#needed to draw them. like a balm to the soul

[mrsfancyferrari]

Can you do an imagine about the reader going out with an F1 driver (I imagine Charles or Carlos), where the reader speaks their language, but doesn’t tell them. One day they walk in on the reader talking to someone on the phone in French/ Italian or Spanish respectively, and have a talk about it. Reader was hiding their abilities due to an insecurity about their ability. Alternatively they could be at a restaurant, where the reader is forced to use that language to order something.

Speak Baby

Summary: you are going out with Charles, you can speak his language, but don't tell him. You were hiding your abilities due to an insecurity about your ability.

Song: Heaven and Back · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

Word count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The soft glow of the lamp painted the room in hues of amber and gold, the late afternoon sun already having dipped below the horizon.

You were curled up on the plush armchair, a worn copy of “Les Misérables” resting open in your lap, though your attention was entirely focused on the phone pressed to your ear. The French words flowed effortlessly, a melodic stream of conversation with your cousin, Élise, back in Paris.

Laughter bubbled in your chest as Élise recounted a particularly disastrous attempt to bake macarons, the familiar cadence of your mother tongue a soothing balm to your soul.

"…and then, the oven, mon Dieu, it was like a volcanic eruption of powdered sugar!" Élise’s voice, tinged with dramatic exasperation, crackled through the speaker.

You chuckled, a genuine, unrestrained sound, “You know you should just stick to painting, ma chérie. Baking is not for you.”

"Oh, very funny," she retorted good-naturedly, “But you should have seen it! The cat even had a dusting. Anyway, how is le charmant Charles?"

You paused, a smile playing on your lips. "He's…fine," you said, a soft giggle escaping your throat. "He's been working late again, as usual."

“And still no clue about your… little secret?" Élise teased, the question a whisper of anticipation.

"No," you replied, your voice dropping slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Absolutely not. It's…it's better this way, Élise. I’m not ready."

You knew that you were holding out on Charles, but the thought of him judging you for your French was an insecurity that had been haunting you for years.

You had always felt like you were not good enough, that your accent was too strong and that your grasp on the language was not as good as it should be, even though you grew up with it.

You always felt the need to hide, to not draw attention to yourself, and so this was how it was with Charles.

It was easier to communicate in English with him, to be safe, even if your heart yearned to speak in the language that made you, you.

"You're being silly, ma belle. He'd be enchanted, I'm sure of it," Élise said, her tone gentle, trying to reassure you.

Just as you were about to respond, a distinct sound reached your ears - the click of the front door. Your heart leaped into your throat. Charles was home.

Panic seized you, and you quickly pressed the “end call” button, the dial tone a sharp, jarring contrast to the lilting French you had been immersed in moments before. You closed the “Les Miserables” book with an audible thud, feigning a casual air.

You straightened yourself in the armchair and tried to look as though you were simply relaxing, a wave of frustration beginning to wash over you for not being able to share this part of yourself with Charles, but also relief because you almost got caught.

"Hey," Charles said, his voice laced with that endearing weariness you had come to adore, as he walked into the room, tossing his keys onto the side table.

He hadn't noticed the phone in your hands and he pulled off his suit jacket and hung it up on the hanger behind the door. He looked exhausted. "Long day."

"Hi," you replied, your voice a little too high-pitched, betraying the sudden jolt of adrenaline still coursing through you.

You tried to act as nonchalant as possible, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush creeping up your neck, or the way your fingers were still tensed against the phone.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes, usually so bright, clouded with fatigue. "Everything alright? You seem…tense." He took a seat on the sofa opposite you, his gaze intense as he looked at you.

You had been with Charles for a year now, and he was always able to suss something out.

You forced a smile, "Just had a long chapter to read, that's all.” You showed him the book, hoping it would be enough distraction. “It’s quite intense, actually." You pointed to the book, gesturing with your hand. "This guy Valjean, he's been through it."

He seemed to accept your explanation, dropping back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. "Well, whatever it is, you should relax. Maybe we could order some food? I'm starving."

You nodded, relieved. The moment had passed, but the unspoken secret hung heavy in the air between you. The rest of the evening unfolded in its usual way, a comfortable rhythm you both had established.

You talked about your day, laughed at a silly movie, and shared a meal under the soft lamplight. Yet, beneath the surface of normalcy, the secret you harboured continued to prick at you.

He kept stealing glances at you, making you wonder if he might suspect something, but he never said anything.

“So you’re telling me he still hasn’t found out yet?” She asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“No, and I’ll keep it that way,” you replied, your smile fading. “It’s too risky, Élise. What if he thinks I’m a fraud? What if he thinks I’ve been lying?”

“Oh, come on,” Élise scoffed, “He’s clearly smitten with you, mon amie. I can hear it in your voice!”

You sighed, staring out the window at the grey sky. “You don’t know him, Élise. His native language is French, he knows it like the back of his hand. He’d notice if my French isn’t perfect.”

“And what if it is?” Élise countered.

You were about to reply, when you heard his voice from the kitchen. You jerked, your heart leaping into your throat. “I have to go, Élise. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, bisous,” Élise said, and the line went dead.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The roar of the Ferrari engines was a constant hum, a background score to the chaotic elegance of the Formula One paddock. You watched Charles, a whirlwind of charm and practiced ease, navigate the PR games with Carlos Sainz.

They were a study in contrasts – Charles, all focused energy and effortless smiles, and Carlos, a more grounded, almost playful foil. You knew this dance well, the mandatory media obligations that came with the territory of being a Ferrari driver.

You were happy to be a spectator today. You knew, with a familiar twist of warmth in your chest, that Charles would find you later.

You had a few hours of freedom, a rare commodity in this world of tight schedules and constant movement. You decided to explore. The paddock was a labyrinth of team trucks, hospitality suites, and workshops, a microcosm of the competitive energy that fueled the sport.

You wandered, absorbing the sights and sounds, the clatter of tools, the clipped conversations in a dozen different languages. You’d always been drawn to the undercurrents of these places, the human stories unfolding beneath the glossy veneer of glamour and speed.

That's when you heard it – a voice, high-pitched with panic, cutting through the general noise.

"Est-ce que quelqu'un parle français?" it called out, the words sharp and rushed. " S'il vous plaît, quelqu'un ?" Does anyone speak French? Please, someone?

The man, standing near a catering area, was clearly distressed. He was middle-aged, his face flushed, hands trembling slightly as he gestured erratically. A small crowd of staff had gathered around him, their faces a mixture of concern and helplessness.

They spoke encouragingly in English, but it was clear that they didn’t understand a word he was saying, which was why he was getting more frantic.

You hesitated. You knew French, fluently after all. It really was an insecurity you'd carried since childhood, a fear that your accent wasn't good enough, that you wouldn't be considered “truly” French.

Charles, in his easy, casual fluency, only amplified that feeling. It was easier to let him be the French one, to navigate that world without your input.

But looking at the man, his distress growing with each passing second, your resolve crumbled. You couldn't stand by and watch him suffer.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the people, your voice hesitant but clear, "Excusez-moi, monsieur. Je parle français. Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" Excuse me, sir. I speak French. What's going on?

The man's eyes widened, his face flooded with relief. "Ah, merci mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, his hands coming to clasp yours. "C'est terrible! J'ai perdu mon sac, avec tous mes documents et mes clés. Je dois partir cet après-midi, et je suis complètement coincé."

His words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of worries and anxieties. This is terrible! I lost my bag, with all my documents and my keys. I have to leave this afternoon, and I'm completely stuck

You listened patiently, your own French flowing effortlessly as you reassured him. You asked him for details about the bag, about where he’d last seen it.

You found out that he was here for a family visit, and he had to catch a train in the next couple of hours. With a mixture of calm questioning and reassuring words, you helped him retrace his steps.

You spoke softly, your voice a calming balm to his panic. The staff around you, previously frustrated, looked on with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude.

You felt a small spark of pride, a quiet satisfaction in using the skill that you have always kept hidden.

After what felt like an eternity, you spotted it – a small black bag tucked behind a stack of boxes in a corner. The man let out a cry of delight, his face cracking into a wide, genuine smile. "Merci, merci mille fois!" he cried, taking the bag and beaming at you. "Vous êtes un ange!" Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You are an angel!

You helped him check through the contents, making sure nothing was missing. You even offered him some water and a seat to calm him. He thanked you profusely again and again. He finally started to relax and calm down.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you." he said again, this time speaking English clearly, even though he had not, before. He smiled warmly at you.

"It's no problem," you replied, smiling back. A small voice interrupted.

"Hey babe, what's going on here? I saw this crowd?" Charles asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He placed a hand on the small of your back.

"This gentleman lost his bag, and couldn't communicate with anyone here. I was just helping him," you explained.

"Ah, but you were speaking French? I didn't know that you spoke French. Good job ma chérie," Charles said a little surprised.

"Oh, I... I learned some in school," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You felt a flush creep onto your cheeks.

You could feel the lie hanging in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.

Charles tilted his head, his eyes searching your face, "That’s really cool." He turned his attention to the man, addressing him in perfect French.

You watched Charles smoothly reassure the man that everything was fine and offer him any help that he needed. The man seemed mesmerized by Charles, thanking him profusely.

You watched them briefly, the ease with which Charles switched between two languages, how comfortable he was in the role of translator. It was a stark contrast to your feelings of self-consciousness.

“So, should we get going?” Charles said to you, turning to you, his hand finding yours.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You’d helped someone out, and it felt good. But the lie, that little secret you still held, bothered you. More so than usual now that he knew.

As Charles led you away, you could feel his gaze on you, a silent question in his eyes. You knew you couldn't keep this hidden much longer.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows across the Ferrari base. The air, still warm from the day’s heat, hummed with a quiet energy. You lay nestled in the hammock chair, Charles’s strong back providing a solid anchor as you sat comfortably on his lap.

The gentle rocking motion lulled you both, a peaceful rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the quiet whispers of the wind. You’d been dating Charles for a year now, and these quiet moments were your favorite.

Being alone, intertwined, was bliss.

He nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. You closed your eyes, your own breathing slowing, the world fading away.

You’d almost drifted off, the line between sleep and wakefulness blurring, when a voice sliced through the tranquil silence.

“Monsieur Leclerc, le débriefing commence bientôt!” a young voice called out, the French words sharp and clear. Mr. Leclerc, the debriefing begins soon!

You blinked your eyes open, startled, and looked around for the source of the sound.

A young woman, her face etched with a mixture of frustration and relief, stood a short distance away. She was clearly a member of the Ferrari staff, her uniform a stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere you and Charles had created.

“Mademoiselle, je vais bientôt réveiller Charles, alors ne vous inquiétez pas,” you said, the words flowing easily, a comfortingly familiar cadence in your mind. Miss, I'll wake Charles up soon, so don't worry.

You watched her face register surprise, then a wave of relief.

“Merci beaucoup mademoiselle Y/N, je vous laisse faire,” she replied, her voice softening. Thank you very much Miss Y/N, I'll leave you to it.

“De rien, je suis désolé de t'avoir fait le chercher,” you said, a slight blush creeping up your neck. You felt a pang of guilt for making her search for Charles. You're welcome, I'm sorry I made you look for it.

She gave you a small, thankful nod before turning and heading back towards the base.

You were about to nudge Charles awake when you felt a movement in your lap. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, were already fixed on you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That didn't sound like 'school French' ma chérie," he muttered, a playful yet probing tone to his voice. Your heart lurched, and a cold dread settled in your stomach.

