wrist, they are putty or stone in his hands.
but it seems you were the one to saddle him first.
it frustrated him: all you had to do was lie in slumber, eyes shut peaceful and safe and calm, and his heart would be sent aflutter. when you awaken and caress his face; greet each of his freckles and swipe fluffy locks of ginger hair away from his ocean eyes and shield him from the red hue of early morning sun, he is putty in your hands.
he's only ever know the worn grips of sword and knife handles and the sharpness of finely tuned words and edges of blades and pointed arrows that jutted outwards and would draw blood if he pierced too hard.
but you are soft, tender, and warm; a far cry from the frigid temperatures of cooled metal.
his good mornings, sweet words, and bubbled laughs are muffled between intertwined lips and a dance of hearts and a tangle of your hands in his locks. your smiles are swallowed between his lips and they taste of sugary syrup (and he's reminded that you love pancakes, and thus an idea for breakfast is formulated in his mind).
you're in no need of any words to convince just how putty childe is within your arms: his lips that meld so sweetly against yours say it all.
zhongli is a creature of habit and finds stability in repeating little things in his daily life
one of these things is to brew you a cup of tea—just the right temperature, amount of sugar, and milk—and serve it to you just as dawn begins to break over the horizon
there's no better way to greet a day full of promise and opportunity than to spend it with you and a warm beverage
you are an ethereal creature more beautiful than any cut of jewel that zhongli has ever gazed upon in his entire life. even with a wrinkled shirt, dried drool on the edge of your oh-so-kissable lips which always stretched into a sleepy smile whenever his fingers brushed against yours, and the glossy glaze of morning mirth that never faded no matter how many times you batted your lashes.
the porcelain cup of tea that he had carefully set aside for you had surely gone lukewarm right now, but you had let him know how delicious it was upon the first, steaming hot sip with a pleasant hum and gentle smile on your face.
now you laid your head on his chest, searching absentmindedly for the gentle thunder of his beating heart beneath the soft, cotton fabric of his shirt. he'd shake you gently every now and then: a proper reminder not to fall back asleep yet as the day before you and him had yet to be greeted.
yet despite being the strongest of the adepti and the former holder of divinity, it is you who silences an archon with a kiss to his lips and a gentle pat to his cheek.
sleep doesn't come to xiao; it's as unnatural as breathing underwater
so he'll stand guard and chase away the shadows and cobwebs that surround you while you sleep
and when morning finally comes, and you've awakened to your loyal lover at the foot of your bed, he's of no position to object when you beckon him closer
with your heartbeat as a lullaby, perhaps he'll learn what it's like to breathe underwater
"you're awake." his voice was quiet, gentle; careful not to rouse you from tender sleep too abruptly
your eyes still phased in and out of consciousness, body begging to hold onto the last remnants of your sleep but you surged forwards and ripped the tendrils of slumber from your arms to greet your lover.
"that i am," you breathed, and stretched your arms out towards him like a beacon of light, "come."
years ago he would've declined ferociously (because the burdens he carried are forever his and his alone to shoulder). but now he's learned: that his debt is not all he is, that he is allowed to feel joy and feel blossoms of warmth spread across his cheeks whenever you weaved crowns out of qingxin just for him.
crawling onto the bed, his forearms caged your head in as he hovered over you and brushed the tip of his nose against yours no more delicate than a flower petal. you smiled, and skimmed your palms set ablaze with sleepy warmth up from his wrists over his chilled, scarred skin, to his supple cheeks. a tilt of his head to the side and his lips were all yours—and what a feeling it was to dance a morning waltz to the distant roll and crash of the sea.
xiao pulled away first, bashful and elusive and breathless from all you give to and take from him, before settling his body onto yours, head on your chest to listen to the steady beat of your heart. bliss overcame him when your fingers carded through his locks, and he knew this was the closest he'd ever get to heaven.
kazuha is never far, but when the sun rises so does he
the ocean breeze and gentle roll of the waves stirs something deep within him and he's compelled to go towards it
but he'll always be within reach, and he'll always go where your intertwined hearts desire
guyun stone forest was beautiful in the early dawn when not even the crystalflies had gone to bed and some of the twinkling stars in the mauve sky had yet to return to the inky blackness. the sea breeze ruffled his hair as if the anemo archon themself had caressed his head in silent prayer.
the winds sounded favorable and playful today, like the innocent twinkling of a dangling bell from a cat's collar; today's events would work in his favor.
a silent smile spread across his face when he felt a pair of arms encircle his waist, and a tender kiss pressed to his cheek—chilled from the sea breeze.
your head lolled into the crook of his neck as you peered out at the calm waves, tinted the color of sunsettias in their brightest bloom. kazuha felt your heartbeat pitter against his back and raised his arm (careful not to let you come near the blade that hung from his waist) as a silent invitation to come closer—and you did.
kazuha's lips nestled themselves at the soft, tender part of your head and murmured a "good morning" into your roots; and a special, secret part of him hoped that he'd always be able to wake up to rolling waves, the fresh scent of salt, and your embrace in the early morning.
it's difficult for him to fall asleep, and stay asleep
it wasn't until recently that he had discovered that you acted as somewhat of a remedy to his sleep problems
but he'd rather let his pride stay lodged in his throat and block his esophagus than admit that he falls asleep much better when your hand in clasped in his and your body is snug, puzzle-pieced against his own
even with all his reservations, he always wakes up to your hand intertwined within his own, and his face snuggled into the crook of your neck
"you know," you started, voice still rich and heavy with sleep, "sometimes, you cry in your sleep."
he wasn't even aware he still did that anymore.
"preposterous. you're seeing things." he responded.
yet you squeezed his hand and ushered him closer into the warmth of your body with a shake of your head against the pillow. "i'm not."
silence engulfed the bedroom save for the twinkle of freshly fallen snow from outside the walls of zapolyarny palace, and a pair of morning doves landed on the branch just outside the window before scaramouche spoke again.
"is that why you hold my hand?"
you hummed in thought, lost to the tendrils of thought for only a brief moment before your answer rolled so fluidly out from your tongue without hesitation.
"no, i hold it because i love you."
he scoffed, though he knew that you knew he wasn't annoyed in the slightest when he squeezes his arm tighter around your waist and raised your intertwined hands to press a kiss to your skin. he'd always sleep soundly if you remained by his side.
he's seen the fall and rise of the sun too many times to count
the first few times he'd ever witnessed such beauty were breathtaking moment that stuck with him forever despite the circumstances in which he was allowed to breathe in dewy morning air and see the brilliance of the sun for the first time
but the novelty eventually withered away and what remained was numb and cold
until you entered his life and reignited the childish wonder within him; you became his new, eternal sun
he always woke up much earlier than you did: two or three hours were all he really needed at this point. but he preferred waking up earlier, at the time which dawn slowly began to creep up over the horizon, stuck between that lamentful limbo of inky midnight blues and striking, tangy oranges and playful pinks.
your body was pressed tight against his; limp in his lap with the faint fan of your snores tickling the strands of hair at the base of his neck. unlike the sun with which he had once found novel beauty in, your beauty never ceased, the novelty never wore off, and even in sleep you blessed him with light and the luck that he possessed to be able to love someone as lovely as you.
you'd wake up and prop yourself up on his chest to give him a kiss and whisper a good morning, before pulling him back down to sleep within your arms without question.
thoma's got a strict schedule he needs to maintain
which means he's here and then gone on a long, busy day of work
but that doesn't mean he doesn't set aside the perfect sliver of time in his morning to wake you up in the gentlest of ways and bid his goodbyes until afternoon
thoma would chide you whenever you forced your eyes open just to watch him hustle around the room and throw on his clothes for the day—because there was no need to watch him slowly cut the cord of morning bliss that tethered the two of your together. but you couldn't help it; even if for a moment all you wanted was to lay your eyes on the man you loved.
"go back to sleep, i'll come see you soon. it's a promise." he whispered, careful not to ruin the sleepy trance you were caught in as he drew the thick covers back over your body.
you knew he always kept his promises (even if he did show up breathless with a bouquet of flowers and two sticks of tricolor dango in his hands), but he still sealed them with a sweet kiss first to your forehead, then to your lips for extra measure.
itto is restless and always ready to go at a moment's notice
this applies from the moment he wakes up till the moment he falls asleep
you'd define him as a bit of a menace who drags you out of slumber with him for a morning filled with giggles and tickles and maybe a few pillow fights
but you're the only one capable of subduing an oni; and he'll willingly submit if it meant he'd see that smile he loved so much on your face
you had become accustomed to waking up to the long tips of his nails tickling against the tender part of your skin where your nerves collected together in your armpits and sides. bubbles of giggles erupted from your throat as he mumbled a husky "wakey wakey, sunshine!" into your ear with a voice still caught on the edge of sleep and dreams.
plead and fight as much as you want, itto's strength knows no bounds and he won't stop tickling with sweet laughter of his own until you've got tears running down your face and a permanent smile on your lips.
before he knows it, he's on his back instead of hovering over you and you've straddled his waist with a triumphant smirk and eyes that glimmered with mischief and wriggly fingers that zeroed in on his armpits and neck.
but a kiss to your lips is all he needs to distract you from the impending revenge you desired for the tickle attack. and what could you say? the plea of a truce in his kiss was enough to subdue your fighting spirit and fall prey to his embrace.
he's shy and still stumbling through the thickets of love and affection
but there's never a morning where gorou doesn't wake you with feathery light kisses that lead up from the ends of your shoulders to the tips of your warm ears
part of him doesn't want to stir you yet from sleep but the other part of him wants to see your beautiful eyes and talk about everything and nothing in the moment of morning where there was finally no need to rush to do anything
he didn't want to wake you up at first, but you had a knack for being in sync with him so when your eyes fluttered open a little after his did and your hand reached up to smooth his frazzled, thick locks, he felt a little less guilty for rousing your awake. you had probably become used to the little tingles that resounded whenever he pressed his lips against your shoulder and led up towards your neck, and you always smiled and reassured him that you loved being woken up with something as gentle as his lips.
gorou loved when your fingers would find the soft part of his ears and stroke them softly as if you were handling glass. his heart felt full and swollen with an indescribable feeling that he hadn't felt before (and it felt light and airy). you hummed out an interesting thought you had from the day prior, and let him run over the day's plans for his soldiers while you stroked his head and let him run his calloused and battle-scarred hands over your back.
if possible gorou wanted to freeze time in this exact window of time each morning and prolong the domesticity and sweetness of your morning talks for just a little while longer. all he's ever wished for was something stable, comforting, and sweet and he finds all that he has ever yearned for within your eyes and embrace.
date published: february 7th, 2022
speaking like friends
könig x gender-neutral reader
warnings: it just gets a lil suggestive
inspired by this, this and this
part 2 of this
The effect you have on König is hardly a secret.
