#the moons light is only a reflection of the sun it would not shine without it

[mercutio-the-velaryon]

Mage Viktor only feeling the ghost of his emotions, like phantom pain, the absence, the void, only able to meekly sense a soft inclination of glorious purpose then mage Mel comes to the commune, the empath who's filled to the brim with emotion, her sadness sparkling glittering so potent it bleeds into him, he feels more alive the nearer he draws to her becomes entranced addicted, when he's without her his feelings start to dissolve into that old familiar, recursive impulse, distinctly not cold, but the shine brought only by Mel's presence brings what he can comfortably call warmth. Which is weird because he never even knew such a feeling even in his mortal living.

[sirfrogsworth]

The original image is stupid. That's a given. I guess they are trying to ask why the Moon doesn't have a bright spot and dark edges.

But the Community Note isn't much better.

The short answer is... the Moon is bumpy and the Sun is far away.

The long answer requires me to do some math. So I apologize in advance if I get some numbers wrong. But I promise you will learn some neat things about light if you are into that.

First, I have no idea why they brought retroreflectiveness into this.

Retroreflection is when light is reflected back at the angle of incidence. Meaning no matter what angle you shine light from, it will always reflect straight back to you.

It's a bit of an optical magic trick. It is how street signs and highway markers work.

Weirdly enough, astronauts placed a manmade retroreflector on the Moon which people can use to reflect lasers and disprove the fake Moon landing theory.

The Moon may have retroreflective properties, but that effect would only really be noticeable if you were to shine a tight beam of light like a laser or something. Retroreflection would be more apparent from the perspective of the Sun, not the Earth.

You know what, I should just read the source and see what they are talking about.

"The edges of the full moon seem as bright as the center, without limb darkening, because of the reflective properties of lunar soil, which retroreflects light more towards the Sun than in other directions."

Hey, I was right about the Sun.

But this is a bad explanation. A rare L for Wikipedia. I even checked the primary reference and it doesn't even talk about retroreflectance. It does seem to be a factor, especially for the very outer edges, but looking at other sources my initial answer of the Moon being bumpy and the Sun being far away is much better.

So... let's learn some shit about light.

First we should talk about surface texture as mentioned. You have glossy surfaces and matte surfaces and a spectrum in between.

A glossy surface reflects light very directly (specular). A matte surface scatters light in many directions (diffused). This has to do with how smooth or bumpy the surface is.

The Moon is very rocky and bumpy and dusty, so it has a very matte surface. And I'm guessing since some rays bounce back toward the Sun, we don't get as many direct reflections that would add specularity. Perhaps there is a Moon expert who can weigh in on how much that actually diffuses the light beyond the matte surface texture.

And the reason the Moon is so evenly lit has to do with the distance of the light source. Again, the Sun is super duper far away.

When light is very close to something, it falls off very quickly.

When light is far away, the falloff is very gradual.

From the camera's perspective, the edges of the sphere are farther away than the center. When the light is closer, the edges of the sphere appear darker. But when the light is farther away, the edges of the sphere appear to have a similar intensity compared to the center.

The surface of the Moon is not a consistent distance from us. It is a spheroid so the edges are nearly a thousand miles farther away than the center. But the edges don't fall off into shadow from our perspective.

This is a property of the inverse square law.

Let's say you wanted to light two people and the light was very close—one person might end up in the light's falloff.

But if you move the light farther away and crank up the power, the two people will seem evenly lit.

You can think of light a bit like a shotgun in a video game. When you are close to something the shotgun has a very tight spread and is more lethal. When farther away, it has a larger spread but the lethality is decreased.

The first shotgun blast is very intense directly in the center but has no effect on the edges. The second blast has more even coverage, but the intensity is spread out and diminished.

From a point light source, light starts out very concentrated but the photons spread out over a distance. This dilutes the intensity of the light. The inverse square law says for every doubling of distance, the light becomes 1/4th as bright.

You have the same amount of photons but a larger area to light up. So coverage increases but intensity decreases.

Check out the background in these images.

In the first photo, the light is very close to her face. The intensity of the light is very concentrated. From the perspective of the camera, her face is super bright, but the background is very dim in comparison.

But as you move the light farther away, the photons spread out. If you leave the light on the same power and the camera at the same exposure, the photo on the right would look very dim—probably just pure black. So you'd have to compensate by increasing the power of the light (more photons) or adjusting the exposure of the camera (higher sensitivity) or both. But once you make those adjustments the background and her face seem very evenly lit.

In the first photo, relative to the light source, the background is far away compared to her face. The light might be 5 feet from her face but 10 feet from the background. It has to travel double the distance to hit the background so the intensity of the light hitting the background is 75% darker than the light hitting her face.

The majority of photons are hitting the face and only a few are escaping to the background.

But if the light is 20 feet from her face and 25 feet from the background, the light only travels 25% farther to hit the background. So the background is only 36% darker than the light hitting her face.

To achieve the same exposure the number of photons is increased substantially, but they are spread out and not concentrated in one area.

If you increase the distance enough, the difference gets less and less perceptible.

Now imagine the light is 93 million miles away. The background would only be 0.0000000004% darker than her face.

From the Earth's perspective, the edge of the Moon is roughly 1000 miles farther away from the center of the Moon. And about 0.001075% farther from the Sun. The falloff of light would be impossible for our eyeballs to detect.

To review, the Moon has edge-to-edge lighting with no specular highlights because the surface is bumpy and scatters light and the Sun is ridiculously far away. I'm sure there are other optical effects at play due to the atmosphere and reflective properties mentioned, but by and large, that is what's going on.

It's the same reason the face of a large boulder in direct sunlight doesn't have any bright spots or quick shadow falloff.

Can you use this knowledge to help your photography?

Yes!

Lighting indoor group photos can be very tricky.

You often have several rows of people. If your light source is too close, you may have difficulty getting a good exposure on all of their faces because of the varied distances involved. The back row of people may appear very dark. But if the light is too far away, you may end up getting harsh shadows.

Large light sources produce softer, more flattering light.

Small light sources produce harder, harsher light.

Distant light sources produce even light.

Distant light sources have a smaller apparent size.

Which means you need really big modifiers so you can put the light far enough away to get soft AND even lighting. You have to make the light sources bigger to compensate for the distance.

If all you have is a flash, you can bounce it off the ceiling or a large white wall to increase the size of your light source. Just make sure it is far enough away from everyone to get a proper exposure of all their smiling faces.

[mehwmidklpe]

HEAR ME OUT percy jackson x reader

Reader being who the daughter of the moon goddess Selene and yknow how the seas and waves are kinda like controlled by the moon imagin that as percy x reader

I. AM. HEARING. YOU!!

no bcs I freaking LOVE the moon (that's why I scratched 'sun' in the lyrics of Dominic Fike's sunburn on my pinned post and replaced it with 'moon')

I always say I'm Artemis' forbidden daughter bcs I lover her and the moon

I know that that sounds so stupid bcs she's a maiden goddess which is why I keep saying 'forbidden daughter' but it sounds like I don't know anything abt the riordanverse when I do (I know alot abt it)

but I say I'm Hermes' daughter cause then Connor would be my brother and I'm very much obsessed with him so...

anyways I LOVE this request!!

I'ma stop ranting now, hope the fic is okay

⋆༺.☽˚⋆⚝︎˚⭑ִֶָ.༻⋆⋆༺.☽˚.⋆⚝⋆︎˚⭑ִֶָ.༻⋆

THE MOON AND THE SEA

Percy Jackson x Selene!Reader

The moon and the sea.

A beautiful combination.

Both breathtaking on their own, but divine when they're together.

Maybe that's why you and Percy match so well.

You rely on each other like the moon relays on the waves of the ocean.

Percy makes you shine like when the light of the moon hits the blue sea so perfectly.

No matter how bad the situation was.

It would always be the moon and the sea.

Always you and Percy.

Right now, you sat by the sea, just taking in the sight, when your own sea decided to join you.

"Hey, Moon." Moon. The nickname Percy decided to give you back when you were still fourteen.

You smiled at him, and he swore that you looked better than Aphrodite with the way the moonlight hit your skin so perfectly.

The way he looked at you, with those sea colored eyes you could just drown in.

And honestly, you wouldn't complain if you did.

"Think you could use some company?" He asks you. "I wouldn't be completely against it." You respond.

"That's good." Percy decided, siiting down next to you. You both just sat there in silent, admiring the view infront of you.

"I think the moon and the sea go really well together." Percy then speaks up. "Yeah?" "Yeah. Don't you think? I mean I feel like they're btoh good for each other. Bring out the best in each other." He continued.

"Mhm." You hummed in agreement before speaking again. "They rely on each other in the best way possible." The son of Poseidon had to smile. "Exactly."

"They're perfect for each other." Percy's hand slowly started moving closer to yours, and when you saw what he was doing, you let your own hand meet his halfway.

Percy's body relaxed once your fingers intertwined.

"I feel like.. when the sun goes down, the sea is all alone. Alone in the drakness.. But then the moon shows up, and the sea has never felt better when the light of the moon hits him with all his attention. When they're alone together, at peace.. it's like the sun never has to come up again.."

Percy's words made your heart race. Your eyes sparkled like a thousand stars. Stars only he could make you see.

Percy turned to you. "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

I. love. you.

That's what it meant.

Poeticly, 'the moon is beautiful' means 'I love you'.

And The son of the sea god had just declared his love for the moon goddess in the best way possible.

With the most beautiful words, in the moonlight at the see, all alone together, at peace, without anyone interrupting like the sun interupts the moon and the sea.

"So is the sea." You respond as you stared deeply into his eyes. This time, you drowned in the reflection of yourself.

His sea colored eyes reflected your beauty like the ocean water reflects the beauty of the moon the way he sees it, so she knew how much he adored her.

Percy's lips twitched up a bit as he dared scoot closer to you. His hand came up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, getting lost in your eyes.

They really did sparkle like the stars.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Guess they're better together.." He wishpers.

"Amazing together."

And with that, Percy's lips finally met yours.

His heart raced harder then the waves of the wildest sea.

The sea god's son swore he was gonna melt in a puddle of water so he could join the other waves and just stare up at the beauty of the moon forever.

And he wouldn't even complain.

You had never felt better as you and Percy kissed in the darkness of the night.

Due the intesity of your feelings, the waves started crashing harder, the moonlight became brighter, falling right on you and Percy's figures.

Controlling your powers while feeling like this was something you needd to work on. Not that you wre coplaining.

The sight was divine.

Your hand rested on his chest, his hands held your face carefully, as if he was scared you'd break.

"I don't want the sun to come up." He wishpers against your lips. "Me neither." So your lips met again.

Over and over again like the waves that kept crashing into the ocean shore.

When you finally pulled away, you let your lips linger before your foreheads rested against each others.

"I love you." He wishpered to you.

"I love you too." You wishper back.

That night, you and Percy stayed at the beach, your head on his shoulder, his arm around you, just watching the view.

Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

How it should be.

The moon and the sea.

You and Percy.

tried to be cute but I think it might be a little cringe hope it's okay..

[solxamber]

Brighter Than The Sun || Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim shines like the sun, radiant and unwavering—yet each day, he burns a little closer to the edge, waiting for the moment he no longer has to be the light for everyone else.

Kalim Al-Asim is the sun.

Golden and bright, the very picture of abundance. He is the warmth that spills into every crevice, the laughter that brightens any shadowed corner. To anyone who looks upon him, Kalim is all light—glowing, inexhaustible.

He smiles, beaming as though he has never known a reason to frown. He is the friend who helps without question, the noble who offers wealth as casually as he breathes. Everything about him seems limitless, as if there’s a wellspring of joy tucked beneath his ribs.

To the world, he is everything one could want. Money? He has enough that he could give it away a thousand times and never feel the weight of the loss. Status? He holds it effortlessly, carrying the Al-Asim legacy like a crown he was born to wear. Power? He stands at the top of his dorm, a place reserved for the most capable, a place so few could even dream to reach.

Yet when he is alone, under the quiet of his own thoughts, he wonders if this light truly belongs to him.

For he is the sun, yes, but only in appearance. And sometimes, when the crowd's noise fades, and he is left in the quiet of his own mind, he feels more like the moon.

A surface that reflects the light given to it, glowing not because it burns but because it must imitate what it cannot create. He looks at his life, and the brightness seems less a gift and more a performance—a practiced gleam, like polished gold.

His wealth is not his own; it flows from a family name that stretches far beyond his own reach, his life inextricably intertwined with that legacy. He is a prince, a beloved heir, but also just a vessel for what the Al-Asim family has always been.

His title as housewarden—an honor, a symbol of his supposed strength—feels hollow, as if it is an illusion created by the weight of his family’s donation, a stage set up for him to walk across without effort.

He knows his own weaknesses too well. The duties of his position are carried not by his hands, but by Jamil’s steady, unseen grasp, the support he feels but cannot acknowledge aloud. He walks through his life like a dream, all things handed to him so effortlessly that he can barely tell where his accomplishments end and Jamil’s sacrifices begin.

He smiles for the people who look to him with bright eyes, never revealing the doubt that tugs at his heart. Because if he reveals even a hint of insecurity, what might they see?

To the world, he is a radiant, boundless sun. But to himself, he is a vessel, filled with the reflected light of others.

He should not complain. How could he, when he has everything anyone could want? It is a life of luxury, endless opportunity, and privilege. To speak of weariness, of doubt, of feeling like a stranger in his own skin—that would be a betrayal of all the riches he has been given.