You could feel your cheeks flush, the blood rushing to your head. This was it. Your little secret, the one you'd guarded for so long, was about to unravel.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice coming out a little higher and breathier than you intended. You tried to play it off, hoping your denial would be convincing enough. "I learned some French phrases, that's all."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Some phrases? You just held an entire conversation with Nathalie, in perfect, effortless French. Where did you learn that?"

You fidgeted, your fingers toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "Uh...well...you know, it's just...I've always been a good language learner." The explanation sounded weak even to your own ears.

Charles gently tilted your chin up so that your eyes meet. His touch was soft, but his gaze was intense. “Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now. “You’re fluent. Why have you been hiding this from me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your unspoken secret. And you knew you couldn’t lie to him any longer. “It’s stupid, really,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was always just…insecure about it. My native language is English, and I'm fairly average. When I started learning French, which was young, it just came naturally to me. I didn't think I was actually... good. I thought if I spoke it around you, you'd think I sound awful, like those tourists that always try and speak French to you.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

He took your hands in his, his thumbs stroking your knuckles. “Ma chérie, that’s ridiculous. I’m fascinated by languages. I spent so much time learning other languages for the sport, plus how could I ever think you sound awful. You could never sound bad.”

His words were soothing, a balm to your wounded pride. You looked up, your eyes searching his face. “Really?” you whispered, still a little unsure.

He chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “Bien sûr, Y/N. You’re amazing, in every language. And I am so incredibly curious. When did you learn it? How good are you even?” He had a teasing glint in his eyes now, and the tension that had been plaguing you started to dissipate.

“Since I was a kid. My grandmother was half-French and she taught me, always using French. She wanted me to have another language to use. She wanted me to have something special, so I never told anyone in school or anything.” you admitted.

“And you kept this hidden from me? For all this time?” Charles asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You nodded sheepishly. “I thought you would think I was trying to show off, I guess, and I was honestly just scared I’d be awful.”

He squeezed your hands, his thumb drawing small circles on your skin. “You are far from awful, Y/N, and I promise I never would have thought that, ever. But,” he added, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “I do have a few questions. And you're going to have to answer them… in French.”

“bébé, il faut que tu fasses le point avec l'équipe!” you said, the words slipping out naturally in French. Baby, you need to check in on the team!

Charles only grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me, ma chérie,” he said, his tone warm and affectionate and full of love.

“I know I’m so sorry.” you said, putting your head in your hands, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just so scared.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Don’t be sorry, mon amour,” he murmured, his voice husky. “It’s incredibly endearing, and it's one more thing I love about you. You have to tell me everything though from now on okay?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

He smiled, then his eyes glinted with a new mischievousness. “So, you’ve been keeping secrets from me, have you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Only this one, I swear.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning in closer. “I think that deserves a punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, raising an eyebrow, excitement coursing through you.

His lips found yours and he deepened the kiss, pushing you gently back on the hammock. The language barrier was forgotten as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt.

You could feel the passion in him, the soft moaning as he kissed your neck. You could feel yourself falling further and further into him, completely and utterly in love.

It was a long time before you pulled away for air, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

“What was I saying about meetings?” you breathlessly said, putting a hand on your chest, hoping your heart would slow down.

Charles chuckled, running his hand through his slightly dishevelled hair. “They can wait,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours, “There’s something much more urgent that we need to deal with, my petite française.”

You laughed then, and pulled him in for another kiss, knowing that your hidden language was now just another way to connect with the man you loved.

The rain outside continued to fall, a soft and gentle melody to the start of another chapter in your love story.

And you knew, with absolute certainty, that this new language you had shared with each other would only bring you closer, in ways you could never have imagined. . . .

[becertainlust]

Synopsis: Jerking off Sanji Vinsmoke+ making out

There are countless ways to describe Sanji. And somehow, you find yourself discovering new ones every day. His smile—boyish, tender, and dazzling—might just be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. The way he dotes on you, completely and without hesitation, sends your heart rocketing past the stars. It’s in the little things, too—how your chest tightens when he lazily lifts your hand and presses soft kisses to your fingers during quiet moments together. With Sanji, even silence feels like poetry.

The main cook—or better yet, the cook—of the Straw Hats is nothing short of priceless. Sanji doesn’t just hold the title; he cherishes it. With every dish, he pours in pride, precision, and heart, nourishing his crew not just back to strength, but to full percentages, as if refueling their very souls.

You held an important place on the crew—just like everyone else. But your favorite role, by far, was carrying out your girlfriend duties: smothering the blond in warm hugs and sneaky kisses when he least expected them.

Sanji would prance around from kitchen to drawing room, immersing himself tirelessly into accounting books, head pounding as he worked out the food list for the next three months. Whether believing ,he was human. He was. He was just as flawed, just as real, and just as breathtakingly beautiful.

Now, in the quiet dark of night, his fluffy golden hair is pinned back, revealing his face more clearly than usual. His stunning blue eyes are cloudy, heavy with exhaustion and more heat, as he struggles to steady his breathing. Even undone, he’s a vision. One only you get to see like this.

You held his cheek softly and like a prayer you whispering filth softly against lips, only wanting him to hear. You pulled back, smiling softly, this was all fun and honor in your eyes—getting to take care of your love.

Human like anyone else he needed care. You kissed his nose and forehead watching him writhe under your teasing touches—menace to the leaking head of his weeping dick, so pretty and so pink, and pearling prettily at the tip-top.

He could feel himself trembling softly against your touch, his body burning with fever and his senses drowning in a delicious mix of heat and pleasure. Every soft caress felt like a soothing balm against his burning skin, a sweet and blissful torture that made him shiver and moan softly. His blue eyes fixed on you, clouded with desire and heat, as he tried to focus on your lips and the sweet words you were whispering.

Every inch of him was on fire, the fever coursing through his veins like molten lava, the heat making his skin feel almost too tight for his body. He couldn't help but give into the sweet sensation of your touch, his body arching up involuntarily at the feel of your fingers tracing a gentle path down his chest. "Please," he gasped, his voice hoarse and choked with want. "More."

You could see the desperation in his lust-filled eyes, how his breath hitched and his body trembled underneath your touch. His skin was burning hot, as if he had a fever that only you could soothe. You could see the way his lips parted to let out a soft moan of pleasure as your touch became bolder, a shiver running down his spine when you kissed a sensitive spot on his neck. He wanted, no, needed more. He needed you. "Please," he gasped again, "More. Don't stop."

You were spoiled. Seeing him in every way imaginable. Whether it be ravishing you or loving on you you were always satisfied. But this ache to witness him beg remained on your mind, and he too saw how much you wanted to help—making efforts to initiate something but you would pathetically backout.

He had been waiting, watching as you shy away from him, holding back the want that you clearly felt for him. And now, with him laid bare and vulnerable before you, there was nothing to hide behind. He was at your mercy.

The air was thick with heat, the silence between you heavy and charged. He could see the way you were looking at him, the way your eyes flickered, dragging your gaze over his body, taking in every inch of him, and he could feel the hunger growing in them with every passing moment. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this raw, this vulnerable, and yet here he was.

His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited, his eyes never leaving your face. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, the electricity crackling in the air between you as he sits there, twitching under your strokes.

Every movement you made sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his breath catching in his throat as he gripped your thigh even tighter. He looked up at you, eyes hazy with lust, a silent plea in his gaze. He bends forward, his slender fingers squeezing at your thigh every turn under the head of his dick.

You lean your face before him, oh-so sweetly, "Do you feel good Sanji?" you whispered, heat rising into your cheeks by the minute.

You tried your best uphold the front, that was leaking away the more you pushed his reactions, a growing warmth spreading in your lower stomach.

He watched, his eyes hazy with desire, as you made a mess of him. He loved seeing the pleasure he caused, the way your face burned at his intense gaze, the way your breath hitched at his touch. He knew he was the one in control, but at the same time, he knew he was entirely at your mercy. He knew that you could make him fall apart with a single touch, and he loved every moment of it.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry from how quickly his breathing had become. He could feel himself slowly losing control, completely at your mercy, as you continued to make a mess of him. He could see the look in your eyes, the hunger and desire for him, and it made his heart race even more. He knew that you were enjoying this just as much as he was, and that only fueled his desire even further.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a short kiss. Your soft lips molding to his own. Teasing and hot. His breath would hitch when you experimentally squeeze the the base of hiss cock dragging it firmer up.

Truly he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned into you, leaning into your pillowy lips. Carving into you, a deep kiss holding your bottom lip hungrily with a small groan escaping his chest.

"You're doing so well" he praised, smoothing your hair with both hands, cupping the back of your head tenderly. You increased your efforts, the pace of your actions matching the rhythm of his kiss, your own body responding to his touch with a soft bite of your lip. You craved more, needed to hear him more.

He cursed softly letting his forehead rest to yours. His body was way to hot, his head spinning with the heat of it all. He then smiled so beautifully like his cares were being lifted. He hooked his hand in your hair softly, "you're making me feel so good" he captures your lips in another kiss and whispered 'I love you' like prayers.

You licked your lips, pacing faster his eyes falling to a close as you felt prominent jerks into your slick palm, you pushed him upright, allowing saliva to fall onto his strained dick, another curse muffled with his hand unwoven from your hair.

"Fuck" his eyes rolled back, head bobbing forward. You stroked him a tad bit tighter thumbing over the head where you added more spit, so slippery and easy to pass through your palm, you, in awe at the wetness that tricked down his balls onto the sheet below.

You groaned at the sight before you, his hip bucked up, a hand finding grounding at the back of your neck and his warning faltering behind the bold shots of cum to his chest, and an obscene amount coating your hand and you continued your ministrations, carrying him through the sparks in his vision, jerks erupting from his core where then, he began to groan deeply, "enough my—fuck, love enough" he weakly pushing your hand away.

[yourbloodysunrise]

helllloo

May I request Ninja! Reader who is older and wiser than the rest of the Ninja? Of course, not like Wu's age range area. like someone who can be relied on when the ninjas need help? or much more mature to take advice from. Reader may be considered sometimes, holding the group together or the team's "father/mother".

They're also the type of person that when you go out, you feel the need to remind them of where you're going just in case lol. I'm sorry if my request may appear very long.

Also, this is a reminder that take breaks when necessary during writing. Don't burn yourself out. Being passionate about writing is the best aspect. if you feel that nobody wants to read your works, just remember that there are people willing to request you.

from one writer to another. <3 x

🌤️ — mhmm, I guess you wanted to see the ninja team.

🌤️ — welp, thank you for request, enjoy!

°.✩┈┈∘┈୨୧┈∘┈┈✩.°

❝ Every team need a parent figure. ❞

— PAIRING: MAIN NINJAS x OLDER NINJA!READER.

— PLATONIC

— HCS

— TW: BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR, OOC, READER IS GN, I DON'T HAD MUCH IDEAS SO THIS CAN BE SHORT.

°.✩┈┈∘┈୨୧┈∘┈┈✩.°

— LLOYD:

☆ ┈ Welcome to the club "Teenagers who have problems with their parents", and here is it's leader!

☆ ┈ ..No, seriously, you must agree that all ninjas need a person like a reader, and Lloyd first of all.

☆ ┈ Considering that at the beginning of his appearance, his parents were not with him at all, such a person would be like a balm to his soul.

☆ ┈ As a child, Lloyd will follow you around like a puppy because he feels more comfortable with you.

☆ ┈ He was come running to your bed if he has a nightmare, because he feels safer with you, forcing you to watch cartoons with him (well, "forcing"..asks you until you'll agree)

☆ ┈ Perhaps he can even call you "mom/dad" a couple of times, but most likely he will stutter and run away in embarrassment.

☆ ┈ In the future, Lloyd will be embarrassed every time you want to remind him of this and ask you to forget about it.