The team knows you as charming, someone with a silver tongue and the means to use it well, but König knows you differently. He knows you as a partner, as a friend, and as someone who gets under his skin in a way that he cannot explain.
You only know this because he confessed it to you.
He had left you to sit with the statement that he had no words to say just what it was that you did to him. Your prying gaze that longed for a clearer description only made him a stuttering mess that quickly apologized for even saying such, and in your shock, you told him goodnight and let him be.
Ever since then, you can't get him off your mind.
Any eye contact that you make with him is broken at once by a turn of his head. You notice the way that his entire body seems to grow taut when you draw near, as if he has taken in a breath and held it. Just a mere second of meeting your eyes will send him stumbling over his words in discussions with the other operators, knuckles turning white as his grip on his gun tightens.
There is little mystery in how he feels about you.
You cannot deny what you feel for him, either.
Being at his side on the field makes your heart race. If you can't be with him physically, you keep up with him over the radio, asking him for his status and smiling to yourself when he answers, voice trembling with an adrenaline high. You had made a silent vow to yourself when you began this way of life that you would never get too involved, never put yourself in a vulnerable position, never open yourself up so much that you couldn't go back.
Time and time again, you'd broken your own rules, all for him.
Since that night, there's been a discernible shift in the energy between you and him. He speaks much less, but he looks at you far more; you feel his gaze when it finds you from across the room, staring past everyone else. Though he cannot seem to find it within himself to talk to you anymore, you find that he's always close by, almost as if he is keeping watch over you in the way he sees fit.
In return, your silver tongue begins to target him specifically.
You refer to it as "payback" for his recent bout of silence towards you. In truth, seeing his eyes widen and his pupils dilate as a result of something you say makes you a bit weak at the knees. Passing him in hallways pulls a smile from you, and sitting next to him always leads to brushing touches and soft apologies that fix nothing, for the contact never fails to come again. The other operators make snide comments about how close you are to him, how the man built like a mountain seems to completely change when you're around, falling all over himself and losing every bit of his composure. They ask you just what in the hell it is that you've done to him.
You wonder about that, yourself. The night things changed left you without an answer.
One evening finds you with the team, and him alone -- as usual. But he isn't far, and it's never hard for you to find him. Stepping outside of the base and into the cool night air leads you to him, his large silhouette seated in the grass and hiding among the parked Humvees.
"You know I don't like seeing you alone, König."
The sound of his name catches him by surprise and he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You smile at him, and he shifts slightly, looking down.
"Don't like all the noise," He murmurs.
"Or you're avoiding me again."
There's a sound like a little laugh from the back of his throat, a humored hm.
"Never," He says. One simple word to elevate your heartbeat.
Quietly, you approach him, and a gentle nudge of your knee upon his shoulder acts as your request to sit with him. He nods wordlessly, and you settle down at his side. The night is dark, and staring out into it seems to go on for miles and miles. You lower your hands to weave your fingers into the grass, and your fingertips ghost against his hand in one fleeting touch. He tenses, mumbling a hasty "tut mir leid." When you lean over and bump his shoulder, he grunts in surprise, turning and finding your eyes.
"When will we speak like friends?"
Rapidly, he blinks.
"... Wh - what?"
"That's what we are, isn't it?" You arch an eyebrow, staring at him. "You tiptoe around me like I'm going to bite you, then say sorry for hardly anything at all. You say you want me around, then avoid me like a damn plague. Surely you know that I don't mind having you around, either."
"That... is what we... are, right?"
The word sits on the tip of your tongue with the weight of a lie. You cannot bring yourself to speak it again, not when König can't seem to decide if he wants to look at your eyes or your lips. Your heart races behind your ribs, fingers itching to pull the hood away and really look at him.
What is it that you do to him, that which he hadn't the heart to tell you?
"I'm beginning to think you don't like me after all," You say.
"It's not... scheiße, it's not that," He quickly stammers. His muscles are taut, like ropes beginning to wear down and fray. Without a moment's hesitation, you place yourself in front of him, sitting between his legs and staring into blue eyes that fixate on your lips.
"What is it, then?"
Your hand rests on his knee and he takes in a shaking breath. Slowly, you move forward, and he instinctively leans backward, audibly swallowing when you're on hands and knees above him and staring at him expectantly. His elbows rest on the grass beneath him, and he has nowhere else to go. His fingers are twitching, as if every part of him is longing to put hands on the exposed skin of your stomach where you feel your shirt riding up.
"We are... friends," He responds, rattling the word out, doing what you could not. "And I like you. In fact, I like you far more than..." He pauses, swallowing again. "... more than most."
A soft smile pulls up at the corner of your mouth. Despite the chill of the night, your face is hot.
You can't bring yourself to even say it.
The Cave Na’vi Chapter I | NeteyamxNa’vi!Reader
Summary: Neytiri tells the kids the story about The Cave Na'vi and years later the Sully kids meets one of them
Warnings: mild cussing
Tag list 🏷️: @lil-iva @spatterpus @ssc7514 @pearlrosegardener @ellielovesrobinarellano @mashiromochi @dakotali @itsnotme02 @btsiguess-kpop @laylasbunbunny @fanfics-welcome @jkiminpark @brookesbizzareadvendture @tinkerbelle05
The three kids sat on the ground listening to the story their mom was about to tell.
"The Cave people are a mystery to all Na'vi around the world, they come around when our home is under attack, they come to fight and help us achieve victory then disappear some say they aren't real while others say they're woodsprites blessed by Ewya to have Na'vi form to help when our home is under attack, some say they're in hiding but they haven't been seen since before you were born," Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Kiri look at their mother interest in their eyes "the Cave tribe are very strong known for having the most fearsome warriors and hunters who show no mercy to those that do wrong, they have a strong connection to the animals around them, they ride on the backs of Ikran and Thanator, but they are the most welcoming clan whose willing to listen and hear anyone out, we'll never known when we'll see them again but when we do it'll mean war upon Pandora once again."
"Guys you're going to fast" Tuk said as she ran trying to catch up with her siblings and Spider "Why'd we bring her?" spider said to Lo'ak "Because she threated to tell our dad" He said as he turned to look at Tuk who stuck out her tounge at her brother "Will you two shut up please" Neteyam spoke up and continued walking the others catching up.
They walked to the edge of a water fall Tuk noticed "Were here lets swim!" she said before jumping off Neteyam and Kiri looked at each other smiling before jumping off into the water as well.
After swimming for a while Neteyam had gotten out the water and watched everyone else from the corner of his eye he thought he seen a flash of white run behind the waterfall he shook his head thinking he was just being stupid and proceeded to look back at his family.
After a hour or two they all headed home Spider leaving and the Sullys sitting down for dinner Neteyam could stop thinking he saw something white run behind the waterfall Jake and Neytiri noticed and asked him about it “Neteyam, what’s got you bothered your thinking so hard.”
“When we all went swimming by the waterfall i think i seen something white run behind the waterfall” Neytiri looked at Jake “Where?” Neteyam ate his food as he spoke “The waterfall closest to the floating mountains i wanna go back and check out what’s behind that waterfall to see if i’m crazy or not” Jake answered “No you’re not doing that, understood” Neteyam rolled his eyes his attention shifting back to his food “Yes sir.”
And here he was at the waterfall past eclipse even his father told him he wouldn't be going back there to figure out what he seen the bioluminescent plants lighting up the dark night he was surrounded in. Lo'ak, Tuk, Kiri, nor his parents knew he was there he sat down on the rock he was sitting on hours before when he hears something running at him at full speed before he could register what had happened, he was on his back a large paw with claws across his chest holding him in place.
Neteyam could feel his heartbeat rapidly increase as the creature was over him baring its teeth at the teenage boy he stared at it wide eyed his mind racing of every possible outcome before he heard a navi call the creature got off of him and turned around and stopped a few feet away from him still facing him Neteyam hurried and stood up looking at the creature infront of him when he realized it's a Thanator as a you jumped beside the Thanator and placed you hand on your bestfriend as you walked closer to the boy.
You were out for your nightly walk without worrying about the RDA seeing you and hunting you "Who are you?" Neteyam was in shock as he looked at you you looked like the Cave Na'vi from his mother's stories "Neteyam Sully" you looked at him your blue eyes seemed to glow with the world around you "Strange" he hesitated for a moment "Are you-" "Am i what?" "Are you a Cave Na'vi" you smiled he was in shocked with how gorgeous it was he's seen many girls smile at him before, but you smile entranced him "I am i if you want to know" you said with a large smile proud to be a Cave Na'vi "Im Neteyam" the blue boy said to you "Im-" "Y/n where the hell are you!" you looked in the direction of the voice "Shit" "Who is it?" Neteyam asked looking in the same direction as you.
