#perhaps I'll draw her out soon

[palilious]

IF we ever get to meet her, what do you think Persephone would look like?

Oooh! Take that @goodboyaudios I'm stealing your interviewers lolol You know I've had a thought of how Persephone looks, just never had the time to actually put a design on paper. She would still have the marble stone look that all the Orrerian Giants have, perhaps mid-grey like Zeus' skin tone. A rounded nose and downturned eyes, a gentle smile. Her hair would be tied up with a crown of golden flowers and a bun in the back with more greenery holding it in place. She would also have golden plant accessories decorating her arms and legs, and a pink toned robe with more flowers pinning the cloth. The flowers would range from Cyclamen to Perennial Sunflowers, depending on the season.

I think Pandora and her would get along, she seems very sweet.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I’m falling out of obsession love with konig..will you do me the favor and respark my love for him i need an obsessed in love man to match 😓

Word count: 1.9 k

Summary: He comes to see you after a mission.

CW: Mild smut, angst, fluff, emotions. +18 only

A/N: This is part of the Just Friends universe, but pov is 2nd person (you instead of she/her). I'm not sure if this is what you asked for anon...but it's what you're going to get 🥹 

Rain drums your window. You've left it open a crack, and should get up and close it, but you don't have the strength. You can't sleep, you can't get up: it's the wolf's hour and the mood is heavy like the rain clouds that have circled the base for hours now.

It's the first time you hear him breaking in. Well, technically speaking, he's not breaking in anymore, now that he has a key. But it always feels like he comes to see you when you least expect it.

The five-day mission has turned into a four-day and half a night mission, then.

You feign sleep and listen how he takes off his boots. He's illegally quiet without them for such a big man. His shirt meets the floor, then he opens his belt – you know he's about to come and ravish you, and for the first time since forever you are not up for it.

The bed lets out a terrible creak of a wail as he crawls next to you. You fear it's only a question of time before the old metal and wood give in under you two. It's basically a miracle the sturdy bunk hasn't yet broken into pieces from your love.

His length touches you first as he settles behind you. It's hot and hard, lean and sleek, like the rest of the man that soon surrounds you like a copper cable with a pulse. His hand is warm as it slips under the covers and under your shirt. Or actually, his shirt.

"I'm home," he half whispers the obvious. Calls your room his home… Or perhaps it's just you. You're his home now.

The hand drifts to your hip, and it's possessive: he always starts there. You win nothing by pretending to be the sleeping beauty, so your hand comes to rest on top of his.

"Did you have fun..?"

It's a bit of a sick question. But it is what it is. And what's more, he doesn't even answer it.

"I need a fresh pair, Engel," he says with an odd honey to his voice.  "The last one is completely ruined."

You know he's talking about another pair of panties, a comfort object and a lucky charm he takes with him now that he's back in the field again.

The rain taps the window, and the darkness of the room is only pierced by distant hues of blue. The base is never dark, never fully asleep. His hand drags the shirt up, then stops on your ribs.

"You have my shirt on."

It's not a scolding, not at all. It's only a happy, shocked surprise.

"You… You left it here," you turn a little to look at him. You can see his lashes from the darkness of the hood as they drop: he's looking at you with tenderness, although the demanding flesh against the small of your back is far from tender. 

"Mm. You have my shirt and I got your panties... A good deal, eh?"

His hand wanders further under the shirt, cups a handful of your breast. You can feel the cords of muscle bunching against you: abs that contract, thighs that press and lift yours, his cock that gives a taut pull between you two.

Your nipple is caught between hard fingertips, as he twists it like a volume control. Your abs crunch too, out of the sudden sensation that bleeds.

"Hey…"

"I can't concentrate on missions because of you," his voice drops another note or two. And now you are being scolded. But so, so tenderly still…

"Mh, König… Not–not tonight," you whisper, wondering if this man can even take a thing such as a simple no. He lets go of your nipple, but not your breast. 

Not you. Never you.

"You have worries?"

You. You're my only worry.

Your mouth closes, draws into a line. You can't tell him.

“No… No.”

"Let me have you, angel. I've waited so long." His breath is growing heavier, the lean pulse against your back, thicker. 

"I'll make you feel good," he tries to bargain when you're not responding. In a way, you want him too, but for the first time during your... acquintance, you would like him to just hold you. Without the need to throw yourselves off a cliff first.

"Not tonight." You move, then turn in his gentle, throbbing hold, and he almost draws his hand away. "Please, König…?"

"Ok," he says, but looks like he doesn't quite know what to do. Just...hug you? Go to sleep while holding you? It's a change in protocol, but he's willing to do it for you. For that knowledge alone, your hand slithers down, finds his length and wraps around it.

"I can help you? If you want?" 

The rain is thin now, as it bats the glass. He lets you go and gradually leans back, falls to the mattress and allows you to give him a good, long stroke.

"My saving angel," is the only thing he says as he falls as slack as he can – a state which can barely be called relaxed – under your palm.

He's a needy man, and deprived since the last time you saw him. Which is why you know it doesn't take long. You barely see him in the electrically illuminated darkness, but you can feel how the choked sighs ripple across his body. You feel everything: the tight trembles, the density of the air around him. You hear the moist click as he swallows, the panting that rises. The occasional groans that sound like he's crying although he's not.

It's the only way he knows how to feel good, and someday, it just might make you cry. Even the sky cries for him, it seems, because a sudden gust of wind sends an entire sheet of rain against your window.

He's exceptionally quiet, probably because you didn't let him inside you this time. But then you remember he's usually this quiet only when he's emotional.

He's missed you...

That's what this is about – the ever demanding furnace of flesh. He wants to drown in you, burn until there's nothing left. It's been days, and he might've found some privacy to fantasize about you while ruining your lace, but it's no substitute for the real thing.

His hand flies on top of yours after you find that perfect angle, the one he likes. A harsh moan coats the night air, and shoots fireworks inside your stomach. He moves your hand up and down his cock like you can't do it right, but the connection, in truth, speaks of intimacy. The touch is affectionate. It says: 'we'…

Us.

Together.

He hisses, as if he's in pain. But he's just close, and you up the pace: his own hand is now only a loose, gentle cage around yours. He's so long, it seems like it takes forever to travel from the tip to the base, and you're trying to be quick and strong on top of it all. Just milk him well so he can sleep. 

So that perhaps you can sleep.

He looks at what you're doing to him, then looks at you, and it's the vulnerability in that stare that makes you understand he feels equal to that rain. You're his only summer sun. 

Then those lashes flutter, and his eyes turn to glass just before he comes. He spills all over himself with a long groan and a soul-ripping jerk, a giant coming undone under your palm and on your poor bunk bed that has seen so much already. The load is so generous you wonder whether he has even had the time to jerk himself off during the mission. If your innocent lace has barely been touched…

The last spurts are sadder, a few gushes that float to coat your hand, and he finally stills into some form of peace. He breathes in the night, relaxed and empty. You feel like you just worked on an emotional volcano, but he gathers himself quickly, raises to a half sit and tears his shirt off and over your head. Using it to clean himself and your hand, he throws it somewhere on the floor and pulls you on top of him.

Your breasts meet the solid chest, your thighs barely have enough time to go about his hips as he closes you in one of those bear hugs. The half-hard tip of him still throbs against your folds, and only then do you notice you're wet.

"I missed you," he sighs through the mask as you're held tight against his slowly settling pulse. He holds you exceptionally firm, squeezes you against him like you're his favorite toy. He tightens the hold around your middle until you are forced to let out a whimper. Only then does he loosen the hug and give out a gentle chuckle.

"Immer so gut… You feel so good. Always."

His confession is such a normal and yet, such a fragile thing to say, that you feel tears burning in your eyes.

"I missed you too," you say while trying to hide your tears from him.

"If you have worries, you can talk to me," he then says and starts to caress your back. The window is open, and the cool night air rolls in but in his embrace, you don't feel cold. You squeeze your legs and arms around him, feeling like a leech who never wants to let go. Finally, he's holding you, just the way you wanted to…

"It's nothing," you say, when in truth this man has you worried day and night. He's like a fridge you stock full day after day, only to find it empty every morning. And the things he gives you, the things he stuffs you full with… It's like having a cat who likes to fall asleep with you, a tame, purring beast who brings you fat rodents. If you don't praise him for them, he starts to hide them around the house until you wake up one morning to a terrible smell.

"You're the first who's ever hugged me," he mutters somewhere next to your ear. The golden fire inside your stomach turns into pity, horror and pain. 

"Are–are you serious…?" You whisper in the darkness of his mask that's spilled all over your pillow. You know he has had women before you, but apparently, they have never attached to him like this. Like tiny little leeches to a bear.

"Didn't your mother hug you when you were little?"

He thinks on his answer for a second or two, maybe three. The fact that he has to think about it should tell you enough.

"No."

Then, "I can't remember…"

Your lip tugs, your lashes bat away the fire that burns. He's breathing calmly under you again, satiated by a simple handjob and a hug. Although it feels like he's the one hugging you while you're being held captive there on top of him… It feels like he doesn't even quite know what a hug is.

"She had her own troubles," he mutters, sounding like he's about to fall asleep. Even on the brink of oblivion, he defends the woman who didn't know how to hug her own child, because he can survive without touch. No matter what, he will survive. 

His breathing starts to even, and your tears begin to fall. You think of moving from on top of him, to give him space and comfort to get some sleep. But it seems it's not an option, the way he holds you like a plush toy he will never let anyone take from him.

"I think I'm going to sleep now," he rasps, somewhere between awake and sleep. The rain has stopped, and you wonder whether it has only moved somewhere else, if it's now raining inside you. His hold of you tightens just before he slips to sleep.

"Don't let go, Engel…"

[kurogane2512]

Kinktober 2023 day 1

Roleplay, collar and leash, overstimulation with....

Can be read as gn! reader (strap/cock is used)

"Kneel for me, Chief~" Eirene ordered with a smirk and a deep gaze, her azure eye glowing with a tint. You thought this would be a simple visit to discuss finances for the MBCC but things were taking an unexpected turn, not that you minded it. You walked towards her side of the table and crouched on one knee, looking up at her firmly. Eirene leaned forward and held your chin with her fingers, her nail brushing your lower lip.

"My, such a suitable position for you, Chief. You look so enticing~"

"What are you trying to do, Eirene?"

Eirene clicked her tongue, "That's not how you address me, Chief. I believe the correct term is...." she moved towards your ear to whisper in a sultry low voice, "...Mistress~"

Oh, that's how she wanted to play this. Fine, you would comply for MBCC's sake. Eirene opened a lower drawer in her table and searched for something until your ears perked up at a clinking sound and you saw a collar in her hand. She proceeded to put the collar around your neck followed by attaching a metallic chain to it acting as a leash.

"Such an adorable sight, Chief. You seem all ready to please your mistress~"

She tugged on the leash and pulled you closer, your head lying on her milky thighs as her fingers brushed your hair softly before grabbing a heap and pulling your face up to meet her eyes.

"You will listen to your mistress like a good pet, won't you, Chief?~"

You gulped and nodded, gradually feeling aroused by this whole enactment. She parted her legs open for you to look at her glistening cunt, shaven clean and fair.

"Come here, my pet~"

She tugged on the leash again and your face was captured between her thighs now, your nose touching her clit as your mouth was firm against her folds. You settled your hands on her inner thighs and gently rubbed them as you started licking her clit making her sigh in satisfaction while resting back on her chair. Your tongue lapped up her outer folds, tasting her sweet and intoxicating essence as it dripped from her accompanied by her breathy moans.

"W-What a good pet....mhm....not bad, Chief~ Perhaps....ngh~ Perhaps you should take up this job and leave your precious MBCC, I'll pay you well~"

Eirene chuckled but soon moaned loudly as you thrusted your tongue inside her walls, catching her by surprise. Her thighs enclosed around your head more and her back arched, pulling on the leash to make you come closer with one hand while the other grasped your hair and pushed you deeper. You held up her thighs and plunged at a deeper angle, her head shooting back with a loud moan feeling your tongue prod at her sensitive spots.

Her moans became much louder than before, it genuinely surprised you how undignified she sounded at this moment, a complete contrast to her usual noble state. Her chair creaked from her ministrations, gradually shifting away until being stopped by the wall behind. She tugged the leash feeling the distance between your tongue and her pussy, and you obediently moved closer and thrusted inside again.

"Aaahn! Yes! F-Fuck!~ Good pet....make your mistress cum just like this!~"

You sucked on her clit to draw out her essence and she came in no time, squirting over your mouth with an arch of her back and an unruly yet exquisite moan. She panted out and came down from her high while you cleaned up her juices, earning a satisfied pat on your head.

"Not bad for your first job, pet. But we are far from done~"

She opened the drawer again and this time took out a strap on then stood up to walk and you also scuffled on your feet to follow her as she pulled you by the leash towards the couch. With a newfound fervour, both of your clothes were thrown away and she fastened the strap around you before pushing you on the couch and straddling your lap.

"Please me more. Satisfy me for the night and I'll consider your deal~"

She aligned the cock on her folds and pushed it deep inside as she sat down in one ago, moaning out at the penetration. She wasted no time and began rocking back n forth, gripping your shoulders tightly to balance herself. You held her waist and thrusted up into her then continued pounding against her hips, slapping sounds of your skin resounding in the office. Eirene hissed and wrapped her arms around your neck to embrace you, your head getting buried in her ample chest while she rode you harder.

You placed kisses and bites on her neck, your fingers digging in her hips as an idea occurred to you. You smirked as you buried your face in the crook of her neck and focused your shackles on her, a burning electrical sensation running through her body that made her gasp and hold you even tighter.

"A feisty pet I have....aaah....I have for myself~ You'll pay f-for that...mhm!~"

"I just want to please you, mistress~"

You turned to the side and placed her on the couch then wrapped her legs around your waist and pounded into her with no mercy. Her body felt weak at the overwhelming sensations, sweat covering her skin and the intense feeling from the shackles still lingering in her. But the shackles also conveyed your deep lustful desire for her and she wanted you more. She tugged the leash all of a sudden and crashed your lips together in a heated and sloppy kiss.

"More....faster....!~" she whimpered against your lips and you sat back up to hold her waist and thrust more. You watched her beautiful state beneath you; her gorgeous hair splayed all over and her breasts bouncing with every thrust. Your hips drilled into her harder, your thighs smacking against hers and you could feel another orgasm building up in her as her walls tightened around your cock making it harder for you to move.

A wave of pleasure washed over her as she came again, more intensely than before. Her body arched and a loud breathy moan escaped her lips as you buried the cock to the hilt and made her cum hard, her juices coating the dick as you pulled it out. You expected to rest but it seems she still had more in her as she sat up and turned over standing on all fours and looking back at you with a smirk. The Quinn CEO was truly a force to be reckoned with.

[papermatisse]

the ultimatum || J.WW

♗ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader

♗ genre: angst

♗ word count: 6.3k

♗ warnings: argument, break up, family problems, depression, overthinking, uhh

♗ synopsis: wonwoo is living a peaceful and happy mundane life with his partner, though outside forces and responsibilities prompt wonwoo to make a tough decision.

♗ (a/n): hello :) I have written smth :) this is for this request that I got in october and I've only just now gotten to writing it bc I finished my semester finally :)) thank you anon for your unrelenting patience I am so so so sorry for taking this long to write this. I v much so appreciate your understanding and your leniency on me 😭🙏❤️

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It was silent. Nothing but the low hum of his radiator whirring somewhere in the background, serving as the sole ambience to fill the dreadful, awful silence that plagued the dingey, rundown apartment. He sat on his couch, the rough material scratching along the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling with this dazed, thousand mile stare. The haze of delirium had haunted him for days now, at first merely muddling his thoughts into this droning ambiguity that left him empty and monotonous. Though soon it seeped into the outer edges of his character, skin paling like death, lips settled into a permanent scowl, eyes clouded with no emotion—or perhaps that look was him drowning and wrought with every emotion his feeble mind could conjure up.