So he keeps his smile intact, lets it grow even brighter to cover the places where he feels hollow. He becomes the perfect image of the Al-Asim heir—unfailing, generous, golden.

But with each person who takes a part of him, each smile he offers in place of the words he cannot say, he feels himself dim. It is a slow fading, like a candle burning down to its last flicker.

They come to him for his wealth, for his status, for the power that drapes him like a robe. They praise him, flatter him, but he wonders if any of it would remain if he was just Kalim.

So he smiles, and he smiles, because that is what the sun must do.

He smiles because that is what the Al-Asim heir has always done. And if he must dim a little, if he must give until there is nothing left, then so be it. Because he is the sun. Or at least, that is what the world needs him to be.

The announcement for the competition rings through the hallways like a spark, and within moments, it feels like Kalim is being surrounded. A food sale—a lighthearted, fun event meant to bring everyone together.

But the minute it’s announced, people begin to approach him, voices eager, faces alight with plans that all seem to look the same: “You can bring in the best chefs, right?” “With your budget, we’ll be unstoppable!” “If we work with you, victory’s in the bag!”

They don’t want to team up with him because it’ll be fun. They want to team up because he’s a shortcut to winning. The money, the prestige, the pull he doesn’t even remember asking for—those are the things they’re looking at, not him.

It’s as if he’s transparent, just a vessel for everything he can provide, and suddenly the bright prospect of a competition meant for laughter and shared stories feels like a thin disguise for something much more hollow.

He puts on his best grin, the one that usually gets him through anything, and thinks of Jamil. But he knows before he even starts the trek that Jamil won’t accept his help—not really.

He would take one step into Jamil’s space, and the same pattern would unfold: Jamil’s skill, his knowledge and sharp-eyed focus, would all have to fold back and take second place for Kalim. And Kalim’s heart would break a little more, watching Jamil slip back into that practiced shadow.

So he chooses someone at random. He watches his friend fade into the distance, unapproachable in the quiet corner he’d always known to seek, and feels himself both moving closer and losing him. Because if Jamil joins with someone else, maybe this time, he’ll finally get the recognition he’s always deserved.

Then, suddenly, there’s a voice—a calm, grounded voice, an anchor that cuts through the whirlwind around him. “Do you want to team up?”

Kalim blinks, looking up. It’s you, the one person he might have expected least, but it makes sense the more he thinks about it. You’re the prefect, the magicless wonder who bent over backwards time and again for people you barely knew.

He’s seen you take on challenges most people would run from; he’s seen you forge your own way in a world that wasn’t made to be kind. You’re… well, you’re what he imagines the sun to be—shining for everyone, regardless of how dark things might seem.

The memory slips back into his mind, hazy at first, like a half-forgotten dream—but then it sharpens, each detail painfully vivid. After Jamil's overblot, Kalim remembers standing on the edge of chaos, his mind spinning, his heart bruised. The realization of Jamil’s resentment had wrapped around his throat, each word, each look, echoing. And yet, he had smiled, grinned even, as he always did—because he had to.

It was then that you appeared beside him, quiet but determined, your gaze steady and warm as you asked, “Are you okay, Kalim?”

He’d almost laughed it off. "I’m fine! You should check on Jamil instead.” Jamil was the one who had suffered, after all, who had been weighed down by his own heavy feelings, dark enough to blot out everything else. But you shook your head, gently dismissing his words. “Jamil’s in good hands. Right now, I’m here to check on you.”

Your voice cut through the polished, automatic responses that came so easily to him, cracking them open to reveal the raw vulnerability underneath. He stood there, lost, the smile frozen on his face, as your words sank in. You weren’t here because he was the housewarden or the Al-Asim heir—you were here for him.

Before he could respond, you were called by Ace and Deuce, voices edged with worry and urgency. With a quick but genuine smile, you pressed your number into his hand, like a promise. “If you need anything, just call me, okay?”

Then, before he could gather a single thought, you pulled him into a swift hug. It was brief, barely more than a whisper of warmth, but it was real. And as you turned and rushed back to the others, Kalim was left standing alone, clutching the scrap of paper like a lifeline.

It was the first time he felt truly seen.

And now here you are, looking right at him with that unmistakable twinkle in your eye, and asking him if he wants to team up with you.

For a moment, his heart jumps, then settles. How could he say no?

When you both sit down, Kalim immediately jumps into the plan he assumes you want to hear—how he’ll bring in a chef, or two, maybe even three to make sure everything’s just right.

But the second he starts, you shut him down with a gentle shake of your head, laughing softly. “This isn’t about winning. This is about having fun with friends, remember? I didn’t ask to team up so you’d hire people. I wanted to cook with you.”

Kalim’s heart skips. You’re here… just for him?

It’s a strange feeling, this warmth that wells up from deep within. His grin starts small, uncertain, then blooms into something true and wide, unfiltered and bright.

The kitchen becomes a small world for just the two of you, a place of flour clouds and flung sugar, and with each mistake, with each burnt attempt at a dish, you both dissolve into helpless laughter.

What starts as a noble, if catastrophic, attempt to cook quickly devolves into pure chaos, until there’s more flour on your faces than in the mixing bowl and neither of you can remember what you were even trying to make.

For once, he doesn’t feel the need to give, or to prove. Here with you, he’s simply Kalim—the boy with flour smudged across his cheek and laughter that keeps bubbling up before he can stop it.

When the competition ends, you both stand proudly beside a dish that looks nothing short of monstrous. The judges hesitate, then take a tentative bite and promptly grimace. Kalim hears you giggling beside him, your shoulders shaking as you take in the judge’s expression, and he can’t help but join you. It’s a sound that fills the space between you, something unpracticed and utterly genuine.

For a moment, he looks at you, your face still bright with laughter, your eyes shining like starlight, and a thought settles into him, quiet but strong.

Maybe… maybe he’d be happy being your moon.

Because you’re the sun in all the ways that he could never be. You light the way without needing anything from him. And for once, he feels no need to push it down and smile, because it feels natural.

It happens often enough that Kalim doesn’t flinch anymore. He’s used to it, really. Requests come at him like a tidal wave, sweeping through with unrelenting regularity. It’s as if everyone expects him to be their endless source, their personal sun—warm, bright, unyielding in generosity, always giving without pause. A smile that never fades, a light that never dims.

Today, it’s a classmate from another dorm, sidling up with that gleam in their eye, that small, calculated smile. “Kalim,” they say, smooth and honeyed, “I could use a little help.” And it’s money they want; of course it’s money. They don’t ask how he’s doing, or if he might need something in return. The sun does not need favors; it simply shines.

Without hesitation, Kalim’s lips curve into that familiar, reflexive smile. “Of course! How much do you—”

But before he can finish, there’s a shift—a hand on his arm, warm and grounding, and then there’s you, stepping in. You stand firm, gaze unwavering as you look at the person with something fierce, a protective spark in your eyes he’s not accustomed to seeing directed at him.

“No,” you say, voice strong, clear. “He won’t be giving you any money today.”

Kalim stares, momentarily stunned, as the person falters, their confidence waning under your unyielding gaze. They stammer, offering excuses, their polished smile slipping away, and Kalim realizes, slowly, that you’ve dismissed them entirely. Just like that, they slink off, and it feels as though you’ve thrown up a wall between him and the world, shielding him from the hands that are always outstretched, from the shadows eager to siphon his light.

For a heartbeat, Kalim almost laughs it off. It’s what he always does, isn’t it? His warmth is endless; he’s the sun, and if they want to take a little here and there, that’s fine. But as he opens his mouth to brush it away, your gaze catches his—a fierceness still burning there, softer now but just as fierce.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice faltering, a practiced line that feels hollow now. “I don’t mind. I have enough.”

But you’re shaking your head, brows furrowed. “It’s not about having enough, Kalim. It’s about people thinking they can take advantage of you, people who see your kindness and assume it’s endless. I’m not going to let that happen—not while I’m here.”

Your words are firm, soft but unbreakable, and they slip past his practiced defenses, breaking through the polished brightness he’s wrapped around himself for so long. He’s heard people defend him before—duty, necessity, loyalty.

But this… this is different. You’re not protecting him out of obligation or his family name; you’re protecting him because you see him—the cracks beneath the shine, the exhaustion hidden behind the smile he’s worn for so long.

It’s strange, this feeling. It’s warmth, but not the warmth he gives. It’s something softer, gentler, a warmth that reaches out to cradle rather than to demand. And Kalim realizes that you aren’t here to take; you’re here to give.

It feels as if something’s settling in his chest, filling spaces he’s ignored. A sun isn’t supposed to dim, isn’t supposed to falter, but right now, he feels the smallest, most fragile sense of relief, of finally allowing himself to be seen.

For a moment, he stands there, vulnerable in a way he rarely allows himself to be, letting the feeling settle into the empty corners of his heart.

He’s always been the one giving, radiating, shining for others, but right now, with you, he feels… cared for. Cherished, even. And for the first time, he wonders if it’s possible to let himself be dim, even for just a moment, to let himself be a little less bright.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, shaky. “Thank you,” he says, and the words feel like a fragile confession, a quiet plea that maybe he doesn’t have to be everyone’s light alone.

And you smile at him, not as someone who needs, but as someone who gives, and Kalim realizes maybe he doesn’t have to carry on being the sun on his own.

The room feels too large, the air too thick. The housewardens’ meeting has reached a stalemate, and all eyes are on him—the sun who can’t afford to waver, the one they all seem to look to now, expectant.

It’s suffocating, the way their gazes settle, heavy as if they could burn through his skin. He knows they’re waiting for a decision, the final word to tip the scales. But Kalim doesn’t know what to say.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, the words tangling in his throat. The others are smart, strategic, relentless in their arguments, and he… he just wants to make the choice that won’t ruin everything.

The room is a whirl of voices and opinions, and he feels small under the weight of it. He doesn’t know what the right answer is, but Jamil would. Jamil always knows.

So he tries to voice it, a faint smile surfacing like a reflex. “Maybe I could just… ask Jamil,” he says, a bit too quickly, fingers reaching for his phone. “He’s smarter than me, you know? He’ll know what to do.”

But before he can call, a hand finds his, warm and grounding, and it’s you, giving him a look that’s gentle yet firm, one that stops him in his tracks. “Kalim,” you say, softly but with a certainty that doesn’t let him look away, “what do you think?”

The words settle into the room, silencing the murmur of voices, and suddenly, it’s just you and him, and that question hanging between you. It’s simple, yet it strikes at something deep, something unsteady inside him. No one has asked him like that before—not with such unwavering faith, not like they actually want his opinion.

He stumbles over his thoughts, searching for an answer in the corners of his mind. A nervous chuckle bubbles up as he tries to brush it off. “Ah, I mean, I don’t know if I… I mean, Jamil’s really good at this stuff, he always knows the right—”

But you don’t let him retreat. Your gaze is steady, unwavering. “You’re the housewarden, Kalim,” you remind him. “This decision is yours. And beyond that, I trust your judgment. Whatever choice you make, I believe in it. I believe in you.”

And just like that, something cracks open in him, a warmth he’s not used to directed at him, not in this way. He’s the sun, but the world has always taken that light from him, never cared for the doubts and cracks beneath it.

He’s always been everyone’s brightness, a mirror reflecting what they needed to see, but no one has ever looked past the shine to find what lies underneath—until now.

There’s a rawness to it, a gentleness that makes his heart stutter. To think that you… you believe in him, without question, without needing him to hide behind Jamil or his family’s influence.

It’s as if, for the first time, he’s seen for more than just his blinding, relentless cheer. And he realizes he doesn’t have to dim himself here; he doesn’t have to be anyone but himself.

His heart swells, and he finds himself grinning, wide and genuine, a real smile that breaks free from the polished restraint he’s so often worn. He makes his choice then, and he’s almost surprised by the ease of it, the clarity in his own voice as he casts his vote.

The meeting wraps up, and as the others disperse, he turns to you, his eyes bright with a newfound light. “You really mean it, don’t you?” he asks, almost breathless with disbelief. “You really think I can… handle this?”

You nod, and the quiet sincerity in your gaze tells him everything he’s ever wanted to hear.

He’s buzzing with excitement now, a warmth in his chest that radiates outward, too bright to contain. “We should celebrate!” he exclaims, a bit too loud, the joy spilling over, “Oh! We could throw a party! I’ll get the best decorations—oh, maybe fireworks! Or music, live music, yeah!”

He goes on, the plans growing more extravagant with every breath, each word a piece of his true self spilling over, no longer held back. But then you reach out, grounding him again, slipping your hand into his. It’s a small gesture, but it holds the weight of something steady, something real.

He looks down, meeting your gaze, and he feels himself settle, his grin softening as he squeezes your hand in return. It’s a connection that doesn’t need words, a promise that he doesn’t have to be the sun alone, that he doesn’t have to bear its weight for everyone else. With you here, he feels whole, bright in a way that isn’t lonely or draining.

And for the first time, Kalim lets himself bask in his own light, just as he is.

The night presses down, dense and endless, smothering like velvet too heavy to breathe through. Kalim’s room is dark, his bed sprawling, sheets cool and smooth and empty.

He lies there, eyes wide open, and the silence around him is too thick, his mind too loud. Thoughts spiral, each more bitter than the last. The emptiness gnaws at him, whispers that scratch at his heart, telling him that he’s alone—that he’ll always be alone.