"My brother Weap I must get back before my father finds out how long ive been gone" you got onto to your Thanator's back before leaving you looked at Neteyam "Come here tomorrow ill meet you here" you didnt give him a chance to reply and ran off he watched you and your Thanator run behind the waterfall he smiled to himself and ran back home.
hi!! if you’re taking requests, i was wondering if you could write something where the reader and aaron both like each other but they just think the others being friendly. like hotch gets all soft spoken and does little things for the reader that he wouldn’t do for the others yk
and one night the team is over at rossis and the reader gets drunk and starts shamelessly flirting with aaron saying things like “you really put the hot in hotchner 😋😉” (stuff they’d never say sober) and the team is just watching him blushing and stuttering while he’s taking in a wave of compliments
there’s something about turning big and scary SSA hotchner into a flustered mess that i love
a/n: wait i love this so much :") i kinda wanted to do this a lil different, hope you enjoy! 🤍 it's kinda long lmao ☠ and i'm so sorry for taking forever
3 times hotch secretly pines for you + 1 time the team pushes you together
it had been a long gruelling day. every one of your team were more than excited to rest up for the weekend, glad to not have work for a two days. all but you, of course.
you were practically having a mental breakdown, unable to move away from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. you don't know how it managed to become so huge but it did mean you were no longer going home tonight and the plans of diving under the blankets were long forgotten.
"hey y/n, do you have the-" aaron's hand came to knock but it stops in its track, he looks at you in shock. your head was against your hands, looking at the piles and piles of files you had to go through. he could see your inner turmoil, how your face was scrunched up in a frown. and then he walked forwards, determined to make your night a little better. he had never done it for any of his team members, he didn't entirely understand why he was going to do it now. but seeing you in any distress was enough to make him want to get you out of it as best as he could.
you let out a sigh, looking back up to see your boss by the door. your heart sinks as you look back down on your desk, trying to find what it was he was after.
"oh my god, sorry. i completely lost track of time, i'll have tonight's case on your desk-" you begin spiralling and he comes closer, his voice gentle. he grabs a good chunk of the paperwork, way more than half and you watch with pure astonishment. why was he doing this??
"that's okay" he whispers back, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. he holds your files in his arms like it was the most normal thing and then he turns back. but you stop him, standing up in confusion
"what are you doing?" your breath is caught in your throat, coming back to the front to meet him
"i'm helping you" his voice is so sweet, you wonder why he doesn't use that tone a lot more often. your hands around around his wrist and it feels warm, paired with your perfume. it smells so comforting, homely even. how close you were and it wasn't enough. he needed more of you.
but he doesn't manage to say anything, your name was being called. and you give an apologetic smile, reluctantly disappearing down the hallways. your hands drops back to your side and he already misses it, your sweet smell lingers in the air and he inhales. letting it caress his senses for a few seconds. what if you were his, what could have been, what he desperately wishes
and then the moment ends, he comes crashing back to reality and he too begrudgingly walks away.
"did you know?" rossi comes in hotch's office who shares the same pensive look mirrored on the others face.
"yeah, i do...." hotch sighs, feeling the stress beginning to pile heavy on his shoulders. it had seemed he couldn't get a break in, no matter what happened. they had just barely come home and strauss had called in another case, it was bad. they all were but each case had it's own emotional baggage that came along with it. this specific one was slightly more harder on the unit chief. he was about to say something, to ask rossi to put yet another coffee on for the long night ahead of them
and then his head lifts, ears perked at the sound. it was your laugh resounding through the bullpen, calling to him like a siren. a warm feeling floated all around him, if he had told you that you'd surely scoff. he wasn't used to this feeling, he wasn't used to this level of intimacy. how your giggles punctured holes in his resolve, your smile dissolving his perfectly crafted barriers. how above all, your laughter blew through him and he felt himself catching his breath. you managed to capture him, overriding his senses altogether
but the scariest part of it all, was that he didn't mind. it was beautiful. fall of warmth, sincerity and life.
he didn't realise his lips had parted into a gentle smile until he glanced at rossi and immediately relaxed his face. he observed hotch's facial expressions wordlessly which somehow angered the other a little.
"uhm.... excuse me. got to get to my office" embarrassed the team leader stands up, hoping his feelings doesn't betray him on his face.
"this is your office" rossi smirks, leaning back on the chairs.
"oh right... get out"
cooking at rossi's was fun, you were both laughing and surprisingly he was very laid back. simply enjoying your company and the food.
"they're done" you hear the oven ping and you grab the mitts, opening the door.
"i have to say l/n, i'm impressed. i didn't think you could do it" the other tilts his wine glass at you, peering at your perfectly made brownies. but before you can answer, there's a knock on his door and he smiles quickly untying his apron.
"the rest of them are here, are you coming?" rossi takes off his apron and set down the tray
"yeah i'll meet you in a second. i'm just going to put these on the plates" you respond and rossi nods, going to take his rightful duties as the host. the music plays and you listen along, completely lost in the moment.
"thought i'd see you here" hotch interrupts your thoughts and you jolt slightly, wide eyes at the door.
he looked so hot standing there-
"sir! sorry i-" "y/n, we're not at work. please, there's no need for formalities" he walks forwards, a warm smile gracing his lips. you chuckle a little, setting down the tray and removing the mitts
"is this what you've made?" hotch asks, a little chuckle in his voice as he peers down
"me and rossi made them. but yeah" you smile, looking at him. his t-shirt fit him so nicely, his defined muscles straining against the fabric. he looked so good, so in his element. so different from the polished ssa hotchner everyone was so used to seeing.
"it smells really good" hotch looks back at you, his dimples deepening at your shock. you expect him to joke but he's genuine, nothing but sincerity pooling behind his honeyed eyes.
"would you like to try some?" you ask, picking a little piece on the spoon. he hums in response and you place it gently to his mouth, glancing back up to his eyes. you're lost in them, soaking up in his warmth. he smells like heaven, so soft and gentle standing beside you.
the attraction practically rolls off of him in waves and you want nothing more than to bask in his glow. you don't know who's moving first, but your lips are a hair away. all you had to do was lean in, you dreamt of this moment so many times. finally excited it was happening.
god he's so near but miles apart
"how is everyone doing??" garcia comes in excitedly and you both jump apart, looking at each other before looking at her. her eyes narrow behind her colourful glasses and you make up some excuse, not really wanting to delve in what was going on. you couldn't make sense of it yourself.
"n-nothing, do you want some wine?" you quickly guide her back to the main room so she doesn't ask anymore pressing questions. she immediately gushes at how good it smells and you're relieved, looking back to hotch who gives you a gentle smile. he tips his glass towards you and you chuckle, shaking your head. but your heart feels weirdly empty, like you had missed on something so magical.
maybe one day
rossi had gathered everyone around his mansion, determined to play a little cupid tonight. unbeknownst to you or aaron of course. you all sit around the blazing fire, comfortably with your glasses in your hands.
with your inhibitions lowered, talking to hotch felt like talking to a dearly beloved friend. once the words poured out from your lips, you couldn't stop them. and everyone cheered you on, any entertainment was enough for them. it had started off with small glances, tiny touches before you were full blown flirting with him
and the team observed how he simply stuttered through his thank yous, just smiling while his cheeks reddened. it was such a stark contrast to how he would've usually acted with anyone else. with you, he rather actually enjoyed it. he liked your attention and you loved his.
so they all nodded a secret head shake, looking back to you both again. completely and blissfully unaware of what they were planning
"truth or dare?" garcia pipes up, her eyes devilish as they land on you.
"what?" you're confused on what's happening, on the sudden shift of atmosphere. like they were profiling your every move, eyeing your every word.
"yeah, truth or dare pretty girl" morgan raises an eyebrow paired with his knowing smirk, taking a swig of his drink.
"uh.... truth" you eye them both, not wanting to entertain whatever activity they had planned
"okay, say something you love about the person on your right" garcia giggles while you completely look baffled. and then it hits you, hotch is next to you, on your right.
"oh-" you begin but hotch cuts you off, giving the team a slight glare and a shake of his head.
"you don't have to say anything y/n, they're-"
"i love your dimples. they're so cute and they suit you so well" without missing a beat, you comment and he simply watches you, his eyes a little wide. his mouth was parted for a response but no words came out. you couldn't possibly be flirting with him, he was ridiculous for even thinking it. you were being just nice, like how you were with rossi and spencer. he wasn't any different, he was just a friend. he had to force himself to know that.
"this is the part where you thank her" rossi nudges his shoulder and aaron coughs a little, composing himself right away.
"r-right, right. i... um.... like your smile too" he manages to say, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck praying the ground would swallow him whole. he was so completely out of the game it was painful.
"thank you" you don't hesitate, giving him a beautiful smile
and the game continues as does your alcohol intake. you didn't even mean to take so much and you usually handle it well. but maybe drinking wasn't the wisest decision you made.
"and don't forget the beard!" emily laughs and you nod eagerly, pointing towards your boss once more
"i'll never understand why jack never liked it. you looked so good with it. definitely putting the hot in hotchner with that one" you hear the team making the sounds
they look at hotch who glances at you, his heart thumping with an emotion he hasn't felt in years. he noticed something different in the last couple years, a genuine smile.
"i think we should get some air" hotch takes you, choosing to ignore morgan whooping and penelope's winking at you.
he touches you, so gentle and tender. it feels like too much and not either at the same time.