There were specks of happiness dabbled in the disordered web of thoughts in his mind. They derived from the lot of memories in the archives of his head, playing on repeat and reminding him of better days.

When he first met (y/n), bemused by the sight of this girl dressed to the nines yet soaked to the bone. A flimsy jacket, just as drenched as she, lay helplessly above her head as a makeshift and utterly unsuccessful umbrella of sorts from the storm raging outside. He watched her carefully, glancing every so often as he wiped away at the counter. She at first stood there, taking in her surroundings with what seemed to be a mixture of confusion and awe. Though soon, she seemed to catch her bearings as she navigated over to his bar, carefully sliding onto a booth as if it were an entirely new contraption to her.

"What's your poison?" He asked her as he made his way to her side. The sound of his voice had startled her greatly, as she near jumped out of her seat, head whirling to face the sudden addition to her solitude.

"I'm sorry?" She replied. Her own voice was far too soft for a bar setting, though he was thankfully able to catch on to her and the utterly hopeless stare she gave him. With a soft chuckle, he leant over the bar, drawing as close as he could to her without invading her space.

"What drink can I get you?"

She was quiet at first with this stunned expression, blinking at him in a stupor. Quickly shaking her head, she averted her gaze to the countertop.

"I'll just have water please."

A simple request, though he couldn't really argue, merely filling a glass with water and sliding it over.

"Can I at least get you a lemon to top off your beverage?"

"Sure," She replied, a small smile spreading across her face at his inquiry, and he felt just the slightest bit accomplished in his duties as a bartender.

Again, he watched her carefully as he continued with work and as she nursed the drink before her. She had finally shed the useless article of clothing from her head, placing it in her lap with a defeated sigh. She really was quite overdressed for a bar setting, wearing a designer dress suited more for a business meeting than for day drinking. It only served to further pique his curiosity, and as the time passed by and the rain outside refused to let, he saw his moment to answer his questions.

"So what brings you to this fine establishment? Aside from the obviously satisfying atmosphere." He smiled to himself as she chuckled at his mannerisms.

"As much as I love this fine establishment so far," she began, widening his smile at her own jests, "it was the first place I could run into when the rains started." He hummed, still looking at her with unwavering eyes, and she attempted to meet his strong gaze, though faltered at the end. With a sigh, she continued, falling under the silent peer pressure of his eyes urging her to continue. "I attended a meeting for my dad. It didn't really agree with me, so I left. Before I could catch a ride home, it started raining, so I ran here."

"Sounds like a pretty rough day." She agreed with a nod, fingers absentmindedly tracing over the condensation clinging to her glass. He could see she was trying to shrink away from his presence, though he was never one to back down. "How about I give you a ride home?"

"Pardon?"

"My shift's just about to end now. I'd hate to leave you here knowing you're trapped 'cause of the rain." She looked at him again with that same stunned appearance as she had when he first made his presence known to her. Sparkling eyes with this dazed nature to them, as if not fully there at the moment—entrenched in her thoughts with nowhere else to direct her attention. The realization brought another grin to his face, and he waited expectantly for her answer to arrive.

"I don't even know your name, though." Her words were laced with hesitancy, as if not even she was fully committed to the concluding limitations she had made of his offer. Because he knew it was a good deal for her, and for him, as a part of him truly didn't feel right leaving her all alone without knowing for a fact that she was safe at home.

"Wonwoo." He replied easily, sliding his hand over to her. Her eyes had watched the movement, lingering on him for a moment more, before she slid her own hand into his in a subtle, noncommittal handshake. "I can't take a stranger in my car though. What's your name?"

Another chuckle out of her, and another boost to Wonwoo's ego for the day.

"(y/n)."

It was out of character for him, as he usually pays no mind to drifters of any sort, though he can't find it in himself to ever regret having stepped out of his comfort zone to bring a smile to her face that day. And what had started as a mere happenstance crossing of paths had soon morphed into frequent visits with (y/n) wandering into the bar and waiting for Wonwoo to serve her a drink before taking her home.

It was near inevitable for the two to grow feelings for one another, and soon blossom a relationship.

Wonwoo felt the corners of his lips twitch up just the slightest bit, remembering how nervous (y/n) had been to ask him out one of the days he dropped her off home. The memory of how she avoided his gaze, fiddled with her hoodie, stumbled over her words, and all he did was sit there and wait patiently, heart bursting at the seams at the sight of her trying to profess her love in some meaningful way on a random Tuesday evening.

It had all been so heavenly at the start. His apartment was small and old, yet she brought this vitality to it that made him feel more alive everyday. The kitchen which once was strictly for sustaining his nutrients now became a haven where the two cooked anything and everything together. The living room which was once merely a middle ground for him to pass the time by with nothing better to do was now where they spent their days watching movies and talking to each other endlessly. The bedroom where he once fell asleep and woke up as is became his sanctuary, where he could fall asleep and wake up to the sight of her right beside him.

Though now as he recounted these memories, that happiness in him soon twinged into a bittersweet sadness, wincing at the reminder of when it had all started going wrong.

Wonwoo had become well aware of (y/n)'s background in living a comfortable life with her family's old money. How could he not with how flippant she seemed to be with her finances. He had been initially concerned with the steady stream of money she tossed away at things he'd deem inconvenient or unnecessary, though it all started to make sense in due time. The way (y/n) went about life with such little worries, at times even seeming naive in Wonwoo's eyes. Though it never bothered him. He was always glad to be there for her. To help her in things she didn't understand, be the helping hand as she experienced many firsts in the world, and he could tell she was just as happy to have him by her side helping. A mutualistic relationship, in which both parties thrived in each other's differences.

At that point was when Wonwoo knew he was in love, and he hadn't hesitated in telling (y/n) that on a random night where they debated what to watch and wound up deciding on perhaps the worst B-movie they've ever seen. Through their fits of laughter, tears in their eyes and stomachs sore, Wonwoo took a moment to admire (y/n) as she was. Freshly showered and smelling of his body wash, adorned in his old raggedy clothes, bright eyed and smiley, absolutely jubilant in his arms. It was an undeniable fact. Something he couldn't refute, nor anyone else for that matter.

“I love you.”

(y/n) had glanced up at him, laughter slowly dying down, though her smile remained in place, only growing by the second as she processed his words.

“Really?” He nodded, lips tugging up at her infectious giggles bubbling up as she nestled closer to him. “I love you, too.”

It had only taken a few weeks after their confession for her to deem it acceptable to introduce him to her family, which is how Wonwoo found himself at the doorstep of an imposingly large manor, adorned with his old button up that had been tossed in the back of his closet, and a bouquet of flowers in hand.

The mother was the first to greet them as they entered the house, appreciatively accepting Wonwoo's floral offering. Next had been her grandmother, who had been absolutely floored by Wonwoo’s looks, praising the Lord above for her granddaughter having found such a good looking man.

Then he met her father. A man who seemed to be the epitome of stoicism. A permanent scowl was etched into the aged lines on his face, and every advance on Wonwoo’s part was greeted by a cold glare and an indifferent grunt. None of the others were in any way taken aback by his mannerisms, however, and so Wonwoo could only assume this was just how his character was.

Some days had passed since the initial meet and greet, and Wonwoo found himself being unexpectedly invited once more to the manor by none other than the man of the house. How he had obtained his number was beyond him, but upon the request of a one on one session between the two, Wonwoo couldn't really care less about the ordeal of his privacy, merely relieved at the possibility that he hadn't completely ruined his reputation with his significant other's father.

Or so he was led to believe.

“I'm sorry?” Wonwoo spoke, voice low and barely above a whisper, yet strained as he attempted to piece together the sudden turn of events without outright creating a potentially unnecessary fiasco in this man’s office.

“I want you to break up with my daughter.”

Okay, so he hadn't heard wrong. He truly was just given the demand to break up with his girlfriend for seemingly no reason. Shocked couldn't even begin to explain the emotions swirling in his head, mouth agape as he attempted to make any semblance of the situation at hand.

The man remained seated across from him, briefly returning to his documents as if Wonwoo’s presence alone was nothing more than a hindrance to his schedule. Merely a minor detour in his work flow that didn't deserve even his full attention.

Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo summoned every ounce of strength within him in order to maintain his calm facade, pressing on with as steady a time as he could muster.

“May I ask for what reason you've sprung this upon me?” The older man paused to look at Wonwoo, giving him an unimpressed once over before returning to his work.

“Mr. Jeon, you seem to be a very good man. Strong, capable, good looking. You're practically everything a father wants for his daughter. Just not my daughter.”

To say he was taken aback would be the understatement of the year, because Wonwoo found himself practically reeling whilst trying to gather his thoughts and make sense of the situation. He felt his eye twitch momentarily, fists clenching by his side as he allowed the man to proceed with whatever motives he had in summoning Wonwoo in the first place.

“My daughter is scatterbrained as is. The last thing she needs is financial struggles to add to her carefree thought process.”

“I'm not rich enough for you?” Wonwoo spat out, venom laced in his tone. His head quirked to the side, a sharp glare directed at the man, challenging him to press on with his offense. Yet the man seemed unaffected by Wonwoo’s clear disdain, merely huffing an amused sigh as he continued.

“Don't take it to heart, kid. You'll understand when you have your own daughter in the future.” Wonwoo watched as he stood from his seat, rounding his desk to be face to face with him. “You know (y/n) as well as I do. She's not built for the harsh world out there.”

“You want to keep her sheltered in your little fantasy world? Coddle her until you're on your deathbed?”

“The world's less harsh for our kind.”

Wonwoo felt his blood boil, though remained as is. Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, staring daggers into the man and his blatant ignorance.

“She's a grown woman,” Wonwoo began, voice low because he feared any alternative would involve shouting. “A grown woman capable of making her own decisions. Falling in love with whoever she wants to. Dealing with her own struggles without her father hovering over her.”

“She'll get just that if she stays with the likes of you.”

At this, Wonwoo found his composure faltering, brows furrowed in concentration, attempting to piece together what the man could possibly be insinuating. Judging from the prior turns of their conversation thus far, Wonwoo could only imagine the lengths this man would go to rid his life of Wonwoo’s presence.

A sly smile crossed the face of the man. Perhaps the first expression outside that of his permanent scowl. Wonwoo felt immediate discomfort from the sight, at the apathy emanating from beyond the man’s eyes. This cold, resolute stare that seemed near sociopathic almost.

“What are you insinuating?”

“If my daughter is to remain with the likes of you, a certified liability upon her, then I'd have no choice but to cut her off entirely.” Wonwoo felt his heart drop at the monotonous words coming out of this man's mouth, uncaring as if it were nothing more than a business transaction. “Cut off her finances, her access to my estate. Even her relations with myself and my family.” Wonwoo attempted to meet the hard and calculative stare trained on him, but his resolve was beginning to crumble with every new thing spoken. “You wouldn't want to be the cause of (y/n) being disowned, now would you?”

No, he wouldn't. It was a shitty ultimatum. Break up with my daughter or she'll be completely removed from her family. It was downright psychotic behavior. Something which shook Wonwoo to his core. He had only ever seen this type of character in fiction. Someone this unmoving, completely devoid of empathy. His thoughts and concerns only revolved around himself, only ever using the facade of concern for his daughter. Though in actuality, it had become perfectly clear to Wonwoo that the man only cared about his own personal image which would be impacted by his daughter's unworthy match.

He wanted to leave immediately. He wanted to actively punch the man before leaving this accursed manor. He wanted to whisk (y/n) away from the pitiful excuse of a father trying adamantly to control her every waking moment. He wanted to run away with her, live their own life without the crushing weight of societal expectations dampening the tranquility of their relationship. He wanted to return home where (y/n) would be waiting for him, safe from the outside world in the sanctity of their four walls. He wanted to make her laugh until her head was tipped back and her sides ached. He wanted to comfort her when times got too tough for her to manage on her own. He wanted to be the one to embrace all of the love she had to offer. He wanted to be her first and her last in everything.

Though he couldn't bear the guilt of having forced this ultimatum upon her. He didn't want to tarnish the image of her family because of the tyrant claiming to be her father. He didn't want to have her choose between her family or her significant other. The mere image of (y/n)’s agony wreaked havoc upon his poor battered heart. Images of when he first met (y/n), walking into the bar like a confused, wet puppy flitted through his memories, and he couldn't handle bearing witness to it once more.

That day, he left the manor without another word and without another glance behind him. He couldn't recall much of what happened following his departure, though sooner rather than later, he found himself walking into his apartment once more. His mind felt frenzied with thoughts and concerns, calculating his options and reevaluating his morals. Yet in a conflicting sense, he felt absolutely empty. Numb to the outside world, barely conscious enough to even discern how much time had passed since he had returned home.

By the time he had come to, he hadn't come to a decision. Or perhaps he just hadn't come to a decision he liked. There was a logical answer, one that took into consideration everyone's circumstances, one that accounted the world and the way it functions outside his own life. And then there was his selfish answer. The one that accounted for all of these factors, yet ignored them nevertheless in lieu of his own desires. The one that resulted in his own happiness, though at the cost of everybody else's.

It felt like an internal strife was dismantling the very foundation of his life, eating away at him until he was nothing left. A vessel devoid of its soul, wading listlessly in the universe, awaiting for, dreading the moment he'll have to make his choice. Or more correctly, make the only feasible choice in the matter. Because no matter how desperate he wants (y/n) in his life, and no matter how heinous of a being her father is, the guilt of the matter which derived from the conditions forced upon him overrode that of anything else. He couldn't possibly revoke (y/n)’s entire life, everything she's ever been accustomed to, merely for his own selfishness. He knew this was exactly what her father hoped for. Exploiting the way Wonwoo cared for (y/n) with every fiber of his being. And as much as Wonwoo wanted to deny it, his plan worked.

The sound of his door unlocking was what managed to jostle Wonwoo from his stupor, albeit only a microscopic amount, though enough for him to blink away his delirium and look up just as (y/n) came walking into the room, bright smile on display the moment her eyes landed upon the man seated on the couch.

“Wonwoo!” The jubilance in her voice managed to soothe the turmoil wrought in his heart, a wry smile curling at the corners of his lips. From where he sat, he watched as she mosied about the apartment as naturally as one breathes. Toeing off her shoes, tossing her things onto the counter, raiding the fridge for whatever beverage she can find to cool off. All the while, she rambled endlessly of her day, from the very beginning when she woke up to the traffic on her way to work, the new place her and her friends visited for lunch, anything to fill the void that usually enshrouds Wonwoo's apartment. And his smile grew more and more fond, impossible to even deny for a moment how happy he was in her presence. It was how they always worked. What he was, she was the opposite. In the silence Wonwoo had grown accustomed to, resided for most of his life, she offered that peaceful white noise to settle his nerves and quell his rampant thoughts. “You're awfully quiet today. Is everything alright?”

(y/n) had made her way to the living room, collapsing on the couch beside him, naturally nestling against his side. All the while, her soft eyes remained on him, never pushing him to talk, though assuring him he was always free to. The clarity of her emotions and the way she expressed them to him was always something he admired, and meeting those loving eyes for perhaps the last time finally broke his resolve.

“It's nothing, really.” He quickly turned away, not wanting her to see the way his eyes glossed over with unshed tears.

“Well, obviously it's something if it's got you like this.” Her voice was low, just above a whisper, preserving the still of the atmosphere set around them. The hum of the radiator filled the room, providing that subtle medium for Wonwoo to concentrate on and avoid the spiraling thoughts swirling in his head. Beside him, he could feel (y/n)’s gentle touch on his hand, thumb lightly brushing against his knuckles. He loved the way she treated him so tenderly, taking her time and speaking lightly, touches sweet and demure no matter how imposing he may seem to others. The thought of tarnishing this tranquility, destroying the relationship they both worked so hard to build up, killed Wonwoo inside.