They all come to him because he’s the Al-Asim heir, the boy with endless coin and golden connections. No one really wants to know you, his thoughts hiss, cruel in the stillness. They just want what you can give. Even his friends, the laughter and cheers that surround him during the day, feel hollow when night falls and he’s alone with himself.

And then there’s you… you, who’ve looked at him like he’s more than just a title, more than just a shimmering surface. But his heart trembles, fear threading through his veins. What if, someday, even you see past his brightness and turn away? What if you realize he’s not what you want, not who you deserve?

The thought digs deep, enough to make his chest tighten. And before he knows it, his fingers are reaching for his phone, trembling as he finds your contact, the screen casting a soft glow in the darkness. His finger hovers over the call button, his mind screaming not to, to let you sleep, but his heart—panicked, needy—wins out.

He taps the screen, the line ringing just once, then twice. But dread fills him, heavy and sudden, and before you can pick up, he hangs up, tossing the phone aside like it’s burned him.

The room is darker now, the silence sharper, and his heart beats loud, a hollow echo. What was I thinking? He tries to laugh it off, as though his thoughts aren’t tightening around him. But then his phone vibrates, the screen flashing with your name.

He swallows, unable to answer, shame and fear tangled up, so he lets it go to voicemail. Then the screen lights up again, and again, until finally, after his third silence, the calls stop.

The quiet returns, heavier than before, and he’s about to close his eyes, to pretend he never did anything so foolish, when there’s a knock. It’s soft at first, hesitant, then insistent, each knock pounding through the empty space in his chest.

He doesn’t dare breathe as he drags himself out of bed, opening the door only to find you there, looking up at him with wild, frantic eyes, like you’ve just run miles to reach him.

“Kalim,” you gasp, barely catching your breath, and he’s so stunned he almost doesn’t notice the tear tracks glistening on your cheeks. You reach for him, hands shaking, and in an instant, your arms are around him, pulling him close, clinging to him like he might disappear if you let go. “You scared me! You really… I thought—” Your voice breaks, thick with worry, and your grip tightens, trembling as though you’re afraid he’ll slip from your hold.

He’s frozen, the weight of your embrace pressing into him, disbelief rippling through him. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammers, trying to laugh it off, to brush away the panic in his chest. “It was… it was just an accident! I didn’t mean to wake you—”

But you pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, your gaze sharp with the weight of a thousand unspoken worries. “Don’t you dare do that to me again,” you say, your voice firm, fierce in a way he’s never heard before. “If you need me, call me. Really call me. Don’t just… don’t leave me hanging, don’t make me wonder. I was terrified, Kalim.”

And before he can even answer, you wrap your arms around him again, burying your face in his shoulder as you hold him close. It’s grounding, the warmth of you pressed against him, anchoring him in a way that silences the dark thoughts spiraling through his mind.

He can feel your heart racing, hear the quiet sniffles as you clutch him tighter, and it’s like all the loneliness, all the fear, all the doubts fade into the background. Because you’re here, and you came all this way just for him.

“Come on,” you say after a long moment, pulling away just enough to flash him a faint, determined smile. “Scooch over. We’re having a sleepover. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He blinks, watching in wonder as you make your way to his bed, throwing back the covers and settling in as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He can only stand there for a moment, stunned, before he finds himself crawling into bed beside you.

He’s never had someone sit with him like this, just to be there, and a strange warmth fills his chest, unlike anything he’s felt before.

You don’t ask him why he called or why he hung up, and he doesn’t need to explain. You’re here, stretching out beside him, your presence a steady warmth that keeps the shadows at bay.

When you reach over to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, it’s like a promise, an unspoken vow that no matter how dark the night feels, you’ll be here to pull him back into the light.

And as he lies there, hand in yours, he realizes he doesn’t need to fear losing you. For the first time, he feels truly seen, like you understand every part of him—the bright, blinding sun he tries to be, and the quieter, flickering light beneath. He squeezes your hand back, his heart lighter, his smile real.

Kalim has known for a while now, though he tried to convince himself otherwise. But no amount of blinding sunlight, no amount of laughter can hide the truth beating loud and insistent in his chest. He’s fallen for you, deeply, hopelessly, and it’s nothing like he’d imagined.

Not grand or regal or even serene. No, it’s messy, overflowing, spilling out like the cups of tea he clumsily pours, like the stories he rambles through whenever you’re nearby. You make him feel like he doesn’t need to wear that bright, polished sun mask that everyone expects from him.

But how can he possibly tell you? In his mind, the moment plays out with magic carpets soaring through the stars, firelight flickering against golden sands, his heart laid bare in the most dazzling of confessions.

Yet here he is, standing with you in the middle of a bustling market, your hand gripping his as you pull him from stall to stall, eyes bright with excitement as you chatter on about matching trinkets, laughter bubbling up as you try on silly hats and drape fabrics over each other’s shoulders.

He’s surrounded by the scents of spices, the hum of people, the rough cobblestones beneath his feet—and suddenly, the words slip out, too big to be contained. “I love you.”

It’s out before he can stop himself, hanging there in the air between you, fragile and exposed. There are no magic carpets, no glittering jewels or ancient spells—just the clamor of the marketplace and your stunned expression.

For a split second, he panics, his heart dropping as he watches you go still, your laughter fading into silence. What did I just do? he wonders, dread pooling in his stomach.

Before he can backtrack, you grab his hand and tug him away, weaving through the bustling crowd with a determined pace. He follows without a word, his heart thudding painfully, a thousand worries flashing through his mind. Are you mad? Are you disappointed? The walk back feels endless, every step dragging out his dread as he watches your profile, desperately wishing he could read your mind.

When you reach your room, you shut the door and turn to face him, eyes steady and piercing. “Say that again,” you demand, soft but firm, voice almost a whisper.

He swallows, nerves tangling in his throat, but he can’t hide now, not when you’re looking at him like that. “I love you,” he says, voice trembling but true. And before he can get another word out, your hands are cupping his face, and you’re pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s fierce and sweet, leaving him breathless.

When you pull back, he stares at you, wide-eyed, his mind still reeling. “But—” he stammers, “It wasn’t grand, it wasn’t…” He trails off, words slipping through his fingers, his heart heavy with the thought that he’s somehow let you down.

You silence him with another kiss, your hands gentle on his cheeks. When you pull away, you hold him there, your gaze warm and unyielding. “I don’t need grand, Kalim. I don’t want fireworks, or magic carpets, or anything the Al-Asim heir thinks he’s supposed to offer. I love you. Not housewarden Kalim, not the heir… Just Kalim. The one who follows me through crowded markets, the one who hums while he braids my hair, the one who laughs so brightly it could heal the world.”

Your fingers trace along his jaw, and the sincerity in your eyes takes his breath away. “You don’t need to be the sun for me. You don’t need to burn yourself out for people who don’t care. You’re enough as you are. You’re my Kalim, and I’m yours.”

And as you smile at him, soft and true, he feels his heart swell, the insecurities falling away. Your words wrap around him, gentle as a cloak, quieting every fear and doubt he’s held onto. It’s more than he ever thought he could have, more than he ever thought he’d deserve.

The smile that blooms on his face, radiant and unrestrained, is real.

Because in this moment, with you by his side, he shines brighter than the sun.

Masterlist

[suguwu]

minors and ageless blogs dni.

your planet was known for its sapphires.

the mines dried up a handful of years ago. the ipc scraped the deposits down to the marrow, until not even the smallest glint of crystal existed.

most of the sapphires were off-planet, now, adorning the arms of the elite throughout the cosmos, shining brilliantly even in the dimmest light. they gleamed dark blue, like where the ocean meets the sun, all shimmering waters. the fathomless depths.

aventurine wears a bracelet made of them.

technically, it's yours.

you lost it to him under the two moons of a planet you've long forgotten the name of. you only remember the blushing rose of its sky reflecting off of the bone dice.

it was a stupid thing to put up as collateral. but you were stupid, back then, high off of innumerable victories.

your hands were shaking too badly to undo the clasp; he had to do it for you. he slipped it onto his own wrist, his expression unreadable, and you wondered if the gems still carried the heat of your skin.

he showed up again six system months later, with a smug little secret tucked up in the corner of his easy grin. he'd slung the bracelet into the pot without even glancing at you.

he only looked at you after you'd won it back.

"i don't lose often," he told you. "how about a drink?"

you should have declined, but you didn't. you let him buy you one round, and then two, and by the third, you'd said some things you shouldn't have.

the ipc acquired that planet a few weeks later.

you moved.

aventurine found you again in epsilon, reigning over a poker table. you'd scowled at him when he sat down across from you; he'd just smiled.

"nothing personal," he said. "just business."

"fuck off," you said, but he hadn't.

he won easily. you pushed your chips over to him and he caught you by the wrist.

"wanna chance to win it back?" he asked.

"i don't have anything left."

he tapped a gloved fingertip over one of the sapphires.

"no," you said.

"shame," he said. "i liked that."

"then buy one."

he tilted his head. "we both know i can't."

you flinched. you couldn't help but cover the bracelet with your hand, as if doing so would make his knowledge disappear.

aventurine smiled. "alright then," he said. "next time, maybe."

"there won't be a next time."

"we'll see."

there was a next time. you don't have the money you lost to him, and he ran a thumb over the sapphires. he left the table with them glinting on his wrist, night-sky blue.

the time after that, he traced his fingers over the delicate skin of your inner wrist after clicking the clasp shut. the stones were still warm from his body heat.

you left before you did something stupid.

it went like that for a long while, the bracelet constantly changing wrists. you knew you shouldn't be betting it, but you couldn't quite help yourself.

"ambassador," aventurine said. "imagine meeting you here."

you didn't glance up from your game. "stoneheart."

"so cold," he said.

the bracelet has been yours for the last eight system months.

"you started it," you said, because he's never called you by your title.

he laughed. "i suppose i did."

at your gesture, the other players left the table. aventurine settled next to you. you dealt him in without a word.

he lost.

you eyed him over the rim of your drink. "you're off your game."

"am i?"

"seems like it."

"my apologies, then."

you watched him for a moment. his smile curled at the edges, something smug tucked up between his lips. it didn't reach his vivid eyes.

you sighed and unclasped the bracelet.

he pulled back as you reached for your wrist, his eyes sharp. "i lost, you know."

"yeah," you said. "now hold still."

he hesitated for a moment more, but then he let you put the bracelet on him. you clicked the clasp closed. he twisted his wrist, the facets of the sapphires catching the light, the ocean's reflection. your mother had carved them perfectly.

"don't lose it," you told him. "i'll win it back next time."

he studied you, his gaze slipping beneath your skin like a knife. then he smiled, carefully carefree.

"wanna bet?"

[st4rtar0t]

Love story of you and your romantic soulmate

Pick a picture

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Requested by @divya444

Picture one

Cards: 6 of pentacles, queen of cups, the knight of wands, strength, two of cups.

In a quaint town nestled between rolling hills and blooming meadows, he, a charismatic and adventurous soul, met her, a compassionate and nurturing spirit. He was the Knight, always seeking new horizons, and she was the Queen, her heart overflowing with kindness. One day, as he was passing through the town, he noticed her sitting by a fountain, her eyes reflecting the depth of the water. Intrigued by her aura of warmth and empathy, he approached her. She, in turn, saw the fire in his eyes and the determination in his stance. Their connection was instant, as if the universe had orchestrated their meeting. He, with his passionate tales of distant lands and daring adventures, fascinated her. She, with her soothing words and caring gestures, captured his heart. The Knight, though adventurous, had a generous heart. He would spend his days helping the townsfolk, sharing his stories, and aiding those in need, all the while stealing glances at the Queen. She admired his strength not just in battles but in the way he stood up for the less fortunate. As their bond deepened, they found solace in each other's arms. their resilience and determination to overcome any obstacle together. Through trials and tribulations, their love only grew stronger, proving that true love could conquer all. Under the light of the moon, with stars as witnesses, they exchanged vows of love and commitment, sealing their union. Their love story became a beacon of hope, inspiring others in the town to believe in the power of love and kindness. And so,they embarked on a lifelong journey together, their love story written in the stars and echoed through the ages, reminding everyone that love, coupled with strength and generosity, could create a harmony that was truly magical.

Picture 2

Cards: The sun, The moon, page of cups, 5 of wands, 3 of cups, 6 of swords.

In a small coastal town, beneath the radiant glow of the sun and the enchanting embrace of the moon, he, a sensitive soul, met her, a vibrant and joyful spirit. Their connection was immediate, like a cosmic force drawing them together. Their love story, however, was not without challenges. The arrival of the enemies of love signalled moments of conflict and tension, testing their relationship. But every disagreement only deepened their understanding of each other, making their bond stronger like tempered steel. In the midst of chaos, they found solace in the tranquil energy. Together, they embarked on a journey, leaving behind the troubles of the past and sailing toward a peaceful future. Hand in hand, they navigated the uncertain waters, relying on each other for support and guidance. Under the golden hues of the sun, he admired her like the moon admires the night sky, with a love so profound that it illuminated his entire being. She, in turn, found comfort in his kindness and the sincerity reflected in his eyes. Their love story became a testament to the power of understanding, patience, and unwavering affection. They marked milestones together, rejoicing in the triumphs of their relationship. Their love, like the sun and the moon, was a perfect balance, each complementing the other in ways that words could not capture. And in the quiet moments between the stars and the sea, they knew they had found something rare and precious—a love destined to shine eternally, just like the sun and the moon in the vast, endless sky.