"s-sorry i think i'm kinda drunk" you stammer, as you both walk out on the patio. the air calms you, washing over your skin while you curse yourself internally for what you had done. no doubt tomorrow morning he wouldn't be able to even look at you and you couldn't blame him
"i-" turning around you expect to meet his solemn face but instead you're taken aback when your cheeks meet the warmth of his chest. his steady heartbeat echoing in your ears while his hands come to wrap themselves around your waist.
"hotch?" you ask gingerly, clinging on to every moment. you feel dread creep in the cracks of your heart, hoping he wouldn't push you away after everything that was said tonight
"i like you" you feel a crushing weight in your heart, was that all he thought of you? just as a friend? you had proclaimed your love for him so loudly only for him to think of you as just a measly friend.
"i..... like you too" you deflate a little, stepping a little back. the embrassment had managed to sober you a little and you want to reach for your phone to call a lift home and pretend this night had never happened. cry into your pillow, knowing you could never have him as badly as you desired to.
"no, i mean i like you more than a friend" he chuckles gently, holding your hands. you pause, looking up at him, not daring to anything until he confirms them. and he does, you could faintly feel his hands rubbing the softest of circles on your palm.
"i love you y/n l/n" and there it was. the sentence you had hoped and prayed for you, dreaming of how he would say it. nothing could compare to now, right here. you wonder if he even said it, but if it was a dream it was one you had no desire of waking up from.
the lines were smudged like the red lipstick of a lover. it was like the pair of you were attached together with a rope. everytime he pushed you away, the elastic tension brought you closer than before. and when you pushed him right back, it snapped you back together again
"kiss me" the words spill out of you like ink on a canvas, with a mind clearer than it has been for time now.
"i'd never refuse a lady's wishes"
maybe i could save you from your sins
part 2 to if he's as bad as they say, then i guess i'm cursed
a/n: 18+ mdni w my work or my blog. i will block you if u follow me w no age in ur bio. wow this took for freaking ever lol. i hope yall like! again, this is prob wildly ooc but i literally don't care 😚
cw/tw: typical GOT stuff, war, death, ummmm descriptions of death (nothing super specific), threats of sa (!! not by sandor !!) but no actual sa, language, sandor is a lil shit and actively self sabotages lol, masturbation (f), voyeurism, getting caught masturbating, p in v sex. weirdly soft and intimate sex, slightly ambiguous/open ending ig + obligatory au tag bc idk wtf is going on and still haven't finished the show 😜
title from lana del rey 'mariners apartment complex'
summary: what happens after your marriage with sandor?
if you think any additional warnings are needed, pls let me know
word count: ~7.3k
comments and reblogs much appreciated <33
not beta read. all mistakes are my own
can also be found on ao3
You don’t even have time to get used to your new marriage.
In the week after the ceremony, there is a war declared in the Seven Kingdoms, and your husband is one of the first people sent away. You pack his things with shaking hands and tell him to be safe. He stares at you, eyes narrowed, like it’s some trick.
You repeat yourself. “Be safe, Sandor.”
He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath and takes his things out of your hands. He gets up on Stranger and rides away without even saying goodbye.
It stings more than you would like to admit.
The sun is high as you take another step, thighs aching from walking up mountains and down valleys for days on end. You lick your lips, desperate for water, but refuse to say anything to the man next to you.
You’re stronger than this. You will not give in.
Taking another step, you stumble on the muddy ground. It’s like the earth wants to swallow you whole and pull you down to the depths of hell.
You stop, just for a second, just to catch your breath, and somehow trip over your feet. You’re tired and you don’t have anything left in you -- no fight and no energy -- so you pitch forward, falling on your knees.
“Get up,” the man spits out from above.
It’s a small miracle your face isn’t painted with mud.
“I said,” he says, spitting at your feet. “Get up.”
But you can’t. Squeezing your eyes, you wait for him to kick you in the back of the head, like he’s done before. It doesn’t come. Instead, someone pulls you up from the ground. You look up, wondering who has come to your rescue and see your husband's face glaring down at you.
It’s been months since you’ve seen him and his face is fuzzy and too bright because of the sun behind him. You lick your parched lips. His hair is longer, and he looks tired. Exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that’s bone deep and lives inside of you forever.
You take in a deep breath and feel the smooth fabric of his tunic. Maybe you fainted, or you’re hallucinating right now, the lack of food and water finally getting to your head. Or maybe you’re dead.
Sandor, Sandor Sandor Sandor, says your name and you take in a deep, gulping breath, squeezing his forearms. The sun is hot on your hair and the air is sticky against your skin. You know that you aren’t unconscious or imagining things or six feet under.
You are awake and alive and real. You open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, eyes flitting from your face to the man next to you.
The man, Umber, gets down from his horse. “City isn’t safe for ‘er.”
Your stomach curdles. What an understatement.
“So you bring her here?” Sandor practically growls, and by here he means a war camp and you have to agree. The smell of death and shit and piss is heavy in the air. The men behind Sandor look thin and angry.
“Just following orders,” Umber says, looming over you.
You shrink back into your husband, who steps to the side, shielding you from Umber’s oily stare. It’s unfathomable that you should feel safe with Sandor, a man you barely know, but you do. Gods, you do.
Sandor grinds his teeth together and doesn’t say a word. He just turns around and the grip you have on his cloak slackens, and you pitch towards the ground again. He grabs your arm before you fall, fingers digging into your skin, and he drags you to his tent.
You stumble in behind him and take a breath. The tent, ridiculously enough, smells like home. Lemon and the soap you use for laundry.
“Where’s your stuff?” he asks, looking down at you.
You lick your lips. You hoped he wouldn’t ask that.
“Where’s your horse?” he asks, squinting at the opening of the tent, like he’s just now realizing how you entered the camp.
You let out a nervous laugh, stomach turning, and shake your head.
He lets out a breath. It’s sharp and flat and angry. His grip tightens around your hands. You don’t bother pulling away.
You run your tongue over your teeth and notice that he has a cut on his cheek; barley healed and crusted with blood. How could you have missed that?
“He asked me for something,” you whisper.
Show me that pretty little cunt.
“But I said no,” you continue, fingers digging into his forearms. “And he--” your breath hitches.
“He what?” Sandor asks, with a calm that chills your blood.
“He cut my horse loose and made me walk the rest of the way.”
“He made you walk the entire way,” he says. It’s less of a question and more of a statement, but you nod nonetheless.
His grip tightens on your arm and your breath catches in your throat. “I said no,” you whisper again. He has to know that.
He looks down at you, face twisting in confusion. “What?”
“I said no.”
His mouth twists open and his grip on your arm slackens. “I know that,” he says, voice surprisingly soft.
Then he leaves, cloak billowing behind him, and you stand there, swaying on your feet in the tent that smells like the home that you lost.
It happened all at once.
Once Sandor left King’s Landing, you were moved out of the castle and the hate the people had towards him was directed towards you. In the markets you were spit on and ignored. In the castle, you were ridiculed and treated worse than a whore on the street.
You went crying to the High Septon. You had once found comfort there after your mother passed and hoped you would find it there again. Instead, you were told to atone for your sins. Repent and pay penance, girl, the High Septon, the same one that wed you and Sandor, told you in a sept that smelt of sage and old wine. And you shall be forgiven.
Atonement and repentance and penance.
Later that night, your house was burned down with you in it. You don’t know how you got out. No one came to help you, you know that.
What penance should you pay for almost losing your life?
Then it was commanded you were to leave the city. Go back to your husband. Who are we to keep the Hounds bitch safe?
It happened all at once; that’s what you tell Sandor.
You grabbed random clothing that was hanging on the servants line and got put on a horse guided by Umber. You think they meant for you to get killed on the road.
Atonement and repentance and penance.
Umber cut your horse loose, held food and water from you, kicked you in the back when you moved too slowly. Show me that pretty little cunt. And you walked and walked and walked until your feet were blistered and bloody.
Atonement and repentance and penance is what was asked of you. But what sins did you commit?
You pad around the tent aimlessly. Of course you’re tired, but you’re also absolutely restless. Seeing Sandor seemed to awaken something in you.
You can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.
Finally, after what seems like hours of pacing, you sit on the edge of the bed, which is more of a cot, and yawn. The world seems to tilt as you let out a breath. Every bone in your body aches and you close your eyes, sinking back. It’s infinitely more comfortable than the ground you’ve been sleeping on for the past few weeks and it takes you less than a minute to go to sleep.
When you wake up, it’s dark, and the air is heavy with smoke. It smells like roasted meat and you can taste the ash of the blacksmith's fire. There’s a figure at the foot of the bed and you scramble up, pulling your feet away.
Your head is still thick with sleep and you forget where you are and you swear you can hear Umber's raspy voice. No one needs to know what we do, love.
The figure says your name, and it takes you a second too long to realize that it’s Sandor, Sandor Sandor Sandor, and not some stranger.
You put a hand to your heart. It’s thumping wildly in your chest and it roars in your ears. “Sandor,” you say.
He doesn’t say a word back.
You swallow. “You scared me,” you whisper.
Again, he ignores you but he gets up to light a candle in the corner of the tent. His sword glints in the dim light and you notice a bloody rag placed on top of the hilt.
You avert your eyes. It’s better not to ask questions.
Before you can nod, he sets a plate on your lap. Mutton and rice, the steam hitting you full in the face. Your mouth waters and you rip a chunk of meat; stuffing it in your mouth. You almost moan at the taste and miss the flash of amusement that crosses Sandor’s face.
He sits back down on the edge of the bed, the frame dipping under his weight.
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Did you--do you want to share?”
