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#i am SO happy other people are thinking about this au besides me

axolotluv · 16 days

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Love your under the cult au, it's given me so much brain worms.

Now, I know the end has to be some grand fight that ties the narrative together, and by the power of I guess 6 angry gods, the barrier breaks.

But I raise you an image that has been plauging me, that the group doesn't see Leshy the entire time, until in the middle of the grand confrontation... the barrier just breaks.

Courtesy of a certain chaos worm. No magic ritual can stand to him might.

Just a funny thought I thought I'd share of my fav worm

AHDGJKHKAD THAT'S A HILARIOUS IDEA

You understand the spirit of Under the Cult perfectly, I had to draw this

#ax speaks #ask #anon #art #cotl #cotl au #under the cult au #cotl leshy #cotl heket #cotl narinder #cotl kallamar #cotl shamura #flowey #omega flowey #i am SO happy other people are thinking about this au besides me #i wish i could draw more #i'll try my best #got caught in a slump unfortunately #i have never drawn omega flowey btw i am so happy with this drawing

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churipu · 4 months

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THE MOMENT THEY REALIZE THEY'RE IN LOVE ִ ࣪𖤐

featuring. gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, itadori yuuji, toji fushiguro x reader

warnings. cursing, college! au, toji being a single father during his second term of uni (i searched that most japanese college uses 2 terms or trimester system / 3 terms, 1 term of uni in japan is around 15 weeks apparently) -> please tell me if i get this wrong.

note. omg, for the anons who have sent in requests to me, i apologize if these came out before your requests did, i'm trying to empty out my drafts :( but pls note that i am not ignoring your requests at all, it will be written, i promise <;33

GOJO SATORU

when he finds himself checking his phone countless of times, waiting for your message

i promise you, you both started out as work partners in one of your lectures. the two of you were complete strangers to each other — he doesn't know you, and you don't know him. but, either way, the two of you had to get to know each other because this was a crucial grade to pass this lecture.

gojo never thought about having feelings towards you, his work partner. he thought to himself, he'd just get this work done, pass this lecture, and never see you again.

but fate is a funny thing.

the way you made him feel like he wasn't just special because of his face, but his heart too. whereas most people in campus would consider him the pretty boy who could go head-to-head with the hottest celebrities — they just think of him as a pretty boy. and gojo would just go along with them, he gets used to it.

but you? you didn't consider him special at all. although, you did make him feel special the way other people can't.

gojo deep down, knows he was fucked up the moment he finds himself checking his phone to see if you'd reply to his messages, and when you do, he gets so happy. gojo was never a fast responder to everyone — because he practically receives the same kind of messages, "gojo hang out with us", "gojo go out with me", "gojo i like you".

but with you? he won't waste a second at all. even if sometimes you didn't reply as fast as he does, because you are a busy person in campus. you'll work on that after you both started dating, i promise.

SUKUNA RYOMEN

when you stood up for him when nobody would.

sukuna, how do i say this? not everyone is fond of him, people are scared of him — they talk shit behind his back, and don't dare to approach him. people dreaded when they have to be in the same group with him, despite the fact that he actually works; they still think he's a bad person.

"you guys are talking shit to a person who's in our group, if you want to say something to him, have the balls to say it to his face. and while he's here, why don't you tell him about it?" you tell the two people who were sitting beside you, who had been talking in whispers about how they were unlucky to be grouped up with sukuna.

and sukuna? he could honestly care less, he'd gotten used to those kind of things anyway. but when you actually stood up for him, he could only look at you with an amused smile.

he's definitely curious about you after that day — he has pride. and he'd never admit that he's actually pretty thankful that you, the first person to stand up for him, actually did what you did. because now people are a little terrified of being told off by you.

sukuna finally sucks it up at the end of the semester and tries to talk to you. yes, it took him the whole semester to talk to you, asking you for your number, and then thanking you for what you did because nobody has ever done that before to him.

ITADORI YUUJI

when you went all out to tutor him so he'd pass his lectures, teaching him patiently when he doesn't understand something.

yuuji hates studying. and when his lecturer asked you to tutor him, he feels extremely bad for you — he feels that he'd just going to waste your time tutoring him, when he knows that he's going to fail this one subject.

but when you reassured him, and encouraged him. saying that you will do anything to teach him so that he could pass, he gets a little emotional at the thought. you both were just mere classmates, and he barely knows you, vice versa.

when he doesn't understand a topic, he gets so frustrated at himself for not being able to understand it. but you, you were very patient with the male, reassuring him that you had the time to teach him over so that he will be able to understand the said topic.

and when he does finally understand, he gets so happy. he started looking forwards to your tutoring sessions, and like everyone said: if you enjoy something, it passes by quickly. and it's true, yuuji feels like time went by in a flash, and the exams soon started.

he passed with flying colors, he makes sure that you know about his grades — and points out that without you, he wouldn't be able to pass. yuuji, gets a little upset when he realizes that if the exams are over, you had no more tutoring sessions with him; which meant no more conversations.

so he has to ask you out right then, he didn't want to just return as mere classmates. he wanted to be more than that.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

when you didn't care about his shitty reputation of being a single father while still being on the second term of uni.

being a single parent is hard enough. not to mention, in university. not married, with a baby itself gets a lot of unwanted (negative) attention — toji, who once failed to get a babysitter on a weekday, and so he had to bring his eight month old son to class.

his son—megumi— was a calm baby, thankfully. the young one didn't cry or babble during lectures, and he just slept through it. toji was a little relieved to say the least, but ever since people find out about him being a single father to an eight month old baby, a lot of assumptions and words have gone around.

toji hated group works, especially when he has to pick the group himself. people didn't want a single father to be in their group, they assumed that the male would focus on his baby and ends up deserting the group work.

so when that particular day where he has to bring megumi to campus, strapped on a baby carrier on his chest. his lecturer just had to give out a partner work, and to add the cherry on top; the lecturer left the class to choose their own partner. so the male sat on his place, a pencil in between his nose and upper lip as he puckered them lightly — hearing his classmates choosing each other.

he figured that he could just do this and get the grade himself, solo. but when you came up and slipped into the seat next to him, he was of course surprised.

you asked him if he would like to partner up with you for this work, and after a few seconds, he accepted your offer.

toji knew it was getting bad when you didn't care about what people say about you getting close to him. just by choosing him for this work made your reputation falter a bit, and he was honestly ready for you to back out of the partner work.

but you didn't, and he knew it's bad for him, his feelings, and his heart.

the way you treated him and megumi like they're both normal (which they are normal humans), and the way you always make him feel included makes his heart race. sometimes, when he fails to look for a babysitter when you both are working for this project, you tell him he didn't have to since megumi is a calm baby.

he finds himself in awe when baby megumi plays with you during both of your little meet ups outside of class to do the project. he's in love.

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writingmeraki · 20 days

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be there when I wake up — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you love mingyu in all states of your mind, whether sober or drunk out of your limit.

( or it seems even when you're drunk you don't recognise him but you still love him with your whole heart. )

pairing : secret agent! husband mingyu x secret agent! spouse reader. warnings : mentions of alcohol and being drunk, hangovers, reader almost has a breakdown (?). genre : fluff, romance. a/n : more of them, I can't get enough I have too much to write on them😔 let me know what you think of this 💌!! not proofread (this was very random pls I am absolutely NOT procrastinating my other wips, ignore errors pls it's lit 5am 😴 )

word count : 1.3k

part of this au !

It felt like you were on cloud nine, feet light as you walked and head filled with nothing.

Being drunk tends to do that to you at least.

Today, when Mingyu and you got your well deserved day off, he decided it was time for you to be the one to let yourself loose.

Not that he never did let you but usually you were the one who assigned yourself as the designated driver whenever it was just you two. Though being as thoughtful as he was, he made sure to never be too hectic for you to handle if he could do it himself.

And even then, he'd still do his best to stabilise himself albeit the attempts were always hilarious but the thought counted.

He held you tightly by your waist to his side, making sure you didn't fall or wander off somewhere because see while he was the type to be the clingy drunk, not leaving your side, you were the carefree one, wanting to fly away, perhaps even quite literally.

As your husband and more importantly lover, he did not want to entertain the idea of you hurting yourself by accident. Luckily, all the gym hours he’d spend building his muscles to impress his one and only lifetime crush (read:you) paid off, because you used him completely as a support to walk, leaning all your weight on him.

Your cheeks were warm, eyes half lidded, now the pain in your cheeks was prominent from smiling so much, it seemed you smiled more when drunk than sober in a few months. It wasn’t because you were emotionless but rather only smiled to those who deserve it, which was only a handful of people. Your husband is on the top of course.

Speaking of your husband, you suddenly paused in your steps, remembering him. Realising you were clinging onto someone, you pushed yourself away, smile dropping and being replaced by a frown while you glared.

Mingyu blinked once, twice, a little startled from being pushed away and even more when he saw your glare.

“You shouldn’t hold some stranger like that, mister.” You could make out the silhouette in front of you, but the face was a blur. The classic case of drunken forgetfulness.

“Babe-”

“BABE? Are you crazy? Only my husband can call me that! Which by the way.” You put out your left hand, pointing towards the shiny ring. The shiny ring he got you. “See!I’m married!”

“And-and I am very happy with my Gyu, I don’t need you- or or anyone courting me- I am very happy with my relationship sir.”

Fuck. Why did you have to say it like that?

He couldn’t stop the grin on his face, there was no way he could even if he tried to. Only you could make him feel like the first time he'd ever have a crush on someone. His heart raced, almost too fast. He swears he can feel his chest fill with even more love.

“Okay, okay how about I get you to your car?”

“No mister! I re-refuse I don't want to go with you, where's Mingyu? Where's Gyu???”

You were whining at this point, finding your legs too tired so you ended up just sitting. Right in the middle of the pavement.

Mingyu’s eyes widened when you sat down but even more in panic, the smile dropping as he saw you bring your hands to your face.

You were crying.

“Where's Gyu? Did he leave me?” A hiccup came after the sentence, as your vision got more blurry with the tears flowing even more freely.

He rushed towards you squatting beside you, pulling you into his side.

“Honey, I'm here. Shh. I'm here.”

You looked up from your position, making sure to blink to clear out the tears and there he was. Your husband.

“Gyuuu” Your words slurred and choked up as you threw yourself at him. Him immediately wrapping his hands around you, still in the sitting position.

Your arms looped yourself around his neck as you put your head in the crook of his neck, still crying.

“I thought you le-left.”

“I'd never. I would never leave you.”

“Please don't.”

Slowly, he got up, pulling you gently up as well, still holding onto you and your entire weight now leaned on him.

“Come on, you wanna head home?” You pulled your face away from the nook, looking up at him as your sobs stopped turning to sniffles.

He moved one hand to hold your face as he caressed your cheek, pushing your stray hair strands behind your ears with delicate touches.

Your eyes began to droop, the side effects of being drunk slowly overcoming you. You just simply nodded as you put your head back to his comfy shoulder.

Sighing, he shook his head as he noticed your breathing slowing down, coming out in slow exhales, meaning you just passed out drunk.

He softly smiled as his hand still caressed your hair. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[ bonus cut : the following morning ]

You were sure this was your karma catching up to you because the way your head was splitting was surely due to your supposed horrible past deeds. There was no other reason.

“Good morning sunshine~”

“Zip. Shut. Shh. Not a word.”

Mingyu frowned, pouting at your harsh reply, but a small pity formed as he saw you wake up while holding your head in pain.

“That's mean.”

“Not mean enough, I will actually kill you.”

Being the ever so doting husband he was, he'd gotten up from your shared bed, made breakfast, your favourite food by the way, and even gotten ready for the day.

“Have this, you'll feel better so that maybe you can plan my murder better hm?”

And now there he sat down beside you on your bed, a painkiller in one hand with a glass of water.

You grabbed the water like you had never touched it in your existence, gulping it down along with the pill,even if it ended up spilling onto your clothes. You frankly don't care.

Mingyu gazed at you with the same adoration he always had. He loved you at all times, anytime. He just knew that he loves you. He didn't think he said it enough.

“I love you.” You almost choked on the water, gulping it down before it sprayed out. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can I not say I love you to my spouse?” He honestly felt offended at the suspicious look on your face.

“Alright…”

Now it was his turn to squint at you in question, as if waiting for something.

“I guess I love you too.” You were pulling his leg, you loved to see that look on his face where it seemed as though someone had stepped on his tail. Like a puppy who’s tail had been stepped on by mistake

“I don't even want to talk to you. Bye.” He snatched the empty glass, glaring at you now, you knew it was not with any sort of malice, you knew him. He turned around, purposefully stomping and then you couldn't stop the laughter.

You burst out in giggles, clutching your stomach, the headache subsiding.

You threw off the blanket and rushed after him, hugging him from behind, hands barely wrapping around his large frame but it did stop him. You placed your face sideways on his back.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I love you. Like surely. One hundred percent.” You said still chuckling, the grin on your face not faltering.

He wasn't even upset in the first place, because the moment he heard your laugh, his own grin formed widely on his face.

“You mean it?”

“I do. Always did. And will.”

And perhaps this was what it meant to be loved. And to love.

for my dearest @etherealyoungk ; THIS IS A VERY VERY LATE BIRTHDAY GIFT TO MY WIFE 🫂 ( blame that on the fact that this was totally not what I planned to write for ur birthday 😔) I love you so much and I can't believe we got close this soon <3 I wish I could have known you before because it feels like I know you since so long, you're literally my soulmate like??? i hope you have an amazing year ahead soo here is ur fave couple as a present mwahh (mine too lowkey)

perm. taglist ( open ! ) : @mansaaay ; @gyuguys

( if you want to be added just send an ask/reply to this !)

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

feedback is always appreciated 💌 !

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist ! | info !

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moonhoures · 8 months

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Relax

🕷️ kinktober — day 3: bath sex 🕸️

pairing: yeosang (ateez) + reader (g/n)

genre: non-idol!au, fluff, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, established relationship, yeosang has a fractured ankle, reader gives yeosang a handjob in the bath, mentions of a blowjob but no actual blowjob (sorry 😣)

word count: ~2.6k

synopsis: after yeosang gets injured, you have no problem helping him in any way he needs ;)

a/n: i’m such a sucker for fics where one partner is injured and the other takes care of them ;-; so i had fun writing this ^_^

posted: october 3, 2023

kinktober masterlist

“Augh!”

Your boyfriend yelped out in pain, getting your attention all the way from the kitchen where you were loading the dishwasher. You quickly shut the dishwasher door and bolted to the living room to check on him. You huffed in disappointment, getting a sheepish look from your boyfriend in return.

“You’re not supposed to stand up without me to help you,” you chided him, gesturing for him to sit back down on the couch, “What were you trying to do anyways?”

He frowned, plopping back down onto the couch and wincing from the discomfort he felt in his ankle, “I was trying to get the TV remote.”

“You should’ve called me, Yeo, I’m literally in the next room,” you spoke to him with a softer tone now, grabbing the remote from the table on the opposite end of the room to hand it to him. You got a good look at him, noticing the bags under his eyes and the flushed tone in his cheeks. He was so tired and in so much pain. The medicine the doctor had given him for his fractured ankle could only help so much, but Yeosang had been taking it like a champ for the most part. He was just having trouble adjusting to the ‘relying on people’ part of his injury.

“How are you feeling?” you asked him when he didn’t reply to your first comment.