☆ ┈ Lloyd is ashamed to admit it, but to some extent you will really be like a second parent to him. He is ashamed of this, not because he dislikes the very thought, just because he is shy by it.

☆ ┈ You have a difficult relationship with Misako and Garmadon, although Garmadon would respect you if he knew that you took care of Lloyd when he was a child.

☆ ┈ Usually, if he needs advice, he first asks Wu, then you, and then compares your words to draw a general conclusion.

☆ ┈ Lloyd usually don't asking for your attention, but moments that he spent with you together bring him pleasure.

☆ ┈ He still keeps some old things related to you, such as your drawing, which he drew as a child. He successfully refuses to show it to you, because he knows that you will take it to yourself and keep it with you.

☆ ┈ Overall, Lloyd will become more independent as he gets older, but this probably won't stop you from treating him like a child to his grief.

— NYA:

☆ ┈ Nya will act like a rebellious teenager. She understands your intentions when you want to help, but she insists that she can handle everything on her own.

☆ ┈ I see Nya as someone who shows affection for you when no one is around, and she keeps her distance in public.

☆ ┈ Although she doesn't talk about it, you were a role model for Nya until she was a ninja. She wanted to become like you, and she might even ask you to train with her when the other ninjas weren't around.

☆ ┈ Nya worries silently about you when you are on a mission. She doesn't ask you to be careful, because she's sure you're strong enough to take care of yourself, but there's still a slight worry.

☆ ┈ You are not a parent figure for her, but she appreciates your concern and the way you treat a ninja. She finds it..nice.

☆ ┈ Nya will chat with you about guys a lot. About how Jay can be weird but sweet around her, about how terrible Cole's cooking is, about how Kai can behave stupidly, in general, you understand me.

☆ ┈ Nya has many secret places and you are one of the few who knows at least half of them. These are mostly the old Samurai X bases where you get your weapons supplies from.

☆ ┈ Advice? Damn, nah. Nya would rather jump under a car than ask you for advice or help. She is independent, but she can be stubborn and believes that she does not anyone's advice.

☆ ┈ She sees herself as a mini version of you, but younger and more self-willed.

— JAY:

☆ ┈ Congratulations, you've officially got a jester at court.

☆ ┈ Jay resembles an annoying little nephew whom you love anyway. He tries to enlighten you in newfangled trends and humor, most of the time unsuccessfully, but he does not give up.

☆ ┈ Jay is so used to you that you can wander around the bathroom while he's in the shower, and he won't care. Well, only if you don't open the curtain, of course.

☆ ┈ He teaches you how to play his favorite video games so that he can have a playmate in case other ninjas are busy.

☆ ┈ He and Kai treats you the most relaxed, you are the same team member for him, just..older.

☆ ┈ Jay is someone who listens to your advice, but more often after he has suffered, so he learns from mistakes.

☆ ┈ Every time you go into the kitchen at night to have a snack or just drink water, and he will be there, he will hide behind the refrigerator. You see him, but you pass by, pretending that you're not.

☆ ┈ He wants to know more about your interests so that he can discuss them with you. Jay is always the one who talks incessantly when it comes to your company.

☆ ┈ Ed and Edna are on friendly terms with you, mainly because Jay praised you when he talked about his friends.

☆ ┈ He's the type of person who can abruptly drop everything just to come up to you and tell you a joke that popped into his head.

— KAI:

☆ ┈ He's acting like a jerk to you, and he's not shy.

☆ ┈ You are like a distant relative to Kai, sometimes you bother him with your wisdom, but he is still glad of your presence.

☆ ┈ Sooner or later, you'll probably join Wu and discuss with him how problematic Kai can be. If he accidentally overhears you, he will be offended for at least two weeks for sure.

☆ ┈ If you let him, he'll want to test his hair gel on you and try to do your hair.

☆ ┈ It doesn't work out very well, but at least it looks funny.

☆ ┈ Kai will sing into a comb, pretending that it is a microphone, and you will sit next to him as an honorary spectator and the only member of the jury. It's always terrible, but you put up with it because it's too funny to refuse.

☆ ┈ Before Nya became a ninja, Kai asked you to keep an eye on her while he trained/fought because he was worried about her and hope that you wouldn't mind.

☆ ┈ He will proudly tell you that he is capable enough and will not need your advice, and the next day he will come to you with a question about what gift to give Skylor.

☆ ┈ He will take a sudden selfie with you and send it to social networks, signing it somehow stupidly, like "hanging out with this ancestor yo🤘🤘".

☆ ┈ Just ask him to give you his phone and delete the post. (he still won't understand where the post with your shared photo has gone and after a while decides to make a new one)

☆ ┈ After a long training day, he usually falls asleep on your shoulder because he's too tired to walk to the couch or bed.

— ZANE:

☆ ┈ Behind the scenes, Zane is your child from now on.

☆ ┈ It always seemed to me that he and Wu have a relationship like a child with a father, so you'll have the same thing.

☆ ┈ He often asks you to cook with him. Zane often has to clean up after other ninjas, and if you help him with household chores, he will be very pleased.

☆ ┈ He likes to take a walk to free his thoughts, and he from time to time invites you to take a walk with him so that you can clear your thoughts too.

☆ ┈ Zane treats you with respect, probably like Master Wu, because he considers you a more capable and seasoned warrior, and this, in his opinion, deserves respect.

☆ ┈ You probably would have spent some time with Dr. Julien before he died, and you could have learned something new about Zane.

☆ ┈ P.I.X.A.L. likes you! She probably thought for a while that you were Zane's creator because of your relationship with him, until she realized that you treat all ninjas that way.

☆ ┈ The Falcon often flies around you, sometimes sits next to you and lets you touch it, most likely because of your connection with Zane.

☆ ┈ Zane likes to look at the stars and sometimes invites you to join him. Mostly it's just quiet, pleasant moments at night when you sit next to the monastery gate and enjoy the warm night.

☆ ┈ He will probably ask you for your thing and keep it with him, so that if you two are separated, he will have something that could remind him of you.

— COLE:

☆ ┈ Your relationship with Cole is enough..Good.

☆ ┈ He can sometimes make fun of you about your age, but usually it's nothing more than a harmless joke.

☆ ┈ He sees that you are cooking with Zane, and therefore asks you to cook with him too.

☆ ┈ This often saves other ninjas from food poisoning, so they ask you to do it more often.

☆ ┈ Cole will ask you what your favorite cake is and will buy it for you. If you don't like cakes or you can't eat them for health reasons, he will definitely find a replacement.

☆ ┈ He and Jay will have a competition to make you laugh faster. Who will win? Who know...

☆ ┈ He often invites you to dance with him, because for him it's a warm-up just like a workout. If you can't dance, Cole will be happy to offer to help you.

☆ ┈ I remember that in one of the episodes of the first season, Cole was fond of drawing (I do not know how I remembered this), so he also likes to draw you sometimes. If you also like to draw, he will ask you to show him your work.

☆ ┈ He is like an adult child to you. He's old enough to be responsible, but he's still a little stupid, so you're responsible for him.

☆ ┈ If you are tired or have fallen asleep somewhere before reaching your room, he will simply pick you up and carry you there so that you can rest.

☆ ┈ The two of you have a dynamic of "please don't die" and "you too."

..:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟﾞ｡.:*･ﾟ☆.｡.:*･ﾟ🌤

🌤️ — WHY DO I HAVE SO MANY REQUESTS, WHERE DID YA'LL COME FROM OMG

🌤️ — I mean, maximum number I had was 5, and so when I see how you, the readers, keep sending them to me at this week, I'm a little shocked 🧍‍♀️

🌤️ — well, so far I have no problems with this and I'm slowly writing them, so at the moment I have no plans to close the requests. I hope you enjoyed it, have a nice day 💫

[storiesoflilies]

t.w: mentions of death.

“don’t you know that the hour of your death isn’t upon you yet?”

grimreaper!toji stood there at the top of the hill, his figure a herald of darkness, while the moon tenderly hugged his back, bathing him in the only holy light he would ever know.

“you’re here,” she whispered breathlessly.

toji titled his head. “you called for me,” he replied smoothly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

(perhaps it was.)

the grass beneath his feet had wilted, flower petals withered and crushed under the cool metal of his boot. she couldn’t see his face beneath the wispy strands of his tattered black robes that shrouded him, but she didn’t need to. she already knew the color of his eyes, had felt the sharp curve of his jawline, and the press of his lips against her hairline.

she knew what death felt like.

and she needed to feel him again.

his scythe glinted dangerously, its sharp edge thirsting for an exposed throat. the wind howled around them, biting and gnawing at her cheeks.

“take me with you,” she finally mustered, her voice breaking like waves against the shoreline. “please.”

he was in front of her in an instant. toji was something half like an apparition, but she knew that he was real – perhaps more real than anything on this earth. she saw the shadow of his mouth beneath his hood and a glimpse of the scar on his lip, and wondered what sort of creature could have hurt someone like him.

“it is not your hour,” he repeatedly gently, like a soothing balm smeared over the aching pain in her heart.

she reached out, gripping the shreds of his robes in her tight fists. “i don’t care.”

toji’s lips curled in anger, and the wind howled even harder. “why be so careless with your life? does my blade not frighten you?”

(she could never admit it to him that it never had, and never would.)

his scythe of fire and ice. it had once delicately kissed the base of her throat as a lover might do, drawing only a single ruby droplet of blood. for reasons unbeknownst to her – and perhaps even to toji himself – he had coaxed away the death wrapped around her bones and drawn her soul back from the abyss.

her face crumpled, a single tear running down her cheek like silver.

“i miss you,” she mumbled pathetically, staring at the broad expanse of his chest doused in black. “so much that it makes my soul bleed.”

toji sighed, and sad and ancient sound. he never liked to see her so distraught, for it was in his inherent nature to comfort. to free a person’s soul from the shell of their body, to hold them in the palms of his hands to set them free into the sky before they had the chance to know any real suffering.

(death is kind – kinder than anything that belongs to this world.)

gloved fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face upwards to him. his lips were so close to her now; if only toji would bend down just a little lower, they would meet like the greatest oceans of the world colliding together.

“death would be your greatest doom.”

she shook her head. “no, it–you wouldn’t. i could go with you wherever you went, always.”

toji faltered, his mouth parted as the words danced on his tongue. finally, he admitted shamefully, “i do not wish to love you.”

but she knew that already.

she knew that toji regretted ever letting her know his touch, never meant for her to have ever heard his voice. to know death was to be draped in iron chains, binding her to him until the end of time, and he had always known it would happen.

toji had known all along and had done it anyway.

death is a selfish, selfish being.

her bottom lip trembled as he rubbed his thumb over it. “but you do.”

“and yet, i do.”

they stood together silently, her hands delicately holding his thick forearms wrapped in many layers of cloth. she wondered what it was that toji was waiting for. perhaps for an act of god. for the ocean to sweep them both into the deepest depths, her hand in his as the sky crumbled into swirling, inky water. she wondered if it would hurt, if it would be cold and lonely until toji’s blade fully kissed her.

(she knew she would not cry when death came for her.)

“close your eyes,” toji murmured quietly, relenting at last.

for death could never deny her.

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[sugarygetoo]

red.

-> pairing: rengoku kyojuro x fem! reader.

-> summary: kyojuro once loved red.