He angles his face at you, burnt side first, but you refuse to lower your gaze. His eyes are soft pools of brown. You could drown in them, you think. “I already ate.”
You nod and the two of you sit in silence.
Swallowing the last of your food, he finally speaks up. “We’ll share the tent. I’ll bring you food and whatever you need.”
Your mouth twists at that. How about a new life?
Sandor keeps his eyes trained on you, oblivious to your inner turmoil, and says your name. “Whatever you do, don’t go out.”
You aren’t stupid, you want to say. You know not to go out in a camp full of men, half starved and crazy. But all you do is nod. “Ok.”
He stares at you, mouth turned down, and you whisper your agreement again and he nods, going back to polishing the blade of his sword even though it’s already gleaming.
You yawn then, and it steals your breath. Sandor looks over at you and you can’t help but blush, smoothing your skirt down to avoid looking him in the eye.
“Go to sleep,” he says in that same, soft voice he used earlier. You blink up at him as he sets his sword down and blows the candle out.
You can’t tell if you’re dreaming when he mutters, “What am I going to do with you, little lamb?”
The next morning, Sandor watches Umber get in line for breakfast. His laugh is obnoxious and jokes lewd, which never bothers Sandor, but something about this fucker talking makes his eye twitch.
He thinks back to how you shrank in fear when he turned to look at you. It makes Sandor grind his teeth together.
You watched him leave the tent this morning, eyes hazy with sleep but still sharp. You were dressed in one of his shirts, your dress hanging out to dry. His mouth goes dry as he thinks of the smooth line of your shoulder. He expected you to say something this morning, as you watched him leave. Something like, don’t do anything rash or keep your head on, Sandor.
He liked it when you said his name.
But you didn’t say anything, just waved lazily before pulling the sheets back up over your body and going back to sleep.
It was one of the things he admired about you. You were pragmatic. Realistic. You understood that this world will chew you up and spit you out if you weren’t careful.
Umber loudly complains about his portion of food and Sandor grips the hilt of his sword.
He wonders if Joffrey knew--
He shakes his head. Joffrey couldn’t find his way out of a room with all the lights on and an army behind him.
Umber throws him a wink, like they are brothers, and Sandor spits on the ground and straightens his back.
It’s time he has a little fun.
There’s the sound of men yelling outside, but it doesn’t bother you. It hasn’t bothered you in a long time.
You focus back on the shirt that you’re mending, making sure the stitches are tight and uniform.
Suddenly, someone pushes through the tent and it makes you flinch.
You take in the tall silhouette of your husband and relax, then you notice that he’s holding someone by the hair. The man is muddy and covered in blood, and it takes you a second to recognize exactly who it is.
When you do, your blood turns to ice.
Sandor throws him to the ground and the man says your name. “I’m sorry! I-please, please forgive me.”
You look up at Sandor but his eyes -- filled with so much hate you wonder how he can breathe -- are trained on the man in front of him. Umber lets out a pathetic sound and Sandor kicks him in the stomach, snarling something ugly under his breath.
Umber speaks up. “My lady! My lady! I am truly sorry. Please, please forgive me.”
You run your tongue over your teeth and look back up at Sandor, who’s finally looking down at you. You tilt your head to the side, asking a silent question which he answers by clenching his fist and pointing at Umber.
“Fucker deserves it.”
You nod. “Yes he does,” you whisper.
Umber tries to scoot away from Sandor, and you wonder how someone could be so stupid. Sandor grabs him by the hair and forces him to look at you.
Umber licks his lips and tries at a smile. “M-my lady, I am truly, truly sorry for what I did on the road. It wasn--”
There’s a tide of hate that suddenly rises up inside your chest toward the man now cowering on the ground and it surprises you. Steals your breath away.
“It wasn’t your intention?” you interrupt him, voice surprisingly steady.
His lips tremble and you wonder how you could have been so scared of a man who is so pathetic.
“B-but I re--”
You wave your hands in front of your face in a dismissive motion and pick the shirt back up, folding it over your lap.
Out of the corner of your eye you see Sandor yank Umber’s face back and whisper something in his ear. His face goes white and you can’t help the smile that takes over your face as he’s dragged out of the tent.
You don’t see Umber again for a long, long time.
You begin to watch Sandor in a way that borders on obsessive.
He’s unfailingly gentle with the horses and hates the other knights more than you do. You keep the tent flap open and watch him talk with his men, crowding around the fire. His eyes are dark and heavy and always find you.
He ends up buying you a dress. It’s simple, with a skirt that doesn’t quite skim the ground, making it easier to clean. He even buys you a pair of boots, soft leather and exactly your size. You swear your heart grows three times.
You look up at him, running your fingers over the stitching. “I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper.
He just grunts and turns his head to the side. You lick your lips and look down at the ground. “I should clean up before I put this on.”
That’s when he decides to finally look down at you, seated on the edge of the bed. You hold his gaze. His lip quirks up and he nods. “You do that, lamb.”
You nod back, blushing, as he walks out the tent.
There is no hot water in the camp but you make do; asking the men standing in front of the tent to bring you buckets of water. They oblige, knowing they would face The Hound’s wrath if they refuse. You bring the buckets into the tent and strip out of your old clothes, that were never yours to begin with, and scrub every inch of your body. The cold water makes you shiver but once you’re done you are gleaming.
You wish you could wash your hair. It is one of the luxuries you miss from King’s Landing.
Once you are dry and your hair is braided back, you begin to put the dress on with care, making sure not to tug on the laces too tightly. It’s been so long since you’ve had something new.
Smoothing down the skirt, you do a little twirl, already feeling like a new person. Looking back down at your old clothes, you wish you could burn it. Ask Sandor to use it to start the evening fire. But you can’t and you know this. It would be stupid to waste the meager resources you have.
You set the old dress to the side and make a mental note to ask Sandor to take you to the river so you can do the washing.
When he comes back you are half asleep, slumped up against the pillows and the wall, a tunic draped across your lap.
He clears his throat loudly and you jerk awake. He pushes down the feeling of guilt that comes as he watches you rub the sleep out of your eyes.
“Hello,” you murmur, folding the clothes you are mending.
He doesn’t say a word but, regardless, you see the question in his eyes, and you answer as you stretch. “I’m mending your clothes. Just because they go under your armor doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be nice.”
He just blinks at you and you smile, eyes dropping to the plate of food he has in his hands. You set the stack of tunics to the side so he can give you the plate. And you eat, legs folded underneath you, cheeks glowing in the candle light.
Something uncomfortable wells up in his chest as he looks you over. You’ve filled out in your time in the camp and for one to fill out on rations…
It must have been miserable in King’s Landing.
He stays, watching you eat slowly and quietly. “We are leaving tomorrow.”
You perk up and look up at him. “Where are we to go?”
“Do you think that matters? Just pack your things.” Then as an afterthought he adds, “It would serve you well to not slow us down tomorrow.”
Your face goes blank and you grip the plate tight in your hands. “And if I slow you down what will you do? Make me walk the rest of the way?”
He tilts his head to the side. “If I must.”
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He swears your eyes glimmer with unshed tears but you turn your face away so he can’t be sure. You take a breath and the grip you have on the plate loosens. “Would you like me to pack the rest of your things as well, Ser?”
He lets out an amused snort. He cannot find it in himself to be angry at the title. “Do whatever you want.”
And with that he leaves.
The morning light is weak and grey as you leave the tent. You are taken to Sandor’s horse by the men assigned to you and you wonder where your husband is.
You brush Stranger’s mane as you wait to leave. You wonder if you will get your own horse or if you will be forced to ride with one of the men. The thought makes you shiver.
The wind howls, making tree branches snap and leaves rustle. Your eyes find something swaying in the distance and you take a step back, squinting at the figure.
You think you know what it is but you can’t be sure. Pulling the skirt of your dress up, to prevent the hem getting dirty, you make your way to whatever is swaying in the tree.
The men behind you scramble. “M’lady,” they say. “Come back,” they say. You ignore them.
When you get to the tree, you look up, swaying in time with the mangled, bloated body that is strung up.
Show me that pretty little cunt.
His face is smug even in death, and you stare and stare and stare, taking in the bruises and the cuts that litter his body.
Atonement and repentance and penance. Is this what the High Septon meant?
Someone comes up behind you and before you turn, you know that it is Sandor. He doesn’t say a word and you stand there and stare and stare and stare. His hands skim your lower back and you know that it means it’s time to go.
You turn around, and with steady steps, make your way back to the horses. Sandor lifts you up onto Stranger’s back, and gets up behind you.
The city you go to doesn’t really matter, you think as you lean against Sandor’s solid chest. What matters is that you stay with him because you know that no matter what, he will keep you safe.
The journey takes three nights and each day leaves you exhausted. Sandor sets a brutal pace on his horse and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut to mutter a litany of prayers under your breath. It amuses him to no end and you can feel him laugh behind you, the sound carried away by the wind.
On the final night, you rest at an inn. It’s loud and crowded and Sandor keeps a strong grip on your elbow, making sure you don’t wander. Not that you would want to, of course, and you almost tell him as much.
He pushes you into a seat near the back and it doesn’t escape your notice that you’re next to the door. He comes back quickly, two plates in his hand. He sits down and pushes one of the plates in front of you and digs into his own.
Your plate is piled as high as his, with meat and roast vegetables and bread. It’s too much, you want to say. It’s too much for someone like you. But you say nothing and start to eat.
The innkeeper comes around and pours Sandor a glass of red wine and glances at you but doesn’t say a word.
Curiously enough, you are reminded of your wedding ceremony, a night you have not thought about in months. You are suddenly glad for Joffrey’s need to be cruel because of all the men that are in King’s Landing you know that your husband means what he says. He has made a vow to protect and care for you and he will stand by it.