Picture 3

Cards: The chariot, knight of cups, page of swords, judgement, 9 of wands, 7 of wands, the world and the star.

In a realm where fate wove its tales, there existed a spirited young woman. She had dreams as vast as the world, and her ambitions sparkled like the stars above. One day, she crossed paths with a gallant and poetic soul. His heart overflowed with emotions, and he carried a cup of love that he offered to the world. Their story began in a small town, where she used her sharp intellect to challenge the norms of their society. Him, on the other hand, had recently found his purpose. He was a healer, mending not just bodies but also wounded spirits. Their paths intertwined as they shared their dreams under the vast, watchful eye of the World. But their love was not without challenges. Her resilience, her determination to protect their love from the adversities that tested them. His bravery, his willingness to fight for their relationship even in the face of opposition. Amidst their struggles, they found solace in the Stars, in the night sky. They both found solace in hope. Her dreams illuminated their path, guiding them through the darkness. His gentle heart provided the unwavering support she needed. Their journey was an epic tale of love and perseverance, where the energies of the cards converged to create a bond as unyielding as the mountains and as boundless as the sky. And in each other's arms, they found the strength to conquer every obstacle, writing their love story in the constellations above—a story whispered by the winds and immortalised in the hearts of all who heard of their extraordinary love.

[beenbaanbuun]

sun w/ jung wooyoung

words - you know the drill

genre - hurt/comfort

——————————————————————————

if he’s the sun, then you’re the moon, illuminated only by the reflection of his light. it shines from his face in beams, loud laughter and wide grin dancing through the air until it reaches you, and you light up as well. you’re not quite as bright as he is, and you’re not sure you ever will be, but this is enough for you. to let his rays shine down on you; for him to let you shine them right back at him. it’s more than you wanted, honestly.

more than you expected.

but sometimes, wooyoung argues that it’s what you needed. on the days that his light doesn’t quite illuminate you quite as bright, and you sit and tell him that you don’t deserve him, he simply calls you a liar and drags you down to the sofa with him. “you deserve more than me, baby,” he coos softly in your ear as he smothers you with everything he has to offer. his warmth, his light, his everything, “you deserve the sun on a silver platter.” you’ve yet to tell him that it’s already in your possession, holding you to its chest like you’re the most precious thing in the world. perhaps one day you will; no doubt it’ll bring out a smile so bright it blinds you all over again.

“i don’t deserve you,” you insist, although your body betrays your words. perhaps it’s pure selfishness that keeps you clinging to him despite knowing that you’re not quite good enough to hold him so close, or perhaps it’s the pure need to have some goodness in your life. you’re not sure, but either way you’re not quite ready to let go of him just yet, “you’re so… bright!”

he scoffs as if you’ve said something ridiculous. you haven’t; he’s the centre of your solar system, the only reason for you to smile each and every morning. he’s brighter than the big ball of gas in the sky, and if you weren’t so intent on keeping him by your side, you’re sure that he’d be up there doing its job instead.

“you’re brighter,” he lies, although his words drip with enough sincerity that you could almost believe them, “you make me bright.”

no.

you don’t.

because you’re the moon and he is the sun. he could shine bright without you, but you could never dream of shining again without him by your side. he is the reason you shine, not the other way around.

“no, i don’t,” you mutter into his chest, defiance dripping from your tongue. he must think you’re joking with the way he chuckles into your scalp, but you’re not. you mean every word.

“are you calling me a liar?”

are you? maybe, although you’ve never accused him of lying before. relationships are built on trust, are they not? to accuse him of fibbing to you would be to turn that whole concept on his head! you don’t like that idea, so you push it away.

“i’m just saying that i can’t make you brighter,” you huff, and again, he seems amused.

“why is that, baby?” he presses a soft kiss to your crown as his arms tighten around you like a warm summer breeze that flutters by you. it’s hard not to let yourself relax entirely into his chest, sighing gratefully as he lets you get comfortable.

“because you make me brighter,” you admit softly, and for a moment the room is silent.

he hums, contemplation laced into the quiet sound.

“well that is a conundrum, isn’t it?” he says after a moment, and you can feel him grinning against the mop of hair atop your head, “how about you stay here and keep me warm while i try and figure this paradox out, hm?”

[thevalkyriesshadow]

@aldbooks and @freyjas-musings

I finally finished that fic inspired by y'all

enjoy 😘

Touch

Summary: Azriel takes a bath in a moonlit pool under a gently cascading waterfall. He comes here for the quiet, healing solitude, but tonight, he gets more than he expected.

Read it under the cut or on AO3 💙

The cold waters of the moonlit waterfall cascade over my face, cold rivulets running through my hair. It washes away the dirt and grime of another day. Cleanses me physically and mentally. 

Now that the snows have melted, the sun shines just a bit brighter for a bit longer, and the soil slowly warms – I can come out here without freezing my ass completely off.

My body still reacts. My shoulders tense for a moment, I shiver, just the slightest. The water bites as it tumbles onto my skin, flowing over the smooth rocks. But as time passes I adjust to it, soaking in the natural healing properties.

This is my time to reflect. To unwind.

My marred hands scrub at my skin. Gentle at first, then harder. A stubborn blood stain on my wrist has me rubbing the spot until it's raw and the bite of the pain is almost as refreshing as the water.

There's a snap of a twig and a gasp. I turn on the spot and there, standing amongst the tall grass and the hanging willows is Gwyn.

Her eyes widened, the shining teal of them glittering in the moonlight. Her copper hair shimmers under the gentle ray of light.

She hugs her towel closer to her body, which I'm now just realizing is clad in only a thin, light blue nightgown. The bottom hem barely reaches mid thigh. Her freckled shoulders are on full display.

I've never seen Gwyn like this, casual and exposed.  

I shouldn't be looking. I should tear my eyes from hers, but…

A tinge of red blooms on her face. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes dip down to – 

Gods above.

The water reaches my upper thighs and I'm standing stark naked in it. My half-hard cock waving about just above the water's surface.

I lowered myself slowly, just enough to hide my private bits.

Gwyn watches the movement then takes a step back.

We speak at the same time.

“I'll just –”

“You can stay –” 

She smiles and I clear my throat. When she doesn't speak or move I say, “You can stay, I'll leave.”

“Oh, no, please you were here first,” she says as she takes another step back and I have this urge to ask her to stay with me.

I run my hands through my hair and she watches the movement carefully, following with her wide eyes.

Gwyn always watched me, her eyes lingering as I trained the other priestesses. I didn’t mind of course. I liked her smiles as she watched my shadows move around me. I liked the quips and jokes she made. The way she would tease and banter with me. For almost two years it was just constant watching and teasing. 

She was curious, and so was I. So why not ask her to join?

“You know,” I start. Wading closer to her, stepping out from under the torrent of water. “You could join me….if you'd like?”

Her eyes widened even more, “Join you?” 

“If you want.”

This was silly. She'd never –

Gwyn dropped her towel and fingered the straps of her nightgown. 

Oh shit. She was really going to join me.

My lips pulled into a small smirk and I turned around to give her a moment to get into the water. 

The leaves rustled. The water splashed. 

I glanced back over my wings in time to see her swallowed up by the inky black waters. The moon's reflection shimmered where she disappeared. 

I waited.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Was she okay? My shadows hover above the water. Waiting for her...

I took a step closer to where I’d seen her disappear beneath the water.

“Whatchya looking at, Shadowsinger?” 

I started and she giggled. She’d snuck up on me and I was only now realizing how close she was to me. Leaning over my wings to spook me. I tried not to get her caught up in them as I faced her, but her hair got caught on a talon…

“Oh shit, sorry. Don’t move.” I unhooked the copper strands from the talon, letting them fall from my fingers before giving her a nod and good gods above…

There was goddess beauty and then there was Gwyneth Berdara beauty. 

Truly. 

She looked like a statue of old come to life. So perfect. Carved from ethereal beauty itself. Every freckle stood out against her alabaster skin. Her lithe form looked so natural and comfortable in the water. Almost flowing along with the current, like she was made from water herself. The water had made her long hair stick to her skin. Some of it cascaded over her breasts, covering most of the supple mounds.

And that’s just from ogling her in my peripherals. 

I kept my gaze on her teal eyes that sparkled with curiosity and awe. As much as I wanted to take in every curve and plane of her warrior-honed body, I wanted to keep this as cordial as possible. 

Just two friends bathing under a waterfall in a moonlit pool.

I swallowed, “That was impressive.”

She kept her gaze on mine, her chin rising slightly. Always goading me. “Half-nymph, remember? In fact I could probably still be under the water right now and still not feel the need to come up for another five minutes or so.”

I wanted to run my thumb across her chin, count all those freckles…

Warmth spread across my chest, that spark danced in my chest. 

I couldn’t speak. Everything I wanted to say in response to her posturing was lost on my tongue. All I could do was admire her.

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, down her neck, across her chest the longer I just stood staring at her. My eyes were drawn to her lips as they quirked, holding back a smile. “Did I break the infamous Shadowsinger?”

I blinked. Gods I had just been staring at her. I shot my shadows a look. Why didn’t they snap me out of it? 

As if mocking me they started twirling around Gwyn. They slithered over her shoulders, around her arms. They played in her hair that was dripping from the trickle of the waterfall she stood under.

“Sorry…uh, I was just thinking.”

“About?” She blinked, her smile finally spreading. Meeting her eyes with that glorious spark of joy.

I was thinking about her, but I couldn’t say that . 

“How your ability to hold your breath like that would be very useful against underwater foes. We should start training for underwater combat.” Oh my gods that sounded so much smoother in my head, but instead I just rambled.

Gwyn laughed, the sound playing around the small alcove they stood in. “ That’s what you were thinking about? Truly?”

I nodded.

She narrowed her eyes at me, “Sounds like you’re just trying to fit in another private lesson with me.”

My shadows danced around my wings. I’d love to have another moment of the day where it was just her and I.

“Sounds like you’re trying to avoid it. What’s wrong? Don’t think you can handle underwater combat, Priestess ?”

She crossed her arms, and gods dammit I couldn’t stop my eyes from darting down to note the movement. Her arms covered her nipples, but her breasts pressed together - water pooled in the pocket they made as they pushed against her forearms.

I pulled my gaze back up. Heat sizzled in those pretty teal eyes, a fiery crackle that sent a pang of need right to my cock.

“I can handle underwater combat just fine. In fact, I’ll probably be better at it than you,” she said matter-of-factly. Then she took a step back and another. “Wanna find out?” Her eyebrows wiggled and she took another step back – towards a drop she wasn’t aware of.

I shot out and grabbed her around the waist as her foot met the hidden drop in the dark waters of the pool. I tugged her into my chest. Gwyn’s eyes widened as I pulled her back, a shocking gasp escaping those perfect lips..

Her hands splayed against my chest, fingertips digging into my skin. Once she was righted I pulled my arms back, wholly aware of how close I was holding her. The skin that touched. 

Gwyn didn’t pull away. Didn’t put space between us as the steady beating of my heart – that I could’ve worn rippled through the waters around us – pulsed excitedly. Another pulse echoed in the water, as if in answering. As if I could feel her heartbeat too.

The air was palpable with tension.

The waterfall tumbled around us, its roar blocking out any other sound, her palms still resting flat on my chest. Goosebumps skittered across my skin as she let out a breath. Her chest heaved and we were so close I could just feel her hair and breasts brush against me.

Our gazes met, a question burning there. 

I didn’t care what the question was. My answer was yes.

I dropped my chin in a nod, “Yes,” I whispered, giving her permission to do whatever it is she was asking to do.

Her throat worked as she swallowed. Then her left hand started sliding down my torso, brushing past my ribcage. My stomach clenched as her fingertips danced lower, pressing into my hip and stopping there. Her thumb brushed the muscular vee, electricity sparking with every pass.

Her right hand that had been resting against my chest, moved. Her fingers traced the pattern of my tattoos, following them completely. Across my pectorals, over my shoulders and collar bone then down my sternum. 

I let out a breath at the sensation and Gwyn smiled, but didn’t say anything as she continued her exploration.

She spent a lot of time tracing the grooves between the muscles of my stomach. Over and over, my muscles spasming with each pass. I was beginning to think she enjoyed watching me squirm and honestly, I was very into it.

If she explored any lower, she’d see just how much I was enjoying it.

Oh shit. You’re hard as a rock . And she’s about to unknowingly discover this. Her fingers dipped into the pool, but before she could find my throbbing cock, I grabbed her wrist. “Wait,” I said. “I’m -- uh -- .” I cleared my throat "--hard--"

She giggled, “I wondered.”

I gaped at her. Always surprising me this one. I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped my lips, the rumble of it settling low in my chest. That spark expanded, vibrating ferociously. 

As much as I wanted those beautifully long, freckled fingers around my cock. I wanted more of that delicious touch. The way she caressed every inch of me with precision. I wanted to feel that everywhere. I wanted her to be comfortable with every part of me. Not just with the way we talk and banter. Not just with the way we spar and fight side by side. I wanted her to know that she could come to me and feel safe. Home.

I guided her hand to my neck. “I want you to touch the rest of me first. Please.”

The stunningly gorgeous and incredibly adorable Priestess in front of me smirked, in the most devilish way. Heat bloomed from the base of my spine, and at the same time in my chest – that spark spread. It followed her touch everywhere she went. Moving through my veins, muscles, organs…everything down to my very soul moved with her touch. Like two voices falling into harmony with one another. 