His heart ached as he sat there, seconds ticking by, battling himself every step of the way. (y/n)’s persistent patience didn't help his cause in any way. Her presence which usually served as an anchor weighing him down to earth now felt like a damning weight upon his shoulders. The arrangement forced upon him by her father revolved around his thoughts, an ever recurring reminder that he can't preserve this. He can't keep this happiness anymore. He can't have (y/n) any longer.

“I…” His voice trembled, cracking through the gravely undertone from his silence that day. He hesitantly turned his head to face her, though couldn't find it in himself to look up at her.

He was a coward, he knew this. Everything in this situation only further proved this revelation of his. He was a coward, and even if he did choose the selfish route in this predicament, in what world did he even deserve (y/n) in the first place?

He gulped, breath shaky as he finally dared a glance her way. As always, the (y/n) before him was as lovely as ever. Eyes remaining on him, an edge of concern in her furrowed brows. Her hand in his continued to soothingly stroke his skin, comforting him for as long as he needed. Averting his eyes once more, he felt his body tremble with wrought emotion, knowing what was to come, yet attempting to delay it.

He truly didn't deserve (y/n).

“I think we should break up,” he finally spoke, voice weak, forced out in a broken whisper.

Silence settled over them, the radiator persisting with its low hum, yet this time, it couldn't mask the heavy tension slowly accumulating in the room. Wonwoo’s body seemed to vibrate with the effort exerted in detaining himself, preventing him from retracting his words, reaching out to (y/n) and apologizing for ever even amusing such an outlandish idea. But he remained as is, nervously scratching at the rough material of his jean clad legs, torturously waiting for a response from (y/n).

The silence he met was perhaps the most harrowing response he could've received, not having the slightest clue of what could be going through her head, especially since his eyes refused to stray her way. Though he could feel her gaze upon him, and it killed him inside. Completely and utterly at a loss for himself with only the fleeting strength he'd managed to scrape up to preserve the facade of monotony across his countenance.

“Break up?” She asked, the only words she could muster with his sudden proposition. Her voice was once more soft, though instead of the comforting lull it usually carried, it seemed weak almost. Barely able to slip past her lips, barely loud enough for Wonwoo himself to hear. His heart clenched upon itself at the sound of those words coming from her, as if a taboo phrase never meant to be uttered by either of them. And the realization that the two have both broken that unspoken promise made the situation all the more real. “Why?”

Why?

It was a simple question. Inevitable, even. But somehow it threw Wonwoo for a loop. He couldn't just outright expose her family for what they were, more specifically that of her father. It wasn't his place. And he wouldn't dare place that burden upon her. It was why he was deciding to break up with her now. He just couldn't say that to her directly…

“I…” He paused to clear his throat, averting his gaze to his lap now, perhaps his one safe haven in a room which reminded him of (y/n) far too much.

Every memory they ever made together. Where they first said I love you, where they shared countless meals together, where she'd fall asleep unknowingly in his arms and heal his soul with her presence alone. Every hug and every kiss, every loving word and tender touch. Their milestones, their fights, their heart to hearts. Every aspect of their relationship is imprinted upon the aspects of his apartment, like a time capsule commemorating the moments they shared together.

“I don't think… we're a good match…”

“Why?” This why came much faster than the previous one, and Wonwoo found himself momentarily floundering upon the realization that this would result in a back and forth with which he'd have to give her a proper reason for giving up on their relationship.

“I don't want to hold you back.”

“Hold me back?” She questioned. “Where would you have gotten that assumption from? In what ways are you holding me back?”

At the sound of her frustrated tone, Wonwoo gave in and finally met her gaze. Though her voice wavered with restrained disappointment, her eyes betrayed her motive, watering as she finally met Wonwoo's own conflicted stare.

“I mean… You're you… and I'm me. You have your life and I have mine. And I don't…” He paused once more, swallowing down the lump in his throat to continue. “You have your friends, your family, and—”

“My family?” She asked, drowning in confusion at his utterance. “What about my family? Did something happen?”

Wonwoo sat there for a moment, panic broiling within him. An opportunity presenting itself. His final chance to back out.

Either he confesses to everything. Tells her how her father pulled him aside on purpose so he would be the one to decide, in order to save face with his own daughter. Tells her how she would be forced to start anew in life if she were to stay with him. Cut off from everything she'd ever known in life. Money, family, businesses, properties. All of it no longer at her disposal. Merely as a consequence for choosing him at the end of the day.

Or he continues with his initial goal in mind. Revoking her right to decide merely because it was too tasking of a decision to make for him, let alone for her. Force her to live in blissful ignorance alongside her family, abandon Wonwoo and the life they built together, allow her to continue with the way of life she'd grown so accustomed to.

Could she handle the pressures of starting adulthood from scratch? With her only resources being Wonwoo and whatever he was capable of giving to her? Could she handle the debilitating trauma of being disowned and banished by the people who raised her? Merely to stay with him? Was he even worth such a grand decision?

Perhaps deep down, Wonwoo actually feared what her answer would be. Because there was always a high probability she'd choose her family and her comfortable life over him and their relationship. Perhaps that's why he felt the need to make the decision on his own. Perhaps that's why he chose to punish himself rather than to let her do it for him. Perhaps that's why he suddenly found himself spewing whatever nonsense his jumbled mind could conjure to complete this objective.

“This has nothing to do with your family.” (y/n) quieted down at the sudden resolve in Wonwoo’s tone, and Wonwoo himself was shocked to find how steady his voice had become in a mere few seconds passed. “It has everything to do with the fact that we are just not compatible.”

“Not compatible…” (y/n) repeated in awe, words mumbled as she attempted to process what he said to her.

“You come from an affluent background, so it was already a given we'd find differences in the way we perceived the world and engage in it. Your terms of spending and saving differ vastly to my own. Though you may seem indifferent to the way I live my life, I am not in regards to your own.” His words sounded almost rehearsed with the way he spoke in such a steady and monotonous manner. One brief glance towards (y/n) only served to validate his own observations of himself, and he quickly averted his gaze once more lest the unbridled emotion enshrouding her eyes tempt him into retreat. “With the obvious aside, I find myself struggling to find meaning in this relationship that we've somehow stumbled our way into.” He paused to gather his bearings, taking as discrete an inhale as he could to try and quell the nerves firing within him. “I find you clingy in that you've occupied my apartment for weeks at a time and have essentially weaseled your way into my living space. I think you're immature in the way you spend your money, but also shameless as you also attempt to monitor my own finances. You're sheltered and you don't understand the real world, including my own and all those around us. You—”

A swift slap across his face halted Wonwoo from proceeding. It hadn't hurt him in any physical way, merely resulting in the combination of silencing him, turning his head in another direction, and perhaps a slight sting at most. Though what truly struck at Wonwoo's heartstrings was the sharp gasp that followed the initial impact, and in his peripheral vision he could see (y/n) grasping the hand that had slapped him, as if offended by her own action.

He took the suddenness of the situation to gather himself once more, regaining his composure to the best of his abilities before slowly turning to meet (y/n).

His breath had become shaky upon the sight of her. Tears streaming down her face, hands clamped over her mouth in a feeble attempt to silence the sobs bubbling out of her. Her body trembled with the whirlwind of emotions broiling within her, and Wonwoo could see it all as clear as ever. Shock that she'd ever strike Wonwoo in such a way, never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned inflicting any harm to him. Confusion, seemingly in reference to both the slap that catapulted them into this moment of silence though also to the events which had led up to it. Desperation, as if wanting it all to end, not wanting to experience another moment of this ordeal, hoping it would all end soon, or even better if it would have never even happened in the first place. Though the most overwhelming emotion riddled all through her tear ridden gaze was that of despair. Because no matter how much she reflected upon herself and Wonwoo, no matter how much she prayed that this was all a sick figment of her imagination, there was no denying that what had transpired was in fact very real, and unchanging. Wonwoo said what he said, and as the silence grew longer and longer, it was clear there was no chance of him denying his words.

He inhaled shakily, at this point fully rendering the permanence of this situation, and thus allowing himself to momentarily falter in his stoicism.

“Must I continue?”

The next few seconds felt like a blur. One moment he was staring at (y/n), eyes darting to every feature he could, memorizing the curves and lines of her face, imprinting the image into his mind. Allowing himself to admire her one last time in person, even if the image before him would forever haunt his dreams. Every time he'll think back to her, he'll be met with the cruel reality that he allowed her to leave his side for the final time as a broken, defeated woman. Though perhaps it was what he deserved. To be forever reminded of his transgressions, and to forever reflect on what he's done to the one he loves.

Though this hadn't lasted long, for in the next moment, she was quickly rising from the couch and away from him. He sat still, unmoving as he listened to the raucous behind him. Her grabbing her things from the counter, sliding her shoes back on, and then the opening and closing of the door.

What he hadn't heard was the lock behind her, a telltale sign that the one thing she made sure to leave behind was the extra set of keys he had given to her. And at that point, alone in his apartment with the lone hum of the radiator to accompany him, he allowed himself to finally let go, releasing the broken sobs that he'd tried so desperately to restrain whilst in her presence. His cries wracked through his body, loud and pained with reckless abandon. His body gave up, caving in on himself and collapsing onto the floor, barely even strong enough to catch himself before he had curled into the cold, unforgiving hardwood floor.

Once more, time felt more a construct than ever before, for he hadn't any idea the duration of time he spent there, grieving for what he had lost. The pit in his stomach grew cavernous, churning with the absolute nothingness now occupying his insides. Despair consumed his being, imbibed in every fiber of his person, ensuring there wasn't a single remnant of the joy (y/n) had once instilled into him. Regret coincided with his downfall, memories of what once was now being met with memories of what had just occurred. Images of (y/n) smiling at him collided violently with images of her final mortified expression, alongside the onslaught of tears staining her face that he had been the cause of. Though the one all encompassing emotion that overrode everything else was that of pain. Pain riddled his entire body, clawing away at him, scarring him forever. This overwhelming emotion that burrowed into his soul and demanded his attention. He felt it in his gut, his chest, his head, though it soon bled to every square inch of his body, reminding him that it wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

Days had gone by since the break up, and Wonwoo found himself once more sitting at his couch, staring at his ceiling, listening to the radiator hum away. It was sickening to him how time continued to march by, not sparing him even a moment to recover from the plight he'd gotten himself into. Time continued, and so did life. The mundane routine he had made for himself returned like clockwork. Bartending throughout the week before returning home. Though even if he had lived through life like this for longer than he could recall, the now apparent emptiness of it all lingered tauntingly before him.

The lack of shoes to greet him when he'd return home to toe off his own. The silent kitchen as he cooked for one. The TV had remained off ever since, and instead he spent most of his spare time in front of his monitor playing games in hopes of it distracting him from the loneliness now consuming his life.

This was the first day he actually decided to sit on the couch since. The first day he sat in front of the TV, albeit with the screen still completely black. The first day he allowed himself to try and confront what had happened.

His head lolled to the side where (y/n) last sat, and in his self deluded mind, he could practically see the manifested image of her beside him. The clear image of what she looked like that day still fresh in his mind. Though the longer he recalled, the more he could remember of (y/n).

He could still feel the touch of her lips upon his own, her breath hitting the shell of his ear as she whispered sweet nothings to him, the warmth she'd radiate as she cradled him against her. The memories of her felt not only alive with the surroundings of his apartment where they lived together, but also forever imprinted on his person alone.

Weakly, he pulled himself forward, leant against his knees as he attempted to ground himself back to reality. As sweet and oftentimes bitter the memories were to him, they served no purpose other than tormenting him. He needed to move on first before he could think back fondly at what they once had. Though it was always easier said than done.

His hand swiped down his face, rubbing away the exhaustion from his eyes as he reached for the mail he had haphazardly tossed onto his coffee table.

Flipping through the stack, he was met with his usual itinerary of garbage and junk mail. Though one crisp envelope captured his attention. Unmarked, though from the quality alone, Wonwoo could tell it held some significance to it.

Mindlessly, he tore open the letter and extracted the singular sheet of paper within. An unmarked check, signed by none other than (y/n)’s father with only one remark written on it.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

♗ (a/n): hello! this was my first request and also my first like pure angst fic! I do feel really bad for having suddenly dropped off the face of the earth for a good two months, so I hope this is okay. I had fun writing! I mostly sat there reflecting on some psychology 101 type of ethics lol.

[py-dreamer]

Long hair Macaque, my beloved-

No but srsly, one of my favourite designs is just long hair mac and in this au Mammy's figure is just mostly hair.

I was trying to recreate this screenshot:

Obviously there's some difference like I tend to draw a bit chibi (big heads) and I didn't want to make Mac's hair THAT voluminous-

I wanted to achieve sort of a gypsy vibe with these little skrimblos

AND THEN I FOUND THESE:

And I could NOT pass it up.

So yeah...

Oh! And I also gave the sparkly drip to their ears

(Sh!t I just realised, I forgot the shadow creatures... I'll see if I can add them in later)

I COULDN'T for the life of me figure out the hundred yard stare to match with Mac's sharp eyes (how I draw him) and not make it look goofy so I made them spoopy and glowing instead

I sadly don't have much to say about Bai He here since her black hair didn't leave that much room for shading in a darkened environment (I'm so sorry) And this piece was to show off Mac's design more anyway (I promise Bai He will get her spotlight)

(Also Bai He, nor Mk nor Macaque wears shoes. Wukong is the only one in the family who does and I find that funny)

But oh! The hair? Here comes the fun part

(No his hair isn't purple, I just used purple to shade here)

You see I WAS going to use black hair for this photo but i soon realised how much of a pain it was just to shade it (cause i couldn't) and I was just WISHING I could use his white fur instead

And then I realised....

The white fur could be his winter coat.

Some animal's shed their fur in the winter (I think some rabbits do) and grow a new coat, occasionally with a different colour.

Therefore I could make the white fur the winter coat and during the story, his fur could be black to show how much time has passed since Bai He last saw her Baba...

Mwuahahahahahhahahahaha I'm so evil

(I was very proud of myself)

(Also I know macaques don't grow winter coats but just let me have this one ok?)

And why doesn't Bai He have white fur as well then? Well maybe she's just a different kind of monkey or perhaps it's just an age thing.

Funnily enough, when I showed this to my friend, she said he looked heavenly which is funny cause. As much as I love him, Macaque is a smug bastard and he knows it.

Like I know a lot of it was due to trauma BUT STILL

I just personally dislike how the fandom sometimes makes him seem like he could do no wrong and he is "uwu delicate babygirl that needs to be protected at all costs" when this boi is fockin FERAL man.

So despite taking a bit of a back seat in the main plot for this au, Macaque is still a smug bastard behind the scenes as much as he is a good dad

(Gosh sorry for the rant, I just had that pent up for a while now and needed to get it off my chest)

I wanted to post this yesterday on Friday 13th but oh well,

I hope I achieved the mysterious spoopy vibes as the original lol

(Click photo for less sh!tty quality)

(Also pls reblog, as much as I really appreciate feedback in general, I really like this piece and want to show it to more people...)

Gosh we are on a roll with this Shadowalkers au huh?

[hanlimz]

synopsis: you always have room for yang jungwon. pairing: jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: best friends to lovers!!! / self-indulgent fluff! ig maybe angst if you squint, won compares himself to others, reader talks abt being in pain but it's not real (?), mayhaps this fic is a bit incoherent T_T i wrote this in one sitting that ended at 3am so quality may be a little iffy (sorry :,( , mayb i'll rewrite in the future!) wc: 1.4k a/n: cass write for someone that isn't yang jungwon challenge : FAILED ! nah but fr tho, this pic has a Grip on me n i was possessed to write. but in all srsness, i Am working on other non-won centric fics n they should be out.......soon (?)