The innkeeper comes around again, and this time he sets a tray on the table. They are almond cakes, you notice, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You look up at Sandor who has his eyes trained on you. When you don’t make a move he rolls his eyes and pushes the tray towards you.
You break the cake apart and put a small square in your mouth. You think you can weep from the taste. You finish the rest of the cake and pick up the crumbs with the pad of your finger, letting them melt on your tongue. You look up at Sandor once more and swallow the warm feeling that makes its way down your body.
He takes a pull of his wine and sets the cup back down with a thud. “Time to go to your room, lamb.”
You want to ask him if he will come with you. There is no guard duty he can hide behind tonight. But you don’t ask him, just nod your head as he tells one of his men where to take you.
The room you end up in is bigger than you expected and in the corner--
You take in a breath and rub at your eyes because surely you are dreaming. But when you open your eyes it’s still there, a bath, and gods, you can see the steam from here.
Quickly, you undress, and sink into the tub with a sigh of content. You wash your hair thrice and scrub every inch of skin in the hot water. Nothing has ever felt better.
Once you dry yourself, you tie your robe loosely around your waist and brush your hair. You make sure your new dress is folded neatly in the corner and you take a seat on the edge of the bed, sinking into the soft mattress.
Almond cakes and hot water and a room to yourself.
You lick your lips and know what you must do.
He comes in late, expecting -- hoping -- that you are asleep. It’s just his luck that you are not.
Instead you have a candle lit and you are sitting at the windowsill. There aren’t even any mountains or trees to admire. All you can see is thatched, muddy roofs. He almost snorts. You must have a penchant for ugly things.
You get up and there is a curious look in your eye. Like you are on a mission. Like he is your prey. Then you smile and he just stands there, back against the wall, put off by the warmth on your face.
You walk up to him and undo his cloak, letting it fall to the ground. Next you undo his sword belt and now he is really, truly stumped.
“I have a confession to make,” you whisper, as his sword falls to the floor.
He cannot find it in himself to reply, especially as he takes in the robe you are wearing. It’s thin and gauzy and he can smell the fragrant soap you used in your bath. It makes his mouth water.
“I have not,” you say as you start to undo the buckles of his armor, “been a proper wife.”
You guide him to pull off his chest plate and place your hands delicately on his chest. “And for that I apologize.”
He takes in a breath and thinks that he must be dreaming. That or the innkeeper poisoned the wine.
You start to unbutton his tunic, nails skimming his skin. Sandor murmurs your name then and you lean forward, eyes trained on him.
“Did you ask them to make me cakes?”
“Did you ask them to draw me a bath?”
“Did you ask them to kill Umber?”
“Yes,” he whispers.
You hum, cheeks bright and eyes triumphant, and pull his tunic off, letting it fall to the floor.
He runs his thumb over the curve of your jaw. “The cunt hurt you,” he says as you press your face into his large hand. “And you–” you are mine.
“Yes,” you murmur, looping your hands around his neck to pull him down.
His lips are a breath away from yours and he nudges your nose with his. You take in a breath, looking up at him from underneath your lashes. “I thought of you in King’s Landing.”
He tries to pull back but your fingers dig into the skin on his back. “I did,” you insist.
“After what I did? Don’t lie to me girl.”
“I am not lying,” you say into his scarred skin.
“Followed the orders of your King,” you interrupt. “As do I. As do all of us.”
He doesn’t say anything and you press your lips to his. It’s a quick kiss. Chaste.
“I do not blame you for what you had to do, Sandor.”
But you should. Gods, you should.
He pulls back and you let him. He lets his eyes roam your face and he cannot find it in himself to doubt your words.
He pushes a lock of hair behind your ear. “And you think if you show me your tits all will be forgotten? That we will fall in love? This isn’t a fucking fairy tale.”
Now it’s you who pulls back. “Do not talk to me like I’m a child.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
“You think it’s childish to want us to respect each other? To find comfort in this union?”
“Respect?” he snarls, but you ignore him.
“I didn’t choose this either,” you say. “I didn’t want to get married esp--”
“Especially since you had to get married to a dog.”
“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You think Meryn Trant goes around calling himself a dog?”
Sandor snorts and you take a step closer to him.
You lower your voice to a whisper. “You think Joffrey thinks of himself as anything else besides a King? You thi-think th-that Umber thought he was a bad person? Do you think that an-any of those men out there are actually better than you?”
He doesn’t know how much of this he can take. You look so angry on his behalf that it steals his breath. Has anyone ever seen him as more than a dog? He doesn’t think so.
But you keep going, hands fluttering around your chest. “Y-you are mo--”
“Don’t lie to me,” he practically growls. Why in the seven hells are you being so fucking nice to him?
You actually stamp your foot on the ground like a petulant child and if Sandor wasn’t so angry he thinks he would’ve laughed.
“I am not lying. I do not--” you take a breath and look him square in the eye, “I do not want to be miserable for the rest of my life, Sandor.”
He glares at you then -- the same glare that turns kings into stuttering messes and makes knights and sworn shields fall to their knees -- but you hold his gaze and you don’t even tremble. The two of you stand there, the silence stretching for what seems like hours, before you walk up to him and place your hands on his chest.
You open your mouth to say something then think better of it. Instead, you lean up on your toes and kiss him.
And Sandor just stands there. When has anyone willingly kissed him? And it’s you, the woman he--
You pull back and your cheeks glow. “Sandor,” you whisper. “Please let me…let us be happy.”
Happiness? In this shit kingdom? With his shit luck? In this shit life?
“Please,” you say, tears in your eyes. “Don’t let him win.”
He actually laughs and your tears fall. He swipes them away with a finger. “Little lamb, I was put on this earth to be unhappy.”
You shake your head.
“Nothing can change that,” he says.
You beat a fist against his chest. “No.”
You hit him again. He lets you do it.
“Don’t do this,” you sob.
He pushes you back towards the bed.
“Go to sleep, girl.”
“No, Sandor. Please, don--”
“You will never get what you want. You were condemned the day Joffrey decided to curse you with me as a husband.”
“Leave it, girl,” he says sharply.
You look up at him with wet eyes. He feels ridiculously stupid, half naked and without a sword. He thinks you must have put a spell on him because why does he feel sad for you?
“Go to bed,” he says softly.
You let out a wet hiccup and nod, scrubbing at your face. Smart girl, he wants to say. If you push a Hound too far, he’ll bite. You know this better than anyone.
“Will you stay?” you ask.
His heart stutters in his chest. “Yes.”
It’s the least he can do.
You end up camping across the river. You spend your days lounging in the sun, watching the water shimmer and shine. Sandor doesn’t say anything. In fact he hasn’t talked to you ever since that night in the inn. Every time you remember what happened and how you acted, you go hot from embarrassment.
But he watches you, his eyes dark and unreadable. You want to ask what he’s thinking but you know he would never answer.
And the worst thing is that you are so bored. There’s nothing to do and no one to talk to and all you have is the hell that is your own brain.
The nights are sticky hot and one night -- you don’t mean too, really you don’t -- you think about your wedding night. The tent is dark and you swear you can taste the lavender that perfumed the air that when he bedded you and you swear you can feel the sparks of pleasure that lined your spine and how Sandor, in his own way, was unfailingly kind.
You bite your lip and lay back in the bed, lifting the cotton nightgown you have on, up around your hips. Letting out a sigh, you force yourself to relax back into the mattress. You spread your thighs open and trace your fingers down your body, over your nipples and all the way down to the seam of your cunt where you’re already slick.
The only person on your mind is your husband and you don’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed.
He walks by the tent and thinks about going in. He’s already sent the guards away. Even if he doesn’t go in he’ll stay out here. He can’t go in, he doesn’t think he can control himself if he sees you again, eyes bright and wide and willing.
He goes to sit down but hears a sound, one he hasn’t heard in a long time, so he opens up the tent flap. You let out a breathy moan and he can hear the slick sound of your fingers in your cunt. He flexes his hand. He remembers how wet you get and how it smears all over your thighs.
You must grind down the heel of your hand or trace a finger over your clit because you pull in a sharp breath and curse his name.
He thinks he stops breathing.
You say it again. Sandor Sandor Sandor.
He thinks about walking in and taking you. He thinks about the night in the inn again -- what a fucking mistake that turned out to be -- and thinks about how you were so willing to please, so willing to be his wife.
He sneers into the darkness, and listens to you come undone.
You bunch the sheets in your hands and bite your lip. Your chest rises and falls and you feel your nightgown stick to your sweat soaked skin. You think about him, his big hands and his big chest, and you let out another soft moan as your cunt clenches around your fingers.
The tent flaps open but you’re sure it’s the wind so you don’t look up as you let go, mind going blank as you cum. You suck in a breath, relishing the pleasure that still fizzles up and down your spine, when someone clears your throat.
You let out a scream and sit up, hand going under your pillow to grab the knife under there.
The person who walked in laughs and you unclench your fingers around the hilt of the knife. You feel yourself flush.
“What are you doing here?” you whisper, as he lights the candle in the corner.
“Why are you angry? Didn’t you want to be a proper wife?”
“Don’t make fun of me, Sandor.”
He looms over you and you glare up at him, hyper aware of how your nipples are straining against your nightgown and how your thighs are still slick with your spend.
“Want me to take you like a bitch in heat?” he sneers.
You jut your chin out. There is no doubt in your mind that he’s doing this on purpose, trying to goad you into tears, but you grew up in King’s Landing. You served under Joffrey. You are stronger than he will ever know.
Instead of answering him you stand up. “Kiss me,” you say, and he narrows his eyes.