Gwyn watched the goosebumps form across my skin everywhere her fingers touch. Along the sinewy muscle of my neck, across the dips of my shoulders, the planes of my back, along my hips…everything was on fire stoked by her touch, kindled by her curiosity. 

I balled my hands into fists, the moment too much yet not enough. Her hands were around mine in an instant, raising them up between us. Her eyes flicked between the scarred knuckles and my burning eyes. My breathing was shallow, anticipating her next move. Would she touch them? Would she drop them to the side and forget about them? 

“I’d like to touch your hands, Azriel. Is that okay?”

My chest cracked wide open. An all consuming light pouring out. “Yes,” I breathe.

She let go of my left hand, but held onto my right wrist. Holding gently, turning it in her hand. I unfurled my fingers and her touch found my skin instantly. She smoothed her hand over mine, opening until my palm was flat. Then she traced my scars. 

With painstakingly slow precision. As if she were memorizing every puckered line. 

When she finished her slow exploration of both hands, she pressed her palms to mine, chuckled to herself, then laced our fingers together.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

She shrugged, “Just thinking about how you think I’m the one who needs underwater training, when you haven’t even proven to me that you’re a worthy teacher of such combat.”

I squeeze her fingers, “Are you going to teach me , Priestess?”

Gwyn narrowed those sparkling ocean eyes, the light in my chest pulsing at her gaze, “I should. It makes the most sense.”

Our gazes locked for a long moment. Studying, exploring. Then without warning, Gwyn hooked a foot around the back of my knee and yanked me down, her grip on my hands forcing me under the water. I took one last gulp before she plunged me under. She had a quick foot on my chest in an instant. I’d be dead in minutes, especially with her weight above me like this.

Thankfully she didn’t want to kill me. Just show me up. Though my chest was maybe starting to burn. Just a tinge. And of course my fucked up ass was thrilled by it.

Her foot lifted off my chest and she was tugging me out of the water. I spluttered as I met fresh air, blinking my eyes furiously up at her. 

Her smile was radiant as she chuckled, “Alright there, Shadowsinger?”

I wiped my face and lounged back in the water, floating just beneath the surface. It wasn’t deep. Maybe about four or five feet, but it was plenty of room for my wings to just graze the floor of the pool.

“You tell me. You’re the one training to be a healer.” Another thing I was so proud of her for pursuing. “My knee kind of hurts after you expertly hooked it around my leg to disarm me. I think you should check it out.” I raised my foot above the water, my chest filling with joy at her bright smile. Her head fell back as she let out a barking laugh. It pulled her hair back, exposing her breasts fully and by the gods old and young –

They were so fucking perfect. Supple mounds that glowed in the moonlight. Her dusky nipples peaked against the cool spring air. 

Fuck. My chest was pounding with emotions. With an intense feeling that I couldn’t place. It grew and grew with her smiles. Her laughter. The way we talked. Her body. Her Mother blessed existence.

Gwyn dove into the water, her chest gliding along the surface as she executed a perfect breaststroke until she was wading next to me. She was so at ease. So calm as she took my leg in her hand, examining it with an exaggerated studying gaze.

Then she looked at me with those wide, stunning eyes – the teal of them swimming with mirth as she said, “I’m happy to report that your leg will be just fine, Shadowsinger. Not a scratch on it.” She lowered my leg back into the pool, her breathy laughter tittering away. My shadows were having the time of their lives. Dashing in and out of her movements. Dancing with every sound that fell from her lips.

We waded further behind the waterfall where it was quieter. I could hear her breaths, the tinkling of the water as she moved about. I watched her twirl and wash at her skin, humming a gentle tune.

I must’ve looked ridiculous. Floating in the water staring at her with awe. But…how could I not? Just look at her. 

I recalled the first day of training. How she kept her distance, but stared at me from across the training ring.

And now?

Now she was shamelessly standing five feet away from me in the waist deep water. Washing her hair back under the waterfall. Breasts peaked up to the sky.

I wondered if she would let me touch her? If I could explore her body too…

I joined her under the waterfall. Rinsing my hair under the waters. She smiled and her gaze landed on my wings as I shook them against the water free falling behind me.

“So…did something happen to your shower back at The House that you had to come all the way out here?” She asks. Her head tilts as her eyes gleam with amusement. Her perfect, pink lips curl on one side.

I huff a laugh, “Did something happen to yours?”

Her grin widens, “No. I was feeling… adventurous.” She tugs at her hair and it takes all my willpower not to glance down at her exposed breasts. 

By The Mother she was being bold tonight.

“Is that so?” I ask, taking a step towards her. The moonlight makes her skin glow, her freckles like molten stars in the darkness.

Fuck. Gwyn is… beautiful.  

She nods and gives a cheery hum in confirmation. “Checking off another thing on my must-do list.”

I raise a brow, “Must-do list?”

“Yeah – it’s a list of things I must do now that I’m –” She pauses, searching for the right word.

“A Valkyrie?”

She purses her lips, “Hm, no –”

“A Carynthian –”

“No –”

“Older?” She had a birthday at the beginning of the year. One where I watched her get drunk off faerie wine and giggle uncontrollably all night.

She gave me a small push, her fingers digging into the muscled skin on my chest. “No! Would you let me finish!” I chuckled and swept my arms out, giving her the floor. My shadows swirled excitedly around her, settling on her shoulders.

She watched them and gave them one of those breathy giggles that made my lips form a dim witted smile before she looked back at me. They sparkled as they met mine, a certain gleam of trustworthiness in them. “It’s a list of things I want to do now that I’m not living in The Library anymore.”

“Ah – “

There’s a moment of pause between us. Not weird or awkward, just a moment where we’re both considering what that means. I know she worked hard to overcome many obstacles. I was proud of her for it. For facing the mountain -- the physical, emotional, and spiritual ones. For facing her fears and worries and doubts.

I supported her then and I’d support her now. 

“So number one on your list was bathe in a waterfall?”

She shrugs, “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“The item was more about swimming naked in a body of water, but this counts…right?” She glances around the dark pool then looks back to me.

“Sure. I mean, just do a lap to the edge of the pool and back and voila, item crossed off. Officially.”

Gwyn gives me a smirk. A smirk I know all too well. It’s one of those shit eating grins she gives before she says –

“I bet I can beat you.”

I return the sly smile. “Name your price, Berdara.”

She crosses her arms and raises her chin at me. “If I win, you have to help me cross off another item on my list.”

“And that would be…?”

“A secret," the words are final. "Your terms?”

I narrow my eyes at her and say, “Fine. If I win – you have to help me cross off one of my own personal list items.”

“ You have a list?”

“Absolutely I do.”

She regards me with curiosity then holds out a hand, “Deal.” We shake, my shadows shiver with excitement, and then we’re getting in position and my heart pounds in my chest. I have one item on my list that this exact moment in time sets everything up perfectly for. Though, with the way she held her breath underwater, I don’t think I’ll win, but…

“On my mark,” Gwyn says. I ready myself, listening to her countdown “….three…two…one… go!”

I dive into the water, her splash echoing mine. I’m vaguely aware of her presence in the water next to me, but I’m focused on my destination and the end goal to pay attention to where in the water she is.

I touch the dirt slope on the opposite of the pool and turn around in the water. My wings definitely make traveling in water difficult, but I pull them in closer and push harder.

When I resurface on the other side, I’m met by muscle carved thighs and a soaked Gwyn, smiling devilishly down at me.

“Looks like I won, Shadowsinger. Guess the item on your list is going to have to wait.”

I smooth my hair out of my face and wipe the water from my face. “As if there were any chance in hell I’d win against a water-nymph.” She grins broadly. “Alright then, Berdara. What item do you need help with?”

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, blushing suddenly. Her boasting demeanor turned shy. Gwyn takes another step closer to me and she takes one of my hands in hers. Her thumb brushes against mine, sending shivers up my arm.

“You can absolutely say no, but…” She glances down at our joined hands, then looks up. Her gaze falls to my lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Words escape me as I process her words. Gwyneth Berdara wants to kiss me?

“Does your list item specifically say ‘Kiss the spay master of the Night Court’?” I almost don’t believe her request.

She blushes deeper, “If you must know it says kiss the Shadowsinger, but –”

“Yes,” My answer leaves my lips before I can stop it. Gwyn sucks a breath in, her eyes widening as if she doesn’t believe my answer. But then she’s raising up on her toes. Her grip on my hand tightens and she’s inching closer and closer –

She lets out a high-pitched squeak as her foot slips on the mossy stones beneath us and she falls into me, our mouths crashing together.

It’s messy and a little painful as her nose clashes with mine, and she maybe scrambles trying to salvage the moment. And since I was asked to help her check off another item, it’s exactly what I do.

My hands go to her waist and I pull her against me. Steadying her. For a moment our mouths only hover a hair's breadth away. Our smiles and breathy laughs are smothered a moment later as she finds her balance and presses her lips to mine.

Gwyn is tentative and stiff. Like she’s unsure how far to take it. So I let her know by softening my lips, parting them so my breath skitters over her mouth. Her body softens in my hands, her lips following.

Then her mouth is moving against mine and gods.

I don’t know if she’s ever kissed anyone before. By the way she presses and adjusts her lips against mine, I don’t think she has, but I don’t fucking care. 

Because every moment of it. From the way her lips explored mine. Kissing my top lip. Then my bottom. The way she tilts her head one way then the other. Every moment has my pulse racing. My body trembling.

I’m only vaguely aware of the curves of her body against the planes of mine. The way her hands have found their way around my neck and are nervously tangling themselves in my hair. Every nerve in my body is flooded with the feeling of her lips on mine. 

I move with her. My mouth opening and closing with hers. I let her control every movement. The speed. The pressure – and when her tongue darts out curiously, I let her in. 

She’s gentle and unsure but I don’t care. 

Gwyn could kiss me with the same clumsy inexperience every time and I’d welcome it. I let myself hope that maybe this wouldn’t be my first kiss with her. Maybe she’d want to do this with me all the time. Maybe this could be the flood gates that open to a whole new possibility. For both of us.

Something in my chest pulses at the idea just as the warmth of her mouth leaves mine and I let out a shaky breath.

Gwyn’s face and neck are flushed, her eyes darting between mine. Then she smiles and giggles, “Oh gods that was awful wasn’t it?” Her nose scrunches, her freckles crinkling with the movement.

I’m still trying to catch my breath and then she sends me that smile with her addictive laughter and I can’t help myself. She gasps as I lean in and our lips brush as I whisper, “By how much I want to do it again, I’d say it was far from awful.” Messy and unpractised? Sure. Awful? Never.

“Do you want to know what my item was that I wanted to enlist in your help with?”

Her nails scratch my scalp as her hips press into mine and if she’s aware of my hard cock pressing against her thigh she doesn’t say anything. “Yes,” she breathes.

I swallow the nerves that are suddenly fluttering around in my stomach, rising to my chest where they flit around that spark that grows brighter. “It was to kiss someone under a waterfall.”

She smiles against my lips and says, “No it was not.”  

I can’t stop the smile that blooms across my mouth, “Really.”

She hums then says, “Well…that kiss was for my list so…”

“But I didn’t win.”

“I mean if you don’t want to then fine,” she shoots back playfully.

My heart is pounding and all I can hear is the roar of my blood in my ears. “Gwyn? Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” She says it without hesitation and this time I take over.

It’s soft and gentle, exploring her like she explored me. Her lips are so fucking soft and full. I can’t get enough. I deepen the kiss and she moans , her lips parting. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips and through the kiss she hums enthusiastically, opening wider for me and I plunge in. Showing her exactly what to do with your tongue inside someone’s mouth.

I keep my hands firmly on her hips despite the way they itch to feel her all over. What would her kisses be like when I have my hands twisted in her hair? Or when I’m groping her ass and thighs? What about when my fingers are caressing the freckles scattered across her back? Will she shiver and moan uncontrollably? Will she whine or hum?

I’m lost in her instantly. My first taste of Gwyneth Berdara and I’m a fucking goner. I’m ready to kneel for this woman until the end of time. Until our existences cease to end and we’re nothing but stardust floating through endless time and space together.

When we separate, it’s to the sounds of both of us panting, our shaking breaths mixing together in the small space between our hovering mouths.

“Does that satisfy your must-do item?” I ask her.

She answers breathlessly, “Yes. And yours?” I nod. Unable to speak. “Good,” her voice has a silky tone to it, huskier. She grins wildly and asks, “Wanna do it again?”

I chuckle. The boldness of this female…

“Absolutely I do.”

Her body curls into mine, my arms wrap around her, hugging her tightly to me as our lips meet for a third time.

I wondered if Gwyn would want to add waterfall showers to our midnight rendezvous...

I store that question away for later and focus solely on the moment, committing every touch, taste, and sound of kissing Gwyneth Berdara to memory.

[simonsacryptid]

When Scott won, he didn't expect much. His memories of other worlds were semi-fuzzy during the games themselves, but he honestly thought that he would just wake back up in that place—what was it called again? Rivendell?—which he did return to, just not immediately.

He had his eyes closed when he jumped, and with a flash of lightning, he was suddenly standing on a solid ground. Not the mountain he had expected to tumble down upon landing. But no, cold marble. So, being Scott, the first thing he did was open his eyes to find answers. Before he could even get the chance to process the majesty of the castle he was in, he was looking at himself.

Wow.

They really caught his beauty!