He sighed, slumping further into the cushions, “Just like every other day. Terrible.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you couldn’t recount how many times you had asked him that question this past week, but Yeosang was growing irritated from hearing it. He appreciated your help, he did, but he couldn’t help but feel so pitiful and useless in this condition. Not being able to move on his own without risking even further injury. He hated relying on you to do his daily tasks.

“No, I don’t want to bother you anymore than I already am,” he admitted, looking past you at the TV.

Now you were the one frowning, taking the empty spot beside him, “You’re not bothering me. I’m happy to help you with whatever you need. If there’s anything I can do to make you feel a little better, then I want to do it.”

He glanced at you with a hint of a smile on his lips, “You’re too nice.”

“I was thinking helpful would be a better word,” you joked, making him chuckle softly. Just then an idea popped into mind, “What about a bath? I could use the new bubble bath I got, and the salts you like.”

Yeosang was usually a shower kind of guy, but being that he wasn’t able to stand for long with his ankle and there was no room for him to sit in the shower, he had been enjoying the tub more. Some nights you let him use the lavender-scented salts you bought, and he seemed to relax more with those. When you would go in to help him out of the tub, he would comment how much nicer your stuff smells than the ‘manly’ stuff he used.

“And if you want a spa experience, I can pull up some jazz music and hot towels.”

Yeosang laughed at that, nodding, “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

You hopped up off the couch, glee apparent on your face as you did so, “Perfect. You stay right there while I go run the water. Don’t move a muscle!”

Yeosang watched with amusement as you ran off to the bedroom, and shortly after he could hear the faint sound of the bath water running. He didn’t realize, but he was grinning. He was wondering how he got so lucky to have someone in his life that cared about him the way you did. He thought he must’ve been a really great person in his past life, very charitable. He thought you must be his good karma returning to him.

“Okay,” you emerged from the bedroom several minutes later, “It’s ready for you.”

Your boyfriend waited until you got closer before he started to get up. You supported him with one arm, letting him rest some of his weight on you to keep it off of his left leg. He hissed as he took a step and felt the nerves firing in his ankle, making the limb below his calf ache.

“You okay?”

Yeosang nodded, and you helped him take the first step, then the next. A couple minutes later, he let out a sigh of relief as you both finally made it to the bathroom. You fixed him up sitting on the edge of the tub. He took a deep breath, a smile on his face as he took in the sweet smell of lavender and something else. That’s when he noticed the two eucalyptus candles that were lit on the counter across the room.

“Candles? Really?”

“I told you I was giving you the full spa experience,” you spoke nonchalantly, “Let’s get these off of you.”

He let you tug his shirt off of him, ruffling his hair up in the process. He pulled his shorts and boxers down to his knees, and you took them from there, cautious of his ankle while removing them. Then you stood by, body tense while you let him settle in the tub by himself, ready at any moment to help if he needed you. But luckily he didn’t need any help. He hummed in satisfaction, sinking further into the water, rippling the bubbles away from him.

“Is the temp okay?”

He merely nodded and hummed, looking as cozy as a baby in a snug blanket. You broke out into a smile, walking away to get a towel for him.

“Call me if you need anything,” you told him, leaving the towel off to the side where he could reach. His eyes widened, and he sat up a little.

“Wait- I want you to stay here with me.”

“For what?”

“I just- I don’t want to be by myself. Can you just stay here and talk to me?”

How could you say no?

“Of course I can.”

You sat down beside the bathtub, letting your left arm rest along the edge. You rested your chin on your arm, then tilted your head so your cheek was pressed against your skin.

“Have you talked to the guys recently?” you asked him, trying to find a conversation to start.

“Yunho texted me this morning,” he replied, “Said it doesn’t feel the same getting breakfast without me.”

Small, soft smiles widened on both your cheeks and his at the wholesomeness. You knew Yeosang’s injury was hard for him, but it was also hard on you and his friends. Not having the usual, happy Yeosang around was weird, but at least you lived with him. You could still hang out with him, and you slept in the same bed as him at night. His friends didn’t have the same fortune, and these days they were so busy they barely had time to visit him. At this point they were just counting down the days until he was clear to roam around on his own so they could resume as normal. The eight amigos.

“They all miss you, I’m sure,” you said. You let the fingers on your right arm dip into the water. Your fingertips grazed over the surface, twirling the suds, making them dance. You entertained yourself with them as Yeosang talked about taking things for granted before. How he wished he could do his day-to-day stuff like normal again.

“Like what?” you questioned him, “You can do all the same stuff, you just need help to do it. And like I said, that’s what I’m here for.”

“But-“ your boyfriend paused, then decided against what he was going to say. But now you were intrigued.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, ears turning pink. It seemed like he was a little ashamed or embarrassed of what he was thinking.

“No, tell me. What? Is my help not good enough?” you teased, “Because there’s no way you can say that after I did all this for you.” You gestured to the rest of the room.

He shook his head again, “No, you’ve been a big help. And I’m really thankful. It’s just- I need help with something that doesn’t have to do with my injury.”

The look he gave you was pointed, and at first you didn’t understand what he was implying. But it dawned on you after a moment. Of course, he was a human with needs and desires, and a body. Your eyes glanced down at the bubbles that were starting to dwindle down into suds, leaving empty patches of water on the surface. One patch just so happened to expose his half-erect penis in his lap.

When he first came home from the doctor’s, you were very strict about him taking it easy. You wanted him to recover as soon as possible. Sex was the last thing on your mind, and had been since. Your sole focus was taking care of him and making sure his needs were met, just not in that way. You weren’t even acknowledging your own needs in the process.

“Oh.”

“But it’s okay. I- I’ve been taking care of them, uh, when I get the chance,” his ears were red now, out of pure bashfulness. You found it cute. When he got like this, you loved teasing him, making him even more flustered.

“I’m sorry, my love. You should’ve told me,” you cooed, fingertips gliding across the water until they met his biceps. You grazed them, emerging from the water onto his wet skin. You felt him tense a bit under your touch, and it made your lips twitch.

“I was going to, but I felt bad. You’ve been helping me with so much. I don’t want to ask you for anything else,” he confessed.

“You’re not a burden, Yeo,” you assured him, making eye contact with him as your fingers came to rest on his shoulder. You drew lazy circles over his skin, making goosebumps appear on it, “I want to help you. With whatever you need.”

His eyes were hazy now, as if he was entranced by you. And honestly, he was. He had been thinking about fucking you for weeks now, but was unable to initiate anything in his state because he was nervous about furthering his injury in some way. And you weren’t initiating, so he resorted to suffering in silence. Eventually he got to the point that he couldn’t take it anymore, and he ended up fisting his cock furiously in the bathroom. But all he wanted was you.

He gulped when your hand moved to his chest, smoothing it over his pecs. Your fingertips pausing to squeeze his nipple lightly. He twitched, making you giggle. He was so sensitive. You loved it.

You trailed even further, breaking the water’s surface again to slip over his abs. The subtle terrain of muscles under skin that displayed how diligently he had worked out—well, up until he had fractured his ankle.

Then, you felt it. The sparse hair that grew along his V-line. The feeling of it had you drawing your lip between your teeth, because you knew what would soon follow.

The stretch of skin that led to what you really wanted. The base of his cock, now growing by the second. It was starting to throb in anticipation, turning red along the shaft. The thin veins were standing out. You wanted him in your mouth so bad, but you would have to make-do with your position right now.

You took him in your grasp, giving him the lightest squeeze, and yet he still let out a whimper. It was soft, so soft you almost missed it.

“How’s that, baby?”

“Good,” he squeaked out, “K-keep going. Please.”

The suds were almost non-existent by now, so you could see clearly everything you were doing below the water. You were both enjoying the show, eyes glued between his legs. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in pant-like bursts as you started to slowly drag your hand up and down his length. The friction was a little difficult to work through, but you were determined to make it work. You paused at the end of his dick, swiping your thumb over the slit. Precum floated through the water in little ribbons then disappeared. You couldn’t wait to have his cum do the same, and neither could he.

“Please,” he whined again, eyes closing for a moment. His hands were balling into fists at his side.

“Just relax, my love.”

He nodded, letting the back of his head rest against the edge of the tub. His eyes screwed shut even more as you continued to stroke him, a little faster this time. You saw his legs shift, moving the water in the tub. His body was preparing an orgasm all because of you. His chest moved up and down, and you could see his abs tensing. His fingernails were biting into his palms.

“________, it feels so good,” he whispered, “So much better than my hand.”

You bit back a smile, “I know, baby. Are you close? Can you cum for me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded eagerly, and as if on cue, his thighs tensed up.

You quickened your pace some more, an ache growing in your forearm, but you ignored it.

“What did you think about when you jerked off, Yeo? Me?”

“Yes,” he admitted it without hesitation.

“What about me?”

“Everything. Being inside you. In your mouth.”

“My mouth? You want to fuck my mouth, baby?”

“Yeah,” he moaned, eyes opening to look at you. You looked back at him with eyes full of allure, full of all the things he wanted and more. It drove him crazy, “Fuck, yes.”

“As soon as we get out of this bathroom, my mouth is all yours,” you said, watching his face twist into sexual agony. If it wasn’t for his godforsaken ankle, he would’ve had you bent over the bathroom counter already.

“Please,” he was desperate this time, and his body was getting closer to climaxing. He whined and his thighs thrashed, pushing the now-lukewarm water up along the tub’s edges.

Some of the water had managed to escape and roll down the outside of the bath, dripping down and falling to the floor. But you didn’t care, you ardently pumped his cock, choking up just below his tip. He loved when you did that, and it brought him even closer, until finally your name came out of his mouth in a whine.

His toes curled, and every part of his body clenched as rope upon rope of cum shot out of him and carried on the water over his lap. His cock twitched in your grip as your strokes slowed. Then you removed your hand from him completely, letting him recuperate. He melted into the water, sinking his shoulders below the surface. He sighed after a while of regaining his composure, but the tips of his ears remained a bright pink color.

“Best spa ever,” he breathed out, causing you both to laugh.

“I think if this was a real spa, I would be losing my job,” you joked, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

He turned his head to you, capturing your lips with his and deepening the kiss. He kissed you like he was hungry for you, teeth nipping at the skin of your lips. Your cheek was surprised to feel cool water when his hand reached up to hold it. The same, wet hand slid down from your face to your neck, fingertips digging into your skin the smallest amount. You groaned against his lips before he pulled away.

“Did you mean it? As soon as we leave the bathroom?” he asked, and you didn’t even have to think about it. You knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Yes, I meant it.”

“Then please help me get out of this tub.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @mrsdacherry @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite

#ateez #ateez smut #yeosang smut #kang yeosang smut #ateez fanfic #ateez hard hours #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #yeosang fanfic #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #[🕷️] kinktober 23

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maryleclerc · 1 year

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𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 — charles leclerc

pairing: prince!charles leclerc x reader ; prince!charles leclerc x princess!reader ; prince!dad!charles leclerc x princess!mom!reader

summary: in which the royal family and prince charles leclerc finally spoke out about the rumors of an affair between him and the actress.

warning: english is not my native language, use google translation

au: yea yea i know some people don’t like the cheating plot, but i think it’s just so bored if everything just go so smooth :(((

read my royal series here

y/n_leclerc

Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and others

y/n_leclerc I’m posting this just to let you know that our marriage life is still as great as it is before every false rumor, a false rumor always a false rumor so I’m not worried or even care about it, and beside that we’re planning on having our 2nd child together!! 🫶🏻 You might ask who idea it is right? It’s my husband Charles and our son Christian Arthur just ask me if I can give him little sister or little brother, and my husband also said he want a mini Y/n running around the house.

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charles_leclerc ❤️ Tellement chanceux de t'avoir

⤷ y/n_leclerc Christian and I are so lucky to have you by our side

arthur_leclerc Can’t wait to meet a new addition of Y/n Leclerc

⤷ y/n_leclerc Wait what 😂 I’m not even pregnant yet how do you know its going to be a baby girl

ilovecharlesleclerc_ Hii, may i ask what is Prince Christian Arthur hobby?

⤷ y/n_leclerc Oh, he love go-karting, him and Charles use to go-karting every weekend. They LOVE F1

favgirly/n The way she’s so calm makes me love her even more

charles_leclerc

Liked by y/n_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc I, Prince Charles Leclerc of Monte Carlo would like to declear the rumor one more time, that there are no romantic relationship betwen us, the only love that I shared is for Y/n and Christian. And that’s it

Also I wanted to said this to @y/n_leclerc

I must say how happy I am to have a wife who is always willing to help me solve problems in a very calm way, whenever I have difficult problems to solve, Y/n always being the one to help me find different solutions made me respect her even more. More than that, I always feel lucky to have her as my wife and mother of my children.

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viennajaula_ We need a sorry from you @kristiannabailee_official 🙂 you better post it or i’m gonna have to “hunt” you down myself

redferarri Why the worst things always happen to our Charles, he’s the nicest guy and Y/n too they’re just jealous of them!! 😩

genni See i told you, he never ever do that horrible things

blueivyy Not gonna, i hate that girl so much she can’t even say hi to her fan

⤷ loveliee She’s super mean, mean to every single fan

lanadelreysmywife Y/n, the most beloved Princess of Monte Carlo 😩😩😩😩😩

kristianabailee_official

12,682 likes

kristianabailee_official Hi, I'm Kristiana Bailee and you probably know me from my role or with the most recent rumor that I'm in a relationship with Prince Charles Leclerc but in reality it's just me. Yes, I have feelings for Prince Charles Leclerc and I want to write this post to apologize to the fans who have suffered the hurt, the disappointment caused by me and more especially, I want to apologize to Prince Charles Leclerc and Princess Y/n of Monte Carlo for causing these unnecessary misunderstandings.

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krisanddede That’s okay, atleast you know what you doing is wrong. We forgive you

theleclercfaam Should i believe her or not :))

y/nismyqueen The manager better keep her away from the whole royal family. They won’t know what she would do next

sophiagreen I hope Prince Christian Arthur won’t see all of this shit when he become adult, she clearly wants to ruin the reputation of Prince Charles Leclerc and the royal family!

jessica_ 🙂🙂

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euphoricfilter · 7 months

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domestic daydreams:

[cheese sandwiches at the park tomorrow]

pairing: influencer! jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || established relationship || non-idol au ||

summary: a window into the life of jeon jungkook

word count: 1.2k

tags/ warnings: just lots and lots of fluff its sickening

notes: am slightly tempted to turn this into a mini series because there's so much to talk about...

where you can find all my other stuff!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

Jungkook thinks both you and himself had always been connected by the delicate knots of the red string of fate. Possibly a constrictor knot, because it only ever seemed to grow tighter with every moment you spent together, impossible to untie as your souls start to intertwine and lives mingle into one.

His ever-growing infatuation with you, evident to his online audience.

Because he had no issue showing you off, talking about you in videos and sharing you with the wider world. He thinks it must be a tingly sort of satisfaction he gets, knowing that no matter how many faceless people love you, he will forever love you more. No matter how many people compliment you with how pretty you are, comments flooded with praise for your mere existence, he will forever appreciate you the most. Your entire being a precious little thing that he has sewn into his fragile human heart, yours forever to keep.

He knows he’s able to touch you in ways no one else can. He knows he’s able to wake up to you each morning, press soft lips to soft skin, warm under calloused hands as eye lashes tickle tender skin as the sun leaks through the curtains. Each passing moment peacefully quiet until you murmur his name, fingers pressing into his skin as you pull him closer for a kiss.