-> cw/ tw:  major character death, mentions of demons (duh!), blood, mentions of torture(?),

-> wc: 1.6k (i'm cooking so hard at 3 in the morning omg)

-> an. supriseeeeee i told you guys i was coming back with an angst this came to me while driving back home from a bbq party (i wasn't driving) so i really don't know what that says about me lmao

i lowkey just pulled this one out of my ass lmao, i have so many noted down ideas i need to write and i decided to write one that i came up with on a whim...

also, call me a sadist but i love when people comment about how they feel about my works, like i love it when they tell me how sad it is like yessss sufferrrr <3333

!! this fictional work contains many descriptions of blood, please proceed with caution, we as creators are not responsible for the content you choose to consume!!

main masterlist. | kimetsu no yaiba masterlist.

✎ xoxo, yena

kyojuro loves the color red.

it was a beautiful color, with meanings just as beautiful to go along with it.

a fiery red burns with passion. it’s bright and bold, always standing out from a crowd. it was a color that was made to make the person wearing it shine. like how his hair and eyes were always drawing people’s attention. 

a soft red, or some might know it as pink, carries gentle feelings — feelings, like love and “home”. it was a color that made kyojuro think about you. you whom he loves with every atom in his body.

red has always reminded kyojuro of you. 

you, who is forever always so lovely and shone ever so beautifully in his eyes. you, who engraved her every existence into the deepest parts of his very soul. you, who always whispers sweet nothings into his ears after a long day of work, telling him how much you’ve missed him and how proud you were of him and his accomplishments. you, who always burned with passion and kindness, like a flame that refuses to die down in the rain. you were home to kyojuro in every sense of the way, from your sweet, sweet words to your lingering kisses,  you were always so perfect in kyojuro’s eyes.

kyojuro had always loved the color red on you.

it was a color that was crafted to perfectly suit you. from the way it compliments your features to the way it made you shine brighter than anyone else around. red was a color that suited you like nothing else.

kyojuro loved the color red.

red, that reminded kyojuro of the time he brought you to a field of roses, where you smiled like a child and let out laughter coming from the deepest parts of your heart. where you kissed him and he was able to taste your favorite strawberry lip balm. where you stuck a rose behind his ear, thanking him for bringing you here while he sat and stared at you as the sun hit your back making you look like an angel that was sent from the heavens above to take him away (and he’d let you).

red, that reminded him of the time he proposed to you with a ring that was encrusted with a red gem similar to the color of his eyes on it. it reminds him of the way your eyes turned into a soft red as tears gathered in your eyes, as your soft pink lips start to tremble and a small gasp leaves you. the way you ignored the expensive jewelry and threw yourself onto him while he was on his knees, where you knocked the both of you over, sending both of you to the ground, the way your warm tears flowed out of your eyes and lands on his face, your soft, gentle lips leaves kissed all over his face. starting from his eyes, then to his forehead, then his cheeks, his nose, his chin, then finally, his lips. it reminds him of the way you replied to his question with a breathless yes after a breathtaking kiss. 

red, that reminds kyojuro of the carefully handcrafted wedding dress that the two of you were choosing. how it fitted around you like a second layer of skin. how the colors brought out your features and made them shine. it reminded him of how excited you were to pick out the dress that you were to wear in a few weeks time, how you would spend hours upon hours choosing between two shades of red (that he couldn’t tell the difference of), then decided to try them both on, only to pick a third option. it reminded him of you asking him for his opinion only to dismiss it as the only reply he could come up with was “you look beautiful in anything, my love” (which was true in his eyes).

kyojuro loved red.

red, that was the color of passion. the color that reminded kyojuro of himself so much. it was the color of the tips of his hair —  his hair that looked like the brightest of flames. it was also the color of his eyes. his eyes that always shone with pride and passion. eyes that you loved kissing and staring into. eyes, that you loved complimenting, always comparing them to the sun. 

“they’re the most beautiful pair of eyes i’ve ever seen. they remind me of the sun, kyojuro. they always shine so bright, even in the darkest times. they remind me of hope, of longing, your eyes give me strength, my love. you are the sun in my life, my light.” 

kyojuro once loved the color red.

red, that was the color meaning of danger, a color that was bright like a warning to those who sees it. red that meant anger and violence. it was a color that he sees often when he is sent out on missions. from red ornaments thrown around a house to red clothing scattered and in tatters, red was never a good sign. if anything, red always meant something was wrong.

red, that was the color of blood. a color that kyojuro often see while doing his job. it was a color that often stained his sword and clothing, making it hard to wash out. it was a color that kyojuro often hoped to never find while searching for a demon for if it was evident, it never meant good for the people that was once near the area. 

red was a color that kyojuro dislike while working.

red, that was the only thing that he could see. red that burns in his eyes, as his breath grows heavier and heavier and his world begins to move slower and slower. his eyes felt as if they were burning and he cannot feel anything. in the far distance, he could make out muffled voices and sounds of swords clashing, but he couldn’t move.

red, like the blood that came out from the multiple wounds that the demon sustained. the wounds that kyojuro himself tortuously carved into the demon’s body. red, that stained his clothing, his uniform and the haori that you painstaking made for him. he remembers every word you’ve said as clear as day, “here, my love, a gift from me.” you’d then help him put it on, layer it comfortably on top of his demon slayer uniform “i hope this haori can protect you, whether that’s warding the demons away from you or to protect you from the rain, i hope this haori can remind you of me”. kyojuro can only continue his attacks towards the demon, each swing of the blade planned carefully to never hurt the demon to much to the point of killing it. kyojuro wanted it to suffer.

red, like the color that sprouted from your body, staining the otherwise spotless white dress that you were adorning. you were on the ground, turned over, your stomach on the ground with your back facing him. you were unmoving as he closed his distance, his steps getting heavier and heavier as he got closer and closer.

from where he was standing, he could see you as you laid on the floor, your body unmoving as he called out to you.

“y/n?” he’d call out ever so softly, as if he was afraid you’d wake. “i’m back, my love.”

as he crouched down, and laid his hands on your shoulder, he could feel his breath leaving his body. you were so, so cold. he turned you over and—

all he could see was red.

red. 

red. 

red.

red, like the color that stained your white dress.

red, that dripped from your arm as kyojuro picked you up from the ground, that stained the floor of your shared home, that made the mansion smell like rust and metal.

red, that was the color of the flowers outside of his home, the roses, the poppies, the chrysanthemums, and the spider lilies. the color that dripped from your lips onto the white lilies that were planted closest to the porch, tinting them forever.

red, that dripped onto kyojuro, that still had some lingering warmth. 

red, that tinted kyojuro’s lips as he kissed you ever so carefully, from your closed eyes to your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, your neck, then carefully, he kissed your lips. they were bright shades of red, like the lipstick that was gifted to you from mitsuri but rarely used since you didn’t think it looked good on you. your lips no longer tasted like the strawberry lip balm that you loved using, but instead tasted of rust and metal, a taste that kyojuro knows he will never be able to forget.

red, like the gem on the ring that was left on your  finger, that was stained with your blood. the gem shines against the moonlight as kyojuro could do nothing but hold you closer to him, cradling your head into his neck as he rocks the two of you back and forth, his eyes watering as he hums a tone you once loved. 

as the sun rises, kyojuro kisses your forehead again, then lifts your lifeless hand to his lips as he kisses the cold ring left on your finger, a promise to you for revenge. he closes his eyes as the first ray of light enters his eyes, the sun finally showing itself to kyojuro. 

tears finally fall, as he realizes that you are gone. that you’ve gone to the moon to join the stars and he was left in this world as your sun, to be damned to shine alone.

kyojuro kisses you one last time, as he could no longer contain his sobs of sadness.

kyojuro hates red.

@ sugarygetoo, all rights reserved.

[dakusan]

hihi! first of all, i love your works. i binged them SO hard and now i’m left with some questions… do blood dolls get anemic from too much blood loss? do they scar from vampire bites? what’s common for vampire-blood doll aftercare?

i know it’s a little more biology focused, but i’m so invested in this universe i have to know!!

from, an anemic anon <3

OH HELLO MY ANEMIC ANON. 🩸💌 You radiant little hemoglobin-deficient blood goblin. You just served me a question laced in SCIENCE, FANGS, and NEED—aka my personal food pyramid. Let’s bite into it.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🧬 D O B L O O D D O L L S G E T A N E M I C I N T H E V A M P ! S K Z U N I V E R S E ?

Short answer? Yes, they can. Long answer? Not if their vampire is responsible.

Let’s break it down with some juicy vampire biology:

🩸 1. BLOOD LOSS & ANEMIA – THE RISK IS REAL

In real-world terms:

Losing ~450 mL of blood = what’s taken during a standard blood donation

Doing that too often = iron depletion, fatigue, weakness → anemia

In the vamp!SKZ AU:

Feeding = a controlled blood draw, but not always small

Frequency matters: ▫ Once every few weeks = manageable ▫ Once every few days = get your ass in a transfusion chair, baby

🧛 Abnormal vampires especially have a harder time regulating when emotional or aroused—so if your vamp’s obsessed? He might overdrink unless he's anchored by rituals, bond rules, or your safety cues.

But the moment you show signs of dizziness, cold limbs, or pallor?

“Stop. You’re not okay. We feed only when you’re strong. You come first.”

They will shut it down FAST.

💉 2. DO BLOOD DOLLS SCAR FROM BITES?

TLDR: Not unless something goes wrong.

Bite wounds are like surgical punctures—small, clean, deep. But in this universe, vampire saliva contains:

✅ Anticoagulants (to keep blood flowing) ✅ Mild anesthetics (to numb pain) ✅ Regenerative enzymes (especially in Abnormals) that stimulate tissue healing

So for most blood dolls? No permanent scars. Just fleeting marks, like hickeys with purpose.

Exceptions:

If the bite was rough, rushed, or feral

If the vampire was in bloodlust and tore instead of pierced

If it’s part of a ritual (some Abnormal bonding marks are designed to scar permanently)

In those cases? Yes. You might carry soul-bound scars—usually in pairs, just where the collarbone meets the neck.

🛁 3. VAMPIRE–BLOOD DOLL AFTERCARE: THE SACRED ART

Aftercare is NON-NEGOTIABLE. Especially when blood, power dynamics, and possible overstimulation are involved.

What it usually includes:

🩸 FOR THE BLOOD DOLL:

Fluids: iron-rich tea, juice, broth, electrolyte packs

Warmth: heated blankets, skin contact, body temp regulation

Pain relief: soothing balm applied to bite site

Emotional check-in: “Are you dizzy? Cold? Do you feel okay with what happened?”

Feeding you: vamps tend to hand-feed you afterwards, like a reverse communion

Resting with you: most vampires curl around their Dolls after feeding like you’re the altar and they’re the sinner repenting

🧛 FOR THE VAMPIRE:

Grounding. Feeding can make them euphoric, high, or emotionally cracked open.

Soulmate bond flares? Feral urges? They need your voice to calm. Your hands. Your presence.

Sometimes they shake. Sometimes they cry. Sometimes they beg you to let them stop—even when you’re okay.

It’s intimate. Messy. Holy.

💘 BONUS: VAMP!SKZ AFTERCARE FLAVORS

Chan: Warm compress on your neck. Tucks you into his lap. Feeds you iron tablets like they’re candy.

Minho: Silent but thorough. Disinfects everything. Stays beside you all night, watching your breath rise and fall.

Changbin: Carries you. Literally. Gives you protein shakes and wraps you in his hoodie.

Hyunjin: Cries because you bled for him. Kisses the bite. Paints you while you rest.

Jisung: Panics. Apologizes 15x. Brings a care kit he labeled “🧛‍♂️ Post-Chomp Essentials.”

Felix: Hand-feeds you strawberries dipped in chocolate. Whispers gratitude against your skin.

Seungmin: Doesn't speak. Just makes you tea, hand feeds you medicine, stays and cuddles you.