It was easy to lose track of time while admiring the window in front of him. He ran his fingers over the glass, trying to take in as many details as he could. The more he looked, the more he reflected on just how cruel he had been during Last Life.

His train of thought was cut of qhen the air around him changed. It felt like the sun was shining on him, but providing no warmth or light. He turned to see Grian leaning on the pillar, just watching him.

But Grian looked different. He wasn't dressed for the cool weather of the forest, in fact he looked like he was wandering the desert. The mischievous glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by the look of a man who had been grieving his whole life. Scott was cut off before he could say anything, barely even able to open his mouth.

Grian started with a congratulations, followed by an explanation. He explained that Scott's reward for winning was a deluxe stay at this castle instead of dreaming. Scott let out a sigh of relief hearing that he would return to his own worlds during the day—there was no way his kingdom could function without him.

Grian then showed Scott the Library. There were seventeen bookshelves total, each names on them. Bdubs.. BigB.. Etho.. these were all of the players, Scott quickly realized. It was their point of views of what happened.

Scott spent that day on reading through the different perspectives to fill his time; he wasn't very fond of Grian's constant pestering, after all.

---

After the explosion went off, Scott was less surprised to appear in front of his window with a startled-awake Grian behind him.

He wasn't even surprised as he walked past the "Scarlet Witch," not even daring to look at her. He remained passive agressive and just retook his place in the library.

He was relieved that Pearl wasn't a queen near his new Empire during the day, and he avoided her at all costs during the night. The only time he would even get remotely close to her was when they were both reading in the library, but she often preferred to take the perspective and read elsewhere—maybe with Grian. They were siblings, after all.

It wasn't until Pearl finished reading all of Last Life that he dared let her speak a word to him. After that.. they slowly realized that holding grudges wasn't going to help them. They were all grieving the same.

(Scott still refused to acknowledge that the Sun was included within that "all," content with hanging with the Moon that let him shine brighter.)

---

Scott paced angrily after his next perma-death. He was the third one out, meaning it won't be long before either Impulse or his decieving teammate showed up. And oh boy, did he have some choice words for his fellow Mean Gill.

He watched the window materialize in front of him, scoffing at the green outfit of the man in it. He did feel a sense of pride at his teammate's win, but annoyance overshadowed that.

Let's just say he wasn't happy with Martyn for a while after the betrayal...

---

And then Scar's win, the one that puzzled everyone. Scott didn't really think that Scar would win, first off, seeing as Pearl and Gem, known for their pvp, were the followups, and Scar was.. well.. Scar.

Second, Scott didn't really think about the option of staying alive past his win. All of the winners he interacted with on a nightly baises were shrouded with lonliness and guilt from the games they participated in, win or not. He knew that Pearl and Grian had each other during their waking hours, but as far as he knew, they didn't discuss anything. According to them, no one else who participated in the Games that lived on Hermitcraft even remembered that they happened except for vague details.

Scott spent night after night staring at the sunflower window, deep in thought about what would have been if he decided to live on instead of jump off that tree.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that Grian would show up less and less and that he avoided even looking at Scar's window when he was there. He also witnessed Cleo's win, and didn't put much thought into the fact that she only sometimes appeared, too.

Cleo was the one to help pull Scott away from his mindful of "what ifs," helping him focus on what he can control. She was always motherly like that, but she could tell that she struggled with the window as well.

---

The win that genuinely shocked Scott was Joel's. Grian was the last back, muttering something about how he was bad at the game. It was odd, to say the least. He knew that Impulse was already gone, and his other allies were standing right next to him.

Scott wasn't oblivious; he picked up the patterns between the seasons. Jimmy always being first out, Grian always witnessing his teammates' deaths, the winner having killed Impulse, ect. He also noticed that his allies always won, but as far as he knew all of his allies were either right next to him or known to be out before he went.

So when a laughing, excited Joel appeared (almost as if he ender pearled into the corridor), Scott's jaw all but dropped.

Joel?

JOEL?

Well, that was just.. interesting. And went against literally every pattern that Scott had thus far picked up on. This was going to be interesting.

---

Notes:

Scott, to me, seems like the type of person to pick up on little details, like patterns and puzzles that need to be solved. I don't have a word count, but I think this is longer than Grian's? Oh well, I had fun writing it

I might call this AU The Castle of Grief, or maybe the Winner's Reward or smth? If you have any ideas lmk 👍

[rwbyrg]

Thinking about how Salem sparking an uprising against the Gods and uniting humanity under one goal is eerily familiar to Ozpins view on Ruby being a simpler more honest soul that can spark the hopes of man.

Both reading stories and being inspired to lead their lives off it. Putting their message out to the world and the people answering back. Their actions are the same but in different fonts.

Their imagery is even eerily familiar, most notable in mind being consumed by water, the cliffside/memorials, and both having parts of one of the Brothers powers within, moon symbolism, etc.

Ruby and Salem are building up to be foils of light and dark.

"Likeminded souls indeed"

Like of course Oscar is heavily implied to have a crush on Ruby. They're two characters who are a version of Oz and Salem without their history.

DING DING DING DING DING!!!! EXACTLY!!! This show is one about parallels, rhymes, and mirrors and these four are at the heart of all of it.

I also think it's really interesting that the task the GoL gives to Ozpin is to unite humanity when that's... kind of exactly what Salem did, only she was punished for it? smh. god forbid women do anything.

But anyway, I love that Ruby has taken over Oz's role in that regard. One of my favourite shots in the show that pushes this is this one from The Lost Fable. Where the line right before it says something like: "In time, (Salem) would find her adversary."

The story Jinn tells to cast is one of Ozma being setup to stop Salem, but the story the show is telling us, the audience, is that Ozma walks off screen revealing Ruby as Salem's actual adversary.

There's also some interesting allusion stuff that pushes this even further with Salem being the witch from the Two Brother's fairy tale that is killed by a silver bullet, and Ruby is a "girl who is also a gun" with silver eyes. But to talk more about the SEW stuff, I have to address the celestial symbolism you pointed out.

What you say about "foils of light and dark" is also right on the money. The way these four interact as symbols within the central plot is so poetic. We have Salem as the darkness of night, and then Ruby as the moon. Silver eyes, as Maria explains in V6, "shine like mirrors, reflecting the light of the world onto darkness". But silver eyes don't just reflect the light of the world, they reflect the desire to preserve life onto that which threatens to take it away. Just as the moon reflects the light of the sun.

Isn't it just. So. Interesting. That the person the story is telling us Ruby is most afraid to lose... is Oscar Pine... a sun coded character? So!!! Interesting!!! I'm so!!! Normal about it!!!!!!!!

By extension of this, I do think Oz is generally symbolized by Daytime. A lot of the songs seem to use "days" as a placeholder for each lifetime (or generation) as a "new day" to try again. It also works in the sense that daytime bring sunshine and his curse is what brings Oscar, this generations "sun", into the fray. Additionally, works as a perfect contrast to Salem's night and her frustration that he keeps coming back over and over again.

or tl;dr you know it's bad when i start making diagrams ooh boy

Anyway, yeah, it makes complete and utter sense why Ruby and Oscar are setup as they are with just how central they are to the main plot. This story is one about breaking cycles, so having those two have a successful version of the Ozma and Salem situation is just the most natural way for this to go.

[milkbobatyun]

love countdown!

pairing: geto x reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: it was the night before he left for okinawa, little did you know how much everything would change.

word count: 1k

a/n: day 2 of angstober !! fun fact: i wrote this at like 12am when i was holidaying in another country a few months ago, so i dont even know what i was thinking, but enjoy. ngl, i would say that this is more pure word vomit that actual content, either way, hope this is ok (;‘• - •`; )for my manga readers, how do we feel about the ending of jjk?

the afternoon before his departure to okinawa, geto had texted you a message.

‘i’m coming to pick you up, we’re going to the beach to watch the sunset.’

you complied, wearing a cure outfit that you deemed was good enough for the weather outside. oh how wrong you were.

when you arrived at the beach, geto brought out a rug for you to sit on together on the sand. you talked about nothing and everything for hours, with you admiring the sun’s brilliant reds and oranges, that reflected on the sea, watching the baby blue tones shift to darker, cooler shades of violet and blue. he watched you, admiring how beautiful you were, wanting to savour every moment with you. after all, they were both jujutsu sorcerers, who knew which moment might be their last?

the sky slowly darkened, pricks of light brightening the dark backdrop of navy in an attempt to light up the sky. the shy moon showed its face to the now sleeping city.

along with the sky’s palette change, the temperature changed too. what once was warmth was now replaced by cold, amplified by the bellowing sea air.

geto noticed your slightly shivering form, deciding to throw off his sweater and engulfing you in it without hesitation.

it brought warmth and comfort to you, along with his familiar scent of sandalwood. you looked so funny in the huge sweater, almost like a toddler wearing their parent’s clothing, geto couldn’t help but laugh. 

‘aren’t you cold though?’ you enquire.

‘no, because your presence, light and smile brings my world warmth. without you, i would merely be a broken man. you make me whole.’

you were both used to saying sappy things, but this unexpected proclamation of love stole your breath away, leaving you with no way to respond.

cupping his cold cheeks in your hands, you reply to his confession in the best way you thought of, a kiss of pure love and adoration.

geto laughed, oh how sweet his laugh was. it was like the chime of bells in the country air, a sound you wanted to embed into a stereo, so you could replay it every moment of the day. it was a sound that brought your heart the purest joy, one that wanted to make you stand at the highest point of the world and proclaim your love for the beautiful, dark haired man called suguru geto.

lapsing in the romantic air, geto grabbed your hands, twirling you around in circles on the sand, dancing together under the watchful gaze of the moon, who admired this pure and beautiful love. it was jealous of the way these two beautiful people moved in sync under its starlight, how they could dance together to a silent melody, only heard by two souls that were soulmates. 

the moon and stars watched over the two lovers as they danced, on and on, until they fell onto the sand in joyous exhaustion, laughing together, their joyful laughs creating a melody only made by two souls in love.

feeling cheeky, geto reached his cold hands into the sleeves of the sweater he claimed he lent you, but the moon, watching from above, knew that it would go to your collection of clothing stolen from your boyfriend.

the moment his freezing hands latched onto your wrist, you were fighting hard to get them off, but you were halfhearted in your attempts, and you knew it was futile.

looking at geto’s grin, he knew he won, so he kept his hands in the warmth of the sweater, leaning his head on your shoulder and gazed at the moon.

"when you miss me, look up at the stars and moon, for they shine for you, my love. look up, and you’ll think of me, for i will be looking at the same moon and stars as you are." he whispered in your ear.

you nodded, and whispered something in his ear.

“when you have something to tell me, but you’re too far away to tell me or message me, tell it to the moon and stars, they will pass on your message to me.”

geto nodded, before pressing a kiss to your head.

the comfortable silence was interrupted by the click and bright flash of a camera.

turning around, the two of you spotted a familiar head of white hair.

“GOJO SATORU!” the two of you yelled in annoyance.

oh. oh shit. time to run.

you sat by the beach, watching the waves lap at the sand. you were bundled in his old sweater, the one he gave you before he left for okinawa.

in your hands, you held the polaroid images that were taken sneakily by gojo. though during the night, when the light was dim, the flash had gone off, alerting the two to their chaotic friend’s presence.

although you had chased him far down the neighbourhood when you discovered him, and yelling at him, you were grateful, grateful that you had these physical memories to remind you of the days in which you were swathed in the comfort of young love.

you stared at the images, the cracks in your heart healing slowly. after all, it takes time to piece yourself together after the sudden loss and disappearance of your other half, the missing piece of your heart. without him, you knew, that you would never be complete again.

sighing, you tore your gaze away from the cherished photos in your hands, staring up at the sky longingly, hoping he knew, wherever he was, that you were keeping your promise, looking at the night sky when you missed him.

little do you know, he was looking up at the stars and moon too, thinking about the one who kept him whole. but now, he was too broken and evil, he thought, too evil for someone as pure as you.

miles apart, yet looking at the same stars and moon, the two halves whispered the words they wished they could tell the other. they whispered it to the moon, praying fervently the moon could pass on their message.

‘i’m sorry, i love you.’

‘i love you, please come back.’

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

[the-bitter-ocean]

(MAJOR 2HATS/ A6SE + SASASAP TRUE END SPOILERS under the cut) ICAC au writing drabbles based on @tealgoat and @eurydice-pens awesome fanart they both did of my au In Cycles and Cessation!

{{ You wake up in Dormont.}}

{{….!!!!}}

{{The sun is so bright you can hardly register it as real. }}

{{Everyone is roaming around happily without a care in the world.}}

{{ You’re sitting on the bench outside the storefront.}}

{{ The papers are in your hands again. }}

{{One of the villagers approach you. They wave and smile happily. }}

“Good luck against stopping the King, Mirabelle! We know you and the saviors will prevail!”