He’d started posting online only months before meeting you, a little creative outlet to get rid of that itch of not taking media, but rather choosing game design. A subject he loved dearly, though desperate to visualise his life through moving image and all the cool things that come with that.

And during the months of you talking, his presence online slowly started to take off. What had once been only a creative outlet morphing into such a huge part of his life. Something he had wanted to keep from you for so long, a little whisper in his brain worried it would send you running. With some of the comments he received, dms from both men and women alike, he wasn’t exactly sure how to bring it up to you.

And he knows in hindsight it was a silly little worry because you loved every part of him. Loved that he shared little parts of his life with so many people. Passions clipped into videos, well-loved equipment laying around his apartment, something so wholly Jungkook you found yourself beaming whenever he would get the tripod out to film himself cooking, or planning a design for an assignment, or just little clips of nature when the both of you go on walks.

Because what had once been a video diary for Jungkook had slowly become a video diary for you too, perfectly crafted memories that you find yourself watching when you’re alone. Always so hard to keep the smile off your face as you see how happy you are. Because that’s what Jungkook makes you; incredibly happy.

You watch as he tries to balance his phone against a bag of pasta neither of you had wanted to put away the night before, chin resting on the palm of your hand as you watch him struggle.

“Why don’t you get the tripod?” you murmur, catching his attention.

Jungkook turns to look at you, eyes a little wide, “Because I just want to film me making our lunch” he tells you.

“Besides—” he continues, “that would mean I have to go into the bedroom, and I don’t feel like being apart from you today” he says as he turns back to his phone, fiddling around with the settings a little so the light from the kitchen window wouldn’t look so harsh.

Your lips quirk up into a smile, toes curling into the floor.

“I would come with you” you sit up a little straighter, catching a glimpse of his face on the screen of his phone, “we could even hold hands too”

Jungkook pauses, hands pressing into the counter as he narrows his eyes at you over his shoulder, “Are you patronising me?”

Your nose scrunches up at that, “No” you start, “just so you know, I love holding your hand”

He hums, “Well then I guess you’re lucky… I like holding your hand too”

“Oh—” your eyes widen, “It’s gonna fall”

Jungkook winces when his phone tips forward, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he lifts it back up again.

You push the chair away from the table, slipping your own phone out of your pocket, laying it flat against the counter so his will stop slipping.

“Thank you, baby” he leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek, face only an inches away from yours when he decides it isn’t enough and presses a firm kiss to your lips too.

“Now,” he nods, “let’s make us lunch”

You push yourself to sit on the counter by his phone as he hits record, smiling up at you as he starts talking.

“Me and Y/n went shopping earlier and saw this new cheese I wanted to try, so I’m gonna make us sandwiches for lunch” he says, pulling the chopping board closer to himself as he pulls the drawer open to get a knife.

“Cucumber” he shows the camera, quick as he cuts it up, “and today we’re having tomatoes, but none for the pretty girl because she doesn’t like them” he explains, showing off the produce his dad had been growing in their garden, proud smile on his face as he hands you a slice of cucumber to eat while he finishes preparing lunch.

You slip off the counter when he calls you over, hesitant to step in frame and see yourself on camera. Jungkook steps a little closer to you, arms slipping out of frame to hold your hands as he looks down at you, so much adoration in his eyes.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes” he whispers, already knowing where your hesitation stems from, “always such a pretty little thing”

You glance over at the camera, video still recording, “Jungkook… your video” you murmur.

“Doesn’t matter” he shakes his head, “you know you don’t have to be in it if you don’t want to” he tells you, “Whatever you’re comfortable with, yeah?”

“We could film something tomorrow” you say, “we should go to that park again, maybe have a picnic?”

His lips quirk up into a smile, “I’d like that” he nods, “And if this cheese is any good, we can make even better sandwiches”

“Good point” you nod, “I’ll have to take you up on that offer if you make a solid lunch today” you step away from him, eyeing the finished sandwich sat on the chopping board.

“I always make the best lunches” he tells you, reaching into a cupboard for two plates.

“Our favourite girl doesn’t want to be on camera today” Jungkook mumbles, mouth half full of food as he looks at himself before glancing at you on the opposite side of the table, “But what’s the verdict, baby?”

You chew, nodding as you give him a thumbs up, Jungkook returning the gesture as his eyes curl up into a smile.

“Love you” he swallows.

“Love you too” you pucker your lips, watching as he leans over the table to press a kiss to your lips.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook one shot #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts non idol au #bts imagines #bts fic

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gxthicwxrm · 1 year

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Hi! Saw you were looking for hotd requests.

How about arranged marriage au with Daemon x fem!reader. They have 1 or more kids but Daemon doesn't seem to like her. After an attack on her and the kids (she's a trained assassin/warrior), he realizes how much she does for them. Maybe she goes unconscious for a few days and Daemon has to look after the kids.

Ignore this if you don't want to do it! But thanks and have a good day!

Hello! I am so sorry for the late reply!! I did a few changes, I hope you don't mind. I plan to use this prompt for Aemomd and Aegon as well. However I hope you enjoy!!

Fire Like A Targaryen

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader

Warning: blood, assault, mentions of rape and murder, angst

Word Count: 1,907

Masterlist - Part Two

---

You drums you fingers against your swollen belly, feeling little feet meeting the flesh beneath your hands. "Hello, my little love." You hum to the unborn baby that dances in your stomach while the baby's father disappears somewhere, surely his doting niece following closely behind.

You have been married to Daemon long enough to know the feelings he has for his niece, even if he doesn't realize himself. His neglect of husbandry duties always increased as we spent time in King's Landing, nearing the Princess of Dragonstone. However, you didn't blame your husband's inability to love you, on the Princess or even her lover. Sometimes people just don't love each other.

Giving up long ago for his affection, you decided to make the best of your time with simple pleasures: reading in the garden, learning to cook with the maidens, painting with the richest of colors. Quickly, you adapted to the riches of the Targaryen's royalty which dulled the ache you felt for her husband.

The night of the wedding, the pair never consummated the marriage, it left you feeling like a pawn in a game. He stumbled in drunk, tripping over his feet before dragging himself up the bed, practically crawling towards you. Unable to deny your growing love for this mess of a man, you reached your hand out and guided him towards yourself.

Slowly, he looked up at you before clasping your cheeks in his hands, pressing his cold lips against your warm ones. Hungrily, his hands fly to your sides and pull you against his bare chest. Moaning into your kiss, both sets of hands begin exploring each other. For once, you felt at home, like this was how the two of you were supposed to be, together. However, your bliss died when his lips whispered one that was far from your own.

"Oh, Rhaenyra!" He mumbles into the flesh of your neck, leaving little bruises training down your chest as he moves towards your breast. His words crash around in your head as you lay beneath Daemon who finishes and falls asleep beside you, wordlessly.

Despite the pain of that night, you gained motherhood. Daemon was happy to be a father, scared but happy. He never told you, but you could tell when he'd ghost his hand over your bump or give you an extra piece of bread with dinner. He even held your hand during the birth of your daughter, Alysannne. He may not love you, but he loves his child. Although, a small part of you wished this child would make him love you. You were naive to think Daemon would ever love you.

But, years have passed since your daughter was born. Alys is five, running around her father as he brushes Caraxes in the Dragonpit.

"Mommy!" Her tiny voice echoes on the stone walls once she sees you walking towards herself and her father. Looking up, Daemon's eyes meet yours, offering a small smile before turning back to the huffing Caraxes.

"Hello, my little one. What are you doing out here? Look at you, you are all dirty!" You pick at your daughter's ripped gown, covered in soot.

"We were playing with Caraxes! Daddy said he'd let me fly with him!!" The little girl runs between her parents and the Blood Wyrm, kissing the dragon's cheek as she pets him.

"Well, she is her father's daughter." Daemon chuckles, putting his hand on the small of your back as Alys dances around in front of you, twirling her ruined skirt. Affection from him was no longer rare but quick. His thumb caresses the exposed skin of your back, soothing the pain of carrying a child. His unused hand finds itself cupping your belly.

"How has he been treating you, today?" Daemon's smooth voice steals your attention from the girl before you. Looking down at his hands, you rest yours beside his but he moves, so his fingers are right over yours.

"He's been good. Hasn't been kicking me a ridiculous amount which is a new change of pace." Your attempt at a joke brings a smile to your husband's face who kneels down before you and kisses your clothed belly, much to your surprise.

"Be good for your mother. Cherish her, my little Dragon." He whispers, but you were still able to here his words. Standing back up, he cups your face.

"I'm going to take Alys flying before she makes Caraxes eat me. He listens to her more and more these days." With a peck on your cheek, he's running towards his daughter and his dragon.

"Don't forget Alysanne needs to bathe before dinner with your brother. She may be a dragon but she will not smell like one." You call them, laughing at your own words.

"Yes ma'am." Daemon smiles at you before telling Caraxes to fly,just streaks of red melding into the blue sky above.

Waiting for your family, you sit in your chambers, rubbing oils on your stretched belly while the water for Alysanne is being gathered by your maids.

Grabbing a book from Daemon's bedside table, you absently flip through the pages; glimpses of words and stories fly by along with the pages.

A creak of the door alerts you, bring you to your feet as you cover your stomach with the slits of your gown.

"Mommy! We flew so high!" Alysanne pushed the door open enough to slide between the wood, running to her mother's side, a severant boy coming in behind her with two buckets of hot water. Alysanne leans into your side as you take in the dirt covering her face.

"Oh, my little girl, what did they do to you? Did they roast you?" You giggle, tickling at her sides. The servant moved slowly beside you as he filled the white tub.

"No, I roasted them, mwah ha ha." She laughs, stomping and pretending to breathe fire as she runs around you in circles.

"Okay my dragon rider. It's time to bathe. Come on." She taps her daughter's shoulders, moving her towards the steaming bath. Looking towards the lingering servant, Y/N felt bad dismissing him but was cautious why he was staying so long.

"Thank you, sir. Your kindness won't be forgotten." You turn towards your child and still feeling the man in your room, pull the curtain around the tub closed, canceling your still clothed daughter. She was eerie of this man in their room, unsure what to think of him.

Slowly, he straightens to look you in the eye, a cold shiver runs through your body as you see the glint of a dagger in his hand.

"No! Guards! Daemon!" You shout as the man lunges, knife pointed towards your belly. The man kept coming at you, backing you in the furthest corner away from your daughter, who peeked from the curtain. Moving to run around him, his arm grabbed you by the stomach and shoved you down. Flying backward, your head hits the ground, a loud crack echoing through your mind as you look around for a weapon. The man is stalking you while you try to move toward the bed across you. You knew Daemon kept a dagger under the left-hand side of the mattress. If you could just get to it, you could save your children's lives.

The sound of glass breaking stops you and your attacker, both looking toward the direction of the crash. The tub.

A fear like no other took over you as the man started towards your daughter's hiding spot. Reaching for his legs, you try to pull him down, screaming but to no avail as he kicks you. One landing in your swollen belly, making black dots cloud your vision. Wetness trickles down the side of your face, but you keep dragging yourself behind this man, desperate to stop him from hurting your child.

Using the table nearest, you pull yourself up and grab Daemon's letter opener. This man would not leave this room alive; you'd make sure of it even if you died trying. The man throws open the curtain but pauses. Creeping behind him, you see Alysanne isn't behind the curtain anymore.

"Where is she?" The man asked himself. He turns, locking eyes with you before grabbing you by your hair and pulling you to your knees. "I said," Where is she? You dumb bitch!" He goes to smack you but stops as you shove the letter opener into his hand. Letting you go, you drop back down before dragging yourself to your feet.

"You fucking cunt! I was going to let it be quick, but now you will watch me rape your little girl and slit her throat before I do the same to you." He spits, pulling the blade from his hand and coming at you. His words once would've made you cower and hide, but now light you up like a flame. A fire burned in you to keep going and fighting despite the pain radiating over your body.

"You won't lay a finger on her. Over my dead body." You knew this would be a fight you'd lose. You have no weapons, training, or husband to protect you. It was up to you to protect these children, and you would do it even if it killed you. The Man grabs at you again, but you slap, scratch, and claw at his face this time. His hands find their way around your throat while yours dig into his eyes, a gut-wrenching scream comes from the man as he yanks away from you, but you don't stop. Lunging at him, you push his body against the tub, hitting his head before you wail on his chest, tears flowing down your face as the man beneath you go limp.

A scream of frustration leaves your throat raw as the adrenaline leaves your body.

"Alysanne? It's okay to come out now, darling. It's okay." Your thoughts cleared. Where is your daughter? Stumbling off the man, you pull yourself up and turn, trying to find your daughter, when suddenly she slides from under the bed, rushing to your side.

"M-mommy! I thought, I thought he was-"

"Shh, it's okay now. Everything is going to be okay." You hold her to your chest, trying to soothe your nerves. The door swings open to your relief, and Daemon rushes in, sword drawn with the Gold Cloaks rushing in behind him.

"What happened? Are you okay? Alysanne? The baby?" Daemon's questions shoot at you, each before the words can find you. Staring up at him, blood smeared across your face, bruises forming, and tears filling your eyes. Daemon has never seen you like this and never plans to again.

"Mommy killed the bad guy. He tried to hurt us, but she saved us!" Your daughter summarizes to her father, who turns to his wife, shocked, before pulling her and her daughter into his arms, kissing each other on their foreheads. He always thought she lacked the fire a Targaryen has. But at every turn, she has proved him wrong. Not only did she give him a dragon and another coming, but she became one in the process.

#daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fic #house of the dragon angst #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you

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kashimos-hajime · 1 year

Text

—𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐚𝐥-𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

summary: he hasn’t dreamed in a long time, but when al-haitham dreamed for the first time after the akademiya coup, he dreamed of you.

WARNINGS: archon quest akasha pulses, the kalpa flame rises spoilers! soulmate au if you squint, swearing, mentions of violence, death, injury, minor self-loathing, plot AND lore heavy, angst, fluff, not poly, happy ending! pairing: al-haitham x fem!reader, minor kaveh x fem!reader word count: 18.1k grind

a/n: written for the lovely @zhongrin and her elemental supercharge collab! it was super fun to work on and really inspired me to love writing again because it was just a breath of fresh air. my entry: dendro + dendro + cryo = permafrost

here are some important notes for this fic to help with understanding it:

tsaritsa is the former goddess of love. the goddess of flowers was a seelie. king deshret reborn was al-haitham. possibly ooc al-haitham (he’s also deaf!) i made shit up about teleport waypoints and about pretty much all the lore surrounding the three god-kings besides what i glimpsed through some books/theories/etc. i was just like fuck it we ball.

inspo songs: who is she? - i monster, about you - the 1975, awake from a nightmare - hoyo-mix (i recommend you listen to this one especially during kaveh - chat: craftsmanship)

now on ao3 x

Greater Lord Rukkhadevata - About the Goddess of Flowers

In the place where Padisarahs bloom, two gods speak in the absence of their third. The Lord of Flowers picks these Padisarahs and the Greater Lord watches, entranced in the velvet purple petals that gleam in the sun.

The latter says: “You know the price to be paid if he searches for that divine nail.”

The other says: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t pretend to be a fool. You and I both know that—”

“Rukkhadevata.”

The Dendro Archon is silenced.

At last, the scorned one speaks. She has lost her people, her home. She refuses to die until Celestia is buried beneath her bloodied hands. “There is nothing to be done. Do you think Deshret’s mind sways so easily? He is set on finding the answers he seeks, and I am set on aiding in his endeavours.”