“Kiss me,” you repeat. “If you are not a coward.”
“You think I’m a coward?”
“I think you are more than a coward,” you say in the low light of the tent. “I think you are pathetic.”
The scarred side of his face twists into something ugly and you know that you should be frightened but you are not. You have not been frightened of him for a long time.
“But sometimes I think you are even lower than that,” you whisper. “Sometimes, I think you are nothing more than a spineless dog.”
The air seems to go still and your heart thuds in your chest. You wonder if he can hear it. You wonder if you have crossed the line. He takes a step forward and it takes everything in you to keep your feet planted firmly on the ground.
Then he kisses you. And you just stand there because out of everything you expected him to do it was not this.
He goes to pull away and that brings you back. You move your hands up and grip his cloak, the wool scratchy under your fingers, and kiss him back hard. He curses your name but pushes you back down on the bed. You pull him down with you.
You pull at the clasps of his cloak and he lets it fall. You fumble with his sword belt and push it away. He pulls your nightgown up and you push your thighs apart.
“Off,” you pant into his mouth, moving his hands to pull your nightgown over your head. “Off.”
He throws your nightgown to the side and the warm air prickles your skin and your nipples draw tight. He pulls his pants down and you move your hands under his shirt, taking in every scar on his warm skin.
He whispers your name in your ear and you nod, answering a question he never asked. “Yes,” you say. “Yes.”
He’s already hard, smearing against your thigh before pressing up against your cunt. You're still slick from when you touched yourself earlier and he slides in easily. The pleasure you feel is tinged with pain. You forgot how big he is and you push your thighs further apart to accommodate his big frame. You’re stuffed to the brim, hair sweaty and hands scrambling up his back. You whimper as he thrusts into you and he buries his face in the crook of your neck.
You let out a sound of frustration and grab his chin with your hands, dragging him into a kiss.
He snaps his hips against yours. “This what you want?” he snarls.
“Yes, Sandor,” you breathe, as he traces a hand up the back of your thigh to grip your ass. “Yes.”
He tries to move his head back down but you keep a tight grip on his face, pressing your nose against his cheek. “Let me look at you,” you whimper into the night.
He just kisses you again, fingers digging into your skin. You know that you’ll bruise later but you don’t care.
He cums quickly, with a quick snap of his hips and a groan muffled into your cheek. His cock dragging across your clit is what pushes you over the edge and you arch up into the air, moaning his name.
It takes you a second to come back down and when you do you notice Sandor staring at you with something that edges on fear. It makes you drag him down into a kiss. It’s soft and chaste but you know it’ll do more than words.
He kisses you back, trailing a finger down your cheek.
You think that now you can learn how to be happy.
A few weeks later there is a man from King’s Landing that comes with a message to the camp. He kisses the back of your hand and calls you Lady Clegane. You can’t tell if he is mocking you. The message details where you will go next; a dense forest that is a seven day journey away from the river.
On the last day you end up staying in a brothel. When you look at Sandor, tilting your head in question, he just clicks his tongue and says there’s nowhere else to go. The girls stare at Sandor when he walks in, then stare at you, taking in the way you clutch his cloak in your hands and lean into him to stay warm. You can’t help but blush when they wink in your direction.
The room you end up getting is surprisingly big and surprisingly clean. There’s a bath in the corner and you turn to Sandor, who’s taking off his armor. “It’s for you,” he says.
“Will you join me?” you ask with a smile.
He drops his sword on the ground and your smile gets bigger. “Please?”
He lets out a short breath but gets in with you all the same. He hasn’t been able to deny you anything in a long time.
You're pressed up against his chest as he smooths your hair back. The water’s gone cold but it’s not the worst thing that could happen. You trace a finger down his arm and lace your fingers together.
There are three words that thump against the hollow side of your chest. They hit you so hard your bones shake with it. You run a finger over his knuckles.
“I love you,” you whisper into the water and the hand he has on your hair stills.
You take in a breath before turning around, sloshing water all over the floor. You lean into him, breasts brushing up against his chest. “I--,” this is where you falter, not because you are unsure of the words you are saying, but because his eyes are so serious it makes your heart ache. “I love you,” you say more clearly this time.
He doesn’t answer, just stares and stares and stares. Then--
He kisses you, swiping his tongue across your lower lips so you can open your mouth. The kiss leaves you breathless and when he pulls back his brows are pulled down.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
“I love you, Sandor.”
“I love you.”
“Again,” he says, voice going ragged.
You lean in closer and drag a hand over his hardening cock. “I love you,” you whisper.
He groans into your ear, grabbing your hips to pull you forward. You let out a little laugh that turns into a gasp as he starts to push into you.
You sink down on his cock and throw your head back. His hands go up your hips to your tits, running a hand over your nipples.
“Again,” he grits out.
You rock forward, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. “I love you.”
His hands make their way to your jaw and he pulls you into another kiss. “Again.”
“Sandor,” you whimper as his hands rest around your throat.
“I love you.”
Later that night, when your back is pressed up against his chest and his face is buried in your neck, deep into sleep as you trace your fingers over his knuckles and mouth the three words to yourself again.
You lace your fingers together and marvel at how big his hand is compared to yours.
“I love you,” you whisper into the night.
His breath is even and you think of the High Septon’s words, to repent and pay penance so you can be forgiven.
You think you have done enough. You think that this is all you need.
“I love you,” you say more clearly into the night as his hand tightens around yours.
Yes, you think to yourself, closing your eyes. This is all you need.
thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, and asks in my inbox are always appreciated!
Hiya! (Don’t know if requests are open but if not just ignore-)
how would the slashers react to their s/o who goes in and out of the hospital because of health problems?
Hope you Have a good day/night and stay safe! ^^
hiya my darling i especially love you and this is an adorbs ask 🥺 thank u for sending this in!! and sorry for the extreme delay 💞
i decided to include brahmsy because i miss him dearly 💗
Slashers with an s/o who’s in and out of the hospital
summary you and your slasher husband must make time for your hospital checkups and whatnot. how does this impact the relationship and mental health of both of you?😇💕
thomas is the one to carrying you to the hospital if it came to it. every single time. he just loves you so much 😭💞 he can’t let you be in danger. he is the first one at your side every single time you are in need of help with your health.
he will be a mother hen. anything that hoyt requests you do, he will be at your side making sure you are safe and protected, whatever it is. unless luda is there to help, he will be at your side diligently to make sure his love is doing okay and that they don’t need help🥺🌷
he is insanely protective. thomas is like a protective force field around you, literally nothing can harm you while he is your beloved protector 🥺💞 tommy notices when hoyt purposefully gives you difficult tasks he knows you won’t be able to do, and since then, tommy has made it his personal goal to make hoyt afraid of messing with you. and boy, he can be terrifying🥲
when the time comes where you need to be on the way back to the hospital, tommy is pushing through everyone in his way to get to you. 🥺 you are his heart, his baby, his beloved one. he is your sole protector and he will see to it that you get the proper care you need. don’t worry y/n, thomas is here to keep you safe.
he doesn’t mind doctors. just make his sweetheart healthy and there won’t be a problem🤗💗
jason is a little passive when it comes to medical stuff. i mean, he lived off the bare minimum after the lake incident, and then became undead so~~😂💞 but once he realizes the love of his life, the flower on his mountain, needs this medical care, he will do everything in his power to get them to it🌷
jason is very very understanding. 💕you had explained to jason that you are often in and out of the hospital for whatever reason. this might result in you disappearing for a few hours, to a few days at a time, but there was nothing you could do about it. 🥺 in those soft and expressive eyes of his, you could read, “i would wait forever for you.” 🌷💕
when you return, expect the softest princess treatment. jason has made the bed for you, lavished with new soft blankets and pillows. he has your favorite stuffed animals, and once you’re snuggled in, he gives your stuffies kisses before tucking them with you, and then giving you forehead kisses, and making a “shh~~” sound while stroking your hair😭🌷💗
he likes carrying you everywhere😭🥺 or at least holding your hand softly as he walks places. i think it’s a very soft manifestation of his possessiveness, and fear of losing you. he carry’s you like a baby, or like a baby koala, on your walks through the forest🥺💗 or if he needs to go somewhere and you want to go with him, he won’t hesitate on wrapping you in your favorite blanket and taking you with him💕🌷
with jason, you will be treated like the softest lil mushroom baby princess to ever grace earth🥺💞 unless you don’t want to be, at least let him tuck you in and hold your hand softly whenever you’re with him 🌷he’s just scared to lose you.
michael absolutely cannot stand doctors. as we all know, michael has not had very nice interactions with them growing up! in fact one could argue they ruined his life😭he definitely does not want that for you, but he understands that this is the best way for you to stay healthy💕
michael’s trust issues causes him to stalk you your entire stay at the hospital. whether that be days or a few hours. it’s definitely not for distrust of you, but for the doctors he despises. he knows if they were to even slip up once, they would be in an inescapable world of hell from him🥺💕that’s his parter they’re putting needles in, one mishap and they are all dead😩
in a way, he becomes your doctor too, ironically. if you have specific medicine you need to take, you best BELIEVE michael’s going to be standing with your meds in hand outside your door, AS SOON as you wake up 😭💗he watches as you eat, drink, monitors your caffeine intake, hides, trashes, burns any food he seems unhealthy for you. he’s hyper fixated on your well-being even though it’s not obvious.