[8:36PM] through the lens of your grandfather's old polaroid camera, the sun seems to cradle jungwon's face in her array of rich oranges and deep reds. she places her bright lips on the crown of his head and bathes him in a warm, summer light; her golden fingers reach down to smooth out a few stray strands of his hair while moving slowly to caress the sharp angles of his silhouette. however, the glow he radiates almost manages to outshine her as the peach hues of the sky only serve to accentuate his natural beauty. his cheeks are full and round after a (near) five course meal at your grandparents' cottage, his lips are a delicate pink that matches the swath of tulips outside of your old elementary school, and his eyes sparkle in a manner that mirrors the ocean behind him. and, in mere seconds, you decide that this vacation is one of the best ideas you've ever had.

two hearts healing together as one, each enveloping the other in blanket after blanket of pure, unadulterated adoration. with a gleeful flicker in his gaze that you weren't able to place, jungwon had agreed to accompany you—biking around your hometown while reliving old memories and chronicling stories of youthful grandeur. the tranquility had grown steadily, like the dawn of a new day or the promise of a new beginning, and the certainty of his presence came to be all-consuming and ever-existing.

perhaps, you dare to let yourself believe, jungwon had become your sun. since the fifth grade, he has been the one constant in your life. he was the young boy who led you on a tour of your new school after packing up and leaving the place you called home, and he was the kind stranger who helped you catch up on the topics you missed out on. jungwon was the hesitant acquaintance turned best friend, and he is the one person you want to be with after oblivion plagues the earth. but, drawing too close is dangerous—his heat could scorch your skin while his love turns you to ash. for a moment, you ponder that particular track of thought and allow the train to run its course. perhaps, you correct yourself, jungwon has always been your sun.

"[y/n]!" he calls, beckoning you forth from the daydream you found yourself trapped in, "did you get the picture?" no matter the timbre, his voice is melodic, hypnotizing—it is the perfect addition to the evening's quiet sonata. he sings alongside the croaking frogs and the chirping crickets, welcoming the moon as it takes its place in the night sky.

you reply, trying to push down the sudden panic rising in your throat, "not yet, won—stay just like that!"

the camera clicks as it snaps a photo of the masterpiece before your eyes. upon hearing the sound, jungwon leaps from his position on the rocks and bounds over to watch the film develop. with a gentle tug, he pulls the picture from your grasp; jungwon shakes it and blows on it before resigning himself to the painful reality of waiting. the nerves that were crashing like angry waves against the walls of your stomach become a tsunami as he settles with his shoulder brushing against yours. his touch hurts—his presence, though ineffably beautiful, singes the hairs on your arms and ignites a column of blue flame around your heart. a tumultuous contradiction begins to swell inside of you; the peace jungwon imbues in you fights tooth and nail with the doubt your brain conjures up.

don't get too close.

don't let his fire catch.

don't let yourself be caught.

as the colors turn vibrant and jungwon's form becomes clearer, you attempt to hold everything in—every thought, every feeling, every wish, every dream. but, the walls you've kept up for so long start to break and something is forced to give. unable to will your mouth shut any longer, words spill out before you can shove them back down. "you're gorgeous—i mean, it's gorgeous! the picture, that is. i really love you—no, wait. i really love the way you look in the photo ... the sun was really pretty, the sky was perfect, everything was—"

jungwon's laughter stuns you to silence; he clutches his belly while doubling over at your jumbled mess of a confession. his eyes are closed, and you're almost positive his voice will be hoarse tomorrow with the volume at which he's expressing his amusement. the blue flame has been reduced to embers, but another influx of agony washes over you, cutting deeper than before.

"jungwon ..." you say, voice thick with impending tears, "this isn't f—"

a soft hand is pressed to your cheek. the gesture is tender and loving, conveying more than words ever could. his expression is firm, and all traces of humor have dissipated in an attempt to communicate his true feelings with you. "i love you, too," jungwon replies, rubbing his thumb over the apex of your cheekbone. "i love you, too."

"you do?" you ask, fear prickling like thousands of tiny needles under your skin.

"of course, i do." his answer makes everything seem so simple.

"no—but, i'm saying that i love you, love you. i love you in the sense that i want to spend every waking minute next to you, but i don't want to fuck anything up or make anything weird. i love you so much that my future plans always include you—no matter the way, shape, or form. the house i want to live in always has a room for you—i always have room for you." raw emotion overtakes the usual tone of your voice as the reality of this beachside argument about love and clarity and blurred lines sets in. you want him to understand. you need him to understand.

jungwon pauses for a moment. he takes a step closer to your body; the sweet aromas of blood oranges and limes permeate the air shared between the two of you while hints of vanilla and spice mingle with the citrus. never in the eight years that you've known him has jungwon ever been this forward, but as he gazes at you with two umber oceans—you can't bring yourself to care. "i get it. i swear i get [y/n]—and, i'm saying that i love you, love you, too," he giggles, diffusing the tension in the blink of an eye. "i think i always have, [y/n], but deep down, i'm still just that little fifth grade scaredy cat.

our friendship is one of the most important things in the world to me. i honestly think losing you would kill me. and, i know, i'm not the greatest with words if i'm not reading them from a script. i'm nothing special. i'm not good at things right away like heeseung, and i'm not a romantic like jay or jake. i don't have sunghoon's allure or sunoo's charm or riki's magnetism. i'm just me—good enough to be your friend, but not good enough be anything more."

the anger and hurt have been washed away by the soothing rays of jungwon's light, and you speak softly, "isn't that for me to decide?"

he reluctantly agrees, shuffling his feet as though he wants to pull away. rocks clack against one another, and the cacophony of noise foretells a future in which you let him walk away. so, your body moves on its own, and your hand shoots out to grab jungwon's wrist. surprise is evident in his stare as his eyes flick between your face and where the two of you are connected. with a newfound sense of courage, you pull him infinitely closer to you while relishing in the way his frame seems to fit perfectly against yours.

"you're good enough for me, yang jungwon," you declare. "you've always been good enough for me, and you always will be."

as high tide begins to roll in with the moon, a gentle quietude falls upon the beach. the polaroid photo has long since been forgotten, lost to the rocky shore and the sands of time. the sun has disappeared and her palette of colors has faded along with her, but you are still warm. jungwon cards his fingers through your hair while you find solace in the constant beat of his heart; fire still licks at your skin, cinders still smolder in the pit of your stomach, but there is no room for pain in his arms.

jungwon is your sun, and this time—you let yourself burn.

[roguerambles]

MK Alluring Sorceress!Reader Intros

Mortal Kombat - Female Reader x Multiple

Okay, so I've been on a fighting game kick recently and under the influence of a certain someone (*cough* check out @icy-spicy she's awesome *cough*) I've been looking into a lot of Mortal Kombat.

I've also seen a bunch of these "Reader Intros" kicking around and wanted to try my hand at some!

I'm picturing Reader as a sorceress, a bit of a wild card, not really good or bad, but is determined in achieving her own goals. Pretty and clever and alluring and well aware of it too. I might try and do something with her if I can find the muse haha.

This is just sort of me experimenting a bit, I don't know if I'll try more.

Enjoy the rambles!

-

Shang Tsung vs Reader

Shang Tsung: "We have much in common, you and I."

You: "I'm prettier, smarter and more powerful than you."

Shang Tsung: "Let's agree to disagree, my dear."

-

Shang Tsung: "Your skills are impressive."

You: "You hardly need to tell me that."

Shang Tsung: "But they pale before a true master."

-

Shang Tsung: "Your charms are no match for my power."

You: "I will enjoy seeing you on your knees, Shang Tsung."

Shang Tsung: *laughs* "I confess to thinking the same thing."

-

Shang Tsung: "Submit, and I will give you anything you desire."

You: "Funny, I was just about to say the same to you."

Shang Tsung: "Perhaps we may both yet win."

-

Kuai Liang vs Reader

Kuai Liang: "The Lin Kuei will not bow to your whims."

You: "You will soon enough, handsome."

Kuai Liang: "Hmph."

-

Kuai Liang: "Does your magic protect you from the cold?"

You: "I find body heat a more enjoyable method for all involved."

Kuai Liang: "Your charms will not protect you from me."

-

Kuai Liang: "You seek the secrets of the Lin Kuei?"

You: "Tell me, and my gratitude will heat that cold blood of yours, Kuai Liang."

Kuai Liang: "Only if you prove worthy."

-

Kuai Liang: "Your recklessness will be your undoing, sorceress."

You: "Kuai Liang, are you flirting with me?"

Kuai Liang: "Draw your own conclusions."

-

Jax Briggs vs Reader

Jax: "You wanna share what you're up to this time?"

You: "We could share many things, Major Briggs."

Jax: "Not when I'm on the clock."

-

You: "Just how good with those arms are you?"

Jax: "Surrender peacefully, and I'll show you."

You: "Ooh, Major Briggs..."

-

Jax: "You don't want this."

You: "On the contrary, I want you quite a bit."

Jax: "Now you're just trying to make me blush."

-

You: "There are so many other ways we could get physical."

Jax: "I'm listening."

You: "Come closer and I'll tell you..."

-

Shao Khan vs Reader

Shao Khan: "Join my concubines."

You: "I do not play second fiddle, Shao Khan."

Shao Khan: "I do enjoy a jealous woman..."

-

Shao Khan: "A woman like you deserves a man like me."

You: "I could use a man like you at my beck and call."

Shao Khan: "Ha! I like your fire!"

-

You: "Kneel before me, Shao Khan."

Shao Khan: "I kneel before nobody."

You: "You will beg for me in time."

-

Shao Khan: "You cannot resist me for long."

You: "Sounds as though you are the one who cannot forget me..."

Shao Khan: "You will be mine!"

-

Johnny Cage vs Reader

Johnny: *whistle* "Where the hell did you come from?"

You: "Your wildest fantasies, handsome."

Johnny: "Damn, I am in trouble."

-

Johnny: "Any chance we skip the fight and go grab a coffee?"

You: "Surrender, and I promise you won't regret it."

Johnny: "That's really damn tempting, I won't lie."

-

You: "Serve me, and I can offer you rewards beyond your greatest imaginings."

Johnny: "You're killing me here, sweetheart."

You: "Not yet."

-

Johnny: "You don't steal souls, do you?"

You: "Why don't you come closer and find out?"

Johnny: "...well mark me down as scared and horny..."

-

Liu Kang vs Reader

Liu Kang: "You must temper your desires before they consume you, sorceress."

You: "You should indulge in desire before you wither, monk."

Liu Kang: "...that felt a little uncalled for."

-

You: "I would hate to ruin that pretty face, Liu Kang."

Liu Kang: "We need not be adversaries."

You: "Alas, you persist in getting in my way."

-

You: "We could work well together, Liu Kang."

Liu Kang: "Perhaps, if you would exercise a little more self-control."

You: "I could teach you to loosen up, to begin with..."

-

You: "How is Kitana doing, these days?"

Liu Kang: "Oh, she...she is well."

You: "Oh, look at you blush! Such a lucky girl."

[anonymouscheeses]

so…

about this human verse you got…

how does Al fit into all of this? Is that where Vaggie got the spell or is the gang she’s a part of also a monster hunter org?

This is Alastor's human design! I wanted him to give off a old money rich vibe. I didn't look up a reference for old money attire 😭 i jjst looked at some randim char from a show i watched that kinda gave off Alastor vibes. This may change but tbh I kinda like it the way it is. Altho one day I may change my mind <3 lore drops under cut!!

(Sorry if he doesn't look like Alastor, these human designs are mostly based on my redesigns so they look even MORE different than usual ill get better hopefulllyyyy)

Husk(left) is Vaggie/Valerie's dad in this au cuz I said so unfortunately. Sorry i dont make the rules! Husk is Salvadoran like Valerie cuz ofc, like he's 100% black but I wanted him to be Valerie's dad soo I was like.... yeah win sum lose sum. But dw I have SO much black characters on the way. It's kind of terrifying!!

Alastor tries to be like a dad to Valerie but she resents him. Her mom died to a sickness, and Valerie has no room in her for another parent figure in her life except Husk.

Also, Al is gay aroace, so when he fell in love with Husk he was SO surprised likeee how??? He was his first love ever and Al just loves him dearly despite never loving anyone ever before. He's still a girls girl ofc but brutha is gay u can't tell me otherwise 😍

Charlie gave him the headband with the antlers that she cheaply made herself. Alastor loves them genuinely. (If Alastor cares abt Valerie or Charlie is purely up to viewer, but if you want to see him care for orr like be toxic to them send a request fr fr imma draw that shi 😍🙏). Alastor is the only one who knows that Charlie is a demon because he's the one that taught Valerie how to summon a demon(YOU'RE SPOT ON. HOW??).

(Also I forgor the stripes. Sorry I was so sleepy drawing this you can probably telll.😭)

Alastor is still a cannibal, his husband and step daughter just doesn't know it yet, and NO he will probably never tell them unless forced to or he feels like he can. This man is the friend the smiley bro 😭

I'll maybe soon draw what happened between Valerie, Lute, and Adam during the fight, since ALOT happened. But it may be a bit before I get to that

Alastor taught the kids young how to summon demons the WRONG way. Because obviously he didn't want literal immature kids to end the world completely. The trio spent years finding ways to summon just one demon. Adam did it to create chaos, Lute just followed, and Valerie just loved having fun with her friends.

Now that they aren't childhood best friends. And that whole fight happened. Valerie doesn't know what to do. Alastor suggests she gets a bodyguard from hell, any demon at all(Demons are devoted to you as long as you keep a part of your deal with them or you break the contract of summoning one). Aaaaand that's how Charlie came to be summoned! Valerie got her eye stabbed out, Alastor was being silly and taught his kid how to summon a demon, Valerie was like "aight ig", then summoned her future wife.

(WILL ALSO ONE DAY DRAW THE FIRST TIME CHARLIE AND VALERIE MET.... ONE DAY....)

Fun fact: Alastor has a radio station of his own that he plays 1920's music in. Although most people would rather NOT listen to old times music, somehow he makes it work that people always listen to his radio. Maybe a deal with a demon of some sorts...? Perhaps... :>

[ivystoryweaver]

Decadent chapter 13

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: A passionate night together leads Miguel to accepting your darkest desires...and giving in to his own

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: nsfw, 18+, unprotected p in v, creampie, biting, scratching, blood consumption, multiple orgasms, overstim, reader is consensually incapacitated and her body used, bondage, oral - f. rec, face sitting, aftercare, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

"You're sure? You're okay with...what we just did - when I cut you and..."

"And scratched me and sucked me and drank my blood?" You shrugged one shoulder, easing your thighs across his lap. "I can see how it sounds when you say it out loud," you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Maybe it's you who needs to accept the monster in me."

Since you and Miguel made things official, you had grown quite comfortable sleeping on top of his massive chest.

It wasn’t that you spent every night together. He still disappeared most weekends....which you finally asked him about.

"I promise I'll tell you soon," he swore, so earnestly you couldn't find it without yourself to doubt him. "It's...a lot to take in."

Accepting his word as a sign of trust, a part of you still wondered if you were naive. Perhaps Miguel spent weekends galavanting with a secret family (or something equally horrible.) Your neighbor/friend Gwen teemed with sordid suggestions.

But you loved him. Your heart won out and you made a deal with yourself, agreeing to give him a little more time to explain.

Work in the lab continued, as did a search for a cure for Miguel's blood addiction/weakness. In the mean time, Miguel drank your blood, rather than get as weak and as sick (and irritable) as the last couple months.

At first, he insisted that you draw blood in the lab, but after spending several nights with you, his baser cravings grew too powerful to resist. Using his talons, he would scratch marks into your supple skin and drink from fresh wounds. Burying himself deep inside you while he drank elevated the pleasure exponentially for you both.

Which is where you found yourself right now.

The two of you barely stumbled into his penthouse apartment after work before he tore your panties (again) and stuffed thick fingers inside you. That was well over an hour ago.

Now, he rested against the headboard of the bed, his thick, muscular thighs stretched out along the mattress. Seeing this god of a man stretched naked especially for you never ceased to thrill.