“But you… why? You understand what the Heavenly Principles are capable of, and you still put yourself in their line of fire. Again. Why?”

“Because Deshret asked.”

“I don’t think you understand what he is asking you to do.”

“No? Then, you have no idea of what I am, Rukkhadevata, and you are the one who won’t ever understand.”

Deshret - About the Divine Nail

The sandstorm is brutal, tearing at their clothes, their skin, blinding their eyes and clogging their throats. It had picked up so suddenly, there’d barely been enough time for Deshret to shield her from the first impact before realizing that the storm chaotically revolves around them. Around him. Uncontrollable winds swiping through the eye of a hurricane do not with hold their strength from the Goddess of Flowers, but Deshret, the powerful God-King remains untouched.

He pulls her in closer to his side. The Goddess of Flowers can barely see straight by the time the divine nail rises to its full height, her withered body barely able to withstand the powerful galeforces that pull at her every which way.

The divine nail is beautiful, glowing blue, refracting gold, and she can only smile as Deshret beside her raises a hand. He, too, glows, but he glows like the sun, like divinity.

“You’ve done it,” she congratulates through her weeping. The sand burns into her corneas, brands her lungs, but nothing touches her heart, and that is how she knows the reason it is shrivelling in her chest is because she is dying. The god beside her, the one holding her hand, turns, and she can’t help her laugh. “I told you once, though, that you would lose much in this exchange.”

“What?” His hand springs off her wrist, but her body is already disintegrating. It feels like it did when her kind was casted from their old home; her body thinned into a husk of what it used to be. Back then, she had prioritzed saving her mind over every inch of her beauty, yet now… now she doesn’t have the strength to save anything.

Deshret cannot protect the Goddess of Flowers from a trade conducted by those who rule above gods. “No… no, what is happening? You’re…”

“I hope,” she cuts off cleanly, “that one day, I can love you without any selfish desire. I hope… in another life, another samsara as Rukkhadevata would so fondly call it, I will love you more than you ever loved me.” His eyes widen, and a trembling hand reaches for her face. The Goddess of Flowers smiles. Tilts her head into his palm, and laughs again through the tears that evaporate off her cheeks as soon as they spring off her eyelashes.

He is incinerating to touch—a conduit of swirling sand, an incarnation of the sun. How ironic it is that the hand that once saved her from the sands will be the hand that seals her fate amongst the dunes.

Stepping closer, her flesh burns away when she cradles his face. He is shining so brightly. A brilliant morning star, a genius with a hungry mind, a gluttonous scholar. The God-King of the Desert.

Yet, Deshret does not seem like the god everyone makes him about to be.

Before the Goddess of Flowers, Deshret is nothing more than a man, crying and holding onto her with all his might.

A soft part of her melts at his expression.

“In all honesty,” she whispers, soft and choked, “I aided you because, in your ambitious vision of the future, I saw the possibility that you could free all of us from the shackles that chain us to the Heavenly Principles. In the end, it was my own selfish nature that led us here, and it is my own doing that marked your path to be one that you will have to walk alone.”

Deshret takes hold of her face, eyes searching, but the goddess withdraws her hands to settle her fingers on his wrists lightly.

“It was not your fault, Deshret.”

“No!” She pulls his wrists away, but he curls his hands into fists, fighting to free himself from her grip. For once, it is impossible, and he lets out a desperate growl, tears glinting upon his cheeks. “Don’t leave me. Don’t… don’t go.”

“Deshret—“

“Stay. Just a little while longer. I will take that divine nail and hammer it into this world, and build you an eternal oasis where I will bring you back to life with the knowledge that spills from its organs.” Lunging forward, his hands find themselves on the sides of her neck, thumbs stretching to trace the lines of her jaw. “I will not lose you. I cannot lose you!”

The ragged storm enflames, the winds grow deafening, loud enough to resemble a constant thunder that echoes in the hollowness of her chest.

“Don’t worry about that sort of thing, Deshret.”

Her voice is very weak now. When she swallows, sand shreds her insides and her eyes burn from the strength it’s taking to avoid coughing up iron.

“We will meet again,” she continues. “If Rukkhadevata has a hand in anything, it is the wisdom that pools around all of us, and the knowledge that there will not be an era where we are separated.”

“No, no, don’t go!”

But it falls futilely on deaf ears. The Goddess of Flowers lets go, and steps backward, her knees shaking, her frame swaying from the winds she can no longer fight.

As soon as her heel tucks into the edge of the unrelenting galeforce, she is ripped away, and the Goddess of Flowers disappears.

Tighnari - Something to Share: Akademiya Days

If one asked Tighnari what he thought of the Artificer of the Akademiya, he would return that inquiry with one of his own:

“Do you mean my thoughts on the Artificer alone, or about her relationship with the Scribe of the Akademiya?”

The truth of the matter is, the Scribe and the Artificer’s history go past colleagues at the Akademiya, past scholars searching for a thesis, for once upon a time, they were students, too.

Paimon isn’t aware of this: “Er… I don’t know. Did they know one another?”

“Al-Haitham wields his practicality like a spear. Nothing could quite faze him or outwit him. Nothing could unsettle him, except for the Artificer. She was a student in his year, but she was a scholar of the Kshahrewar Darshan. They were quite the reliable pair of scholars.” A soft hum.

“Really? Al-Haitham doesn’t seem like the partner type.”

“He isn’t. I suppose exceptions could be made when it came to her. I met Al-Haitham through the Artificer, actually, when they were working on some sort of prototype translation device for foreigners and she had asked if Sumeru’s scientific names for plants from other nations were derived from their original language.” Tighnari’s ears twitch. “I didn’t know her well back then, but from my brief meetings with her, she was very lively and happy. She didn’t care about the Sages and the politics surrounding the Six Darshans. All she wanted was to study. I think her thesis was to find a way to repair the Teleport Waypoints around Sumeru. It made quite the wave back in our day.”

“The Teleport Waypoints?” Paimon says. “Paimon noticed that they’re guarded by the Corps Of Thirty in Sumeru when in other nations they’re pretty much abandoned.”

“Her hypothesis that they’d been placed by some higher power than the Archons is a banned reference material and only the highest level of scholars are aware of the theory,” Tighnari says, and there’s a far off look in his eyes. “The Corps of Thirty supposedly defend these sites for a historical scholar for the day she comes home, but to be honest,” he adds quieter, “I think they were ordered to defend the Waypoints from the Artificer should she ever return.”

Technological advancement in Sumeru had progressed far enough that prototype cochlear implants are, though not a norm, a potential alternative than going through life unaware. The alternative is only made available by the resources of the Akademiya and Al-Haitham’s enrolment there since it’s where he can maintain upkeep with the help of Kshahrewar students who were overseeing this new piece of headgear.

You are the student assigned ot make sure his top of the line technological headwear didn’t go awry. You spend a lot of time with him, which means, against all odds, the bright, voracious, and laughing sun of the Kshahrewar Darshan has become Al-Haitham’s friend.

He had avoided it at first. Honestly. In the three years they’ve been together as mechanic and project, it took almost a year for Al-Haitham to consider even looking forward to seeing you every Thursday afternoon where you’d fiddle with his settings and write down notes on his condition.

And, yet, when he conceded to the fact that you were a staple to him—a constant in the ever-changing nature of the Akademiya’s cutthroat landscape where scholars dropped at the tip of a hat—he found that he learned more about you in the first month he gave in than he did in the last twelve he resisted.

Each factoid is like a dash in his head: your thesis is to be about the possibility of repairing the shattered Teleport Waypoints scattered across the nation, and how you’d go about doing it. Your work with Al-Haitham is just a way to investigate how the Akasha terminal and said Teleport Waypoints could work in tandem. Your life goal is for the latter to work on its own some day like it did in ages past and ease travel for those who could not afford to.

“It’s an altruistic thing to do.”

“I’m from Snezhnaya, but I moved here when I was younger.” You’re sitting across from him at the library as you tinker with a device similar to the one on his ears. “I used to go back every summer, but now that I’m at the Akademiya, I haven’t returned because I don’t have time, so the Teleport Waypoints would help with seeing my family more often, too. I’m not all good.”

He doesn’t look up from his book, although above the top of it, he can see your fingers deftly trying to rearrange wires. “Family?”

“Mhm. My father is a researcher here. My mother stayed back home. I grew up in a small hamlet, you know.”

He smiles faintly, flipping a page. “Yes, I know. It’s one of the first things you told me.”

“Oh, well… I didn’t think you’d remember,” you say, and he finally looks up from the pages to find you staring. You don’t look away, and instead, your smile grows as you tilt your head. “You’ve got beautiful eyes. Has anyone ever told you that before, Al-Haitham?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers. That’s another thing about you. You always say his name when you speak to him, as if to make sure that he understands you are directing such things to him.

That, and just the way you say his name. Every syllable purposeful, in that voice of yours that edges on melodic. You still have a Snezhnayan accent when you say certain words, including ones of Sumeran origin.

“Well, you do. They’re so beautiful.” Your smile makes your eyes crinkle as you return to your project, and Al-Haitham clears his throat, fighting the red that’s burning his ears. Scratching his jaw, he shakes his head minutely and instead tries to think of anything else.

You like oranges, but have a secret soft spot for peaches. You like reading romance, and you love art. Your father is a member of the Spantamad Darshan, and during his thesis, he travelled back to his homeland and fostered a family, which includes his eldest daughter, you.

The same you he can’t stop thinking of now that he’s stuck on it.

Later, when they begin to pack up their things from the library, in between him slipping a book into his bag and you sliding each tool back into its spot in your case, he asks if you’d like to have dinner with him at Lambad’s Tavern.

“Alright, but I’ll have to drop this off at my work room before I do. I don’t want to damage it,” you answer, tilting your head to your project wrapped in cloth which you’ve carefully nestled into a box.

“That sounds fine. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the tree, then?” he asks and you smile fondly at him, the box in your arms and your bag slung across your shoulder.

“Give me a minute or two,” you say. “I won’t be long.”

Al-Haitham bids you farewell at the entrance to the House of Daena, and you walk off with a bright smile, your figure outlined in a melting sunset gold. There’s not a lot of people outside—most have found shelter in Akademiya buildings or they’re out in the city, trying to maintain a social life as well as a scholar can.

“(Name)!” someone shouts, and Al-Haitham, who’d been walking down the ramp, looks up to see a tall, slim figure bolt past him. Blond hair flashes in the burning orange of dusk as a man runs past, and Al-Haitham twists around to avoid being hit by him as a foul word springs to his tongue.

But then, he realizes what the man had yelled and who the man even is the longer he stares at his retreating back, and Al-Haitham shakes his head.

You won’t be happy with him if he gets into an argument with your childhood best friend of all people.

Kaveh is easy-going, passionate, and empathetic. It is… to say the least, everything Al-Haitham is not. He’s met him once or twice out of pure coincidence, and he’s seen the blond around you more often than not. A part of him dislikes his nature. His whimsical, idealistic view of their future does not fall into line with how Al-Haitham sees it, and borders on idiotic considering that a romantic vision is not feasible in a nation where knowledge seeks to rationalize every existing thing.

The more logical half of him knows that you share all the same traits as Kaveh, and that the real reason behind his disdain is because Kaveh clearly has romantic feelings for you, and you return them.

It isn’t difficult to decipher the nature of your relationship with your “childhood best friend.”

How else would you describe the way his hand wraps around your elbow when other people want your attention and how when he leans to whisper something in your ear, you never fail to laugh and swat at him, your own arm looped through his.

He thinks that sick, logical side of him would pay to see you stumble through your words as you try to explain your relationship with your friend, but he can’t bare to do it. It feels cruel when all you’ve been is patient and kind with him.

“You seem distracted, Al-Haitham,” you intone with concern. You cradle tea in your hands, and cock your head at him, a thoughtful frown playing at your lips. “Is something wrong?”

Blinking, Al-Haitham finds you looking at him with those wonderful and warm eyes, and that logical side of him vanishes—a rat scurrying from the sunlight and back into the dark.

“No. No, I was merely thinking of something,” he dismisses, poking at the food he’s barely touched. The tavern is loud—almost too loud. His head aches with the amount of thoughts that swirl around, clattering in cacophony. It’d been stupid to suggest this place when he’s so tired from studying. Archons, he wants it to stop now. To get up and run, to curl up with a book and a warm fire, to tell them to stop, everyone, please, for the love of the Dendro Archon, shut the fuck up—

You laugh, and set down your cup of tea, reaching over to grab his wrist and squeeze gently, and his world goes quiet. It zeroes in on you, and the softness of your palm betrays the calluses on your fingers, a strange juxtaposition against his wrist.

“I know it’s hard,” you utter teasingly, “but I want you to stop thinking tonight. Nothing about studies, or labs, or anything about any kind of dictionary.” He smiles at that as you stroke your thumb over the back of his hand. “Just you and me, and this food.”

“Duly noted,” he mutters, and you smile again, returning to your own supper. But he cannot. His eyes do not stray, and his shoulders sink into his body, invisible weight sloughing off his skeletal frame.

All Al-Haitham does is watch you eat, rice slipping between two perfect lips, lips he knows, lips he could draw, and he’s not even close to resembling an artist. A mouth he can paint without seeing the reference, eyes closed, asleep, unconscious. A mouth he has dreamed of before, and he wonders just how he can tell you that, now, the reason he can’t stop thinking is because he’s thinking about you.

Collei - About Technology: Lockboxes

“What do you wanna know?” Collie asks brightly. “Oh, this is the Artificer’s seal! How do you have this?”

“We found it in the Balladeer’s chambers. It was addressed to Al-Haitham but we can’t seem to open it.”

“That’s probably because you need his permission to open it. Most of her work is password protected, so I guess that means including this. Top secret stuff. Master Tighnari received a few cases back before I knew him, though they’re still in his quarters.” She sighs. “Apparently, all her work is more valuable than a lot of the stuff the Sages hold, according to Master Tighnari, because she went missing and there is no way to replicate it.”

“I thought Tighnari didn’t know her well,” the Traveler mutters to themself quietly, before asking, louder, “Missing?”

“I don’t know much about what happened, but she went missing five years ago after an expedition went wrong. Apparently, a huge snowstorm overtook the desert and she was swallowed up by the sand. The rest of her team came out fine, but her and some other Spantamad scholar just… died in that snow. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen! So much snow it almost completely covered the sand dunes.”

“That’s strange,” intones Paimon. “It’s so hot and dry here, wouldn’t the snow just melt?”

“It seemed like a freak incident,” Collei agrees, “but the Sages were scrambling to figure out why. The Akademiya was in a flurry that whole season before it died down.” Her eyes fall to the box the Traveler holds again. It has a flat surface, with no keyhole, yet it’s sealed shut, and Collei hums. “Maybe, they’re just blueprints and stuff to keep safe. That’s what Master Tighnari has in his boxes. Or, maybe it’s a secret treasure!”

“It could be,” the Traveler answers. “But I haven’t been able to find Al-Haitham.”

“He’ll show up,” Collie assures confidently. “He always does.”

As a member of the Haravatat Darshan, Al-Haitham is capable of speaking nearly every living language in Teyvat and a handful of dead ones. It’s required for him to graduate alongside a well-founded dissertation. He wrote his own on the developing dialects of sign language across the regions, which he recited in front of his professor entirely in sign language.

A bit much, but Al-Haitham is nothing if not thorough.