Jeongin: Tries to act chill. Secretly tracks your vitals on his phone. Has a pillow fort and 3 blankets ready.

🩸 T L D R

– yes babes you can get anaemic 🫠 – your vamp better be hydrating you with broth and apple juice after he munches on your neck like a snack pack – most bites heal clean, but if he’s feral or in love? maybe that scar’s permanent now 🥰 – aftercare = sacred. it’s giving blood-soaked boyfriend privilege – if he bites you and doesn’t wrap you in a blanket burrito while whispering you’re his moonlight, drop him.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

Thank you for your absolutely unhinged and medically delicious question. I approve. Your blood is valued. Your iron levels are being watched.🧛‍♂️🧃

[silver-inked-quill]

hiiii! can I request a Legolas x reader where the two cuddle after longgggg months apart? Both being distracted with either politics, family matters, saving the world, last minute adventures, coincidences. no rush and have a good day <3

What hearts endure

words: 1283

Pairing: Legolas x reader

Summary: Legolas returns to his fiance (fluff)

A/N: its a bit different than the request but i really felt like doing a reunion of this kind✨

masterlist / chapter 2

I had lost count of the moons that had passed since Legolas, my betrothed, departed to aid in the great quest of the Ring. It seemed ages since the fellowship of the Ring had set forth to free the world from the shadow of Sauron, and with them went my beloved. The absence of his golden presence left a hollow void within my heart, and as I walked the silent halls of Rivendell, I found little solace.

My mind had long since ceased to dwell on my own safety. Though Legolas' parents urged me to remain within the sheltered walls of Rivendell, where no shadow dared to linger, my place was clear. My place was with him, my heart bound to his, betrothed by love, and by fate’s unyielding hand.

The garden in Rivendell, once vibrant and full of life, had fallen into quiet disrepair. Yet in the stillness, I found a small balm to my restless soul. I tended to the flowers there, their blossoms in need of my care. The task was simple, but it steadied me, offering me a fleeting peace. I watered the plants, their life slowly returning to them, and it seemed that through them, I too could draw breath again, if only for a moment. In the quiet, memories of Legolas crept into my mind—his laughter echoing as he taught me archery, the way he’d eagerly asked about the plants I loved, and how he’d tried his hand at painting, his strokes awkward but earnest.

My heart ached with the absence of him, and at times, I found tears in my eyes, as though some part of me mourned the space he had left behind.

Arwen too, suffered the sting of separation. Though she could commune with Aragorn through dreams, feeling his presence in the quiet of the night, I only had the bow he carved for me, the one he had entrusted to me in the days before he departed. Yet, our shared grief made me wonder — were we not alike? She, who loved Aragorn with all her strength, and I, who loved Legolas as fiercely as I could. Both of us were bound by hearts full of longing, though hers was nourished by dreams, and mine by memories.

It was then that I heard the horn. The sound sliced through the stillness of Rivendell like a blade.

There was no call beyond it, no herald of doom or hope. Just the distant echo of a single warning.

I rose swiftly, fear thrumming beneath my skin. I grabbed my bow, my quiver, and a dagger for good measure, and I fled from my chambers. My heart pounded as I made my way to Arwen’s room. When I found her, she was pale, but standing. Her face, normally full of fire and strength, was etched with the same stress I felt in my bones.

“There are no guards—no word,” Arwen spoke softly, her voice laden with dread.

I clasped her hand, my gaze flickering toward the darkening halls. “We must leave, before it is too late. If this is an ambush—” I did not finish my thought.

She nodded, her voice quiet. “There should have been guards.”

“Perhaps an ambush,” I said, my voice tight. “We will take the catacombs, a hidden way. We must hurry.”

Her hand tightened in mine. “I will follow you,” she whispered.

With the weight of the uncertain dark pressing upon us, I led her down the winding stairs, my dagger held firm. Our footsteps echoed through the hollow silence. As we reached the door, the sound of boots drawing near froze my blood. Without a moment’s hesitation, I loosed the string of my bow, and an arrow flew swiftly through the air. It struck its mark—yet the figure it struck was no enemy.

Isildur’s heir, Aragorn, stood before us, wide-eyed as he dodged my arrow, his sword drawn. His eyes softened when he saw who had fired, and he lowered his blade.

“My lord, forgive me,” I breathed, my heart still racing as I bowed low, unsure who stood behind him. My gaze lifted to meet the piercing blue eyes I had missed so much, and my heart nearly stopped.

Legolas was kneeling beside me, his tired eyes softening as they met mine. His long golden hair was matted from travel, and his usual air of grace was dimmed with exhaustion, but in that moment, none of it mattered. He was here.

"Tell me you are true," I whispered, my hands trembling as I cupped his face. His features, though weary, held the same elegance I had always known.

“As true as the peace among our lands,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress. His hands held mine, warm and calloused from the trials he had endured, and he kissed my hands with a tenderness that made my heart flutter.

Tears, unbidden, slipped down my cheeks as I looked into his eyes. “Your aim has improved,” he said, his lips curving in a small smile. He rose to his feet, helping me up, and as his hand tightened around mine, he asked, “Why were you fleeing, my love?”

“There was a horn, and no guard,” I explained, my voice trembling. “Arwen, she is weak… I feared for her safety. My first instinct was to take her to the catacombs.”

He nodded, understanding in his eyes, and silently escorted me back toward my room. He relieved me of my quiver and bow with quiet grace, setting them aside. And then, without a word, he pulled me into his embrace.

I buried my face against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body, the comfort of his presence. The scent of ash, blood, and long journeys clung to him, but it did not matter. He was here.

“I missed you terribly,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

His response was a kiss, soft but urgent. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer to him. There, in his arms, the world outside seemed distant, unimportant. The danger that had pressed upon us was gone, swallowed by the love we shared. The moment felt endless, a timeless pause between two hearts that had long been separated.

When we parted, he studied me carefully. “You seem lighter. Have you not eaten?”

I gave a soft, quiet laugh, the sound a brief return to normalcy. “I found no appetite. My worry for you, for Arwen… It weighed upon me. But my flowers… they helped. I tended them, and in their blooming, I found a reason to smile.”

Legolas' gaze softened as he looked out the window. “You give life to this garden, just as you give life to me…” His fingers brushed against my cheek, the calluses more pronounced than I remembered, a reminder of all he had endured.

I reached up to touch his face, concern flickering across my brow. “Are you hurt? You need rest, and a bath... One that I will gladly provide, my love.”

I smiled, a mischievous twinkle in my eye as I moved toward the door of the bathchamber. He caught my wrist, pulling me closer.

“If you join me, my princess, I would be even more delighted,” he murmured, his lips trailing softly down my neck. The warmth of his breath made me blush deeply, as though our closeness were something new.

“As you command, my prince,” I whispered, my voice soft, my cheeks flushed like the evening sky.

And as we walked together toward the bath, the shadows of the world seemed distant. There was peace here, in each other's arms, where the trials of the journey had no place, and all that mattered was love.

____

Hey there gentle reader,

I hope you are all doing well, i wanted to thank you for reaching this spot and i would like to ask you to give me your feedback good or bad, your opinion is always welcome and important to be heard :)

I hope you liked it and if you wish to give me a request feel free to do so:)

Please stay safe,

yours,

silvermist

masterlist

[bullet-prooflove]

Pears: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Prequel to:

Bubble

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW)

Ironically the hellhole that’s stealing Carmen’s fucking soul is the place he falls in love with you. He’s been trying to source cheap organic produce for The Beef ever since he came back to Chicago and he’d found this eco-friendly little urban farm not too far away from the restaurant that’s willing to sell him their seasonal overflow for  next to nothing. It’s a win win because you deplore wastage and he needs the discount.

When you arrive at the back door with his order he has no fucking clue why you’re here because it’s late Christmas Eve and everyone else in the world is sending time with their families. Instead you’re standing in front of him, bundled up in a navy blue hat with a pompom with a matching scarf over your white quilted jacket.

“Christ, get in here.” He says tugging you inside because it’s minus who the fuck knows outside and he’s terrified you’ll freeze to death. “Why the fuck are you out in this? You should be tucked up somewhere warm with your family.”

“Because you asked me to asshole.” You reply, tugging off your hat so that your hair falls loose across your rosy features. “You called me up at stupid o'clock because you wanted pears for some seasonal shit you were trying out.”

“Shit.” He says, taking the box from you, because honestly he thought he dreamt that but now he realises he had another dissociative episode. They’ve starting to happen more and more recently since Mikey’s death. He wakes up and he finds himself doing weird shit, cooking plastic, re-organising the tins in his cupboard so they all face backwards, sorting his recycling into colours.

“Now we’ve ascertained why I’m here.” You say, stripping the gloves from your hands and tucking them into the pockets of your coat. “What are you doing here?”

“Christmas isn’t…” He hesitates because he’s thrown back into that last event, the one where Mikey was still alive, clutching that fork and his mother drove a car through the house. He doesn’t know how to explain something like that to you, someone who’s family isn’t as fucked up and dysfunctional as his is.

“I get it.” You say, your hand coming to rest on his arm and he finds himself staring down at it as your thumb traces lightly over the tattoo that’s etched onto his skin. “Christmas isn’t a great time for me either.”

He can’t remember the last time that someone touched him like this, with such care, such gentleness. Richie’s always clapping a hand on his shoulder, shifting him out of the way but it never feels like this. It doesn’t ignite something in his veins the way that yours does, it doesn’t sent a rush of heat flooding through his system.

“You wanna stay?” He asks you, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. “I’m about to make hot pear cider.”

You have such beautiful eyes, he’s never really noticed until now despite the fact he’s been in your company a handful of times. It’s a brilliant, rich hue that leaves him completely captivated as the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile. His heart palpitates in this chest because that smile, it makes something blossom inside of him, something that Carmen has never felt before in his entire life.

“That depends.” You say, your thumb trailing over the scar that resides alongside his tattoo. “Are you going to feed me too?”

“I’d cook you anything you damn well want.�� He finds himself telling you before he captures himself, his cheeks flushing at the boldness of his words.

“Surprise me.” You say and he surprises you both by leaning and kissing you instead.

Your lips feel soft underneath his mouth, he can taste the strawberry lip balm, feel the press of your body against his as your fingers thread through his hair drawing him closer. He moans at the sensation because it’s been such a long time since he’s touched another human being like this and you, you make it feel like his entire body is on fire, like he’s burning from the inside out.

“Fuck, I’m sorry…” He says as he tries to pull away because he shouldn’t have done that, he knows he shouldn’t.

Your hands grip the fabric of his chef’s jacket, pulling him back towards you and he complies because this sensation he has, he wants to chase it, he wants to see where it goes, to hurtle head first into it.

“Don’t be.” You murmur, your fingertips ghosting along his cheek with a tenderness he doesn’t deserve. “We should do it again Carmy.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[heylittleriotact]

🕯️WIP WEDNESDAY 🕯️

I feel like I’m living in the stupidest simulation ever, and have no idea what to do except balm the agony of existence with shameless smut.

Fuck all the other WIPS - the soul yearns for plotless porn that I guess is a second part to Algor Mortis.

@aldisobey @caffeinatedmunchkin @emmg @xxnashiraxx and anyone else who has a WIP: I wanna seeeeee.

Under the cut for porn.

💚💚💚💚💚

It was before dawn when she found herself drawn from sleep. She might have closed her eyes and resumed her slumber had she not found herself completely discombobulated: confused at the feeling of the soft feather mattress beneath her and the surely offensive thread count of the smooth sheets that covered it. Her surroundings smelled unfamiliar, and the air was too dry.