Tipping his chin up only slightly, he beckoned you wordlessly toward him, patting his lap invitingly.

Wetting your lips, you eyed him hungrily, climbing obediently, spreading your slick thighs on either side of his legs, teasing his cock with your sopping cunt - your slick and his spend leaking out of you from the previous round.

"How are you hard again?" You giggled, pushing your fingers up over the breadth of his shoulders before tasting his lips one at a time.

"Mmm...told you. Superhuman stamina," he murmured, licking hotly into your mouth. Powerful hands gripped your hips as he tried to slip inside you again. "I didn't wear you out, did I?" He teased.

"No way," you fired back, easing off his lap to turn away from him. Before could grumble out a protest, you sank down on his thick cock, rotating your hips, riding him in reverse, your back arching in rapture.

"Fuck, you feel good honey," he groaned, his jaw going slack at the sight of your eager body ready to fuck him so good after he'd taken your body all evening. Talons extended to tauntingly scrape along the delicious curve of your back before sliding up your sides to cup your soft mounds. Taking the weight of your breasts in his palms, he fondled you gently, helping you move your lithe body against him. You purred in satisfaction as his thumbs brushed your hardened nipples.

Your drenched, slippery cunt felt incredible to Miguel, but you wanted more friction. With a slight whine, you rocked your hips faster, pushing up on your knees and dropping down hard until you found a vigorous rhythm bouncing on his cock.

"Faster?" He taunted against your neck. You could feel him smirking.

"Harder," you panted. "Fuck me hard. Need more."

Miguel growled out an incoherent response, gripping your hips and using his superhuman strength to work you over his length, slamming you down over and over again.

His appetite for blood had returned to normal, so starvation and weakness no longer plagued him. But this...hours on end in bed together - he was dying to sink his teeth into your flesh - despite having sworn he never would again.

"Miguel, harder," you whined, even as your sounds of pleasure ascended embarrassingly loudly. "Faster, please. I need...I need..."

He knew. He felt it too. You both craved the deep, primal, monstrous connection that had formed between you so early on.

Yes, he was certain of exactly what you wanted.

"I'm hungry," he groaned, fingers sliding around your throat. Roughly grabbing your jaw from behind, he tilted your head to one side, exposing more of the smooth skin of your neck.

He was fucking you so deep, but now - the possibilities made you wild with desire. “Please, Miguel. You can taste me.”

Damn. That was probably going to upset him. You'd promised not to ask him.

He dragged a talon across the side of your neck, growling as a sprinkling of blood sprang from your soft, sweat-soaked skin.

You felt the warmth of his tongue, wishing he would give in and sink his fangs into your flesh.

Unsure if Miguel gave into his cravings or if his fang slipped and sliced you - you felt that familiar pain and your heart both soared and sank. Because he would surely stop, horrified.

His massive chest rumbled with a hungry moan so powerful, you felt his deep satisfaction vibrate through your whole body.

“It’s okay, baby,” you panted, reaching blindly behind you to card your fingers through his thick waves. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Need you so much, Miguel.”

He apparently passed the point of needing permission, squeezing your throat a to the point of pain. However, the elation of him drinking you, the delicious pressure on your throat, the brutal slam of his cock plowing you so deep inside had you shrieking in pleasure as your walls clenched around him, your body rocked with a powerful orgasm that made you tremble and shudder against him.

Right as your pleasure crested and started to subside, you felt his fangs pierce your neck, fully. This was no accident and there was no turning back.

Lips sucked as his tongue laved ravenously, drinking until the venom in his fangs weakened you into a limp doll.

Lightheaded from blood loss, you slumped over.

Miguel laid you gently down, staring, conflicted, at the wounds in your neck, oozing with life-giving blood. Yet his cock twitched, aching for another release.

Gripping your thighs, he spread you apart, running his tongue along his fangs to collect excess blood.

“Fuck you’re pretty for me like this, muñeca,” he panted, recalling the sounds of you begging for this night after night.

Even if he punished himself for it later, you loved when he used you like this. It felt so wrong that you somehow craved it. You couldn't feel him fucking you, but his loss of control as he got off using your body - you wanted it. You only hoped he wouldn't back down.

His massive chest heaved as crimson eyes darkened lustfully. With his grip on you firm, he thrust inside your pliable, bleeding, paralyzed body with one deep stroke.

He molded you like a doll, like his dirty little toy. The languid, loose weight of your lifeless limbs added pressure as he pushed in and out of you.

“I could do anything to you and you’d let me. I know you want it. Want me to use you.” Lifting one of your limp legs over his shoulder, he groaned as your head lolled to the side, your vacant eyes unable to meet his.

You were spread so wide from him - soaked from endless hours together - of his cum and your slick heat. His balls slapped messily against your cunt as he fucked you so deep… he knew you would be sore tomorrow but he couldn’t find it in him to slow down.

When he was close, he pulled out of you - not that you could feel it - before jerking himself and spilling all over your breasts and your neck, leaving you a used-up, lifeless, fucked out mess. Panting harshly, he admired his handiwork, eyes raking over your beautifully ruined body, covered in his spend from your jaw down to your knees.

He didn’t even ask permission before reaching for his phone to take your picture. Not that you could protest in this position, but the thought that he wanted to remember you as his ruined, used toy made you fucking feral.

Flopping down on the mattress, Miguel tried to catch his breath for a moment. Even with his stamina - the exhilaration of finally feeding on you again was overwhelming.

After a few moments, he gathered your sweat and cum covered body into his arms and took you to the bathroom. Holding you gently, he ran a bath, adding some oils and salts before easing into the luxury garden tub with you.

He cradled you in his arms sideways, with your cheek laying against his chest.

By now, the paralytic was wearing off and you could feel the pain of the wounds in your throat. You hissed as the warm water stung the scrapes and bite you had sustained.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, starting to carefully wash you.

"Don't - " you started, but he hushed you.

"I'm not sorry for what we did," he clarified, brushing his fingers over your cheek as he gazed into your eyes. "I'm only sorry that the water stings."

You slowly nodded. "It felt good, Miguel. It's been so long. I wanted it so bad. Don’t be mad."

"I’m not mad, baby," he assured you, touching his forehead to yours.

You let out a sigh of blissful contentedness. "Feels so good."

A chuckle rumbled in his godlike chest. “Even when you can’t feel anything because you’re paralyzed?”

Gazing deeply into his eyes, you wet your lips before kissing him softly. “Remember, I’m the monster here,” you whispered against his mouth. “I…crave those things. I want you to bite me and use me. Fuck, it makes me want you so much.”

With that confession, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, hand blindly grasping in the warm water, hoping to find his cock hard again.

His superhuman stamina did not disappoint.

“Again, mi amor? You’ll be sore for days,” he chided, a bit condescendingly, one corner of his mouth curling in amusement, even as his crimson eyes widened in wonder that you still wanted more.

Biting your bottom lip, your eyes dipped coyly as you tugged on his thick member, stroking him just the way he liked.

He groaned, “You’re insatiable.”

“You gave me everything I wanted tonight,” you murmured against his lips, working your palm up and down his length, sloshing water sloppily. “Ask me for anything, Miguel, and I’ll say yes. Anything.”

“Corazón,” he moaned, hips shifting, fucking up into your grasp. “Anything?”

Your teeth tugged his bottom lip into your mouth, nipping tauntingly. “Yes.”

Nodding, he started thrusting again. Felt too good not to come if you were offering.

Your lips fused again in a heated tangle as you stroked and tugged him to orgasm.

The two of you managed to clean up and get something to eat before relaxing upstairs in the spacious den, cuddling together in his oversized chair. By this point you were dying to know what he would ask of you.

But you were distracted as he kissed you breathless, holding you like a treasure.

Miguel laid you open on the plush, expensive carpet, stripped your clothes off your body and spent the next hour with his tongue and lips all over you. He kissed you until you were dripping and arching into him, desperate for more. He nibbled at your breasts, littering them with tiny scrapes and cuts, sucking your nipples even as he drank warm red liquid.

He could no longer deny how hard it made him - how possessive over you he felt - knowing he could mark your body - that you wanted his marks on you - you craved them. Something dark lived in you and he was beginning to accept it. To need it.

Down he went, kissing the softness of your tummy, sucking marks into your thighs, passing an hour of attention with you panting his name, begging for what you really wanted.

Firing his warm, sticky webs to hold your thighs apart -spread so wide for him - he gazed down at you, desperate and writhing.

Finally, finally, he lowered his mouth to your cunt, nudging at your swollen clit with his nose. His warm tongue met your sex and your back arched violently as you came instantly. You felt him chuckle against you, inside you - his tongue thrusting in and out - the rumble of his laughter sending shockwaves up your spine as he purposely overstimulated you.

After an eternity of teasing, it was too easy to get you to orgasm, but he didn’t let you come down and you coudn’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop or to tap his shoulder for a break. No, instead your heels dug into his muscular back - your thighs slung over his broad shoulders as you bucked up frantically into his waiting mouth, fucking his tongue. Your shrieks of overstimulated pleasure tapered off into pathetic whimpers as he found the rhythm he knew you loved.

His superhuman strength allowed you to fist and pull his dark waves as hard as you wanted - to wildly buck and push his face harder into your sex. He could take anything you could give.

As if sensing you needed it harder, wilder, he rolled you over and pulled you down on his face, supporting your weight as you smothered his mouth with your pussy. He lightly smacked your ass, and, as if spurring a horse into action, you moaned embarrassingly loudly, riding his face as hard as you would his cock, as carelessly as you would use a toy in your bed alone.

Grabbing his hair again, you slammed his head down onto the carpet before yanking it up, using the would-be painful motion for more friction to fuck his face.

You and Miguel had done some dirty, wild things, but he’d never really felt this much unbridled loss of restraint from you. He moaned into your pussy, wishing he could fist his cock to the absolutely wrecked, desperate, filthy sounds echoing off the den walls - the squelch of your soaked cunt, slapping and dripping down his chin, making a mess of his hair, the carpet, of the both of you.

You came on his face only a moment later and before you were even halfway through your high, before the slight chance to start coming down presented itself, he laid you down and started working his tongue gently all over your pussy lips, your thighs, even your ass to clean you up.

“Miguel, fuck…fuck, it’s too much, oh f-fuck!” But since you didn’t safe word, he didn’t relent until you were a blubbering mess, having lost track of how many times you came, if you were currently coming now or coming down from a high.

He never used more than one finger and his mouth, but you finally passed out from exhaustion. He loved that he could do that to you without venom.

The next morning, you woke up clean, wounds appropriately dressed, in Miguel’s freshly made bed, wearing his t-shirt. It took you a few minutes to get your bearings when he entered with a tray of breakfast.

You sat up, feeling the slight sting of fang punctures in your neck and a sore, overused cunt.

“Corazón,” he breathed, rushing over to your side. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his eyes flickering all over you.

“I’m good,” you assured him, reaching to caress his cheek. “I’m a little sore, but for all the best reasons.”

To your delight, he nodded and rolled with it. “You’re a dirty girl,” he chuckled with a shrug. “And dirty girls end up sore.”

Gasping in mock-surprise, you whacked him with the back of your hand. “Miguel O’Hara!”

“Don’t try to deny it,” he fired back, catching your flying hand and tangling his fingers with yours.

The two of you shared a few kisses, and, as you started eating your breakfast, you admitted to him that you were thrilled that he finally seemed to be accepting your dark side.

“It’s not darkness,” he finally answered, surprising you. “Reaching for your hand, he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s devotion.” He placed a kiss to your hand. “It’s acceptance.” He kissed your forehead, then looked down into your eyes. “It’s everything I’ve ever needed.” This time, he kissed your mouth.

“That’s why I want you to live here with me.”

Seeing your eyes go wide, he squeezed your hands. "You can keep your apartment if you want. I'll even pay for it. But..." His eyes dipped almost shyly as he exhaled in a rush. "I love you. So...move in with me?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as your cheeks heated at such a request. "Of course I will. I love you," you confessed. "But..."

Massive shoulders sank as a worried frown tugged at the corners of his kissable lips. "But?"

Caressing his fingers, you swallowed hard, but held his gaze bravely. "First, I need you to tell me where you go all weekend."

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[bellebridgerton]

His Diamond: Chapter 7 (Anthony Bridgerton x plus size!fem!reader)

✨Masterlist✨

✨Previous Chapter✨

Y/n needed to be alone, if only for an hour or two. She woke up before Anthony, carefully removing his arm from her waist. Y/n grabbed her coat and slipped shoes on.

While she was sneaking out, Benedict had spotted her, "Y/n, are you alright?"

Y/n turned to face Benedict, "Rough night, I need to clear my head. I'll be back soon." She left to the stables, taking a horse and mounting him. She missed riding.

After she left the property with her horse, she guided the horse to the woods she and her in-laws played in as children.

The ride was going smoothly, Y/n's mind was elsewhere, thinking about the night before. She wasn't paying attention and a squirrel spooked her horse. Y/n gripped the reins in an effort to calm and control the horse, but she was thrown from the horse. A harsh, dull pain grew at the back of her head before she slipped away.

Anthony rolled over, he woke up from feeling Y/n's absence in their bed. He sat up and rubbed his face, he wished he could take back everything he had said to her in his study the night before. Anthony was ready to apologize, make her feel important.

Anthony walked into the drawing room, only in his pants. He found Colin and Benedict in the drawing room, "Brothers, have either of you seen Y/n, my wife, this morning?"

Benedict bit his lip, "I saw her a few hours ago, she wished for space and she took a horse. I am sure she is just fine, she should be home soon."

Anthony's stomach dropped, he had a bad feeling that she was, in fact, not fine. He simply nodded to his brothers, exiting the room. He threw on a white shirt and riding boots, racing to the stables. While mounting his horse, he gave the horse signal to run, steering his horse to the woods they played in as children. Y/n always went there when she was deeply upset, even after she was no longer a child. Anthony was angry with himself that he was the cause of such pain, this is exactly what he had been trying to avoid.

Anthony saw a red fabric on the ground, and he noticed h/c locks. Dismounting from his horse, Anthony was heartbroken to find Y/n incapacitated. He gently scooped her up in his arms and managed to mount his horse once again. As she leaned against him, Anthony held her to his chest and raced home.

Guiding the horse to the steps of the back Aubrey Hall, Anthony screamed, "Help! Mother! Help!" He was panicked, he didn't know what to do to make this better.

Violet came racing out of the house, "Anthony, what happened?" She saw Y/n passed out and called for the butler, "We shall need some help to carry her carefully." Violet wanted the upmost care for her daughter-in-law. She looked at her son, he bore the same look that he did when his father died.

Anthony started hyperventilating, "I don't know! She was in the woods, she's bleeding! She-she needs a doctor, please Mother!"

Violet led Anthony inside and up to his bedroom, "Benedict, call for the doctor! It's Y/n, it's urgent!"

Benedict quickly ran out the front door, hoping he could make it on foot to the doctor.

Violet helped Anthony place Y/n on their bed and make sure she's comfortable. She gently removed Y/n's coat as gently as possible, her hand getting blood on it when she touched Y/n's head. Violet kissed her daughter-in-law's forehead, whispered to her, "You'll be okay, dearest." She didn't know if Y/n could hear her, but she needed to think that Y/n could.

Anthony was at Y/n's side the moment his mother left it, he held her hand in both of his, "Please don't leave me, wake up and yell at me all you want, just don't leave me. I cannot lose you too." He kissed her knuckles, his hands shaking.

Once the doctor arrived, Anthony was asked to leave the room, he refused. The doctor took a look at her head, examined her eyes, then a few more minor checks of her vitals. He turned to Anthony, 'Would you perhaps know the last time she had her courses?"

Anthony thought for a moment, "No, she did not have one while on our honeymoon."

The doctor nodded, "She is one of my regular patients, and she has never missed her courses. She must be with child."

Anthony shook his head, "Will she pull through?"

The doctor looked at Anthony, "We will have to wait and see." He packed his equipment, "Do let me know if she wakes up, I will come check on her."