He already has a reputation in his Darshan to be no nonsense, borderline rude, and a lone wolf, but brilliant, and the future of the Akademiya. A prodigy with no morality of the common sort, Al-Haitham walks the Akademiya grounds knowing that there are few who can shatter the earth beneath his feet.

If the Sages are right, the current Scribe should be stepping down soon, and he could take that position easily. All access to so many projects would be granted, and he wouldn’t be short on resources for things he’d like to study. It’d also grant him more time to pursue his own endeavours. The desert is sorely understudied, but the rumours of a Divine Knowledge Capsule floating around the black markets, too, piques his interest.

Al-Haitham is a scholar without equal.

“Al-Haitham, there you are.”

Yet… in front of you, he’s nothing more than an awkward boy who doesn’t know what to say.

In the years since they’ve been mere fresh-faced students, you’ve graduated, too. Now, you work as a Dastur, leading expeditions with your father. Al-Haitham’s met him multiple times, but he’s been returning to Snezhnaya recently according to you. You’ve even overtaken some of his smaller projects.

“That’s not any of your responsibility,” he had pointed out in quiet Snezhnayan when he had come across you returning late to the city from an expedition to Avidiya Forest. Mud had ruined your shoes, and you looked up at him, moving to dump your bag on the ground. He had caught it before it could crash to the ground. Your eyes glinted, pleased, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.

When his arms wrapped around your waist, you had seemed to melt into his body. Your fingers found purchase in his hair, and your nose dug into his neck as you sighed.

“Well, it’s my father,” you murmur in your mother tongue, strangely beautiful against his skin. It was one of the first languages he challenged himself to learn. You are much more subdued when you speak in the dialect of your homeland, yet no less beautiful. An everlasting snowflake in the middle of a rainforest. “He is most important to me, and I must do what he asks.”

He walked you home that night without you even asking.

Your smile is impossible to refuse, your laughter one of the few sounds that can bring him to a sane state of mind. A scholar without equal means a mind that never sleeps, and when Al-Haitham has enough of it all, he seeks solace in your mouth and your hands; your fingers carding through his hair, your lips whispering against his ear.

A solace, no doubt, Kaveh receives nightly considering you two live together now on the stipend the Akademiya provides. Al-Haitham’s thoughts have driven him to stay up late on his most exhausted days, wondering what you did when you parted from the dinners they’ve scarcely scheduled and you returned back to that small house you shared with your childhood best friend.

What do you and Kaveh even do every night anyway? Dinner, and conversations over what? The arts and poetics that Kaveh constantly waxes, whether or not you’re around?

You plant yourself in front of him to stop in his tracks, and Al-Haitham’s eyes dart from your face to your neck against his will.

Clear. It’s always clear.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you say.

“Have you?” Flippant. A bag hangs off your shoulders, and a shorter cut of the uniform drapes off your frame. Against his will, his heart sinks. “You look like you’re packed for another expedition.”

“Mhm. I’m going out into the desert for a month, maybe two. There’s a Teleport Waypoint near the Mausoleum of King Deshret that’s been displaying some abnormal levels of energy, so it might be a breakthrough depending on the cause.”

“You think there’s a Ley Line disorder?”

“Or maybe King Deshret’s risen again,” you comment blithely. Al-Haitham’s eyebrows shoot up at your boldness of stating such a blasphemous thing in the centre of Sumeru City, but you don’t seem bothered. “There have always been stranger things. Either way, I want to check it out.”

“I suppose so. Will Kaveh be accompanying you this time?”

“Kaveh? No. No, an architect and an artist has no place in the desert when he could be here.” You avert your gaze and you fight the stuttering in your voice. Al-Haitham bites his tongue. “Scholars from the Spantamad Darshan will be, though, considering the Ley Line aspect of the situation. It’ll be nice to spend time with my father again. He returned just recently, did you know?”

“I was made aware,” he says. He saw your father early yesterday morning, and they’d exchanged words, but you don’t need to know that Al-Haitham speaks to your father on a semi-regular basis. “Well, then, I hope your exploration is fruitful.”

“Of course it will be. It’s me leading the expedition,” you tease, winking, and he can’t help the small smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth. Your smile softens into a fonder, more genuine one, and you take hold of his hand. In Snezhnayan, you utter: “I wanted to see you before I left.”

“I’m happy that you made that effort to,” he murmurs in the same, inclining his head. You squeeze his fingers, before letting go, and Al-Haitham’s gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth. It’s still smiling, still warm, still those same lips that have haunted his dreams. He lets out a silent sigh and raises a hand to rest atop your head. In Sumeran again, he says, “I will await your return then, Artificer.”

“What a silly title.” A displeased expression overtakes your face but nonetheless, you clutch his bicep and duck from his hand and begin to make your way past him, trailing your fingers down his forearm. He turns to prolong the contact, his fingers tracing your veins. “Now, I don’t want to go, knowing you’re waiting for me to come back.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” he warns. They are at each other’s fingers, and he curls his digits, locking you in place for only a moment. “I might not be here when you come back.”

“Please,” you snort, but your expression betrays how happy and excited you are. “See you later, Al-Haitham.”

“I’ll be seeing you,” he agrees, and you giggle, waving one last time before turning around fully and running off to wherever you’re needed. Al-Haitham’s smile doesn’t fade as he watches you go. His heart warms whenever he’s near you, and now that you’ll be disappearing for a few months, he’s determined to keep that fire inside him burning low and bright.

He loves you. He knows that very well by now. Loves you without rival, without equal. Very few things can even think to challenge the spot you have in his life, although he is sure he does not have some sort of equivalent seat in your halls of life.

Why would he sit there when you have so many more acquaintances? Better-tempered ones, kinder ones, ones that aren’t ruled by selfish ambition, who actually have the initiative to tell you how they feel because they are not bogged down by the arguably controversial opinion that love is nothing more than an obstacle.

“Al-Haitham, the Grand Sage Azar wishes to speak with you,” an attendant says, and Al-Haitham is forced to look away from you. The scholar frowns at the request, but nonetheless, he follows the man to the House of Daena.

When he returns home from his meeting with the Grand Sage, Al-Haitham wants nothing more than to rip his brain out, strip it clean of memories. For the first time in his life, he curses knowledge, and the consequences it has inflicted on him

But a box sits waiting for him, a note attached to the top of it. By the intricate lock system on the front baring no keyhole, but a scanner that illuminates when Al-Haitham’s finger brushes against the box, he knows who it’s from.

Cyno - About Cold Cases

“The Artificer?” Cyno asks in the dying minutes of the feast in his honour. Crossing his arms over his chest, his brow furrows. “Why do you want to know about her?”

“We heard there’s a lot of mystery surrounding her, but if she’s such an important figure in the Akademiya, why didn’t she ever come back?”

“So you know she’s missing.” Cyno sighs. “I’m not sure if this is information I’m legally allowed to reveal to you as an outsider, but it’s you so I suppose I could make an exception. Her belongings were seized and her quarters were raided after her disappearance five years ago. The Eremites posted around the Teleport Waypoints are to assure that she doesn’t come to tamper with them.”

“Why? Is she a criminal?”

“No. The Sages put a stop to all of her research after it became clear she was extremely close to unlocking the full potential of the Teleport Waypoints. Whether or not it was fear that she would use that knowledge and surpass them is unclear, however she was well-liked by the public. Much of her work during her time was contribution to the public. Improving different aspects of our nation.”

“So, why… do you think the Sages had a hand in her disappearance?” the Traveler asks.

“I had my suspicions during the investigation which were only further supported once I was made the General Mahamatra and granted the ability to investigate past open cases.”

“As the General Mahamatra, you would probably know more about the circumstances surrounding the situation,” mutters Paimon. Cyno’s lips twist into a dismayed scowl.

“It was only the beginning of Azar’s need to retain power in Sumeru.” A resigned exhale. He glances around, but the place the Traveler has led him to is secluded and quiet. “I suggest you never reveal that you are searching for the Artificer to Al-Haitham. Talking about her is… a touchy subject.”

“The reason we wanted to find her is because of this box we found addressed to him.”

“A box?”

“Yeah! It must be something she hid from the matra before she disappeared.” Paimon flies around to the Traveler’s shoulder. “We wanted to ask Al-Haitham to open the box, but he’s been distracted by something else recently.”

Cyno hums, lips twisting into a frown. “From what I remember, the conclusion drawn from the investigation was that a freak snowstorm had caused her and another scholar to go missing. It went on for a month or two past their initial end date, so their resources eventually dried out, especially with being unprepared for that sort of weather. However…”

“What is it?” the Traveler asks.

“Well, why was she and a Spantamad scholar the only ones who went missing? The other members of the expedition emerged from the snowstorm cold but relatively unharmed at Caravan Ribat. Furthermore, there was a great shift in the area surrounding the Teleport Waypoint in front of the Mausoleum of King Deshret, suggesting that the Teleport Waypoint had somehow been used. I’m not quite sure of the efficacy of which it operated, but considering that there was no trace left behind, it’s possible that the snowstorm covered up the Teleport Waypoint tapping into the Ley Lines, and transporting the two scholars into some other place to escape.”

“So, in the end, she was successful in what she was trying to do,” the Traveler muses. “The Teleport Waypoints aren’t effective everywhere in Teyvat, though.”

The General Mahamatra shakes his head. “No, not to my knowledge.”

“Thanks, Cyno. This was a really big help,” the Traveler says, turning. Paimon flies in front of them, her hand scratching at her head. “I should leave you to your celebration. Sorry to bog it down with work.”

“Wait, Traveler. There’s one other thing that you should know. The investigation was preceded by an assignment issued by the Grand Sage to none other than Al-Haitham.”

Outside the Mausoleum of King Deshret, an expedition bustles around their camp. Scholars measure the Teleport Waypoint, use devices to take the temperature, and scribble down every observation in a small radius to ensure that the conditions are ideal.

You’ve retreated to your tent. The heat’s getting to you, and you feel exhausted as you set down your tool on your work bench, finger running down another manuscript to make sure everything is perfect.

Snezhnayan catches your ear and you turn around to see your father approaching, the tent flap closing behind him.

“You think it’ll work this time?”

“I’m sure, Papa,” you answer, lifting the core you’d been inspecting. They’ll insert this into the base of the Teleport Waypoint in a few days time once the Spantamad scholars are able to locate the source of destabilization in the Ley Lines.

Archons willing, the core will be able to detect the Ley Lines running beneath the structure and channel energy back up into the Waypoint, and they’ll be able to go home in a blink of an eye.

There is one thing that you think separates you from the other scholars at the Akademiya, and it is not this groundbreaking technology you’ve crafted with your own hands.

It is the higher purpose that fuels you to study. Not just for the sake of knowledge, or to find something new, something exciting.

“It’s our last chance. If we fail, the Doctor will have his way with me. I haven’t been useful enough, and he has no patience for people who waste his time. Little Star, I refuse to go back to Snezhnaya alive.”

The Fatui Harbingers. The fingers in your bones feel brittle after toiling for years and years for them to the point where you’re not sure that these hands are your own anymore. Maybe they belong to some unseen mind you don’t even know, but fear all the same.

All your work has only ever been for the Doctor, but maybe… maybe this way you and your dad can somehow find your mother and your siblings, find a secluded corner of this continent and hide from the Doctor for the rest of your days.

“Thank you,” your father murmurs, and you lower the core back into its box. Closing it, it lets out a little beep, and you drum your fingers against the top of the lid, sighing. “Little Star.”

“It’ll be fine,” you whisper, letting out a long breath. It feels like it takes the soul out of you, and you plant your hands against the table, letting your head drop. “We’ll be just fine.”

A hand settles between your shoulders, and you let your father guide you closer towards him. His chest is warm, and when his arms embrace you, it feels like home. Turning into him fully, you wrap your arms around him and press your cheek against his chest, feeling like a small child again.

“You’ve worked so hard for my sake. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

“The fact that I’ve managed to save your life, Papa, is reason enough to do anything.” You withdraw, and smile at him. He sighs, eyes scanning your face. “The Doctor will be pleased enough by this progress, right? I… it might not be a permanent solution, but he’ll think it’s enough of a relveation that he won’t kill you?”

“Don’t think like that.”

“I can’t help it!”

He flicks your forehead, and you separate, wincing. Rubbing your brow, you send him a glare.

“That Al-Haitham won’t want you to be so pessimistic.”

“Dad!” Heat flashes over your face, and you whirl around, busying yourself with cleaning up your work bench. Your father laughs, leaning in beside you. “Al-Haitham’s just a friend.”

“I never insinuated anything more than that,” he teases. “But I’m sure you two are closer now than ever.”

“Papa!”

“You ought to stop giving him the wrong impression, if he’s just a friend. Living with Kaveh, playing house,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s going to realize that you and that silly boy are together.”

“We are… not… together.” You could strangle your father. Returning the manuscripts to your own box, you don’t quite close it yet. You’ll still need to do one last check to make sure the winds from the desert haven’t swept anything underneath anything else. “Kaveh and I are just friends. We just like living together.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll never understand then why you don’t pursue Al-Haitham.”

“You don’t have to understand anything,” you complain, exasperated. “Al-Haitham’s not interested in that way with me, Papa. Besides, I don’t have any time to foster a romantic relationship. Save that for when we’re in the clear.”

“Who knows? Maybe he can accompany us.”

“Father!”

“Artificer! The Scribe of the Akademiya has arrived looking for you.”

“The Scribe?” you murmur, frowning. Immediately, all that teasing evaporates like smoke, and your brow furrows. Your father’s expression is identical. “What would Abbas be doing here at his age?”

“Perhaps there’d been urgent news?”

“They would’ve sent a messenger, wouldn’t they? Or even the General Mahamatra if it’d been serious.” You sigh. “It’d be better if you weren’t in here when I receive him. It could be something bad.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. “You can send him in.”

Your father departs, and he chats with whoever is outside, but you can’t let yourself eavesdrop. Your anxiety is biting at your frayed nerves. You haven’t slept well in days.

The day that will seal your fate comes closer and closer, and you can’t think of anything else. Your head hurts, and you grab your canteen, taking a sip and hoping it’ll help with the ache.

What will you do if the Teleport Waypoint works? Will you leave the Akademiya entirely? The Doctor might ask you to stay, and further develop and streamline the process for whatever plan the Harbinger is creating, but with this technology, you could run. Leave it all behind.

You absently brush your finger over a stick of charcoal. You’ll have time to think about it, you suppose.

The tent flap opens, and you let out a sigh. “Scribe Abbas, I’m surprised you—“

And whatever words you had, whatever had been autopilot motoring off your tongue, die.

“Al-Haitham?” Surprise shoots through your system. Your heart skips a beat when you see him, and that uncomfortable rhythm pounds against your ribs as he smiles faintly at you. He looks the same. Always the same. “What? What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” he admits, and you can’t help the silly smile that rises to your face. “I would prefer to speak with you in Snezhnayan. I know that your mother tongue goes unused often. I don’t want to get rusty either.”

“Oh.” That heat comes again to your face in a crashing flood. “Of course,” you comply. “But I don’t understand why you came all this way just to speak with me. Couldn’t it wait? I would’ve been back in the Akademiya in a few weeks.” Your mind scrambling for more words to say, your eyebrows knit together. “Wait. Scribe. You’re the Akademiya’s new Scribe?”

He nods. “Yes. I was promoted last week.”

“That’s excellent news!” you exclaim, coming closer and grabbing him by the wrists. His eyebrows rise but you tug him towards your bedroll. Sitting, you tug him down and tuck your knees beneath you. “Tell me everything. Wait, do you need anything? Food, or water?”