{{ You smile and wave back. }}

{{You ignore how your hands are shaking. }}

{{You grip the papers tightly. You crumple it into a ball and toss it. }}

{{ You get up from your seat and run.}}

{{Past the change god statue. }}

{{Past all the villagers who adore you when they have no good reason to. }}

{{You don’t bother greeting any of your party members either.}}

{{You need to be alone.}}

{{You go into the forest clearing and practically collapse unto the ground.}}

{{You start to cry.}}

{{You pray and pray and pray and pray for this to be over. }}

{{You cant do this anymore! }}

{{You curl up on the ground and scream. }}

{{You don’t want to do this again! The first time you ever beat the king- finally something new happened in your short pitiful existence and it couldn’t save you!}}

{{You tug on your curls until you feel a dull pain at the sides of your head.}}

{{ The power of friendship couldn’t save you! You weren’t chosen! You weren’t special! }}

{{You wish for someone to help you escape!}}

{{You can’t bare to die again. To watch your friends get hurt again. To see everyone frozen- your home permanently cursed to stagnation! }}

{{You wish for someone to understand you!}}

{{The loops were lonely and scary. You had no one to talk to who knew what you were going through!}}

{{And the minute you thought.. t-thought that maybe you found hope it was taken from you! Why? Why why why-}}

{{You wish you could change into someone who could actually save your home!!!}}

{{You…!}}

{{…?!}}

{{ You stare at the moon shaped object in your hands. }}

{{ You look around confused as to who or what gave you this form of divine intervention- if it would even work at all to begin with.}}

{{….}}

{{You’re in no position to reject it or be skeptical. }}

{{ You’re helpless. }}

{{ You can only do so much on your own before everything falls apart. }}

{{ You hold the crescent close to your chest. }}

{{ You thought it would burn you but it’s surprisingly soothing. }}

{{Siffrin talked about the item that’s currently in your hands a long time ago.}}

{{You didn’t get it half the time but you listened anyway because it made him happy. }}

{{…..}}

{{The moon will never be as bright as the sun. }}

{{It’s only capable of reflecting the light and warmth from the suns rays. }}

{{It has nothing to shine with on its own. }}

{{…It suits you.}}

{{ You slowly bring the crescent to your mouth and devour it whole. }}

{{ You. Feel. A. Tug. On. Your. Heart. And. You-}}

[bevicked]

The sun relies on no one.

Without its light, everyone perishes. That much can said to be true. But what of a person who was destined to harness the power of the sun, blessed by some invisible deities to have abilities that surpassed human comprehension? What of him who, once a beacon of hope, faced rejection for being too bright? Too different? Too...odd?

A lover by will, a warrior by force. A family man in mind, trapped in a killer's body. A brother's love, shattered by jealousy and envy for a power he never once wished for. What of the sun's puppet whose rays unconditionally scorched down everything in his path, including those who were dear to him?

Why was he the one doomed to receive such a gift if he couldn't use it to save everyone? Why couldn't he complete the mission he bestowed upon himself to rid the world of evil? Why did his brother succumb to envy and choose the cruel lord in the name of self-doubt and insecurity? Why, why, and more whys. Yet, no response came forth. Any response would be futile anyway.

Tsugikuni Yoriichi, a wandering man on the lonely earth, was now a lonely ghost heading towards the abundant afterlife.

His death, like the final years of his life, had been miserable. Meeting his corrupted brother for the first time since his betrayal of the demon slayer corps made his heart stutter. The inconsolable, anguished emotion in his chest bubbled up and made the man cry out in pity. For a second, he had hoped to reach into any remaining good left. Perhaps an embrace, even if it would kill him.

But this was Uppermoon One, and his envy and hatred for the sun's blessed was as potent as it had been for over 60 years since they last met.

The hollow sound of a katana unsheathing, the unaffiliated demon slayer made the first move. Brother or not, he had to get the job done and spare the world from a terrible evil. A blow to the demon's neck would be be his first, and ultimately, final attack.

Yoriichi had never known the feeling of danger, his unique abilities making him immune to that fear of death, but he knew instantly his body was about to die. Old age, the one death that was envied among warriors who rarely got old in their profession. Now, he was about to experience that so-called peaceful death. In the presence of a brother that despised him.

He had sensed the frustration in each twitch of the unnatural six eyes as the demon realised the dying old man was still in his prime, the difference in skills a great chasm between the sun and moon. His lunar technique reflecting his solar one, only tainted with the darkness and desperation of trying to match up to the younger twin's prowess.

The moon relied on the sun to glow, but it would never shine as bright.

How Yoriichi wished he could have said all that was in his heart. Things that would most likely be dismissed as nonsense by the older twin. Things that he once tried to deny, but was forced to accept as part of his reality. To apologise for all that he wished to have done for his brother and many others. But, as always, he was powerless. Forced to be indifferent as the sun that gazed from afar on the earth that depended on it for existence. Depended on him for living.

But that did not matter anymore. As he breathed his last, rigid on his feet, Yoriichi had felt strangely happy. Perhaps his death wasn't completely miserable as he believed. All because his eyes were blinded did not mean his Transparent World skill didn't work, and that allowed him to see a glimpse of the demon's heart lurch and his face harden as his natural, badly timed departure separated them forever.

His brother was still in there, somewhere. That was more than enough for him, and he gave up his soul.

Yoriichi could rest in peace, and reunite with his late wife and unborn child in the afterlife. If they chose to accept him back, that is. He did do wrong for being away too long and letting them die to a demon's attack. Perhaps if he stayed with her, if things were different, if the world was perfect...

...but if such a world existed, it certainly wasn't this one. Not anymore.

[cherllyio]

The Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain

This is Macaques design from my Moana AU.

He is currently an enomurs and terryfing Shadow Monster, but he was once Sun Wukongs old "friend", and travel buddy on their many voyages together in the past.

Why is he like this? Well i made little angsty backstory, with clues to what happend to the once great Warrior.

You can read it either here, or on A03 where i also posted it (here)

The Voyager, The Sun and The Monster

Chapter 1 (Prolouge): Drowned by your Love

There is a small island, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, where both terrifying demons and small monkeys live together. One of these creatures inhabiting the Island, while just as much monkey and demon as the rest, stand outs quite a lot.

He has beautiful silk white hair, six magical ears, that can catch the wind flap of a bird thousands of miles away, and a pair of radiant golden eyes, that will pierce through anyone who dares come near.

His name? Liu Mihou. Also rightfully known as “The Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain”

On normal circumstances The Warrior would be either be training, gathering food supplies for him and the other monkeys, or making his presence known, to any hostile idiot, dumb enough to try and challenge him. 

But not today. Today, you can find The Warrior in the early morning light, preparing for voyage he is not sure when, or if he will ever come back from.

Yet... The Silk Monkey knows it will be worth it. For the person he is looking for is worth everything, and more, that can be worth something in this world.

 “The King of Flower Fruit Mountain!”, “The great sage equal to heaven!”, “The Monkey King!”. Or, as Mihou knew him: “My Sun”.

Just a few hundred years ago, these two celestial monkeys were sailing through all the great oceans together. Battling through storms, strong enough to destroy entire islands, becoming more powerful than the other demons could ever hope to become, and at the same time forming a bond strong enough, to become something greater than friendship.

Except…that all changed when Sun Wukong started playing against a power, he was not prepared for. The power of the Jade Emperor.

This traitorous act against the emperor, would ultimately end in the great sage’s downfall, where he would be catched and imprisoned by the Buddha himself, and pinned down by his very hand. And now, he was now trapped under “Five Element Mountains”, until an unknown destiny would free him.

Nobody, not even the wisest of the immortals, knew when that day would come.

It’s been 500 years since the great sage’s new destiny, fell upon him. Yet now... he has disappeared.

Mihou didn’t know how or where, or if it was done by fair means or foul. He solely knew that the once immense mountain, that had once sealed away his sun, was now only rubles and ashes of its former greatness.

Initially Mihou had been exited, ecstatic even, about this news. However, he quickly realized that like mountain, the King too was gone.

No messages, no clues, no anything. He was truly… gone... But he wasn’t "gone, gone" that would be crazy! "Sun Wukong, The Great sage equal to heaven" could never, would never.... Yea... His sun is fine, he will surely find him!

Plus, Mihou got all the things he needs to find The King, his magic ears being a big part of it. And then… they can be together again, and everything will be balanced, just like before! After all, how can a moon shine without its sun?

He confidently looks down at his own reflection, his silk white hair and shining ears animated in the cold and radiant water below. Everything is going to be ok.

But then he notices the dark roots crawling up his hair.

Dark roots that are slithering its way inside his silk white hair, like an infection, and turning it as dark as a burned corpse.

And nearly, one thirds of his entire mane can’t reflect any of the suns glow back anymore. And it will never be able to do it again.

For a second, it catches The Warrior off guard, but he really shouldn’t haven’t been surprised by this.

These dark roots have slowly been taking up more and more of his silk white hair, for well… Mihou keeps failing to remember that, but it was before his sun disappeared, he knows that much.

Mihou closes his eyes, trying to push the thoughts back. But instead, an old memory creeps up, and fills his soul with dread.

...

A demon. It attacked them.

They were young, stupid and furthermore in love, and together, they thought nothing could stop. Neither in celestial realm nor on earth.

Sure, Mihou was barely half the power of his counterpart, but that didn’t matter. It never really had mattered. The only thing Mihou and Wukong had ever cared about was each other.

Except, this time, it DID matter. Because… Wukong got hurt. Badly hurt.

There had been so much blood… Macaque could barely look at him… and Mihou had started panicking… while a piercing cry had cut through the air, when his Sun was impaled… The world turned around… everything had become so awfully quiet.

And Mihou had just been STANDING THERE. He had done nothing, but tremoring in horror over the cursed remains that was his dying sun. And then that awful, awful demon that had HURT HIS SUN, started whispering terrible, terrible words in his all too powerful ears…

“Oh, how sad” … “did he mean much too you?” … “What a pity…” … “you should have protected him better then…”

And… He listened. For wasn’t it true?

Wasn’t he the one who now stood beside his fading sun, that could barely light any brighter than the flickers of an ending campfire? Wasn’t he the one who had just been standing by his side, while his sun had worked so hard for everyone. Worked so hard and continued getting stronger. To get strong enough to protect his people. To protect Mihou. And he is now dying for the sake of a six eared demon, that would never be able to pay him back. Mihou hadn’t earned any of that. Wukong hadn’t deserved that. Mihou was a traitor.

The demon didn’t even notice, before it was too late. The demon didn’t even notice, before his insides lay before him, and he lied next to it. The demon didn’t even seem to notice Mihou’s scream of agony and pain, before his soul had already left his body.

Everything after that was a blur.

A blur filled with small glimpses of his dying sun, while an unworthy Warrior had desperately tried to save him.

And when the world finally came back into the view, his sun… His sun was ok. His sun was ok. His sun was ok.

“Sorry I scared you so badly there, my dear moon”, Wukong had said with a sad look on his face. “I must admit, he wasn’t as strong as me, but he sure was clever.” His sun had said with a grin on his face.

And oh… How Mihou could have looked at that smile forever. Yet… he was constantly reminded of what had happened.

If that demon… If that god forsaken demon had been any stronger, just a bit, Wukong…

Mihou couldn’t risk that… Never again would he look at his dying sun, covered in his own torn open flesh and shattered bones. Never again would he hear, Wukong’s breath draw close to its final limit. Never again would The Great Sage be betrayed by his own Warrior, who he thought he could trust to always protect him.

For in The Warriors own eyes, he was a traitor. A foul soul who would simply overserve as a prejudiced destiny would drown out the only spark of hope left for their island and its people.

Hence why Mihou did, what he did next.

On the darkest day of the year, where the shadows rosed higher, than their own creators, Mihou stood in the middle of an abandoned Island. He was hoping for someone who could help. And soon enough, someone rose up. The silhouette of the darkness. A spirit. One made of magic not seen quite often.

“The six eared Macaque asks for my help. Don’t you have enough assistance from the king already?” the spirit remarked in a gravelly, judging, voice, whilst turning itself into a clone of The Great Sage to prove its point.

“Yes, please, I need your wisdom…”

“My wisdom… Well, there sure is a considerably amount of that, you will have to be more specific…”

Even though he knew exactly, what he had been come for, it still took Mihou a few seconds, before he finally answered:

“How do I protect someone, who is stronger than me? How do I make sure, I can help someone, when I barely have the strength of the wind, against a storm coming their way?”

Mihou could feel small tears starting to pierce through his eyes, yet he did little to stop them. “How do I make sure, I don’t betray the people I love, when they need me the most?”

The silence after that was barely enough time for the water to hit shore in its never-ending rhythm. Despite that, it had felt like millions of winters and summers had already passed, by the time the silhouette finally spoke again.

“There is one way….”

Mihou looked up.

“However, as all things, it comes with great consequences.”

“I will do anything, please! Just tell me what I need to do!”

The silhouette seemed to watch him like a hawk.

“You are more stupid than you look, Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain.”

The shadow started morphing into something else.

“Liu’er Mihou, for my power you need to know. This power requires the utmost control. One step aside could lead you drowning in its pit, leaving you only as host to submit.”

The shadows showed The Warrior consumed by shadows, until there is no light left in him.

Mihou took a deep breath.

“How can I control it then?”

“Warrior, only destiny will be your reaper.”

It morphs back into its normal silhouette.

“Now… do you accept this power?”

Mihou, looking back, should probably have thought it more through. But back then, the guilt and love for his Sun had been so strong, it had almost blinded him.

“I do, I accept it.”

And then everything went black.

...

Hundreds of years later, Mihou still doesn’t know, how or when he ended back on Flower Fruit Mountain.

But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered then, was the power he had now. The power to protect the island, its monkeys and… his sun.

Wukong was skeptical at first, luckily the King had always been more of the oblivious type, so he quickly started to pride the new power as much as Lihou used too.

The newfound power Liu’er Mihou had gained were shadow powers. He could manipulate, create or absorb any shadow as he pleased.