Anthony numbly mumbled, "Of course, thank you, Doctor."

Violet escorted the doctor to the front door, leaving Anthony alone with Y/n.

Anthony kissed her forehead, whispering against her skin, "I'm so sorry, my dear."

✨Next Chapter✨

Taglist: @unholyhuntress @faatxma @sarahskywalker-amadala @ilovechickenwings @m-rae23

[tearskillstardust]

❝MY LETTER TO YOU, MY DARLING❞

001. 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎—find me when your lamp burns out.

📬 there's a letter for you in your mailbox!

My love,

Certainly, with how prepared you already were before leaving, it would not make too much sense to trouble you with incessant questions. Yet bear with me for a moment—did you reach safely? I hope neither the Knights, nor the Millelith bunked their duties. I would not worry more—Ganyu is a more than reliable friend, yet if anything worries you, you always know to contact me.

Jean mentioned that perhaps you had misplaced your old ID card and found it lying behind one of the cupboards during the monthly cleaning. I would not say that it's particularly bad, but your picture in this particular ID is rather an odd one, considering how many prettier ones you have. Drawing on this conclusion I couldn't help but wonder—did you perhaps purposely drop it behind? You don't often go to the library, perhaps that's why I wonder, but I must admit.

You are quite the clever one.

And ethereal, too.

Remember that painting I had made, drawing inspiration from when you were picking dandelions in the field? Recently, Duke Diluc had dropped by regarding some investigation work in Dragonspine and while I did not intend at all to show my masterpiece to anyone at all, you know how the Duke is. Always curious about the very things people wish to hide. So, of course, I had to remove the cloth and show him what lay behind it—and such was his obsession with the painting that he did not leave until he managed to negotiate with me a fair deal for an exchange of the canvas.

Don't worry, I won't give that to him, I'll just make another one and edit out more personal details of yours. You're only mine to see, after all.

Regardless, everything else is going good. Klee has been getting restless already, and believes that it is utmost unfairness to a child so patient and loving as her to be mistreated so. She would rather that you come back as soon as possible and would also like to add in a note here—

'Miss Y/n,

Dodoco and I miss you a lot. When will you come back? Albedo doesn't play with us and he's not as fun as you are. He cracks a lot of jokes, but I can never understand a single one of them, only Kaeya can and whenever they are with me together, they end uptalking in themselves. I really miss going to Windrise with you. Do you miss me too?

Please come back quickly. I'll protect you along the way if you'd like me too, as well. Please tell me accordingly.

Thank you miss.

Klee.'

Nevermind the fact that I've been quite unable to pay too much attention to Klee recently, I've been extremely busy regarding the designing work of the new bridge the Knights of Favonius are working to install. It'll be a grand project—I simply do not wish to toy with my work, is all.

Nonetheless, I've really ran out of things to say. We'll maintain correspondence, so naturally, the letters will be short and shorter. I would only expect that you would not mind. Everyone else is doing well too, and Mondstadt has yet to see any troubles. Fret not, your house is in excellent condition as well, all thanks to yours truly. I would not force you to hurry, but make sure you do not overexert yourself. Take appropriate rest, and enjoy yourself in Liyue, it is a sight to behold, after all.

Your ever,

Albedo.

taglist→ @navxry, @reixtsu

please comment on the master post to be added to the taglist, thank you !

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

FUGITIVE

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing(s): Rafe x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Gun play, Injury, Cuddling, Kiss

Summary: Ward informs the authorities that Y/N is the one who shot the sheriff.

MASTERLIST

Tuesday 12:07 pm

**Attention all units, the fugitive has been spotted heading southbound towards the ferry. Any available units, please respond**

As I sprint through the tall grass, I sense my legs beginning to tremble from exhaustion. I spot the ferry in the distance and push myself to run even faster. Just as I'm on the verge of reaching it, I witness the ferry pulling away, and in that moment, it becomes clear—I am officially trapped on the island. My breath comes out in heavy gasps as I watch the ferry shrink into the horizon. 

Panic sets in, realising that my escape route has slipped away. The realisation dawns on me—I'm stranded, surrounded by the familiar landscape of the island. With every passing second, the weight of the situation becomes more apparent, and I'm left to contemplate my next move in this unexpected predicament. Suddenly hearing sirens and seeing flashing blue and red lights, the distant sounds draw closer, and a wave of apprehension washes over me. I realise that the authorities have caught up, and my chances of evading capture are rapidly diminishing. 

The once serene island now feels like a labyrinth closing in, amplifying the urgency of finding a hiding place or an alternate escape route. My thoughts run wild, “How did I get here?” I ask myself, a few tears spilling from my eyes.

Yesterday

Entering the back door of the Cameron Estate, I out pull out my phone and send a text to Sarah, inquiring about her whereabouts. However, there's no immediate response.

Deciding to find her myself, I make my way through the maze-like corridors. The house seems almost empty, with only distant sounds echoing through the hallways. Eventually, I reach Sarah's room and gently knock on the door. "Sarah? It's me. Are you in there?" I call out, hoping for a response. I walk back downstairs ready to leave when I hear people talking in the living room. I quietly walk forward, trying to hear them talk, I recognise Wards voice. 

My heart starts to race as I eavesdrop on the intense conversation unfolding in the living room. The revelation of a potentially serious situation involving Ward and a lawyer raises my concern. I discreetly inch closer to the source of the conversation, careful not to make any noise.

The lawyer's response echoes in the room, emphasising the severity of the situation. 

"Ward, it's not as easy as just waving your hand over it. This is murder, you get that right. I'm doing my best to not have you arrested for this," he asserts, making it clear that the matter at hand is grave.

Ward's frustration becomes evident as he raises his voice, "I'm paying 2 million to make this go away, why is it taking so long?" He angrily throws papers off the table, revealing his impatience and perhaps a lack of understanding of the gravity of the situation.

The lawyer, undeterred, warns Ward about the consequences. "Your my lawyer; I expect you to do something soon, or I'll have to take care of you like I did the sheriff," Ward threatens, revealing a darker side to his character and actions.

Panic sets in as you realise that my attempt to discreetly eavesdrop has been foiled by a notification. The sudden turn of events escalates when Ward, reacting swiftly, grabs my wrist and pulls me into the room. The tension in the room is palpable, especially with a gun now in play.

Ward, seemingly caught in a difficult situation, points the gun at my head. The lawyer protests, "Ward, don't do this!" The man appears to have a different plan, whispering something into Ward's ear.

Ward seems to consider the suggestion and, after a moment, holds his head and pulls me forward against him. He places the gun in my hand and then takes it back letting go, instructing me to leave. The situation is bewildering, and it's unclear what the man whispered to Ward or what their motivations might be.

Breathing heavily, I run to a safe distance from the Cameron Estate and quickly retrieve my phone. As the cool night air chills my skin, I dial Sarah's number, desperation evident in my voice as I leave a voicemail.

"Sarah, please pick up. It's urgent, and I really need to talk to you. Please call me back as soon as you get this."

Tuesday 9:00am

The night passes with uneasy quietness, my mind racing at the though of seeing Ward again. I turn on the Tv to watch Netflix when a breaking news story catches my eye. 

“One of our most beloved Sheriff’s has been shot and left for dead on the side of the road. Authorities are looking for Y/N Y/L/N who we believe ended the life of Sheriff Peterkin. We had a witness come forward this morning saying the saw her running late last night, where she was found dead. An offical manhunt is underway and we are bringing in the FBI for the investigation.”

The world around me seems to crumble, and I’m left grappling with the enormity of the accusations. The mention of an official manhunt and the involvement of the FBI add a layer of urgency and severity to the situation.

I grab a bag, throwing some clothes and water in, fuelled by a mix of fear, desperation, and the need to evade the mounting accusations, I make the gut-wrenching decision to flee as a fugitive. With the bag slung over my shoulder, I slip out of my home, leaving behind the life I once knew.

Tuesday 12:30 pm

Heart pounding, I make a split-second decision to run back through the bush. The adrenaline fuels my legs as I sprint, weaving through the trees desperately trying to put as much distance between myself and the approaching sirens. The crunch of leaves beneath my hurried footsteps echoes in my ears.

With every stride, I can sense the pursuit closing in. I risk a glance behind and catch glimpses of flashing lights through the trees. Panic intensifies, urging me to push my limits. As I navigate the uneven terrain, branches claw at me, and thorns snag my clothes, but the urgency to escape propels me forward. 

I reach the road and quickly scan the parked cars for a potential means of escape. Spotting a rock nearby, I grab it with a determined grip. With a surge of adrenaline, I make a swift move toward a car, my breath hitching as I swing the rock into a side window. The shattering glass reverberates through the quiet surroundings, and my heart races with the audacity of my actions.

As I settle into the stolen car, the realiSation hits that my desperate escape requires more than just smashing a window. Glancing around the driver's seat, I spot the exposed wires beneath the steering column. Drawing on every bit of knowledge I've gathered from movies and the unpredictability of the moment, I hesitantly reach for the wires.

Heart pounding, I strip the ends and connect them, praying that the makeshift hot-wiring will breathe life into the stolen vehicle. The distant wail of sirens intensifies, urging me to work faster. The engine responds with a hesitant sputter, then roars to life, a symphony of rebellion against the encroaching authorities.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as I race through the streets, the sound of sirens blaring behind me. With the cops hot on my tail, every second counts. Frustration builds as I try to reach Sarah for help, but once again, there's no response.

I make a split-second to try contacting Rafe, hoping he might have some insight into Sarah's whereabouts. “Hey Siri, call Rafe on speaker,” with the phone now on speaker, I could hear Rafe's voice crackle through the line.

"What's up, Y/n, long time no see," Rafe greets you, his voice tinged with surprise at my sudden call.

"Rafe, have you seen Sarah? I really need to talk to her," I shout urgently into the phone, I voice strained with worry.

There's a moment of silence on the other end, broken only by the sound of the rushing wind and the distant wail of sirens. I hold my breath, hoping for a response.

Then, finally, Rafe's voice comes through, filled with concern. "I haven't seen her recently. Y/n, Is everything okay? What's going on?"

I quickly fill Rafe in on the events that have unfolded and the accusations against me. As I speak, I look into the rearview mirror, and in my moment of distraction, I fail to notice the vehicle abruptly slowing down in front of me.

I crash up the back of the car in front, the windshield smashing into pieces. The airbags deployed hitting me straight in the face. Trying to get out of the car my leg comes into to contact with a piece of hot metal and burns my calf. Pain shoots through my body, causing me to cry out in pain. 

"Y/n! Are you okay? What happened?” Rafe's voice echoes in your ears, filled with urgency and worry. With the pain coursing through my leg, I struggle to respond. Summoning all my strength, I manage to speak a response, “No, I’m not, I need to go. I’ll….I’ll call you back” I say ending the call. Staggering away from the car wreck, I hide behind a fence with overgrown bushes hanging down, just covering me from the cops only a few feet away. 

“Spread out, she can’t be far” I heard one of the cops say. More police arrive to start a search, the only option I had was to run to that alley I see about 500 metres away. I begin to crawl through the long grass, staying low enough to not be seen. The burn on my leg stings as I drag it along the dry grass. 

“Freeze, don’t move!” The cop says, pointing the gun at me, I muster up the last of my energy, lifting my body and running for the alleyway. Just as I reach the buildings, my worst nightmare unfolds before my eyes. The alley is a dead end with no escape route in sight. Panic courses through me as I realise that I've been cornered, trapped like a cornered animal with nowhere left to run.

Tuesday 4:27pm

As the officers draw closer, their authoritative commands ringing in my ears, I reluctantly raise my hands in a gesture of surrender. My heart sinks as I watch their determined advance, their expressions betraying little emotion beyond their duty to enforce the law.

Just as the officers prepare to take me into custody, the sudden cacophony of screeching tires and a roaring engine pierces the tense atmosphere. My eyes widen in astonishment as a white BMW hurtles down the street, barreling towards me at breakneck speed. The car screeches to a sudden halt, and my attention snaps to the passenger door as it swings open. “Y/n, get in!” 

Without hesitation, I seize the opportunity, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I sprint towards the car. I slide into the passenger seat, the door slamming shut behind me as the engine roars back to life.

As I glance over at the driver, a flood of relief washes over me when I see Rafe behind the wheel. With the flick of his wrist we puts the car into gear and hits the gas pedal, I grip onto the door handle tightly as we lurch into motion. 

"Thank you Rafe," I say, my voice filled with gratitude as I turn to him, "I don't know what would’ve happened if you didn’t show up." Rafe offers me a reassuring smile, his eyes look at me and then back at the road. "I'm sorry this has happened to you, Y/n," Rafe's voice cuts through the tension, filled with genuine remorse. "When you called me, I was at home, and when I heard you say Ward was framing you for murder, I confronted him. He admitted it, but he threatened to implicate me as an accessory to murder if I got involved."

“So what are you doing here than?” I questioned. "I couldn't just stand by and let you face this alone," Rafe responds, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

"You're not just a friend, Y/n. I love you and...........and I wouldn’t want anything to bad to happen to you.” There's a quiet resolve in his words, a testament to the depth of our bond and the lengths he's willing to go to ensure my safety. As I meet his gaze, I grasp Rafe’s hand and lace my fingers between his.

A smirk tugs at the corners of Rafe's lips as he continues, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "Plus, I got his confession on my phone."

“What? How?” I asked manoeuvring my body to face him. Rafe's smirk widens at my incredulous reaction. "Let's just say I've learned a thing or two from you about being one step ahead," he replies cryptically, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I lean in closer, my curiosity piqued. "Seriously, how did you manage to get his confession?" Rafe's expression shifts, his smirk softening into a knowing grin. "Let's just say I have my ways," he replies, his tone teasing yet reassuring. "But trust me, Y/n, we've got everything we need to take him down."

The sound of sirens blares in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment as the police close in on our location. Rafe grits his teeth in determination, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigates tight corners and narrow alleys with expert precision. With the police closing in from all sides, Rafe's knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the road ahead for any possible escape route.

Y/n, put your seatbelt on," he instructs, his gaze unwavering as he watches me comply. I nod in acknowledgment, grateful for his concern amidst the chaos, with a quick click I fasten my seat belt.

In a split-second decision born of desperation and quick thinking, Rafe spots an opportunity—a narrow alleyway to the right, barely wide enough for the car to squeeze through. With unwavering resolve, he wrenches the wheel sharply, sending the car careening into the alley with breathtaking speed.

The sudden manoeuvre takes my breath away as the car lurches to the side, narrowly avoiding collision with the surrounding buildings. The police cars, caught off guard by the audacious move, screech to a halt, their pursuit momentarily stalled as they struggle to navigate the tight streets.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as Rafe expertly navigates the twisting alleyway, the walls closing in on either side as if threatening to swallow you whole. The sound of scraping metal and the frantic shouts of the pursuing officers fill the air, As the alleyway opens up into a wider street, I steal a glance behind and see the police cars in disarray, their pursuit thwarted by Rafe's daring manoeuvre. With a sense of exhilaration and relief washing over me, I realise that for now, at least, we’ve managed to get away.

Rafe spots a small, overgrown patch of bushes at the edge of a nearby park. Without hesitation, he veers off the road and drives the car into the cover of the foliage, the branches scratching against the car's exterior as it comes to a halt. With the engine silenced and the car hidden from view, me and Rafe exchange a tense glance. Breathless and on edge, we listen intently for any sign of the police cars, my heart pounding in my chest.

Tuesday 6:15pm

Eventually the sirens started to fade into the night I finally allow myself a moment to catch my breath. With trembling hands, I reach down to unlace my shoes, but as my fingers brush past the burn on my calf, a sharp jolt of pain shoots through my, causing me to inhale sharply.

Concern flickers across Rafe's face as he notices your distress. "Y/n, are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine worry. I force a weak smile, trying to downplay the pain coursing through me. "I'll be fine," I reassure him, though the strain in my voice betrays my words.