He chuckles, letting his bag slide off his shoulder, and you soak him in again. His beautiful eyes, the sweep of his downy grey hair. It has always reminded you of a dove’s soft breast. Fluffy, and attached to a body that can fly anywhere it’d like.

You card your fingers through that crop of hair fondly, pulling it away from his eyes and brushing the longer bits behind his ear.

“No, I don’t need anything more than your time,” he answers, taking your hand and pulling it back down to rest between them. “I was apparently Azar’s first choice to be the new Scribe. Abbas wanted to retire.”

“He is getting old,” you admit. “But I hadn’t realized. You don’t know how happy I am to hear this, you know.”

“I think I know.” His voice makes your eyes widen. You’d never heard it like that before—so unguarded, so softly spoken. Your eyes dart to his and your chest squeezes at the way he stares at you. Had he always looked at you like that, or is that a desert mirage manifesting itself in your tent?

You smile, letting out a scoff. “You have no idea how much I care about you, Al-Haitham.”

“More than Kaveh?” he asks off-handedly, and you blink.

“Well, that’s not fair. Kaveh’s my oldest friend.”

“I think it’s more than fair,” he says. “But, I know I’m no rival of his for your affections, so I won’t pursue you on the topic any further.” Arguments build up in your mouth but he only pushes onward: “Are you making headway with the Waypoint? I saw some of the scholars crowding around it but you’re still in here.”

“The Ley Lines have been stable as of today. I was doing some final additions to a device that would activate the Waypoint, so we are,” you say warily. “The new blueprint I drafted before I left seems to be the most promising.”

His eyes drift over to your work bench before he nods. “I see. May I go look?”

“Yes, of course.” Rising together, you’re shocked when he leads the way, their fingers still entwined. Never before have you tempted physical touch for this long. You’re always aware that he’ll be overstimulated, or uncomfortable, or even just not in the mood to be touched, but you guess he’s amiable today, because he lets you sidle in close next to him—close enough that their arms are pressed together.

A sharp tug at your heart makes you sigh. You hadn’t the time to factor him into your future yet. You’ve thought about Kaveh—what he’d do if you left. You’d tell him, of course, where you’d be going. Why. How. You’d explain everything to the blond with the sincerest apology you can front it with.

After all, Kaveh won’t be able to afford the house they live in on his own stipend if you have to leave, and you can’t just leave your truest companion out in the cold like that.

Kaveh. Your heart aches for him. You love him so much, but it’s never been the way he wanted you to.

Glancing at the man beside you tracing a finger along your drawings, something inside you wilts.

“Al-Haitham… I have a favour to ask you,” you speak suddenly. He’s silent, leaning against the work bench. Their hands are still interlaced in beween them, and you look down at his fingers, long and nimble. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, and you swallow.

“You know I don’t believe in favours,” he intones, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“I know, but this is something I have to ask out of our friendship.”

“Alright.”

You let out a breath. “If something happens to me, you’ll take care of Kaveh, won’t you? Give him a home if he needs one.”

“Why should I care about him?” he mutters apathetically and you smack him. His eyes finally meet yours and you glare at him.

“Al-Haitham.”

“Besides, why would anything happen to you?” he continues. “You’re one of the smartest scholars the Akademiya has right now. If you follow their rules, it’s nearly impossible for them to expel you.”

“Well, I know that’s what the Sages think, but there’s just a lot of things that are unpredictable.”

“Like King Deshret resurrecting?” he asks, and you scowl.

“Why do you always remember the things I say?” you complain. He smirks.

“You were the one speaking blasphemy.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter dismissively, and you let go of his hand, moving away, but he grabs your elbow before you can stray far enough. “What?”

“I was teasing. Of course I’d look out for Kaveh. He might not like that very much, though. I don’t know if you’ve realized, but like others, he can barely stand me.”

“Well, I’m not asking you to become his life partner. I just… I care about him deeply. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.”

“Fine. I’ll do it,” he acquiesces. “But I won’t do it happily.”

“Oh, shut up. You love to tease him.”

“That is true.”

“Oh, you said you wanted to speak with me, though, Al-Haitham,” you remember. “This can’t be all you wanted to talk about. The promotion’s great and all,” you add hastily as he turns to you fully, frowning, “but a letter would’ve sufficed.”

He doesn’t answer straight away, and you frown. He simply stands there, searches your face for answers you don’t know the questions for, and you’re shocked by the tight pain that screws up his forehead. He smells like the desert and sweat, but you don’t mind it. You’ve grown used to Al-Haitham in all sorts of states—grown used to the space he’s carved into your heart hurting from how swollen it gets in his presence.

You love him so much, too. In the way that he doesn't want you to. The irony is not lost on you, but you don’t know how on earth you’ll survive not seeing him anymore if the homeland keeps you there.

“Al-Haitham,” you whisper as his eyes dip to your mouth and linger there. Your lips tingle, and you swallow, his name trembling the second time it escapes your tongue. “Al-Haitham?”

“Hm?” he hums, gaze finding yours again and you realize that he wanted you to notice him staring. Your mouth runs dry, and he tilts his head, face tender, and sad, if you can trick yourself into believing it. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just… I’m happy to see you. Honestly, I am.”

His eyes are an oasis. “I’m sorry,” he utters softly, and you frown.

Your heart shivers in your throat. “What for?”

You learn only a second later what it is. Soft lips press against your own and your eyes widen in shock as hands cup your jaw, holding you there for a moment longer before pulling away. A horrible blush stains Al-Haitham’s entire face, and he looks away, stepping back with shaking hands.

Your eyes fall to those fingers that had just held you so gently, watch as they roll into quivering fists, and a sharp breath leaves Al-Haitham as your own digits touch your lips.

“What?” It is all you can muster to say.

His ears are bright red as he ducks his head. “That was what I wanted to speak to you about.”

“Well, there wasn’t much speaking,” you stammer, and he looks up at your tone.

“I apologize. I don’t… know what came over me, but the truth of it is, I came here because I wanted to confess that I’m in love with you before anything else happened between us that could ruin my chances,” he says slowly, deliberately. He clears his throat. “The kiss was… supposed to be what happened after if I had luck on my side.”

“Luck on your side?” you echo.

“If you loved me back,” he clarifies, “which I’m not sure you do.”

There is one thing that you think separates you from the other scholars at the Akademiya, and it is not that you’re the smartest Kshahrewar student they’ve had in years, or that you’re working for the Fatui against your will.

It is that Al-Haitham, against all odds, against reason and logic—the very values of which he has built himself up on—loves you.

When you told your father you didn’t have the time for romantic relationship, it was not because of that entirely. Your father, after all, had been a scholar who fostered an entirely family on the job, and there are tons of families with members in the Akademiya. It’s hardpress to find someone who doesn’t know of someone in the Akademiya.

It was because you love someone already, and you didn’t want to get your hopes up. And it isn’t Kaveh, as much as you had wished for years and years that it would be. Maybe it would’ve saved them all some heartache.

Oh, but the heart wants what it wants, just as the brain chases what it desires.

“Al-Haitham,” you murmur in a soft breath, “would you kiss me again?”

The Scribe’s—internally, you laugh fondly at the idea that he has that sort of authority—eyes light up, and he approaches you cautiously, his hands flexing and waning.

When his fingers slide along your jaw, this time you’re ready for it. Your eyes slide shut, your hands find the lapels of a chest you wish you were more familiar with, and when a soft mouth presses against your own waiting lips, you take your time to enjoy it.

Kaveh - Chat: Craftsmanship

Kaveh is a slim, tall man with blond hair. The Traveler doesn’t know him well, but they find him just as he’s about to enter his house whilst they’re looking for Al-Haitham, and he is polite enough to invite them in for tea when they accost him.

“Woah, we’ve never been in Al-Haitham’s house before!”

“I assumed not. We don’t have many guests over,” Kaveh says to Paimon. “Most of the interior decoration was by me.”

“I heard you were an architect.”

“Yes, I still am. The Palace of Alcazarzaray; have you ever seen my magnum opus?” At the Traveler’s nod, he smiles wryly. “I actually just returned from a project in the desert, and coming back to this whole mess in the Akademiya has been disorienting.” He places a tray of tea on the table and sinks down onto his seat. “What did you want to speak to me about?” The Traveler explains briefly, and his eyebrows rise as he raises the mug of tea to his mouth. “You know of the snowstorm? Cyno told you. I see.”

“I’m sorry if it’s a touchy subject.”

“It’s not. It just reminds me of someone.”

“The Artificer?”

“I… yes. She left Sumeru during that storm years ago.” Kaveh sighs. “We grew up together in the same hamlet. Childhood best friends.”

“Wow! Paimon didn’t know that.”

“You said you were looking for my esteemed roommate,” he prompts dryly.

“Well, if you know the Artificer well,” the Traveler says, “could you tell us where we could find her, too?”

“What makes you think I would know?”

“You said ‘left Sumeru’ instead of ‘missing.’”

Kaveh looks away, the light in his eyes dimming. “You’re as perceptive as Al-Haitham said you were.” He doesn’t speak for a moment, simply choosing to stare into his tea.

“Of course I know where she is,” he utters at length. “I loved her with all I ever had. I warranted more than her leaving without a goodbye.” It’s said in a tone that does not offer an opportunity for further dialogue down this route. “Traveler, what do you want?”

“We just want to return this box to Al-Haitham,” Paimon answers as the Traveler procures it. “It was sealed within the Balladeer’s construction chamber, but it looks super important. And a part of Paimon is wondering how it even got there in the first place if she’s gone supposedly missing all these years. If it belongs to her, maybe she could help us. We heard she was studying the Teleport Waypoints and that they’re some sort of… out-of-realm kind of technology? Paimon’s still a bit fuzzy on the details…”

But Kaveh had stopped listening roughly two sentences ago. His gaze fixes on the box in the Traveler’s lap. “It’s hers, you’re sure? You… have her seal?” With an assenting nod, he takes the box gingerly, running his hand over the craftsmanship reverently, and the Traveler averts their gaze in respect. Kaveh’s fingers trace the edge, and he sighs softly, rubbing his temple with the same hand. “She isn’t missing. She returned home to Snezhnaya,” Kaveh answers at length after a hard internal fight, letting his hand drop. The Traveler can see it in the way this great architect clutches onto the box until his knuckles pale, and his breath comes shaking. “There, she worked under who I believe is the Fatui Harbinger, Dottore.”

“The Doctor?” Paimon whispers, horrified. “She was a Fatuus?”

“No, she wouldn’t. Despite those horrid people giving the rest of Snezhnaya a bad name, she was the best person I knew.” Kaveh’s voice softens wistfully. “Her mind far surpassed many of those who call themselves scholars now, but I don’t think any of us realized that she was being blackmailed by the Fatui behind the scenes.”

“That’s awful…” the Traveler murmurs, fists clenched tight in their lap. Kaveh sets the box down tenderly, and he raises his eyes warily to the blonde before him. “So she’s dead? Did the Fatui kill her?”

“No. No, they wouldn’t kill an asset.” At this, the colour drains from Kaveh’s face. “From what I understand… she gave her body to the Doctor’s definition of science in exchange for her father’s life. I only saw her twice since the snowstorm. Once, when she returned to Sumeru City after she departed for her homeland, and once again two years ago, and she was more machine than human.” Guilt, and a heavy tinge of regret seeping into his voice and face. “In other words, I have no idea if she’s still alive.”

“How is that possible? That she could survive all that human testing and not go mad,” the Traveler murmurs, setting down their mug. Their stomach turns over at the scenarios running through their head. “Thank you, Kaveh. Maybe I should leave the box with you, considering Al-Haitham will return, one way or another.”

“I’ll look after it,” he promises. Together, the two rise, and Paimon flies towards the box, inspecting it one last time as if it’ll hold clues they’ve missed.

The Traveler sighs, and picks up their backpack. “We’ll be off, then. Al-Haitham still has questions we need answered.”

“Questions about…?”

“Well, Cyno told us of an assignment that Al-Haitham was given that sent him into the desert according to his report afterwards, but never about what exactly happened,” Paimon informs. Kaveh stiffens, his jaw clenching and a terrible scowl crosses his face. Flying back to the Traveler, the companion continues, “If Al-Haitham can give us answers about what exactly happened—”

“The Artificer bears a Cryo Vision,” Kaveh interrupts coldly. “And do you know, Traveler, what the Tsartisa used to embody before she was consumed with the vengeance that rules her hand? Her nation?”

The Traveler pauses mid-step, lightning shooting down their leg and freezing them to the ground. The icy anger that overtakes Kaveh’s body, seizes his entire body into a husk of hollow fury plated by brittle wrath, makes the Traveler swallow, arms tensing. The architect has tilted his head away, blond hair curtaining the darkening expression consuming his face. It makes him monstrous, unrecognizable from the amiable man that had been in his spot only seconds before.

For a moment, the Traveler is unsure if they should be the one to speak—to answer a question they’re hesitant to answer. The air cracks but Kaveh saves them from the terrible decision only moments later after a harsh breath, and a soft, bitter laugh. It sits in the Traveler’s throat like sour melon seeds.

“I know Al-Haitham believes that I dislike him because of differences in beliefs, menial things like personality clashes,” he whispers scathingly with an age-old contempt, “but the truth of the matter is, he is the reason my best friend has disappeared, and I won’t ever forgive him for it, no matter how many favours he grants me. I know he doesn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart—it’s because she asked him, and he thinks this is even close to honouring her.”

“Kaveh…” Paimon floats forward, but the Traveler grabs her hand, holding her back. The floating companion looks back at them, but they shake their head.

“Most people see Al-Haitham as someone who’s callous, coldhearted, and dishonest, but I’ve seen him grieve her more plainly than anyone else. He mourns her even now, carries that guilt like a thousand weights without a single complaint. And it infuriates me,” he grits out softly, fists clenched by his sides. He tilts his head back, and inhales shakily. A sharp amber gaze meets the Traveler’s, and Kaveh lets out a short, horrible laugh. “I’m guilty of actually… caring about him despite what he’s done. It’s why I told him a few days ago that she sent me a note that she’d be leaving Port Ormos by the end of the week.”

The Traveler understands, and without another word, they race out the door.

The day before they’re supposed to complete their first trial on the Teleport Waypoint had been a lazy one—consisting of well-placed naps on your part so you could be prepared for the long day ahead of you tomorrow. Al-Haitham had been your steady companion through it all, letting you show him around camp and describing your work just in case he wants to report back to the Sages.

“They’re not concerned, are they?” you had asked, and he had shook your head. Your father also wanted to speak to Al-Haitham, and you had surrendered your partner for anyone else looking for your attention. Penultimate observations of variables were taken. Meals, prayers, and stories were exchanged.

Al-Haitham kissed his name into your neck, your cheek, your lips throughout the day, waking you up from your naps and corralling you to your next one with punctuality only expected of him. You can still feel him even as you bid him farewell that night.

He frowns, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, before taking hold of your jaw and tilting your head towards his lips. It’s a brief kiss, but familiar, and you can’t help but smile into it.

“I’ll see you when I come back?” you murmur against his mouth, and he nods, eyes dark and downcast. He’s not happy about leaving just like you, but there’s something stronger in his stare, the downturn of his mouth that’s occupied him when he thinks you won’t noticed. It feels almost like regret. Pulling back, you take hold of his hand. “Alright, Scribe, lighten up. I’ll be home soon, and we can talk about all of this.” You squeeze his fingers. “I promise.”