This power also made it easier for him to learn the “72 transformations”, which Wukong had already learned hundreds of years ago, since Mihou could “copy” them using his shadow powers, until he didn’t need Wukong by his side anymore to do it.

Though, as all things, it wouldn’t last long until he learned the consequences of his choices firsthand.

Wukong and Mihou had been fighting a demon, who was stronger than what they were used to, but they had been fighting a lot of them recently, anyway. However, for just a second, Macaque had become cocky, and his let the shadow powers run free to devour their enemy whole.

Expect, after the fight was over, Macaque noticed the dark hair for the first time.

It had been small at first, barely noticeable, but with every “slip up” it had gotten more and more noticeable.

It wasn’t just if he got cocky in battle. If something had hurt him mentally, it would also grow. Which, when Wukong got trapped under the mountain… The infection had grown to the length of two small snakes crawling up his legs and arms in just a few hours.

Moreover, when they got into a fight while Wukong was trapped… The fur on his legs was almost completely black.

So, the 500 years that had slowly been passing by had been both a physically and mental war in his head, that from each day that had went by got closer and closer to winning…

The lack of a king also meant that more demons had started to attack Flower Fruit Mountain, therefore Macaque had to use way more power than usual, which would just make the curse worse...

And then every night, if it was a quiet one, he would cry himself to sleep, in his now empty nest.

Yet, as the black fur was getting dangerously close to his heart, which Mihou did not want to find out what happened if it reached it, there was… hope.

Wukong was free now after all!

Mihou was so sure, that as soon as they found each other again. When he could finally embrace that golden fur again, everything would be fine.

And as Mihou looked down the boat, now ready for the long voyage ahead, he felt A hope rise in his chest, for the first time in these 500 years.

Everything will be ok; nothing bad ever happen anymore.

Wukong is waiting for him after him after all!

…

Right?

[i-am-not-a-twinkie]

Child of the sun

Who was shining and bright

and child of the moon

Who lived by his light

The sun who shone for all to see

And was deemed a radiant bloom

Who only saw his brilliant light

Reflected in the eyes of the moon

The moon with power other's feared

As strong as the will of the sea

Brought to his knees by the warmth of the sun

By his side was where he longed to be

People said the moon was cold

With no light of his own

The sun saw only beauty

In his soft and eerie glow

People feared the sun would burn

Or his light would blind them

The moon found joy in his bite

And vowed to stand behind him

Their endless dance through the sky

Was plain for all to see

The beauty and grace of a love

That was never meant to be

And yet in the rare twilight

The time they shared together

On mingling breath hushed whispers said

A promise made, to be forever

But the day came the sun shone too bright

And was snuffed out too soon

And without the sun's radiant light

The moon was gone too

[theweightofakiteofdreamsingold]

Unchained Melody – J. M. K.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes, fingering, unprotected sex, language, MINORS DNI

A/N: I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. There’s something about my brain and Josh and showers that somehow equals smut. I don’t know. BUT I’ve been working on this fic since the end of July because hearing Josh sing Unchained Melody with my own two ears in person changed me as a woman. Enjoy.

Bajabule,

-Han

As you wiped the sleep from the corners of your eyes, your ears grew accustomed to the sounds around you. You heard the hum of the fan oscillating over in the corner of your bedroom, feeling the cool air that it was projecting as it brushed against your face. You heard the pattering of water against the floor of the shower, and you could see the steam from it wafting through the space under the closed door of the bathroom. Just then, a sound broke through the quiet droning of your surroundings.

His voice.

It was light at first; it sounded soft and sweet, like the falling of rain while the sun is shining or the tinkling of chimes in the warmest breeze.

“Loooonely rivers siiigh, ‘wait for me, wait for me.’”

He paused, and you could hear the water hitting the floor again.

“Hmmm mmm coming hooome, wait for meeeee.”

His voice grew louder, belting from his stomach like no one could stand a chance of hearing. The sound was clean and crisp and made your heart pull tight in your chest while pulling the air from your lungs at the same time.

“Woooooahhhhh,

myy-yy-yyyy lo-ooovvveee,

myyy da-aarllinn’,

I’ve hunnn-gered, hun-ger-eh-ered, for your tou-ou-ouchhh,

A longgg, lonely time–,”

It was then that the door creaked as you tried so very gently to open it. You cursed yourself at the sound and softly padded across the threshold. You saw a loosely figured silhouette move behind the shower curtain, and you watched as his fingers snuck out from behind it, curling around the edge, before pulling it slightly down the rod, just enough for his head to poke through. His face emerged with a silly grin and his hair completely lathered with shampoo. He looked you over more than once before he asked, in a playfully dramatic voice, “Did you come for the show?”

“I did,” you said, grinning from ear to ear.

It made your heart swell when he was lighthearted, and he was, the majority of the time. Every once in a long while, he would express an insecurity or a worry that made him self-conscious, and you always did your best to soothe his anxieties. You absolutely adored the little light in his eyes and his brilliant smile, and it truly shattered your heart to ever see him anything less than euphoric.

His heart warmed you like a kiss from the sun, and all you wanted was to be his moon, reflecting his light back to him and out for the world to see.

You watched him scoop a handful of lather from his head and blow it at you like a kiss. It fell densely through the air and landed on the tile floor without a sound. You smiled at him and let out a small giggle, and he immediately returned it to you.

“You know,” he started, his brown eyes glinting at you, “you could join the show. If you wanted to.” He dramatically wiggled his eyebrows at you as he failed to fight off another grin.

“I’d love that,” you spoke in a tone hardly above a whisper, “but there’s only one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I can’t sing,” you said with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. Your eyes stayed trained on him as he thought, processing your so-called “problem.”

He huffed a bit air from his nose, chuckling at himself. “I can make you sing, mama. Maybe not like The Righteous Brothers, but either way.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and smiled a cocky smile.

Your body immediately felt as if it were burning from the inside out. Your eyes widened and your cheeks got hot. His smile never wavered as he let you squirm under his gaze. All of the silliness had melted away, leaving you with an aching between your legs for him.

You removed your clothes while he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, and you gingerly stepped into the shower. His back was to you as he faced the water, and you let your eyes wander over his naked body in front of you. You took special notice of the muscles in his legs and back as he ran his hands through his wet curls. You watched small streams of water flow down his back and over the prominent curves of his ass before they hit the floor of the shower.

Once he had finished with his hair, the two of you changed places, and you started to rinse your hair. You took your turn to face the water and he took his turn to look over you. It wasn’t long before you felt his hands running over your hair, working the water into it, the tips of his fingers softly massaging your scalp. You tilted you head back, embracing the feeling of his fingertips and letting the warm water hit your chest.

He moved his chin to sit on your shoulder while his hands traveled to your heat. He slipped his middle and ring fingers through your folds before making light circles around your clit. Your chest heaved as you huffed air in and out of your nose, tilting your head back and feeling a whine escape from your throat. You arched your back, pressing your ass into his hardening cock, and he responded by slipping his fingers into your entrance and curling them immediately.

He set a quick pace, his fingers sliding in and out of your heat with more ease than usual. You assumed the copious amounts of water from the shower had a big hand in this, because it certainly had a big hand in the sounds that came from between your legs that echoed throughout the bathroom. Right as your whimpers became essentially continuous, you felt him remove his fingers from deep within you and take them into his mouth. You turned to look at him, and he was moving toward the back wall, his fingers still between his lips.

After you’d shampooed and rinsed your hair again, you turned to Josh to find him already looking at you. Sitting on the small bench in the corner of the dimly lit shower, the shadows of his face were dark, making the structure of his jaw look much more pronounced than usual. His eyes also looked darker; more lustful, causing another budding warmth to spread between your legs.

You watched as he extended his arms out toward you, making repeated grabbing motions with his hands. You giggled before walking over to him and standing in the space between his knees.

“You look so gorgeous, mama. So pretty when you’re wet like this for me,” he said, a grin spreading across his face at his own innuendo.

You snickered. “Shut up,” you managed, mid-chuckle.

“I can’t. You’re too good,” he murmured, pulling you into his lap to straddle him, so close that the tip of his cock rested on your lower belly. You let the smallest moan spill from your lips at the feeling, and his eyes flicked up to yours, his irises impossibly darker than they had been just a moment before. You rolled your hips into him, and he cracked another smile.

“God, Josh. Please.”

His lips planted a long, open-mouthed kiss between your breasts, and your fingers tangled themselves in his drying curls. He hummed against your sternum, making your entire chest vibrate and fill with warmth. You felt your nipples harden as his hands roamed over your spine.

“My sweet baby. So polite,” he said, his lips touching your skin as he spoke. He changed his focus to your breasts as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked it, while his hand cupped you from underneath, gently squeezing the swell in time with the laps of his tongue.

You ground your hips into him harder now, begging him for his cock with more than just your words. He moved to your other breast to repeat his ministrations before giving in to your pleading and lifting your hips. He teased your clit with his tip, making your legs twinge before he slipped into your entrance. You gradually lowered your hips until you’d taken him in his entirety, and you felt yourself relax as you settled against him.

“Oh fuck, Josh,” you breathed, “So fucking deep.”

He moaned at your words, his eyebrows scrunched as he looked at you. “Feels so fucking good like this,” he strained, “Fast and deep this round, yeah?”

You took your turn to moan at him. “Mmm please,” you breathed.

“Haven’t even moved and you’re still begging. This is gonna be messy, he chuckled, “and really fucking loud.”

“Shit–,” you started, but you were interrupted by the feeling of your hips being lifted and dropped, quickly shoving his cock inside you as far as it could possibly go. You let out a squeal and he grunted, his hands finding residence over the curve of your ass, helping to guide you as you bounced in his lap. Eventually, he let you take over your movements, opting to wrap his arms all the way around your back and bury his face in your neck.

You moved quickly, but still made long strokes, almost ridding yourself of his cock entirely each time you raised your hips. In a matter of less than a second, you found yourself rising yet again. You dropped your hips with such force that the sound of your soaked skin meeting his each time you came down quickly became more ominous than the droning sound of the water from the shower hitting nothing but the floor.

As you perfected your rhythm, you felt his breathing change, and you knew that he was close. You noticed that he would hold his breath for a few moments, straining, trying to hold off his climax just a bit longer, and then he would take rapid, short breaths and then repeat with various moans and grunts mixed in.

His head separated from your neck, and you watched it tilt back, his face absolutely twisted and flushed a deep red. His eyes were screwed shut, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would have been afraid that you were hurting him. However, his cock throbbing in your pussy served as reassurance. You strained every muscle in your legs to move faster than you had before, and you felt the intensity of his impending orgasm rise to the absolute brink. He was fighting with absolutely everything he had not to let go, and still, you pushed him. You felt yourself rise again, but this time, in the midst of all of his moaning and the squelching sounds of your pussy sliding around all over his cock, you misjudged your placement, and he slipped from your entrance as you lowered yourself, his tip slipping up and out of your folds, his shaft pressed hard against your clit.

A guttural moan ripped from his chest as he released a breath he’d been holding. He gasped and moaned, trying desperately to catch his breath and process the sudden feeling of his cock not being swallowed by your heat. His hands gripped you harder than they had the entire time as he attempted to regain his composure.

His eyes found yours and he watched you half-lidded as you tried to regulate your breath. You could feel his heart hammering in his chest while he throbbed against your clit.

“Fuck, I’m sor–,”

He interrupted your breathy apology by crashing his lips into yours in a needy, feverish kiss. He licked and sucked at you bottom lip while he rocked his hips into you, sliding your clit along the shaft of his cock. You cried out into his mouth at the sensation and he continued, gripping your hips and pressing them into his own to create more pressure against your clit as you continued your wordless praises.

“Cum for me, mama. Cum on my cock.”

“Ohh, Josh,” you cried out, gripping his curls in your fingers as he held you up. “Want you,” you panted, “to cum, t-too.”

“Mmmm I will, don’t worry,” he grinned, “I’m right behind you, sweet girl. You need me here? Or back inside?”

“Fuck, put it back in,” you panted, “please.”

“Godddd-dammit, I love it when you beg me for my cock,” he breathed, as he moved you up and down his length.

Your legs trembled underneath you as they did a shoddy job of holding your weight. Your whimpers grew higher and louder as you bounced in his lap, sure that the tip of his cock was tapping at your cervix. You clenched every muscle in your walls around him, just savoring the feeling of your pussy being filled to the point of stretching over and over again before you erupted into your orgasm, and he into his immediately afterward.

He grunted and strained as his hips paused before pulling back and pushing up again, filling you with his cum at each pause. When he had finished, you felt him lean back against the wall of the shower to finish coming down, and you went with him, your head in the crook of his neck.

When both of you had regained control of your hearts and lungs, he helped you to stand before joining you under the now-cool water of the shower. He slipped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips into the spot between your neck and shoulder, gently swaying you both back and forth. You let the cool water hit the searing skin of your chest, leaning your head back into him.

He pulled his lips from your neck and kissed the shell of your ear, still swaying you back and forth.

“And tii-ii-iime goo-oess byy-y sooo sloww-lyy-y,

And tiiiime– can dooo so-o much,

Aaa-are you-ou-ou still miiiiiiiiiiiineeeee,

I-iiiii neeee-eee-eed your loo-ovee,”

He paused and placed a kiss under the side of your jaw, sliding his hands over the front of your body before pulling his head back slightly.

“Iiii- I need your lo-love,

Godspeeeed your lo-oveee too-oo-oo-ooo me-ee-eee.”