It was pitch dark where she was, but that didn’t stop her from lifting her head from the pillow that was steeped in the memory of a wealthy but dead Tevinter woman’s perfume: a depressing and faint medley of stale florals and and bergamot blended into something cloying and powdery. It was the sort of perfume that judgmental old money wore purely because it was an old and very exclusive label. Whether or not it was a complimentary fragrance was secondary to the prestige of owning a bottle and dousing oneself with it to the point where no one within a mile radius could escape the stinky clutches of the pungent status symbol.

She swallowed past the fear and uncertainty that had tightened her throat and felt around in the dark, finding the grounding and familiar shape of Emmrich.

A trembling sigh of relief spilled from her lips and she instantly felt herself relax as her fingers danced along the shape of his bare abdomen, dipping into concaves and skimming over lines, trailing over the soft hair that grew under his navel and up over his sternum.

She didn’t need to see him to know the shape of him… to know every inch of his elegant, carefully groomed and diligently cared for body.

They had spoken of plans during their bath, and she had elaborated on a few of her own with the full intention of seeing them through until exhaustion had triumphed.

Unsatisfied with the unwanted interference in her carefully crafted designs for the beginning of their future together, she left Emmrich’s side, keeping her palm flat against the gentle rise and fall of his stomach.

Slipping across the sleek surface of the sheets as she moved down the bed, her thumb swept over the shape of his hip bone and she placed a row of little kisses just beneath the joint of his thigh, dawdling a lazy path on his soft skin until she reached his cock.

Soft, warm, and smelling faintly of the fragrant oils from their bath and his own natural musk, she nuzzled against him, burying her nose in the coarse, well maintained thatch of hair before gently drawing him into her mouth.

She loved feeling him expand in her mouth, filling her and brushing against her cheeks as she patiently coaxed him to attention.

Almost soothingly she stroked his lower belly as she swirled her tongue around his flaccid length, hollowing her cheeks and wrapping her other hand around his base to pull back his foreskin and impart a broad, firm lick to the underside of his head.

A groggy moan warbled through the darkness, and she smiled against him before using the tip of her tongue to collect the moisture that was already collecting at his tip - an action that wrought a sharp gasp of air through teeth she couldn’t see.

Filling her mouth with his rapidly hardening cock again until she felt her fingers bump against her lips, she sighed around him, revelling in the taste of him… the heat of him… the texture of his prominent veins against her tongue.

Long fingers twined into her hair and she drew back slowly, knowing the wet drag of her cheeks felt sinfully good in his increasingly aroused state.

He uttered a heady little sigh when she released him with a lewd ‘pop’, the vulgarity of the action exaggerated by their shared inability to see one another in the room that was as dark and still as a tomb.

She let a robust quantity of saliva drip from her partly open mouth onto his twitching cock, spreading it over him with a few lazy strokes.

Taking him in her mouth again, she eased him deeper still, spurred on by the symphony of gentle panting and whispered moans coming from the head of the bed. She stopped when she felt him hit the very back of her mouth, and swallowed around him before beginning to slowly bob her head on his cock.

With an enraptured hiss, the fingers in her hair loosened and disappeared, returning to tenderly sweep aside some that had fallen into her face.

“Good morning, darling,” he whispered over the sloppy squelching sounds of her pleasing him.

Moaning around him, she continued, picking up her pace, stroking him with her hand in rhythm with her mouth. She heard the soft ‘thump’ of his head falling back to the pillow and he offered her name up to the utter blackness like a prayer.

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Happy Anniversary~

Gojo Satoru x Reader (angst)

Currently sobbing, crying, and throwing up while writing this

“Toru, stop it!” I giggled, feeling his kisses cascade along my neck while his arms ensnared me, refusing to let me escape.

“But… I… love… you… so… much!” His words punctuated by the soft press of his lips, his embrace tightening around me.

“And I love you more, but we’re out in public. People are staring,” I chided, though the sensation of his cool, tender kisses was undeniably intoxicating.

“Who cares, let them see. Everyone will know that you’re mine~” His declaration sent a flutter through my heart, prompting me to pull back slightly, needing to gaze into his eyes. I gently cupped his face in my hand, tracing the lines of his features with reverence.

He smirked, a knowing glint in his eyes as he watched me with affection. “You know, if you like looking at me that much, I could take a picture for you and sign it even,” he teased, earning an eye roll from me.

“Oh, shut up, you. It’s not my fault you’re the epitome of gorgeousness,” I retorted, unable to hide the fondness in my voice.

“Look who’s talking~” His response was playful as he drew me closer, capturing my lips in a tender kiss.

I closed my eyes, letting him draw me into him. As our kiss deepened, warmth spread through my body, the world around us fading into insignificance. Eventually we needed to pull away to catch our breaths, but that was short lived as Toru pulled me back in for another, not wanting to waste anymore time.

I giggled into the kiss, trying to break away to tease him. I succeeded, but only for a split second. The instant I pulled away, he gently grabbed me by the neck and whispered, “Not yet. I’m not done~”, and pulled me back in.

With each kiss, our connection felt more profound, as if our souls were entwining in perfect harmony. It was a moment suspended in time, where nothing else mattered except the love we shared.

Lost in the bliss of our embrace, we seemed oblivious to the world around us. But reality intruded in the form of a gentle breeze, carrying with it the murmurs of passersby and the distant sounds of traffic.

Reluctantly, we pulled apart, our gazes lingering as if trying to prolong the fleeting moment. Toru’s hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with mine as we began to walk, the city bustling around us.

“So, where to next, my love?” he asked, his tone playful yet tender.

I smiled, the warmth of his affection enveloping me like a comforting embrace. “Anywhere, as long as I’m with you,” I replied, leaning into his side as we continued our journey together.

”Oh baby, there’s nothing that could ever tear me apart from you. I’m with you until the end of eternity,” he spoke, his voice filled with unwavering devotion, making my heart swell with love and hope.

With tears of joy brimming in my eyes, I smiled at him, feeling the warmth of his words wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

”I love you, my ’Toru~” I whispered softly, the words a balm to my wounded soul.

“And I love you, my N/n~” His response was tender, filled with a depth of emotion that echoed in my heart.

But our moment of bliss was shattered by a sudden, loud noise that pierced through the tranquility like a knife.

“Ugh, what is that noise?” I groaned, instinctively turning to Toru for comfort. But instead of finding solace in his arms, I was met with a heartbreaking sight – his smile, tinged with sadness, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Toru? What’s wrong?” My voice trembled with fear, a cold knot of dread forming in the pit of my stomach.

“It’s time to wake up, my love~” His voice was gentle, but there was a finality to it that sent a chill down my spine.

“What… what are you talking-”

And then darkness consumed me, swallowing me whole as I plummeted into the abyss of consciousness.

———

“About,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering open to the harsh reality of the world around me. My smile that was previously plastered on my face quickly turned into a frown as realization washed over me, shattering my heart into a million irreparable pieces.

It was just a dream. A cruel illusion that teased me with a happiness I could never truly have. A sharp pang of sorrow struck me as I sat up, looking over to the side of the bed where he used to sleep. The place where he used to hold me close. The place where we would talk endlessly about any and everything just to delay going to sleep.

Toru was no longer here, his presence nothing more than a fading memory lingering on the edges of my mind.

I looked over to see my phone alarm going off. I quickly picked it up, turning the alarm off. Before I could put it back on the nightstand, I saw today's date and realized today was…our 5th year anniversary.

A wave of grief washed over me as I stared at the date, the weight of his absence pressing down on my chest like a leaden weight. The world around seemed to blur as memories of us together began to play in my head. The way he held me, the way he spoke to me, the way he looked at me, touched me, kissed me… everything. It all kept replaying in my head like a broken record. And each one… a painful reminder of what I had lost.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I clutched the phone to my chest, wishing that I could go back in time and stop him. If only I had held onto him tighter, told him how much he meant to me, begged him not to leave to go fight Sukuna. But time was cruel, unforgiving, and now he was gone, leaving behind nothing but memories and regrets.

I closed my eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they kept coming, a relentless torrent of sorrow that threatened to consume me whole. How could I go on without him? How could I face a world that no longer held his laughter, his warmth, his love?

I pulled the phone away from me, looking at my home screen, seeing the picture of us together. We looked so happy... he looked so happy.

A pang of longing shot through my chest as I stared at the frozen moment of happiness captured in the photo. How I wished I could turn back time, relive those precious moments with him once more.

But reality was unforgiving, and no amount of longing could bring him back. With a heavy heart, I set the phone aside and rose from the bed, a solemn determination settling over me.

I made my way to the door, slipping on a coat to ward off the chill of the morning air. The journey to the cemetery felt like an eternity, each step weighed down by the burden of grief.

———

Finally, I stood before his gravestone, the sight of his name etched in stone sending a shiver down my spine. The world seemed to fall away as I knelt beside his final resting place, the silence broken only by the sound of my ragged breaths.

"I'm here, Toru," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't forget. I could never forget."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I placed a bouquet of fresh flowers on the cold, hard ground, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the somber surroundings. I knelt down, the tears threatening to fall any second now.

"I miss you," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion. "Every day, every moment. I miss you."

I reached out, tracing the letters of his name with trembling fingers, as if trying to etch them into my memory forever. The pain of his absence threatened to overwhelm me, but I refused to let it consume me.

As I knelt there, the weight of his absence bearing down on me, a profound sadness washed over me. How could someone like him be subjected to such cruelty and pain? Even when he was first born…he was already a target.

“I’m sorry, Toru,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “I’m sorry for everything you had to endure, for the life you were forced to live.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I thought of all the moments he had missed, all the joys and sorrows he had been denied. He never got to experience the simple pleasures of life, the freedom to choose his own path, to love and be loved without fear or reservation. Simply just because of who he was and this cruel world we live in.

But despite it all, he had remained strong, his spirit unbroken even in the face of unimaginable hardship. And through it all, he had found solace in my love, in the simple act of being seen and cherished for who he truly was.

"I wish I could have given you more," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I wish I could have shielded you from the pain, shown you the beauty of the world beyond the darkness."

Tears continued to fall unabated as I spoke, each word heavy with the weight of my regret. How I longed to turn back time, to rewrite the script of his life, to spare him from the agony he had endured.

But even as I grappled with my own guilt and sorrow, I knew deep down that Toru had found a kind of peace in my love. In those fleeting moments we shared, he had known what it meant to be truly seen, truly loved, and for that, I would be eternally grateful.

And as I knelt there beside his grave, the quiet stillness of the cemetery enveloping me like a comforting embrace, I made a silent vow to honor his memory in the best way I could – by living my life with the same compassion and kindness that he had shown me.

"I will never forget you, Toru," I whispered into the silence, the words a solemn promise echoing in the air. "I will carry you with me always, in my heart and in my soul."

I leaned over and gave his gravestone a kiss, a powerful pang in my chest appearing.

With one last lingering glance at his gravestone, I rose to my feet, a sense of peace settling over me like a gentle breeze. And as I turned to leave, I knew that even in death, his love would be my guiding light, illuminating the path ahead as I walked forward into the unknown.

With a heavy heart, I whispered the words that had become my mantra, my lifeline in the darkness:

"I love you, Toru. And I always will. Happy Anniversary, my love"

______________

[hisui-dreamer]

ode to the cunning octopus

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x gn!reader

Synopsis: it didn't matter how he saw himself, because you would always be by his side to remind him how wonderful he is

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for azul

Word count: 645

Notes: very belated happy birthday to azul!! to make up for being late i wrote a bit more than usual hehe. (azul you can't blame me i was working on assignments)

Masterlist

Your lover possesses an undeniable charm that seems to effortlessly captivate all who cross his path. With a disarming smile and magnetic charisma, he effortlessly draws others in, captivating them like moths to a flame. His sharp wit, eloquent words, and calculated gestures make a lasting impression. But perhaps his most impressive skill lies in his negotiation tactics. A brilliant negotiator, he knows exactly when to push and when to pull, when to offer a compromise and when to stand firm. His ability to read people and anticipate their moves gives him a distinct advantage at the bargaining table, and the sight of him at work never ceases to amaze you.