“We… we will need to talk,” he insists, and your brow furrows. He brings your hand to his lips with both of his own, and reverently presses a soft kiss to the heel of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

You curl your fingers over his hands and push them down, shaking your head. His somber attitude in the wake of what could be the happiest moment of your life is ruining your mood with a growing bud of worry, but you can’t let him know that. So you paste a smile on your face and simply squeeze him. “Don’t be sorry. Just go.”

His eyes linger, but you only shake your head minutely and he lets out a long exhale, his shoulders falling. That lost little frown still possesses his mouth, and there’s a permanent wrinkle in his brow that must’ve been there for the past few hours.

He woke up before you, and you’d found him outside sitting by the fire on his own. It’d been a strange scene, and he looked lost in his melancholy—book all but forgotten in his lap, his eyes staring sightlessly into the fire. The sun had barely risen, but now you’re starting to wonder if he slept at all if the puffiness of his eye bags and the lethargy that he’s been trying to hide all day is anything to go by.

A part of you is nervous that it’s because he didn’t want to sleep next to you and had to seek refuge, but you rationalize that when you had called his name, he had returned to you without argument and a kiss to your crown.

The troubled gaze still lingers now, even with the dusk approaching. He had said it’s best if he sets off now so he can get back to the Akademiya and make use of the cooler temperatures. He’ll spend most of this week travelling, and you know he’d rather not miss the beginning of another work week. However, you can’t help but let the thought that there’s more than travelling at night in the desert that bothers him.

You wanted this farewell to be sweet and temporary.

Except now, it feels more and more permanent, and the sweetness of it has suffered for it.

“Al-Haitham, don’t go doing anything irrational or stupid or… unthought of in these last few weeks,” you mutter, and his head raises just as you slither your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. His bag nudges against your side, just another reminder that he’s leaving, before he’s pulling back again, and his hands on your back rub up and down. You sigh and kiss him quickly.

His eyes flutter shut, and he presses his forehead against your own before whispering softly, “I’ll do my best.”

With that, he pulls away, and you grab hold of his hand. Together, they walk out of the tent, and you observe the activities occurring around camp. Most of the scholars are talking and bonding around the fire. Your father’s feeding the Sumpter Beasts, but he’s speaking to another Spantamad scholar you think he’s been taking to as a mentor figure. Rafiq, you remember his name as.

Humming thoughtfully, you let go of Al-Haitham’s hand as Rafiq looks over and you smile. He nods to you, and you note his eyes darting over to your companion, but he doesn’t appear to be watching as they approach.

“Father, Rafiq,” you greet politely. “The Scribe will be leaving our encampment, now.”

“Already? You won’t stay another day?” your father complains, and Al-Haitham has at least the decency to look sheepish as Rafiq quickly finds the Sumpter Beast the Scribe had ridden from Caravan Ribat, saddling the animal quickly as he can despite the low groaning protests.

“Unfortunately, the Akademiya calls,” he answers dryly. “The Scribe has no shortage of work.” Your father frowns, and glances at you, but you shrug. “I hope all goes well tomorrow. With luck, I’ll see you by the end of next week.”

“We’ll have to catch up, one-on-one,” your father says, leaning over nefariously and obviously eyeing you. You cross your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes as Rafiq returns, rope lead in his hand. You take it, giving the Sumpter Beast a quick pat on hard ridge. It lifts its head into your palm in response, and Rafiq crouches down to feed it an apple.

“The Sumpter Beast is ready, Scribe,” Rafiq says, rising, and this time when they meet eyes, your eyebrows twitch together at the way Rafiq gulps and glances at you. He must be intimidated. You smile reassuringly as Al-Haitham clips his pack onto the saddle and takes the lead from you. Fingers brushing, you fight the heat rising to your face and the way your smile grows in pleasure.

“Goodbye,” he whispers, and you tilt your head at him.

“I’ll see you,” you answer. He nods before clasping hands with your father in a firm shake. You can’t help but roll your eyes again but they let go soon enough before Al-Haitham swiftly presses a final kiss to your mouth. You blink, eyes widening, but before you can even question it, he turns to mount the Sumpter Beast with a soft grunt and picking up the reins and flashes you one final (sad) smile.

You return to your tent, your bedroll feeling suspiciously more empty now that he’s gone. Sighing, you tuck yourself in for a sleep as restful as you can make it and wake up too soon by the hands of the last watch who was instructed to as soon as signs of the sun rising were visible.

You get up and prepare yourself, although the apprehensive feeling in you does not do anything but swell. Walking to your work bench, you go to the box containing all your documents and let it scan once you place your palm atop of it, your Akasha terminal connecting to the device within. With a soft beep, it unlocks.

You’d given one similar to this prototype to Al-Haitham before you left. You smile and wonder if he’s opened it yet. It’s a bit different than yours, only requiring a fingerprint and a connection to his Akasha Terminal rather than a full scan, but you muse if that’s what had prompted him to come here after all this time. Maybe he finally realized the depth of his feelings with such a hard-earned gift.

Presently, you open the box and reach inside. Your smile dissipates as soon as you do. Nothing touches your fingertips except for the bottom of the box, and you lift the lid fully. Empty.

Huh. Maybe your father (the only other person with clearance) had already retrieved the needed documents while you slept. You wouldn’t put it past him to give you just a few more moments of rest. Sighing, you instead pick up the second box which contains the core. Strange he didn’t take this with him, but you dismiss the thought.

You’re entirely too protective over the device. Besides, this is your moment of crowning glory.

You leave your tent to a frenzy. The sky is not quite clear—a few clouds spot the sky. Your father’s one of the first awake, too, and he’s running a hand through his hair as he takes the temperature of the air and writes it down. Another Spantamad scholar is measuring Ley Line energy through a device puncturing the ground, their Dendro vision winking in the growing light. Placing the box on one of the tables set up near the Waypoint, you sweep your gaze around the site.

You mainly search for the Kshahrewar scholars. As you walk around to make sure everything is going smoothly and if anyone has any questions on the way, you frown when you realize that none of the scholars from your Darshan are present. Approaching your father, you ask him quickly if he’s seen them.

“They’re awake,” he answers distractedly. “Some of them had gotten breakfast. Perhaps they’re still going over their notes.”

“I suppose,” you say doubtfully. They need the entire day to workshop this as effectively as possible and monitor any fluctuations. The entire operation is running late. It’s the only thought that’s ruling your brain as you glance around.

Still, no one. Perhaps you should check on them in their tents, just to make sure…

Before you can move: “Artificer!”

Turning, you spot a Kshahrewar scholar running towards you. Her brown eyes are wide, and she looks frightened to death as she runs her hands over her braid, tugging a bit hard to be a nervous habit.

“What’s the delay?” you ask irritably. The sun’s burning orange sky stains your corneas even when you close your eyes, and you squint against the rays as Amina skids to a stop before you, her face shining with sweat.

“All our manuscripts, the blueprints for the modifications of the Teleport Waypoint…” she trails off and dread begins to grow like a virus at her expression. The Spantamad scholars nearby pause in their work to watch, and behind, you see the other scholars of your Darshan running up. You are rended to the bone at each of their expressions. “It’s all gone! All our work, our notes, even the most personal things like our diaries have been stolen!”

“What?” your father shouts, storming over. Immediately, your heart drops and a chisel digs into your skull and cracks it in two. Your world goes dark as he continues to interrogate the young scholar, but a buzzing begins to whine in your ears as you stare at Amina who is frantically trying to explain herself. Your focus leaves, and your mind swirls as a flash of green later, your father has seized the poor young woman by the arms and shakes her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

He swears loudly in Snezhnayan. You cannot move. Letting go of the scholar, he turns to look at you, and all the colour has drained from his lips. His eyes are wide, his breathing sharp and rapid against your face. Suddenly all you can see is your father’s eyes—they fill your whole world with their colour, their shrinking, frantic pupils. “Little Star?“

But you can’t speak, because, for some reason, that horrible gut feeling that’s been bothering you since you woke up and found Al-Haitham outside yesterday morning, that tingling sensation that something is wrong, the nagging in your heart… it all returns in full force. Your heart wrenches into a rotten twisted ache and you want to fall to your knees, let the hurt of the stone against your bones distract you from everything else.

And it is not the thought that your father is going to die that first swarms your brain. Not even the second. No, that comes third.

The first thought is that your father isn’t the one who extracted your papers from your box.

The second is that wish you weren’t smart. Not that you had never joined the Akademiya, no. You wish your brain didn’t work as fast as it does. You wish you didn’t see the whole picture, that you never knew which edges of the puzzle piece aligned perfectly and what slightest adjustment could be made for something to work like a well-oiled cog and handle. You wish you had no intuition, no fine-attuned sense.

No memory, no heart, no brain.

No emotions, no human fallibility.

Humans make mistakes. They’re emotional creatures. You’ve always embraced that that is what makes life very much worth living, but that you has died in a matter of moments. You look out at the desert where, less than twelve hours ago, Al-Haitham disappeared beyond the dunes.

You had left the box open. After he had kissed you, you had spent the rest of the night on your bedroll, just dozing and speaking and rambling about all sorts of things, completely unaware. Unthreatened. It was not even a thought in your head in the heat of his arms. After all, how can someone you ask such stupid (unfailingly human) questions be untrustworthy? How could he ever hurt you?

“When did you start liking me? Did you know how much I liked you? Yes… Kaveh does have feelings for me, but he understands I could never… I promise. Oh, you thought my feelings were my obvious? As if!”

“Rafiq has disappeared, too. I can only assume that he’s the one who took them. We haven’t seen him since sunrise, but we thought he was just exploring below the bridge,” are the first words that pierce through the dim, blurry fog that has surrounded your brain and sedated you to the point of debatable mental presence.

You blink, and look up. Your father is staring at the scholar who had spoken. A Spantamad scholar who only stares back at his leader with sympathy. All the others have gathered around them, but your movement catches everyone’s eyes. When you lift your head higher to take in those waiting eyes, you cannot help but feel numb.

“We weren’t stolen from,” you finally say at length. Your father returns to your side, his hand clutching onto your elbow, and you meet his eyes dully. “The Akademiya has confiscated all our research. They’re sending a message, loud and clear.”

He understands immediately, and you silently curse him. The hatred is sudden, pitiful, and undeserved, but you can’t help it. Where else could you have gotten your mind from? “No… no… he wouldn’t. He couldn’t do such a thing to… to you, of all people…”

A terrible, overwhelming sensation swarms your body like locusts. Your blood burns with the fury of a thousand suns, and you stand beside this Waypoint outside the buried resting site of a dead god, unable to do anything. Clouds that have gathered above you begin to darken.

Your mind rends at the memories from that night that seems like a lightyear away now. The way he had brushed your arm, the deliberate trailing of his fingers down your shoulder. He had kissed you, touched you, listened to you speak all the while knowing what he was here to do.

It wasn’t to see you at all. Was it all…

Was it all some ploy he had to make you a fool? A lovesick, blind fool whose heart is hanging on strings, tugging at every which way Al-Haitham wants it to. He doesn’t know what you’ve sacrificed to make sure that these Teleport Waypoints would work all the way from Snezhnaya to here. How much blood and flesh and sweat and time you’ve given up for the sake of family.

All that drive. All that ambition. All that desire.

Gone, like sand grain in the wind. Never again will you see that speck of nothing

Al-Haitham has made you a failure, and that is one thing you cannot… You cannot stand.

“What happens now, Artificer?” a meek voice asks. You don’t answer immediately and instead push through the crowd and you cannot look away from the dune your lover has disappeared behind. Lover. How stupid of you to think that word could suit your tongue. “If all of our research has been confiscated, I… we can’t just give up, can we?”

“Now?” you echo numbly. The clouds above you begin to swirl into a storm, and you cannot help the incredulous scoff, the noxious feeling of that smile curving your mouth. It’s bitter, and it makes you want to retch your rations onto the dirt as a crack of thunder sounds in the distance. “Now, I think my father and I must return to our homeland and answer for our failure. The possibility we return is nigh zero.”

“Homeland? But… the rest of us—“

“The rest of you will return safely back to the Akademiya.” A gust of wind sweeps over you, and your eyes burn before it can touch your face. A shuddering exhale leaves your lungs in a death rattle sort of way, and it must mean something. That your heart has withered away and is nothing more in your carcass chest. That in this silence, Al-Haitham has declared you dead to a world he wants to create for himself.

“The rest of you should leave,” you breathe out, shoulders falling. The winds grow stronger as you let your head hang, blink and let the tears fall to the dusty tile beneath your boots. “The expedition is over. You won’t be paid much, so you should do your best to collect your wage before any sort of fees rack up for this expedition.”

“Artificer, there’s a storm—”

“Prepare to leave. You won’t have enough time if you dally around me any longer,” you intone listlessly, watching as the gales pick up the sand around your feet, swirl against your pants, rip at your clothing, and you squeeze your eyes shut, more burning tears streaking down your nose, into your grimacing mouth as you try to hold in the sob that clutches your heart.

You want to pull your hair out, to scream, to do anything more than just stand here and watch as the work that carries your father’s life is carried farther and farther away.

Then again, Al-Haitham could’ve burnt all your manuscripts. Sunken them into an oasis never to be found again.

Desecrated your work with something as simple as a flick of his wrist.

Destroyed your entire life without a care as to what it would mean for you.

Were all those years meaningless to you? You wanted to know. Was your betrayal a price I had to pay for you to ever consider loving me? Or do you not consider this a betrayal at all, but just a trade between two scholars vying for the validation of the ones above us?

Blinding pale blue lighting cracks, and the thunder that follows is deafening as a column of light shoots through the dark storm that gathers over Sumeru’s desert as it did thousands of years ago. Sudden and loud, it sends the scholars scurrying. Your father stumbles back, calling orders in your stead, and you cannot speak.

Clutching onto the front of your scholar uniform, you pull so hard you feel the threads stretch against your back, and your breath comes short and sharp, lodging into your intercostal spaces.

Tears stream down your face and your mouth is dry, full of cotton, as you pant for air, bending over and stepping back, trying to find your footing on even ground. Heat blustering all over your face, your heart pounds in your ears and your hearing leaves you the moment you look up, trying to peer through the sandstorm and your tears. Blinking, you let out a low hiccuping sob of pain but even that is cut short by the knife that sinks into your heart.

Fingers splayed across your chest rip the buttons from the seams, tear your uniform apart in an effort to make space for your lungs to move. Running your palms over your face, you let out a raspy shout and clutch onto your scalp, trying to just breathe. The winds buffet against your head, the temperature in the desert sinking lower and lower as the rising sun is swallowed by the storm.

How you wish you could rip your own brain out by the stem. Give up your body in the name of science, and rid yourself of this infernal contraption they call a heart. What have you done?

Voices inside your head scream louder than anything else: No! No, no, no! This can’t happen to me!

And that is when the third thought blasts into your chest like a gunshot. It leaves a wider hole than it entered through, and the shrapnel lodged in your body poisons everything. Out of every human emotion, it is guilt that tastes the most foul.

Howling squalls scream back at you as your entire world is consumed by this storm that turns white and grey. Flashes of pale blue lighting flicker at the corner of your eye, and you spin around, the shadow of a man making you crumple to your knees. He stands there for a moment, before he is blown away, and your squeeze your eyes shut, baring your teeth in a restrained sob.

None of it is real.

None of it was ever real.

“Al-Haitham!” you scream in vicious Snezhnayan above the crackling thunder. Your throat tastes like iron. “I will never forgive you!”