Without hesitation, he reaches into the backseat, rummaging through the contents until he retrieves a small first aid kit.

"Here, let's get that taken care of," Rafe says gently. I offer him a grateful nod, feeling a rush of relief at his calming presence. Rafe carefully cleans the burn, his touch gentle yet efficient as he tends to my injury. The sting of antiseptic is sharp, but it's a welcome sensation.

As Rafe wraps the bandage snugly around my calf, I feel a sense of comfort wash over me, knowing that I’m in good hands. Despite the pain and uncertainty of the night, there's a flicker of hope in your heart, buoyed by the unwavering support of my friend.

"Thank you, Rafe," you say softly, my voice filled with gratitude as I meet his gaze.

He offers me a warm smile in return, his eyes reflecting the depth of his concern. "Anytime, Y/n. We're in this together."

“We should stay here the night and then figure out what to do in the morning.” Rafe says packing up the first aid box. I nod in agreement with Rafe's suggestion, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling in my bones. The events of the night have taken their toll, both physically and emotionally, and the prospect of a few hours of rest is a welcome one.

"Sounds like a plan," I reply, my voice heavy with fatigue. "I could definitely use some sleep."

“You can take the backseat, it’s comfier.” I offer Rafe a grateful smile, "Thanks, Rafe. I appreciate it." With a nod, I settle into the backseat, finding the cushions surprisingly plush beneath me.

As I settle into the backseat, I can't shake the chill that seems to seep into my bones, the night air creeping in through the cracks in the car's windows. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on my eyelids, the cold lingers, gnawing at my skin and leaving me shivering.

With a soft sigh, I glance over at Rafe, who's busy making himself comfortable in the front seat. A sudden impulse grips me, and I find myself reaching out to him, my voice small against the backdrop of the night.

"Rafe," I call softly, my breath misting in the chilly air. "It's so cold back here. Do you think... maybe you could come back and... keep me warm?"

There's a moment of hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty in Rafe's eyes, before he nods, understanding dawning on his features. Without a word, he unbuckles his seatbelt and slips into the backseat beside me, his warmth a welcome contrast to the icy air.

As he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close against his chest, I feel a rush of comfort wash over me. The cold seems to melt away in the embrace of his arms, replaced by a sense of safety and security that's all too rare in these uncertain times.

“Rafe?” as I whisper his name, his gaze meets mine with a tender intensity, his eyes reflecting the depth of emotion that mirrors my own “Yeah?” With a steady breath, I voice the words that have been lingering in my heart, knowing that in this moment, amidst the turmoil, there's no room for doubt.

“I love you too!”

With a gentle touch, Rafe tilts my chin upward, closing the distance between us until our lips meet in a tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as we melt into each-other, the world fading away until there's only the warmth of his lips against mine, the rhythm of our breaths intertwining in a silent symphony of love.

In that fleeting moment, every worry, every fear is forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that in each other's arms, we've found our sanctuary.

As we pull away, breathless and hearts racing, the echo of our kiss lingers in the air, a promise of the love that binds us together, as we hold each other close, lost in the embrace of our love, I'm reminded that no matter what challenges lie ahead, as long as we face them together, we'll emerge stronger, united by the unshakeable power of our love.

🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️🚘🚔❤️‍🔥🏃‍♀️

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

How long has it been precisely? Can you truly tell?

Two months one week and six days..

Of course you can, how can you not? Those days have been your dearest and most treasured after all, and even now, you still cannot truly believe that he has welcomed you into his life and Eri's.

Your feelings for the both are growing each minute that passes, and you can no longer picture your life without either one of them.

You beam cheerfully as you look at your tattoo again, it's fully healed and looks stunning, you love it, even more so because he was the one inking it.

"Hello beautiful, I'm taking Eri over to Kayama's house now, she's excited but says she misses you. I'll see you in a bit."

Your smile widens as you read his message again, it's Saturday and you have agreed to spend the night at his place, and it is to be the first time ever that you do so.

You weren't exactly sure what it meant when he suggested it— and you still aren't, does he perhaps have something special in mind? He even insisted on sending Eri to Ms Kayama's house so you can be alone for the night.

You have never spoken about being intimate before, sure, you have kissed, held hands, hugged, cuddled, and that's about it, but something feels different this time.

Secretly, you wish your expectations are correct, you are ready to move forward in your relationship but never really had the courage to initiate anything beyond the usual, so maybe tonight.. who knows..

_ "Hi." he greets you with a grin as soon as you open the door, and you immediately jump in his arms with a cheerful squeal.

You miss him a lot, and even though you see him every evening when he comes to work, it's still not enough because you don't get to hold and kiss him like you wish you could.

_ "Hi." you sneak your arms around his neck and drag him closer for a kiss, your fingers are threading into his hair while his are resting on your hips.

His kisses are always soft and slow, melting you away and fogging up your brain, they are sweet and addictive, just like he is.

_ "So, ready to go?" his whispered words are ghosting over your neck while he nuzzles you there, and you breathe out a "yes" as a shiver runs through your whole body..

You have had dates in his house and yours before, and they've always been casual and fun, sometimes even Eri joins you when you and her insist on it, but tonight is not going to be like any other -you're sure of it- because not only are you going to be home alone with him, but you're also going to spend the night.

Your excitement and anticipation are surprisingly overpowering your nerves, you have a lot of expectations for what to come but what if you're just reading too much into it?

_ "I tried following the recipe to the letter so I hope it came out well," he chuckles nervously while pulling out a chair for you on the dinner table before joining you on the other side of it, "you should've seen Eri trying her hardest to help out, she wanted it to be tasty for you."

_ "She's so sweet," your heart swells up with joy while picturing them together in the kitchen, "it looks appetizing so I'm sure it tastes delicious."

You spend dinner time catching up on each other's news since you haven't been on a date for almost a week, messages and video calls don't count at all because they do nothing to quench your longing for him.

He's as gentle as ever, his voice, his gaze, his smile, his hand cradling yours from across the table, and just everything about this man.

However, you still wish for more of him but the longer time that passes, the further you feel from achieving that, so maybe he truly just invited you over to spend the night and that's that..

_ "Wanna watch a movie or something? I have a few options." he browses through the selection and hums while his eyes study the titles, but all you can focus on is his slender form in a simple white tank top and grey sweatpants, bringing to light the ink covering his buff arms and chest that you cannot repress the urge to run your fingers along them, and so you do.

He flinches at the sudden contact and you instantly retrieve your hand in shame, what were you thinking?

_ "I'm sorry I was just, admiring your tattoos." you try lightening the mood with a shy giggle, but his face remains stoic and your heart drops to your stomach with regret.

How long is he going to stare at you without saying a word?

_ "Aizawa, what's.." but your words are cut short as he pulls you flush against his chest, crashing your lips together without a warning and sneaking his hands under your shirt to squeeze your flesh between his fingers.

_ "It's Shouta." he sounds huskier than usual as he comments between hungry kisses, and you moan a response because that's the only thing you're capable of voicing.

Shouta.. as much as you wished to, you have never called him that before -not aloud anyway- because in your dreams, in your head, in your private time with yourself, he's always been just Shouta to you, and now he's asking you straightforwardly to use the name.

You want to say it out loud, to scream it, to whimper it, but his mouth is devouring yours still.

His body heat is flowing to yours and your eager hands are roaming his protruding pecs, digging your nails into his skin because you need the reassurance that what's happening right now is real.

_ "Shou.." you struggle against his lips and it's like a switch has been turned on in his brain, the growl he lets out afterwards weakens your legs, but he's there to pick you up in his arms and stumble to his bedroom hurriedly.

You have never been to his chamber before, never thought the day would come when you'll actually be, but your once unreachable wish is now a reality as he sinks you both on his plush mattress.

_ "Is this okay?" he whispers breathlessly against your abused lips, hovering over you while his eyes search your face for a permission to carry on.

_ "Yes, it's fine." your hands are on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quickening under your touch, but you still want more.

You're longing for his bare skin against yours, for his lips all over your body, for his fingers reaching your deepest depths, "Shouta, are we..?" you're still unused to using his name casually, but the thrill coming with it is euphoric.

_ "Only if you're comfortable with it." and he truly wishes you are, his lust for you is too obvious to miss.

You say nothing after that, but your hands answer him instead as they slowly start unbuttoning your cute lace blouse while your eyes are fixed on his eager expression.

It's a little flustering to be exposed to him, what would he think of you? Do you look pretty enough for him? What if he doesn't like what he sees? What if..

_ "You're beautiful." and his response to your unvoiced questions comes to pull you back to reality.

You smile sheepishly and welcome him back in your arms, tracing his neck and shoulders as he peppers kisses on your lips, cheeks, jawline, neck, until you start giggling uncontrollably.

He leans back to gaze at you, a gleam in his eyes as he rids you of the blouse still clinging to your body, grazing your sides and belly and licking his lips seductively before diving in to kiss you there.

_ "Sho.. Shouta." you arch off the bed seeking more of the mouth doing wonders to you, closing your eyes and biting down on your lip as his stubble scrapes against your skin.

_ "Yes, I'm right here." his voice is low and tantalizing, messing with your head and sending waves of warmth deep to your guts.

Your fingers move along his slender neck until they reach his hair, tugging it gently everytime he decides to nibble on your flesh. He's tormenting you, and your patience is running low already.

His lips travel upward, covering the expanse of your smooth skin and leaving a trail of saliva and goosebumps behind, to stop right at your breasts.

He looks up, dark irises searching yours for a sign of hesitation, but he finds none, only lidded eyes silently begging him to carry on, and so he does.

He quickly unhooks your bra and slides it off of you before tossing it away where your blouse is discarded.

He's staring, intently, and it's making you cautious about laying bare underneath him, "st.. stop looking at me like that." you whine frustratedly while shifting your gaze and bringing your arms up to hide yourself behind them, but he's faster than you are, grabbing your wrists and pinning them over your head.

_ "I'm sorry but, I can't help it." he leans in again, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his hands leave yours to caress down your body, exploring you slowly and thoroughly until finally cupping your breasts.

You shudder in suprise and let out a moan that he thirstily swallows, his hands are big, warm and gentle, fondling your mounds and circling his thumbs around your perked up nipples.

Your breath hitches at once when you feel his growing bulge nudging your thigh, and suddenly everything becomes real.

This is happening, it's no longer just in your head..

You buck your hips against his own unintentionally, and he lets out a muffled hiss as his lips leave yours.

_ "Wait, don't do that." he groans against your neck while squeezing his eyes shut.

What's happening? Did you do something wrong?

_ "I'm sorry Shouta, I'm.."

Good job ruining the mood.

_ "No, no that's not it," he interjects with a worried smile, "you're just so enticing that I don't think I'm able to handle anymore teasing."

You heave a sigh of relief hearing his words, here you thought he might've hated your impulsive advance when in reality he has enjoyed it a bit too much, and you find yourself tempted to do it again, just so you could relish his flustered expression once more.

_ "This makes me so happy.." you whisper a response as your nails rake his arms teasingly, peering at him through your lashes with an inviting gaze.

His lips ghost over your neck and collarbone, placing the softest kisses in their path until they reach your luscious plumpness, "you look delicious." and his brazen words travel through every vein in your body.

His tongue darts out to lick your sensitive nipples one at a time, humming pleasurably as he does, and the wild sensation he's casually providing you, clouds up your brain and messes with your sanity.

He nibbles on your flesh, relishing your cute trembles and sweet sounds of his name moving past your lips as he engulfs your swollen teats into his mouth and devours you hungrily. Growls of pleasure vibrate against your skin as they leave his throat, and greedy hands move lower and lower until they reach your pants to hastily unbutton and lower them to your knees.

_ "Take them off of me, Shouta.." you request breathlessly while writhing underneath him, you're strangely comfortable with every move he's making and wish to dive deeper into this sensation.

_ "You got it beautiful." he mumbles with a mouthful of your flesh, wasting no time to yank off the garment and leave you only in a pair of silk lavender panties that's elegantly wrapped around your most delicate parts.

A gush of cold air hits your skin as he releases your bud with a shameless pop to sit up and observe you, his dark eyes blaze with passion while taking in every single detail of your luscious curves and you suddenly miss the feeling of his mouth on you, arching your back in hopes of making it clear.

He chuckles heartily and places his warm hands on your sides, hooking his fingers in the hem of your undergarment teasingly before running a digit along your covered pussy.

You twitch under his touch and he groans at your reaction before diving in to peck you there, "relax, this is fine right?"

_ "Yeah, yeah it is." you squeeze your eyes shut and spread out your legs further for him to bury his face there, biting hard on your lip and grabbing onto the bedsheets as he grazes his teeth along your panties.

His tongue is hot and tantalizing, tormanting you through the thin fabric with slow wet licks and trails on your concealed crevice.

Your fingers leave the bedding and thread through his hair as he laps you up faster, soaking the frail garment and stimulating you more.

_ "Shouta, please.."

Has it ever crossed your mind that you might possibly be this intimate with the man? Well, perhaps, but only in your mind when you'd spend hours upon hours daydreaming about him, and even then, it has always felt embarrassing and awkward to have such indecent fantasies about him, but this, this isn't embarrassing nor is it awkward and you fail to understand why, but you love it, and that's all you know.

_ "Uhum, what is it? Tell me." he whispers gruffly.

What you want is more of him, what you need is his mouth directly against your folds, but you cannot possibly voice your desire.

He smirks with a feral look in his eyes, "I got it," swiftly sliding off your panties and throwing them away, "this is what you want right?" and he doesn't even wait for you to reply before planting soft kisses on your trembling thighs and placing them carefully on his shoulders, moving in slowly to lick the outlines of the puffy lips and finally push his way to your glistening slit.

The foreign sensation is driving you mad, being devoured by him has certainly been beyond your wildest dreams, yet here you are, his lips are pressed against your lower ones and his warm tongue is slowly moving between your fluttering hole and reddening clit, twisting and rolling deliciously along your slick folds.

_ " Shouta.. right there." the knot in your belly is tightening as he draws your puffy clit into his mouth, sucking it hungrily while his satisfied humms vibrate deep within you.

His grip on your thighs tenses as you start writhing and moaning beneath him, "I can't, I'm cumming, Shouta!" you cry out a warning and grab onto his hands while a wild shudder shakes you to the core, and he doesn't pull away, not yet, not until your pulsating cunt finally slows, and your tense body falls limp.

He gently lowers your legs and arises from between them, slick coated lips glistening and heavy eyes gleaming with animalistic desire while roaming your sprawled frame.

_ "How are you feeling?" his voice is low and gentle, and his thumbs are caressing your sides as he asks.

_ "I'm.. good.. so good." and your breathing is labored as you strive to keep your gaze on him through blurry eyes, the tingling sensation running throughout your body is unbearable and your thirst for him is yet to be quenched.

You want him out of his clothes already, to touch his bare skin and feel his warmth, and the little chuckle he lets out tells you he understands what's on your mind.

He swiftly lifts his shirt over his head and drops it to the ground, his raven hair falls around his face and the look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you reach out a shaky hand to run along his inked skin, and for a moment there you get lost in the beautiful details of the art adorning him, you see it all now, every last bit of it as nothing is concealing it away.

He grabs your wrist gently and kisses you there, right where he etched your red rose a few weeks ago, "I love this, it has brought you to my life."

_ "Shouta.." warmth is spreading throughout you whole, as the sincerity of his statement is filling your heart with joy, "me too, it's like a part of you is always with me."

You welcome him in your arms as he lays on top you, bare chests pressed together and eager lips devouring each other in a passionate liplock. You can feel his bulge, hard as a rock against your thigh, and your eagerness to have it buried deep within you is too great to contain.

You roll your hips faintly against him and swallow the surprised gasp he lets out, you can tell he's barely holding on to his sanity when he starts thrusting shallowly against you, but that's hardly enough..