Your lover is a paragon of hard work and dedication. Whether he's tirelessly managing the bustling affairs of the Mostro Lounge or buried deep in his studies, striving to maintain top grades, his commitment knows no bounds. His days are filled with a whirlwind of activity, yet he tackles each challenge with a grace and efficiency that is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Despite the demands of his responsibilities, he never falters, always pushing himself to new heights of excellence. It's this relentless drive and work ethic that sets him apart, earning him the respect and admiration of all who know him.

Your lover takes great delight in showering you with the spoils of his hard-earned wealth. With each lavish gift and luxurious comfort he bestows upon you, his eyes gleam with satisfaction, fueled by the desire to see the radiant smile spread across your face. Yet it's the simple pleasures he relishes the most—wrapping you in the soft embrace of your favourite blanket, watching as contentment floods your features, knowing that in that moment, his efforts have brought you joy beyond measure. For him, the truest wealth lies not in the riches he accumulates, but in the happiness he brings to you, his angelfish.

Your lover is meticulously careful with his diet and weight, determined to maintain a certain image of himself. He meticulously counts calories, carefully monitoring his intake and meticulously planning his meals to ensure they align with his health goals. Yet, despite his disciplined approach, there are moments when you catch a glimpse of his longing for the indulgent pleasures he denies himself. In those moments, you can't help but want to spoil him, to see the joy light up his face as he savors the flavors he so often denies himself. So every once in a while, you find subtle ways to indulge his cravings, knowing that a little bit of indulgence can bring a smile to his face and a warmth to your heart.

Your lover possesses a comforting presence like no other. Whenever exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you, you know you can seek solace as you snuggle into his trench coat. And without hesitation, he drops everything to tend to your needs, his touch gentle and soothing, his words a balm to your weary soul. There's an ease in his presence when he’s with you, a tranquility that washes over him as soon as you wrap your arms around him. It's as if the weight of the world lifts from his shoulders, replaced by the warmth of your touch and the gentleness of your love. As you hold him close, feeling his heartbeat steady against yours, you know that in your arms is where he truly belongs, finding solace and contentment in your embrace.

Your lover is a man of contradictions, a paradox wrapped in an enigma. But beneath the layers of complexity lies a heart of gold, a love that burns fiercely and unconditionally. And as you gaze into his eyes, you know that no matter the trials that lie ahead, you will always stand by his side, for better or for worse, until the end of time.

Your lover, is none other than Azul Ashengrotto.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[loverboy1717]

I need people to be okay with characters being ugly. And I’m not getting bogged down in “ugly being a social construct yada yada.” Yall know what I mean. I need for people to stop making fan art that claims to represent canon that openly ignores major character descriptions by making them conventionally hot.

Palamades Sextus? Canonically weak and stringy. When he smiles he becomes beautiful. But he has resting bitch face. Why is a good chunk of the fan art him looking like a scruffy prince? Or like lanky muscles and boyish charm like a Netflix romcom heart throb? Stop. That’s a wet piece of yarn.

The biggest one that kills me is Paige Mahoney. Paige has been tortured mentally and physically for four books. She canonically has scars on her face, arms, palms, and basically her whole body. She has bloodless purplish lips cus of low oxygen. Stop drawing her in moody purplish black honey lip balm. That’s not a slay. It’s a circulation fuck up, bestie. She is constantly covered in mud and blood and gross water and bruises and scabs. Why are we pretending she is a button nosed, porcelain skinned movie star? Yes she has blonde hair and blue eyes but that’s where the starlet vibes stop.Homie does parkour and shoves her soul out of her own body as a weapon. She is almost always bleeding from her nose or wincing at her messed up wrist or disheveled from following a lead. People feminizing her to the extreme weirds me out.

Y’all need to be okay loving a character without forcing beauty standards on them.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ grim reaper boyfriend  x gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . souls, and the beauty of them !! 🍒 : naga  ˖ grim reaper ˖ hero ˖ grim reaper﹙ verse 781 talisen ﹚

souls are an intricate and interesting topic of which your boyfriend would know everything about. why not find out more by asking him about them?

“So.”

You muse. Lifting your eyes to behold the beauty that is your boyfriend. Seated with your head in his lap. A book in his dominant hand, while the other extends long fingers to trace patterns along your scalp.

“So,”

He encourages. A ghost of a smile on that darkly divine face of his. His thumb strokes along your temple in encouragement.

“As a grim reaper,” you start. His brow quirks. At last he draws his gaze from lines of rhymes and lyric alike to bring his attention on another fine piece of art. You. “Do you know what happens to the souls you reap?”

The silence hangs heavy. There is a part within you that curses at the question. The chase of the comfortable cold that brought an obvious frost.

“Yes and no.” Talisen responds honestly. He averts back to his book. Yet his eyes tell you he is no longer truly reading. “Why?”

Your hand reaches to brush away the sleeve of his turtle neck. Circle your tender hold around his wrist and rub your knuckle over his pulse assuredly.

“I wanted to know if you'll chase on after me.”

The grin on your lips makes him chuckle. Talisen's fingers snap the book shut. Crisp. Quick. Before his head cranes down so that his long, dark strands frame your face. A peak of that jellyfish haircut he seems to adore so much. You reach up to thread your fingers into it — recalling his earlier statement of needing to restyle the cut.

“Well that certainly is a request.” His lips are like a balm to yours. The taste of his lichee lipgloss makes you wish to tenderly bite into the plushness. But he parts before you so much as get the chance.

“Bǎobèi. Surely you must know. That I will chase your soul to the ends of the earth. In life and death.” His thumb strokes along the corner of your mouth and his smile brightens your face.

“Although, it is bold of you to assume that your darling soul will so much as leave my scythe in the first place. It is far too precious to allow the divine to snatch away. . .”

[steve0discusses]

S5 Part 51: Name Stuff

Hello, I did not die! Though don’t get me wrong, a mix of lingering long covid that gets me the flu every other week (I think I’ve had the flu well over 30 times last year, it’s been nuts) as well as other life obligations took me away from the blog for a bit. Which, I know, is a grand sweeping understatement for how long it's been.

But, what better balm than to discuss an old anime my bro and I finished like over a year ago and I’m only remembering distantly, like fondly revisiting high school. Except I’ll be real I did not go to my high school reunions. But revisit Yugioh? Of course I will!

In my absence, my computer died, and I had to move everything. A lot of files were corrupted, but mysteriously, not Yugioh. My computer destroyed hours and hours of client work and maybe hundreds of hours of personal project work and etc that I actually needed for a deadline, but it didn’t touch my Yugioh files because it knows better. lmao.

So while my memory is shady at best, last we left off, Yami had just been slammed dunked by the Kaiju that is Bakura that also has an appendage shaped like a dragon on a phallus. It was embarrassing for everyone.

So Yugi and company appeared, having just recently dug through the tomb that has Yami’s name and the ability to stick Zorc back whence he came.

You may wonder, if it took like 12 weeks to get to that tomb, how are we just flying through the air back to the capital? And the answer is because they spent most of that 12 weeks like barely moving around the city. It was, in fact, the racist genie who flew them there. Flying is just hellllllla efficient in Egypt geography. Don't worry about it.

Zorc/Bakura threatens them with these horse guys. Which like, I have to credit the animation team, that is a lot of animated horses in one frame, I would also reuse this clip of horses running like 8 times in a season.

Unless these horses got wings, give your hands a break and don’t draw (counts them) my god, there’s 6 horses here. 

This is such a season of excessive extravagance except where you actually need it. Which…is a lot of media in this era (looking at you, Kingdom Hearts) so I just have to accept these horses in plate mail that were done on company time, while the whirlwind whiplash of Yami’s ending of this season is just kinda left there hanging.

Yeah we’re gonna talk about that ending. Don’t worry this is the episode where I can finally start talking about the dead as hell and only getting deader elephant in the room. (I can’t believe he freakin died lmao what the hell, Yugioh.)

With the power of manifesting their thoughts into reality, they will play cards. Because that’s how these kids know how to communicate and solve all of their problems.

2004 Rachel would have said, if I had the power to use the last magical vestiges of the world as we know it to make whatever with a string of words, I would do something way more impressive than play a card game I can just do with physical cards. 

But 2024 Rachel knows all about how, when we finally had the technology to spit images together from a prompt, we immediately used it to break copyright law and ruin the ability to thrive and compete in the art industry so Rachel had to pull a new career out of her ass. No fun allowed. No creativity allowed. Only fake promises to encourage angel investors to get scammed of all their dollars before the technology eventually bursts its own bubble and disappears from relevance when not enough people actually use it.

So really, Seto Kaiba using the power of prompts to play cards means he’s the only venture capitalist to have ever existed that has done some actual creativity using AI-like tech. Sure it's database is unethical because it is made out of the souls of an entire city, but he would have at least turned that AI into a dragon he already owns full copyright of (because hell we know all about how well he paid Pegasus for the right to that art) and he would have used it to fight Zorc, just as god(s) intended.

Wow none of that rant made sense. I’ll delete it later. (jk, I won’t, I really need to post this thing)

Fueled with the power of “I don’t want to admit to Pharaoh that I’m illiterate,” Yugi fights Zorc with all he’s got. 

Relatable. I forgot how relatable this kid is.

Does Yugi ever realize he’s murdering the Bakura he's known a majority of this show? I…I don’t remember. Probably? Yugi probably knows, but is also like "there's enough doubt to ethically continue this fight"

They scoop up Yami, and today’s designated prone body carrier is:

Joey!

Good choice.

Their reaction to “Seto is here in this imaginary magical mind maze.” Is a lot of “Huh. Not even remotely surprised.”

I have a friend who has this thing about always wanting to go inside places she’s not allowed into. She even decided to take magic lessons from the Magic Castle. Why? Because she wants to go IN THERE. Seto is basically that friend. Except everything but taking magic lessons because he does not believe in magic or enjoy magic in any way (despite being a very competent wizard). We all have a friend who just appears in random places like Seto.

Faced with the ironic problem that has plagued them for over 5 seasons, They decide to use the airport cartouche that you may not remember from like 2 years ago when I wrote that episode. But once upon a time, Tea gave Yami a Girlfriend Gift, and so with the power of Vague Girlfriend, she’s gonna save his ass.

Seto realizes that despite everything, he is still here, and somehow despite all of that, Yugi is still getting his ass beaten by whatever the monster of the week is.

I’m also not 100% if Seto is aware that this monster is actually the ghost that lived in Bakura, his old classmate from that school Seto never graduated from, and his old classmate that once stabbed himself in the arm and then walked directly into his blimp to ruin his blimp party.

But Seto doesn't need to worry about whether or not this is ethical, he'd probably only try to kill him harder if he knew Bakura was ever in his class.

That’s right, his name is Atem. Which I personally found out in like Season 1 because this show is very old and people online like to use his name in the tags. But also, it’s fine, because Atem is close to that name Aten, which is in Egyptian Theology, or Puzzles and Dragons, whichever you are more familiar with. I’ll look it up later when my brain isn’t fried. Maybe.