you honestly will not notice it, but he’s hyper fixated on keeping you alive. he has stayed up all night, multiple nights, to watch how much sleep you’re getting😖💞he makes sure your water is filled up enough to his liking, your portions are ample, and every single prescribed pill (if you are prescribed medication) is downed at the exact time it’s supposed to be consumed😇
you will not notice at all how protective michael is over you. when he doesn’t approve of one of your doctors (for whatever reason) they are gone, and another will come in. he pulls the strings, and he makes it seem so effortless. all for you, all for his love, his darling one🌷💞
he cries every time you leave. “don’t leave me~~” he sobs. but in a way he isn’t crying for himself, and somehow you know too. 🌷💕he knows you’ll always come back, it’s why he loves you so so dearly. but what if you are too sick to come home one day? what if you die in the hospital, alone, and he’s left alone forever without you? 😭
he notices that you are tired and weak after your hospital visits. brahms certainly is selfish but when he loves someone as much as he loves you, he will go to ends of the earth to please you and earn your praise💗he will make you your favorite snacks, and bring you his favorite toys or read something from his poetry book 💞 it’s his way of showing you he cares!
g-d forbid anything happen at the house. brahms isn’t good at remembering when you need to take any medication or any special instructions for yourself given by the doctor❤️🩹😖what if one day you forget and you pass out or something? he is so anxious because if this and tries his best to make sure you are looking healthy every day. he can’t ever lose you y/n!🥲💗
you will receive a very clingy boi once you arrive back home😖💗 once you step back into the heelshire mansion, expect a rumbling and brahms stepping out from the walls, encasing you into his warm arms mumbling incoherent speech, his grip tight on your hips and waist. he missed you so much 🥺🌷
brahms will be very sad every time you leave to go to the hospital, but he must come to terms with the fact that it must happen. he struggles with severe abandonment issues every since his parents and greta left him, but he will learn that you will always return to him🌷
he will certainly not make a very big deal about it. and he will absolutely not relay any of your medical information to lester or vincent. you want to know anything about y/n? fuck off. it’s none of their business. he won’t like talking or hearing about your mortality or health, it makes him overthink and anxious and he doesn’t like feeling that way at all :(
generally, bo is extra gentle with you and extra angry with his potentially hazardous brothers. when you are feeling particularly sick, he’s speaking in hushed cooes while stroking your cheek🥺💕if you’re on the couch he makes sure both brothers know not to make any loud noises. he will tease you for being a couch potato while literally wrapping you in blankets and spoon feeding you apple sauce😭 he loves it when you visit him in the garage, talking to you is like a drug to him 🥺💞
bo goes extra lengths to make sure everything is in order. when the time comes around to make a trip to the hospital, bo is loading up the truck with necessities and blankets and whatever else you want. he has vincent help him sometimes. and he doesn’t want you to question a thing 💗 of course he’s doing this for you, baby girl. sweet thing, just get in the front seat and let him take control. 🌷
he sits with you and holds your hand or thigh in the waiting room. when the doctor comes around he sits up and shakes the doctors hand like a suburban dad before they take you back to do screenings and go over your symptoms and medications😭💗bo stays in the waiting room with his knuckles brushing over his chin, and watching the clock.
surprisingly, bo is extremely good at taking care of you. it mostly comes from him taking care of vincent and lester all those years. he is absolutely terrified at the possibility of losing you to any sickness you may have, but masks it with teasing words and his overprotective tendencies😭💗
he is very scared of being incompetent at taking care of you. he might go to bo for advice, and will feel guilty for not going with you to the hospital when the time comes😞🌷. he gets bo to get you a car to use when you need to leave for your appointments, and will not eat and barely sleep while you are away.
he gets some sort of communication between you two so you can update him when you are away at the hospital😊 this way he can know when things are going well, and get better idea of when you will be home. this helps his distress and separation anxiety a lot🤗💝
when you return home, you are going straight to your room. you aren’t even inside the house yet and vincent’s warm arms are wrapped around you, his hard chest against your back, his face in the crook of your neck breathing you in. you are finally home🌷 vincent takes your hand gently and leads you into your guys’s shared room, cuddling with you in the bed running his artist hands up and down your body.
he makes you little trinkets to bring with you to the hospital. he thinks of it as him being with you in a way, and sees it as protection 😇💕this also calms his separation anxiety in a way, and it gives him an excuse to spoil you in endless gifts, for his goddess muse 😩💞
since i think bo would generally leave y’all alone, vincent would be an excellent caretaker and really takes on the role of a mental support system. the texting is a huge help to both of you, if you are having anxiety at the hospital, vincent is right there to calm your nerves 😇💕don’t worry dear one, your darling husband vincent will always be by your side 🌷
PAC: Your Future Spouse's Music Taste
1 - 2
3 - 4
Meditate on each picture before we get started.
Note: I'm drawing one card for each pile. In case, I feel there's a need for extra messages, I may draw more.
Card: Ace of Wands Reversed
Pile 1, your Future Spouse appears to enjoy depressive music. I'm getting Folklore by Taylor Swift vibes. Put it another way, music similar to the album. It could be country music, but I feel regardless of the genre, they prefer lyrics that make you cry your eyes out. Words that are poetic yet tragic.
Your fs may be a Sagittarius, Libra, Virgo, Scorpio or Pisces (Sun, moon, rising)
Card: II of Swords, Ace of Cups, VII of Wands
Pile 2, your future spouse, has no particular preference in music. There's a possibility that they like 2 different genres equally. To get a clear picture, I had to draw two more cards, which were the Ace of Cups and the VII of Wands. With the Ace of Cups, I feel your person enjoys happy music that sets the mood. The kind that makes you feel like you're the main character. Whether in a romantic or a broader context. Nikki Minaj, Doja Cat, Ariana Grande vibes? May also be Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, Olivia Rodrigo, Conan Gray for some. The groovy tracks that put you in a good mood and make you want to dance. Most probably, the trending tracks on tiktok and reels? And with VII of Wands I'm getting they may have certain favorite musicians. Songwriters/Musicians who express their angst and passion through their music. Artists who use their music to tell their own story. I strongly feel they are into Hip-Hop or have an affinity for certain rappers who are known to be blunt story tellers, such as Kendrick Lamar, Lil Wayne, XXX Tentacian, and if they are into Korean Hip-Hop, Epik High, Agust D, RM and the like. Please excuse my ignorance of other excellent musicians and subgenres. But I hope I delivered my point.
Your fs may be a Capricorn, Taurus, Gemini, Aquarius, Pisces or Virgo (Sun, Moon, Rising)
Card: The Hermit
With the Hermit card, Pile 3 I feel your person is a soulful seeker. Someone who seeks the meaning of life, which is reflected in their musical preferences. They are most likely the people with the most unconventional taste in music.
They're more of a loner type. It's not as if they don't have any friends. It's just that most people don't understand them. The same can be said for their music taste. They are frequently the target of mockery among their peers because of the music they love. They're definitely not someone who would vibe to trending songs on tiktok. They, as well, are not a fan of mainstream bands and artists. They are likely to value music with deeper meaning. More likely to go for the underrated artists and bands. They enjoy music that is poetic but not necessarily calm and soothing. Words that just hit, is what I'm perceiving. It may be Punk Rock genre for some. Others may prefer classics. I can't pin down a specific genre or artist.
Your fs may be a Pisces, Scorpio, Aquarius, Virgo, Cancer or Libra (Sun, moon, rising)
Card: II of Swords in Reverse, King of Wands
With the II of Swords in Reverse, I feel your future spouse has no particular music preference. There's also a chance they don't like music at all. I apologise if this does not resonate with you or disappoints you. In that case, you can choose another pile. But based on the card that was drawn, I honestly don't know what kind of music they like. They may listen to music on occasion, but it is simply not their thing. However, for clarification, I drew another card, the King of Wands. It could imply that your future spouse is the type of person who is ambitious and a natural leader. They march to the beat of their own drum and thus, may not be drawn to activities that amuse everyone else.
Your fs may be an Aries, Capricorn, Taurus, or Leo (Sun, Moon, Rising)
Thank you so much for your time. I really hope it resonates. 💖
Your softer Ingo post made me think of him becoming malnourished in Hisui and after he gets back and regains the little extra weight he had before disappearing Emmet is just so so happy and so so pleased and proud and relieved because seeing Ingo so unhealthily skinny (cause looking at his wrists in pla does make me think this man is one stiff breeze away from falling over; god hates him) was so very distressing and worrying and Wrong so Ingo getting that little bit of softness back after a while spent in the time and space where he belongs is. uh I don't have the words to explain it so well but I imagine it means everything to Emmet and it does mean everything to me so. yeah. (I dunno man I just love your submas so much they're really cute and funny and make me feel nice things ♥) (also the recent Snitties has made me feel. other kinds of things. and made me question myself for the second time in my life, first being when I saw Salazzle) (sorry for saying that but I felt I had to mention it because I think it's also kinda funny) (I'm aromantic asexual but... goatdamn if I don't get where Ingo is coming from with joking about Lady Sneasler being his wife even if it isn't actually like That for him... Warden Ingo may I please have your blessing to ask your noble for her hand in marriage) (I'm not thinking of anything nasty I just genuinely like her I am. slapping my hands against the bed because I can't contain my joy whenever I see her while scrolling your blog fr fr) (thank you for all your work you are truly amazing goatdamn <333)
I was thinking about this yeah !! (also yes sneasler is girlboss momence) Trope where a character gets a lil fatter to indicate that they’re in a healthy & happy living situation my beloved ...<33
Post-eeby Ingo being (hypocritically) concerned about Emmet being so skinny and trying to the whole big brother thing where he smothers Emmet with whatever food he can find. Except Emmet is equally concerned abt the fact that Ingo is scarily skinny after living on a mountain (??) for five years. So they go back and forth on being concerned abt eachother until they mutually agree to eat 3 healthy meals a day together so that they’re both eating well !!