He breaks the kiss to sit up again, parading the huge stiffness formed underneath the confinement of his pants, and running his fingers through his hair while observing your reaction.

This is torture that only he can end, and you actually beg him to, "please hurry Shouta, I can't wait any longer."

That's the only thing he needed to hear you utter before carefully lowering his sweatpants and boxers and freeing his raging cock, "me neither beautiful."

Your eyes widen and your breath gets caught in your throat as his veiny shaft bounces against his abdomen, he looks away as a faint blush dusts his cheeks and you find him almost.. cute, if not for the twitching length pointing to you.

You want to touch it, to guide it to your expectant pussy, but you do not possess the audacity to do so, settling for spreading your legs a bit wider instead.

He leans over to open his nightstand's drawer and rummage through it a bit before pulling out a pack of condoms, hastily taking one out and tossing the rest back.

Has he always had those or did he prepare them especially for tonight?

_ "I got these a couple of weeks ago for a night like this, but I was never going to pressure you into anything I promise." he smiles sweetly while answering your unvoiced question.

You know that though, you trust him wholeheartedly and are certain he would never force you to do anything you're uncomfortable with, "I'm glad you did Shouta, because I'm ready."

You observe fervently as he rolls on the rubber and gives himself a few pumps before aligning his length with your pulsating cunt, "brace yourself babe," he groans through clenched teeth before easing himself into you with a strangled "fuck" leaving his throat.

Your body tenses and eyes widen because of the inevitable twinge of the first intrusion, he's big, stretching you out and filling you to the brim, but he's also there for you, leaning in to kiss your forehead and guide your breathing while rubbing soothing circles on your sides, "I won't move yet, so don't worry."

You follow his instructions and take deep breaths, digging your nails in his shoulders to keep from whimpering. It's obviously hard for him to stay still but he's patiently waiting for you to give him permission to move, and the realization warms up your heart.

_ "I'm fine Shouta, you can move now." to be frank, it is a bit painful still, but your lust for him is even more aching.

He slowly pulls back to the tip and pushes in again just as slowly, his heavy breaths are tickling your face and his hands are squeezing your flesh to keep himself in check.

You cradle his cheeks and look deeply into his eyes with a dazed smile brightening your features, and the little chuckle he lets out swells your heart.

_ "What is it? Why are you smiling at me?" he teases playfully.

_ "I just, I want to ensure this is reality."

His eyes widen hearing your response, but soon, his expression softens once more and he captures your lips in a breathtaking kiss that messes with your brain.

He starts moving again, steadily and carefully, pushing in and out of your warmth as your kiss deepens, it's fiery and sensual, bringing shockwaves of pleasure to the tip of your belly.

His lips part from yours to lay hasty pecks on your cheeks and jawline before moving lower to latch onto your neck while his thrusts gradually quicken.

_ "Shouta, keep going please, just like that." the initial discomfort is finally gone and replaced with an arousing sensation, you shakily wrap your arms around him and whimper his name repeatedly as he bites on your collarbone and pushes faster and deeper.

Remnants of your first orgasm are already coaxing a second one to come, and his skillful plunges and tormenting kisses are driving you mad as your pussy squeezes around him.

_ "Ah fuck.. you feel so good inside that I won't be able to hold out much longer." he growls against your flesh as his thrusts become erratic and his fingers dig deeper into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

_ "Me too! Shouta please! I'm cumming again!" you cry out through strangled whimpers and wrap your strained legs around his waist to bring him even closer.

It doesn't take much longer after that for you to wail his name over and over again until a splintering bliss ripples through your whole being, and you're left shuddering with mind blowing ecstacy.

He sits up at once, hips snapping against yours and pounding mercilessly into your pulsating walls as you ride out your orgasm, his eyes shine across the dimly lit room as he fills up his senses with the sight of you; spent body shimmering in a sheen of sweat and a deep flush, puffy lips mouthing his name repeatedly, disheveled hair strewn over the pillow, trembling fists grasping onto the bedsheets beneath you, and he loses his mind at that instance, low groans escaping his mouth as he thrusts one last time before his hips finally still, buried deep into your warmth as his pearly seeds fill up the condom.

You welcome him between your arms as he collapses on top of you, and you can feel his heart pounding against your chest while his hot breath tickles your cheek.

You're too exhausted to move a muscle, but cannot fight the smile appearing on your face, tonight was perfect, he is perfect.

He shifts a little to slip out of you with a groan leaving his throat and a gasp leaving yours, your walls are left empty, clenching around nothing as he peels off the rubber and tosses it in the trashcan nearby.

_ "Are you okay?" he coos softly, lips brushing against your ear.

_ "Yes, you were very gentle with me." your eyes are heavy and already closing as you reply.

_ "Well, you're my lady."

You yelp in surprise when he picks you up in his arms and gets out of bed, walking straight to the bathroom with you clutching on to his shoulders, "and now all I need you to do is relax and allow me to take care of everything." he requests with a smile while putting the toilet lid down and placing you gently atop it before turning on warm water to fill the tub.

_ "I'm all yours, Shouta."

To be continued..

[your-local-bookworm]

Forgotten Faults.

PERCY JACKSON × DAUGHTER OF ARES!READER.

Part 1

Summary: Things get confusing when the son of Poseidon grows an unexplainable liking for a daughter of Ares who seems to be adamant on ignoring him

Request by : @riordanness

Warnings: Well, nothing. Except that this is my first time writing anything and also not proof read so, you know.

Part 2 is out!

Twelve year old and drenched. That was how Y/N Y/L/N first reached camp. Clutching her worn out rucksack to her chest, breathing heavy. That was also how she met thirteen years old Percy Jackson, even if it was a few weeks later.

Unknown to his conscience, Young Percy, harbouring and diving in unwanted emotions after a session with Chiron and the insufferable Zoe Nightshade, raised the tide and without wishing to let it wash over the new camper.

He had no intention to make a girl miserable, really. But how was he to explain that to Dionysus who accused him of disturbing peace with the young girl? How was he to explain to the girl who rushed away before he could gather his senses that he hadn't taken notice of her small form before the waves crashed and his eyes followed?

How was he to make amends with the fellow demigod when he was whisked away to a new quest the very next day.

When he returned Percy had already forgotten. Whatever poison he endured on his little adventure made a mess of his recent memories and he had merely see the face of the girl he dropped his wave on and only ever seen her clothed in water.He didn't even know who her godly parent was for the gods' sake! As given, he was unable to seek out the unfortunate camper with dark hair.... or was it red? Maybe Y/H/C. Surely you will forgive him and forget about it over time. He let it go, for now, and eventually from his memory.

Fourteen year old and Percy Jackson just returned to camp for the summer. That's when he saw her first. The girl who made his legs feel like Jell-O. She was sitting on the steps of her cabin, the ares cabin, dark hair raised by the winds and torched under the blazing Sun. To fourteen year old Percy, she looked magical. He had to tell Grover and Annabeth.

On a fine morning when the Sun was right above his head, making drops of sweat drip down his face, Percy was strolling alongside a lake, looking for company. Grover was away to meet his girlfriend and Annabeth occupied with counselor duties. Even Tyson claimed he had work to attend to! Turns out he was the only one with no jobs other than almost dying every summer.

Now generally, if you ask me I'll say that it isn't the smartest decision to let Percy Jackson, son of the sea god, to be his own devices because trouble truly seeked him out. But he's fourteen! and OH! look closely! Don't you think he's blushing? and a bit lost.

As said, Percy was indeed relishing the memories of a certain Ares girl, arguing against himself whether he should go talk to her.

Maybe the gods were prying into his thoughts, or perhaps Aphrodite was bored or Apollo wanted to mess with him. Only a few steps away, he noticed her small form. It brought back something into his mind: another girl and waves but whatever that was it slipped out when she looked at him.

Her Y/E/C eyes, sparkling under the golden sunlight that peeked through the canopy, strands of hair loosely waving in the breeze. Her hand stop scribbling in her small notebook, that he's seen her carrying around before t--

"Anything you want, Jackson?"

Percy shrugged. The poison might have been really bad. He searched for proper words but his brain denied him the service.

"Uh, no-" he gave his head a much needed shake, "I was just wandering around looking for something to help me pass the time."

"Oh, Alright. I hope you find something soon" and she focused back on your writing- drawing? what was she doing?

Percy wanted to talk to her. But she seemed uninterested. He knew he should leave, but after almost dying multiple times, he knew better than to do just that.

"So, what do you think I can do?" He asked, hoping

"Don't you have friends, Jackson? Why don't you go find Annabeth or you brother, uh Ty-"

"Tyson? He says he's busy. Annabeth had 'counselor duties' or something" he air quoted.

"Grover?"

"With his girlfriend."

"He has a girlfriend??"

"Juniper. She's a dryad"

"In that case take a walk by the strawberry fields, or train, work in the forgery? There's plenty to do in camp."

"Oh" Percy's brain adviced him to leave debating that he's disturbing her peace and this time he obliged "Okay then, I'll go find something to keep me busy. See you later"

"Yeah."

He left and over the course of next few days, before he was thrown away into the labyrinth for yet another quest, Percy established to himself that, for whatever reasons, Y/N Y/L/N was not at all keen to form a friendship with Percy Jackson.

[sasslett]

B A S I C S

Name: Jess Varlineau

Nicknames: None, actually.

Age: 28

Nameday: 22nd Sun of the 11th Umbral Moon, I think.

Race: Hyur (Highlander)

Gender: Female

Orientation: Varrus

Profession: the Warrior of Light's shadow

P H Y S I C A L   A S P E C T S

Hair: Straight, long, dark brown. Typically partially pulled back or left loose.

Eyes: Brown

Skin: Fairly pale, all things considered

Tattoos/scars: No tattoos, but a scar across her abdomen from when Zenos caught her unaware in Rhalgr's Reach

F A M I L Y

Parents: Roric and Gisela, freedom fighters for the Ala Mhigan Resistance, deceased

Siblings: None that she knows of (though in some alternate non-WoL universe she's become @scholarlostintime's Eolyn's long lost older sister lol)

Grandparents: All I can say is they lived in Gyr Abania and they're deceased

In-laws and Other: Her husband, Varrus Varlineau, and his family: His mother, Marienne, his sister, Valissa, and his cousin, Estinien

Pets: None at the moment

S K I L L S

Abilities: Dragoon/lance combat, as the Azure Dragoon she's able to push her limits and harness the power of the Eye, though she draws her power from Hraesvelgr rather than Nidhogg after the Steps of Faith, and also she's damn good at cooking

Hobbies: Reading, particularly history tomes and stories of adventure, exploring, helping others (genuinely), sparring, and sleeping in the arms of the man she loves

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Determination. She never lets anything stop her, and once she decides on something, she damn well follows it through

Most Negative Trait: Impatience. She often prefers to act first, think later, and much dislikes waiting around for the other boot to drop, even when it's the correct thing to do

L I K E S

Colors: Red, gold, silver, purple by association

Smells: Worn leather, fresh bread, a crackling fire, the smell of the forest after a rain

Textures: Worn wood, polished steel, creased leather, the smooth skin of her husband's chest

Drinks: Hot cocoa, warm tea, pineapple juice on the beach (soon)

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: No

Drinks: No, despite being a bartender for ten years - or perhaps because of it

Drugs: Never

Mount Issuance: Due to her frequently helping out around Bentbranch, the breeders offered her one of their runtier birds, who she thusly dubbed Helios

Been Arrested: No, not until it happens in the MSQ, inevitably. She may be chaotic in theory but she's fully lawful good

tagged by both @paintedscales and @ubejamjar, thank you! And I'll leave this as an open tag, as I was late to do this (sorry this week has been hell) and so most everyone I know has done it already!

[pejite]

1839 had come with its biting cold, enveloping the quaint Langley homestead in a frosty embrace, offering them a reprieve from the demands of farm life and allowing them to relish precious family moments amidst the wintry chill.

Wilhelmina couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that their newfound leisure had coincided with her peculiar physical sensations. Two missed periods and a subtle bulge in her belly had left her with a sense of unease, prompting her to ponder the possible reasons behind these changes.

One frosty morning, as the soft glow of dawn filtered through the frost-kissed window panes, Edwin, ever the early riser, was up and about, preparing for another day's toil at Abernathy Farm. Despite the lull in agricultural duties due to the season, he still needed to tend to the livestock and ensure the smooth running of the homestead.

Curiously, Wilhelmina rose from her slumber simultaneously with Edwin, a departure from her usual routine of lingering under the covers until the sun had fully ascended. In the depths of winter, coaxing the children out of bed often consumed more time, resulting in extended sleep-ins. Yet, a restlessness had gripped Wilhelmina of late, prompting her to abandon her customary lie-in and join her husband at daybreak.

"Sweetheart, why not return to bed?" Edwin suggested as he tucked his shirt into his trousers. "It's early still, and the children are likely to sleep through."

But Wilhelmina was lost in introspection, her gaze fixed on her reflection in the mirror, oblivious to Edwin's words. "Minna" he called out, attempting to draw her attention back to the present moment.

Wilhelmina tore her gaze away from her reflection, her eyes meeting Edwin's with a hint of confusion. "Uh?" she murmured, oblivious to his initial question.

Edwin chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "What's got into you? You've been wandering around in the clouds for weeks" he remarked casually, fastening the buttons of his waistcoat.

Thoughtfully, Wilhelmina's fingers trailed over her abdomen as she pondered. "Haven't you noticed any changes in me lately?" she inquired, her tone tinged with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. Edwin, turning to face her, furrowed his brow in contemplation. "Have you been styling your hair differently perhaps?" he responded, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty as he tried to grasp her meaning.

Though the subtle swell of Wilhelmina's belly was evident, such observations often eluded men, who typically relied on their wives to share any news of significance. Edwin simply assumed Wilhelmina had gained a bit of weight, a plausible outcome given the bountiful harvest they'd reaped prior to winter and the steady income from Abernathy Farm.

Wilhelmina regarded him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, her lips twitching into a wry smile. Edwin, sensing his misstep, completed the meticulous task of buttoning his shirt cuffs before leaning against the dresser, his gaze fixed on his wife. "Come on now, tell me, what's been weighing on your mind?"

With an affectionate sigh, Wilhelmina moved away from the mirror and settled onto the edge of the bed. "Come closer," she beckoned, her hand gesturing towards the vacant space beside her. Edwin obliged, taking his place at the foot of the bed as Wilhelmina began to share her thoughts. "Seems like things are looking up, doesn't it?" she remarked, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

As Edwin reclined onto the bed, he offered a subdued affirmation. "Lord Abernathy's payments have been steady, and our harvest has been bountiful," he acknowledged. "At least now we have the assurance that even if the crops were to fail, we'd still have my earnings from Abernathy Farm…" His words trailed off as he turned his gaze towards Wilhelmina, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. "But how does this tie into what I asked you? Darling, don't keep me in suspense, I'll need to be off soon."

Wilhelmina's smile widened, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes. "So, would it be a cause for celebration if I told you I'm expecting once more?" she teased, her hands gently cradling her abdomen.

Edwin's face lit up with unrestrained joy, his movements mirroring the excitement that coursed through him. "Are you certain?" he inquired eagerly, his hands instinctively reaching out to rest upon Wilhelmina's belly. "Almost certain." she affirmed with a tender smile, her eyes reflecting the same elation that shone in Edwin's.

With a mixture of wonder and delight, Edwin gingerly traced the gentle curve of Wilhelmina's abdomen, his touch imbued with a sense of reverence. "Oh, my love…" he breathed, his voice filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and anticipation.

As Wilhelmina met Edwin's gaze, she felt her heart swell with a profound sense of contentment. It had been nearly five years since she last cradled a newborn in her arms, and the prospect of welcoming another child into their lives filled her with a profound sense of joy and wonder. In that fleeting moment, the prospect of impending parenthood felt like a cherished dream come true, a testament to the enduring bond that united them as husband and wife.