Alright, let's discuss the first elephant. 🐘

🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘+++++++ELEPHANT RANT FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS BIT+++++++🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘

Pharaoh used his name once already in the past in order to stuff both Zorc and himself in their charms. That’s pretty straight forward. So…why isn’t it doing it again? As far as I can tell this is a recreation of what happened last time, so what's changed to prevent Pharaoh from getting put back in the golden tupperware?

The shadow game? Is it because this is a shadow D+D game? Was it not a type of shadow game the first time? I genuinely don't know, feel free to give your opinion about this because my bro and I discussed this in length, several times over this year, I have mulled it over, and I have no clue.

Pharaoh knows himself even less now than he did the first time he did this. Maybe the show is implying he’s more powerful this time but…this season really didn't build him up enough to seem that way.

And on that note, what does it matter if he finds his real name? Like yes there’s theological meaning there, especially in ancient cultures your real name had an actual power over your soul and so people respected it enough to even avoid using it.

But, Pharaoh hasn't been Atem in 5000 years, so Yami should have worked. Yami is connected to the puzzle and it's curse now. So is Yugi. So they never really properly gave us the significance of why this name is important. Like hell, why not just use "Yugi." He's wearing the necklace IRL, after all.

I can see the name being less of a symbolism and more of a key, since it was used to lock the puzzle the first time. But then…what are they using to lock Zorc away the second time? Still Atem?

Atem stuffed himself into a box and died. Yami lived in Japan and failed to attend high school. While there are similarities between the two, something I enjoyed about this season was seeing Yami realize he is different from Atem, with a different culture, different friends, different family, different guilt, and different responsibilities.

He’s a different person now. But for some reason the resolution to that was “actually, now Atem and I are one."

Which wasn’t enough for me. I think they could have handled this better. Yami going from a fragmented person to a full person by struggling with who he used to be was a great idea. That parallels Yugi/Yami's struggles with eachother in earlier seasons.

But Yugi just handing him some hieroglyphics was all Yugi’s doing. Yami spent his time finding his lost memories of his father and his friends. I feel like Yami never found himself in all of this. Just a name he isn't really attached to.

Not saying this season is bad or anything, cuz it's not, but some things could have been elaborated more cuz even if I didn't have long covid I think I would've been a little bit confused.

++++\🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘++++++

So, this will be a very long recap and I think that tumblr does limit pictures? Or at least they did a year ago? So part 2 of this episode will come soon, and sooner than a year, I promise. It's already in my drafts folder, it just needs some good editing.

And I truly mean that, like my bro edited this draft yesterday and today I realized I mixed up Bakura and Marik 2 times. 2 entire times. Damn. Like Both of those people are 2 people but Marik isn't even here! How did we both miss that!?

As always, you can read these posts in Chronological order, if you just got here and want to read like all 200+ episodes, by using "chrono" in the web address. Fun tumblr hack I love to use.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[estapa-edwards]

BAD DAY - M. REMPE

paring: Matt Rempe x fem! reader

word count: 0.8k

requested? yes - Hi! Hope you have a good week! I really love your work! My request; what about Quinn, Bedard, Rempe, Bordeleau, Matthews (& anyone else you fancy) with reader (either dating, friends, or siblings) who is having a bad day or something along those lines (reader is in needs of hugs & cuddles)?

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

In the bustling realm of professional ice hockey, where adrenaline meets the cold bite of competition, few stories captivate fans more than that of a rookie rising to prominence. Matt Rempe, a fresh face on the roster of the legendary New York Rangers, embodies this tale of determination, skill, and heart. But beyond the rinks and cheering crowds lies a quieter narrative, one of love, support, and comfort shared between Matt and his girlfriend Y/N.

As Matt's career soared, Y/N remained his steadfast anchor through the highs and lows. Yet, even the most resilient souls face days heavy with burdens, and one particular evening found Y/N battling the weight of a particularly trying day. The stress of work, combined with personal struggles, cast a shadow over her usual effervescent spirit.

It was amidst this backdrop of emotional turbulence that Matt returned home from practice, his mind still buzzing with the intensity of the ice. Stepping into their shared apartment, he sensed the heaviness in the air, the subtle shift in Y/N's demeanor. Without a word, he closed the door behind him and crossed the room to where she sat, a silent sentinel amidst a sea of thoughts.

"Matty..." Y/N's voice wavered, laden with the weight of unspoken troubles.

Matt knelt before her, his eyes gentle yet probing. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked softly, his hand reaching out to brush away a stray lock of hair from her face.

Y/N sighed, the dam of her emotions threatening to break. "It's just been... one of those days, you know? Everything feels like it's going wrong," she confessed, her gaze seeking solace in his steady presence.

Matt's heart clenched at the sight of her vulnerability, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand to her. "Come here," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil of her mind.

With a hesitant nod, Y/N accepted his offer, allowing him to draw her into his embrace. In the shelter of his arms, she found refuge from the storm raging within, the warmth of his touch chasing away the chill of uncertainty.

As Y/N leaned into Matt's embrace, she could feel the tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and security that only he could provide. His arms enveloped her with a strength that was both comforting and reassuring, anchoring her to the present moment amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

With her head nestled against his chest, Y/N could hear the steady rhythm of Matt's heartbeat, a steady cadence that echoed the promise of his unwavering support. Each beat seemed to whisper words of solace, soothing her troubled mind with its gentle melody.

Matt's fingers traced soothing circles along her back, his touch a gentle caress that seemed to chase away the shadows lurking in the corners of her consciousness. In that moment, there was no need for words—his presence alone was enough to dispel the lingering doubts and fears that had plagued her throughout the day.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, time seemed to stand still, cocooning them in a bubble of tranquility amidst the chaos of the world outside. For in that fleeting moment, all that mattered was the love they shared, a bond forged in the crucible of life's trials and tribulations.

With a soft sigh, Y/N felt the last remnants of tension slip away, replaced by a sense of serenity that washed over her like a gentle tide. In Matt's arms, she found the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead, secure in the knowledge that she was not alone.

"You don't have to carry this alone," he whispered, his words a gentle reminder of their shared journey. "I'm here for you, always."

Matt's voice was a soft murmur, his words a gentle reassurance that washed over Y/N like a soothing balm. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability.

"I know," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "And I'm so grateful for you."

Matt's expression softened, his gaze filled with an understanding that went beyond mere words. He brushed a tender kiss against her forehead, a silent affirmation of his love and support.

"Whenever you're ready to talk about it, I'm here," he said, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.

Y/N nodded, the weight of her troubles still heavy upon her shoulders, but somehow lighter now, knowing that she didn't have to face them alone. With Matt by her side, she felt a renewed sense of strength and courage, ready to confront whatever challenges lay ahead.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Matt simply smiled, his eyes reflecting the depth of his love for her. And in that moment, as they stood together in the quiet sanctuary of their love, Y/N knew that no matter what life threw their way, as long as they had each other, they could overcome anything.

[diazsdimples]

Buddietommy "can you even imagine the pain I felt?"

“Can you even imagine the pain I felt?” Eddie sobs. His magic swirls around him, a protective cloud of silver mist dripping off his fingertips, tendrils twirling down his forearms. The tears that leak from the corners of his eyes are the same hue, like rivulets of liquid silver running down his cheeks. He curls into a ball, griping his arms tightly as he pulls his knees to his chest. “That hurt so fucking bad. Please don’t ever make me do that again.

“Baby,” Buck whispers, reaching out tentatively to touch his newly Bonded partner. His magic blooms golden around him, sparkling and crackling with reactivity as his fingers brush the hairs on Eddie’s forearm. The room is rich with the scents of butterscotch and vanilla – the signatures of their magic, but there’s a sour tinge to them, their magic reflecting the soul-deep ache in their chests.

“I’m sorry,” Buck murmurs as he draws Eddie into his arms. Eddie’s touch soothes the pain to an extent, but there’s still a tug, a hollow where Tommy should be slotted in. “It’s over. We’re going to be okay now.”

Eddie nestles into Buck’s side, tucking his face into the hollow of Buck’s throat. “N-need Tommy,” he breathes against Buck’s skin.

“I know, baby, I need him too. He’ll be here in a second.”

Tommy had rushed from the room to vomit moments after the ritual had been performed. The pain of severing a Bond affected everyone differently – for Buck, it felt as though a knife had been plunged deep into his breastbone while a piece of his soul had been carved out.

Tommy had stood stoically as Eddie had cut their Bond, his magic hardening against him to form an intricate layer of bronze armour, rivalled only by Buck’s gold and Eddie’s silver armour of their own. Their magic’s natural defence against harm. The moment Eddie had stopped the spell and collapsed to the ground, Buck and Tommy’s pain surging through his body, Tommy had left, unable to keep his composure.

Buck felt the tug towards Tommy deep in his gut, and he knew Eddie could feel it too. To Buck, the sensation was familiar, something he’d felt every day for months. Eddie, however, hadn’t felt it since the day Shannon died. It was going to take some getting used to.

The sound of footsteps on the hardwood floors alert them to Tommy’s arrival, and a strong pair of arms circles around the two of them as Tommy sinks to the ground.  

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he kisses Buck softly, before nosing at the hair on Eddie’s brow, his lips brushing against his temple.

Eddie goes lax in Buck’s arms with a small whimper of relief. Tommy’s presence is like a balm, the ache from the severance fading as the three of them soak in their proximity, the new Bond thrumming and buzzing with energy. Buck can feel it coiled around his heart, tugging towards Tommy in one direction, and Eddie in the other. From now, he will always know where they are, and if they’re in danger.

Tommy whispers a few words in Latin, his magic glowing a rich bronze around him, the smell of burnt leaves filling the air around them, and Buck feels a warmth settle in the pit of his stomach, spreading through his veins. Any residual pain seeps from his body, and he sighs with relief, burying his face against Tommy’s chest.

They’re quiet for a moment, the three of them exhausted and shaky from the energy expended. They trade soft, gentle kisses, unwilling to untangle themselves and move somewhere more comfortable.

“I could feel your pain,” Eddie whispers, breaking the silence. Buck tightens his arms around Eddie as he waits for him to continue. Tommy’s hand comes up to stroke through Eddie’s hair, his other hand gripping Buck’s arm tightly.

“The moment I severed your Bond I felt it. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, even worse than when Shannon –” he chokes, swallowing thickly. He takes a moment to breathe, to compose himself before continuing. “For a moment I thought I should just remake it for you two, to stop the pain. That I wasn’t worthy of being included.”

Buck’s heart clenches painfully, his hand coming up to cup the back of Eddie’s neck. He looks over at Tommy and their eyes lock. A singular bronze tear winds it way down Tommy’s cheek.

“What changed your mind?” he asks quietly, his voice strangled. Buck loosens Tommy’s hold on his arm and laces their fingers together.

“Your souls called to me,” Eddie confesses. He sits up slowly and presses a palm against Tommy and Buck’s chests. Buck can feel the tug of the new Bond as it stretches and pulls, accommodating both men. It tugs at him, calling him to press his lips against Eddie, or Tommy, to wrap them up in his arms and never let go. He can see the same emotions reflected on Tommy's face, and Eddie seems to notice too. He reaches for Tommy and pulls him close.

"We needed you," Tommy whispers against Eddie's throat. "We will always need you."

“There will never be an us without you, Eddie,” Buck adds. He conjures a ball of golden energy in his hand, the orb fizzing and sparkling around his fingers. It burns brighter than he’s ever seen it. He takes Eddie’s hand, placing it beneath his, then Tommy’s beneath Eddie’s, and the ball of energy grows, the colour changing from gold, to silver, to bronze, before becoming all three as their magic combines.

“See, we’re stronger together.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s eyes shine as he looks up at them, his two, loving, Bonded partners. Nothing will ever separate them again. “Stronger together.”