You let out a screech that comes from the pits of your soul and it only dies into a loud, unhinged wailing cry that you cannot restrain any longer. Your bones chatter from the sudden onslaught of snow and brutal, slicing winds, but your fingers have numbed to any sort of sensation as you claw at your chest, your throat, pull them into tight fists that cannot do any more. Cannot tinker anymore—invent anymore.

Useless.

How could your father ever think that he was useless when you sit here, unable to do anything to save him?

A flash of lightning blinds you before the entire world pauses. The winds fade into a dull roar, the blazes of the storm cease into muted foggy glimpses of lighting, and the thunder rumbles like a heartbeat. Raising your head, you feel a soft breeze caress your tear-stained cheeks, and in the distance, you hear people screaming. People begging for help.

The world hasn’t stopped for them. Why has it for you? Are you dead? Do you… have the past few minutes been wiped into your mind? Looking up, the black clouds part and you see a moon that should not be visible at this time of day. Snow falls delicately and a pillar of lunar light shoots down through the hole, illuminating each snowflake that fall so slowly, so unhurried in their descent to the earth.

You raise a hand to the moon peeking through, hoping for some sort of benevolence from the gods, but when you only serve to cover it from your sight, the edges of the round orb spilling between your fingers, you know it’s a stupid endeavour.

This moon is not the tender one it is in Sumeru. It is cold, and judgemental, and silent, and as the storm begins to swell around you once more, you bow your head to the Tsaritsa’s brutal judgement, letting your hand fall. You take hold of it with your other hand, cradling your palms to your chest when something hard meets your fingers. Jerking your head back, you stare blankly at the item that has appeared.

A Cryo Vision rests in the centre of your hands.

You curl your fingers over it, feeling the newfound power of the element stream through your system. It sings with unbridled fury, as if the Tsartisa herself has wielded your betrayal, crafted it into a sword of permafrost that burns your hands, and you let out a soft breath.

To your surprise, it mists in the quiet, snowy air, and you let out a terrible sob, keeling over this Vision that means that something inside you has broken hard enough that it is worthy of being noticed by the husk of the Goddess of Love.

That this… this is enough to be seen as other-worldly. As a kin.

A rattling scream echoes across the dunes, empties from your lungs into the remains of a lost civilization. The storm ignites, sending a rippling shockwave through the dunes. The buffeting winds crash into the stone. The snow begins to fall in earnest, and it mounts around you, covering the ruins you’ve studied so intimately.

Ice spreads in thin spiderwebs from underneath you, crawling over the stone at a lecherously slow pace, and your heart rends.

Hollows.

Wilts like a dying flower.

Crumbles to nothing.

Disappears in the howling gales of a snowstorm, and for a long time, no one comes to you.

No one will come.

No one can save you from your fate.

And so the storm rages on, and it will rage on until you feel nothing at all.

Al-Haitham - About Al-Haitham: Love

The only reason he knows you’re in Sumeru is because of Kaveh. The only reason he finds you is because of Kaveh.

Al-Haitham curses that. Hates it more than anything that he’s in debt to a man who would’ve treated you far better than he did. Kaveh would’ve never betrayed you for the Akademiya. For all the romanticism and idealism Al-Haitham can’t stand, perhaps those are the things that would’ve saved you from ever leaving the safety of the city.

When he first sees you after five years, you are standing on the dock, speaking to the Snezhnayan engineers that must’ve been behind the Balladeer’s chambers and helping them load their ships with their supplies and technology that they must’ve scavenged to bring back to their country. He’s not sure if they’re all Fatui—not sure if you’re one of them, too—but you speak so quietly he cannot hear. They must not be, considering they aren’t arrested by the Dendro Archon’s command nor did they flee with the Doctor.

You’re clad head to toe in Snezhnayan colours, not a drop of green on you, and there’s something new on the harness that crosses in an x at your back when you turn around. It is pinned there, glinting pale blue in the sunlight.

A Vision.

He had never known you to have one. You’re also… bulkier in a way. More muscular, taller. Your hair is cut differently, too, and when you move to lift something that seems much too heavy, you do it with remarkable ease. But it’s you.

He hasn’t dreamed in a long time, but when Al-Haitham dreamed for the first time after the Akademiya coup, he dreamed of you.

“I will be there when you dock,” you say loud enough that Al-Haitham can hear from where he hides at the mouth of the entrance to Wikala Funduq. “The Teleport Waypoint isn’t far from the harbour, and I’ll be able to sort out travelling arrangements before you all arrive. It’s short-notice, so I can’t guarantee the best, but I’ll try my hardest.”

Peering around, he notes you surrounded by the engineers, but they begin to dissipate a moment later. Some leave the pier, while others board the boats, and you remain there, turning around to look out at the sea, hands planted on your hips.

Al-Haitham seizes his chance.

He walks out of Wikala Funduq, and as soon as his boots touch wood, you turn around.

The most peculiar shade of purple bewitches Al-Haitham. It’s a colour he is certain he’s never seen before, but an itchy part of his brain tags it as something he should be familiar with. A purple he should attribute to something else, something beautiful.

Your lips part, and a soft near-silent sigh escapes you as an entirely concoction of emotions racks through your face. Your eyes are not your own, yet they’re set in your face, and they widen like your eyes used to at the sight of him.

So it must be you. “(Name).”

You stiffen, arms falling limp at your sides, yet he cannot do anything but let out the breath he can’t recall ever holding and forgoing any sort of decorum, any sort of remembrance of who he is in the standing of the Akademiya. He is not the lone wolf scholar, the Akademiya’s Scribe, the Acting Grand Sage.

He is just a boy who is in love with you even now, even still, and his face crumbles into pure relief as he walks towards you in a daze, his feet dragging along the pier. You stare at him warily, and there are Snezhnayan workers who watch. Some even reach for a weapon, but at your barely raised hand, they fall silent.

“Al-Haitham,” you say, measured, soft, shaking, still your voice. You’re trembling in front of him. He is falling apart at the seams. When he nears, he can finally take in your finer details: the unnatural purple of your eyes, the mechanical optical rings of your irises, the way your pupils dilate and shrink unnaturally as if sizing him up, inspecting him. “How did you know?”

“Kaveh told me,” he answers, and a sharp twinge of pain and betrayal flashes through your eyes before you blink, turning your head away. He’s surprised you haven’t frozen him to death yet, and he tests his luck further by reaching to touch your arm, but you only jerk back with a heavy step.

“How much did he tell you?” you ask roughly, eyes flitting from his fingers to his hand.

“Nothing. Only that you’re here. That… you were leaving.”

“Did he tell you how he doesn’t even recognize me anymore?”

That silences him for a beat. “No.”

“I see. Well, I suppose you have questions?”

“Aren’t you upset with me?”

“If you’re asking if I’ve forgiven you,” you say, “then no. I haven’t. I won’t ever forgive you.”

“I’m sorry.” This time, when he says it, you understand. You didn’t five years ago, how he kept apologizing. You look away.

“Perhaps we should find somewhere more private,” you suggest quietly. “I don’t have any interest in entertaining your apologies. It’s in the past and we’re both… different people now, so I’ll answer your questions, and then we can see what happens next.”

“Fine.”

“I have a place nearby that we could talk.”

You begin to stride past him, but Al-Haitham, never one in the last five years to have the last word, feels himself act before he can think. “(Name), wait—“

When his fingers stretch to touch your hand, he feels a hard surface where you should be flesh, and your wrist twists unnaturally to free itself from his grasp. His blood runs cold at the way your hand rotates itself back to a more anatomically correct position, and you clutch it with your other gloved hand.

“Don’t touch me,” you snap. “Just follow me.”

He nods, burning, but he’s not sure with frustration or guilt.

You lead him to a hotel room that’s hidden but overlooking the pier. It’s a small place, but quaint and barely furnished. Picked dry mostly, except for a backpack resting slouched against the wall and some other knick knacks—a pen, a notebook you close as you walk past it.

You pull a chair at the table by the window out and sit down. Al-Haitham can see the water from the glass, and as he approaches, you lean on the table by your elbows and gesture with your hand to the chair across from you. He seats himself, and glances around the place.

“The last five years. Where have you been?” he begins.

“Snezhnaya. When you left, the one thing you didn’t take was the core of the Teleport Waypoint I created. My father and I used it and managed to successfully teleport home.”

“This whole time you were there?”

“Not exactly. I roamed the world for a while. I went to Mondstadt and Fontaine, but that was only a year or two ago.” You look down at your hands. “When we returned, the Doctor had been furious that I lost my research, but he blamed it on my father. He was… technically my supervisor.” As if realizing something: “Though, I don’t suppose you know all of that. With the Fatui blackmailing me, and… and everything.”

“I had gathered as much only recently,” he answers. “I went to the Balladeer’s chambers after he was defeated. I thought I could recognize your work, but… I was unsure.” Swallowing, he shifted uncomfortably. “All these years, I thought you had died in that snowstorm and that it was my fault.”

“Some would say I’ve had a fate worse than death,” you remark, acerbic and unsurprised. “If you had known, do you think you would’ve done what you did?”

“I think I would’ve been more aware of the consequence.” He shakes his head. “I would’ve been honest, even. When I received the assignment, I thought the worse. Betraying you was an impossible task, but they assured me you wouldn’t be punished, so I followed through with it with utmost secrecy. I thought you’d just come back to the Akademiya, and we’d have a huge fight, and somehow I could convince the Sages to allow you access back to your own work as long as there were restrictions placed.”

“Restrictions? None of my work was ever illegal, though.” Your eyebrows furrow, and Al-Haitham thought you were angry, but you only look at him in a strange, morbid curiosity. You’re only searching for honesty. “Unless…”

“They suspected your father’s loyalties had been swayed. The objective of the assignment was to take your materials away, bring you and your father back, and put you on trial. You would’ve been innocent, but your father…”

“He never did anything wrong.”

“I know that,” he replies coolly, “but Azar saw your father as a threat. Saw you as a threat. You were a public figure with a strong will of your own, inherited from your father. I doubt he could’ve put you under his control. Honestly, if you’d been here, do you think that entire situation with the samsara would’ve gone on as long as it did?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I don’t know much about anything anymore, I think.”

For some reason, and Al-Haitham has weathered many storms before, during, and after their friendship, this is what makes his heart shrivel.

“What do you know?” he asks softly. You peek up at him from underneath your eyelashes, and a tired face stares back at him.

“I know that I loved you,” you reply. “I don’t know if I still do. Looking at you now makes me feel something, but it’s not a good thing.”

“Do you hate me?”

“I don’t know. It’s over now. I hated you for a bit,” you allow, “but to be honest, I’m just exhausted. This whole ordeal. The Doctor. I finally have the chance to leave his service. I could, but I have obligations to other people. To be honest, I have a half-baked plan, but I’m not sure if it’ll work.”

“Are you returning home to Snezhnaya?” he asks, afraid to even put himself in this position of wanting something from you again, and you frown.

“Kaveh insists I stay here to be safe,” you tell him. “He misses me. I miss him. Travelling Teyvat, all I could think about is how much he would appreciate the different types of architecture around the world.” You shrug. “But… he doesn’t really recognize me as a person. It’ll take some time for him to get used to the fact that I’m more machine than human.”

“You’re still you,” he assures immediately and you arch an eyebrow.

“How do you know?”

“Because you haven’t killed me yet when I deserve punishment for what I did to you so you must have a heart,” Al-Haitham answers steadily. “And I know you could strike me down if you wanted to. Don’t lie to me.”

“Al-Haitham…” Your mouth moves but you don’t speak, and he nods, understanding.

“My opinion shouldn’t matter, but I would like you to stay.” He cringes at even recommending it. “I know I have no right to ask this favour of you.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I thought you didn’t believe in favours.”

“I don’t.”

They sit in silence. You draw your hands towards you on the table. He steeples his fingers and looks out at the port to give himself something to do. The quiet isn’t amiable, but not openly hostile. Al-Haitham never thought he would be able to do this again. To sit across from you had been a long forgotten wish, and he doesn’t want to ruin it now, so he waits for you to start again.

“Did you ever open the box I gave you before I left?” you ask after a while. You’ve been tracing the woodgrain with your finger, and Al-Haitham has been watching you do it. You lift your hand back up and rest your chin in your palm to look out the window.

“I did.” A hard swallow. “How did you find such a collection of journal entries? They must’ve been rare.”

“Ruin diving and desert exploration,” you explain briefly. “At the time, you said you were interested in that catastrophe the oldest historical biographies mentioned, and when I had come across one of the journals detailing first hand experiences of a scholar during that time, I had to find out if there was more I could find and translate. Those six entries were all I could find at the time being.”

“There were more in the House of Daena’s collection. The entire anthology was called A Thousand Nights. A lot has been lost to time, so the rarity of these journals is high,” he says, and at last, you give into a faint smile although you still don’t look at him.

“You found more?”

“Yes, although the ones you gave me are stored safely in the box.”

“Not turning in precious material to the Akademiya? How rebellious, Al-Haitham,” you intone. You finally tilt your head towards him, and your smile has his heart racing. “Al-Haitham, you know of my feelings for you. What about yours?”

“Are you asking if they’ve changed?”

You nod.

“Why does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Because I doubted it for a very long time. I thought that someone who loved me wouldn’t dare to do the things you did to me, but that’s an idealistic of the world I don’t have anymore. I don’t exactly trust you right now,” you tack on quickly, “but right now is honesty hour, isn’t it?”

“Seems like it.” He thinks on it for a moment. He could very well lie. It’d probably the easier choice for you to not possibly feel obligated in some way to his feelings. You wouldn’t have the burden of knowing that his love is unfaithful, nor would the chance to tempt it be there.

And you’d believe whatever he says. Whether or not you know it’s the truth, you’d probably force yourself to believe it and he would, too, and they could leave all of this… them, their past, their present, and their potential future, too, in the sand.

Honesty hour.

Is that what you called it?

“I did love you,” he admits when his moment is up. “I grieved you for a long time. I knew it was my fault that you had died and debated if my cushy job was worth surrendering the one person who could actually stand me and, against all odds, loved me for who I was. Those hours in your camp before I stole the documents made me feel the most helpless I’ve ever felt in my life and I hated it.”

“And now?”

“Now?” He ponders over this. “As soon as Kaveh told me you were here, I ran just to see you myself because I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to see you when I had the chance. I… you’re not the same. I understand that. I understand my part to play in this, and I know that what I feel should not influence your decisions. I ask that you don’t consider them at all.”

“Al-Haitham…”

“I do love you. I’ve loved you for years, but it feels… longer than that somehow. Maybe I don’t make sense, but even when I couldn’t dream, I could still see you in my sleep.” Your stricken face makes him blink, and he fights the burning in his face and ears by looking down. The tightness in his sternum only aches more. “I don’t want your forgiveness, but I do love you.”

You are quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. Then, unexpectedly, you say, “There’s a box”—and he jerks his head up, confused “—that I hid in the Balladeer’s chambers. I’m not sure if it’s completely destroyed by now, but only you and I have clearance for it.”

“What’s inside?”

“All the things that reminded me of you in the past five years. Things I wrote about you. Blueprints for your hearing aids. Collectibles I thought you’d like. I don’t know. Just a bit of everything, honestly.” His eyes widen. You don’t seem to notice, or you don’t let it deter you. “When I told you that I wasn’t sure if I loved you still, it’s because I’m trying not to love you. It’s very easy to convince myself I don’t when I never see you. But I see you and I feel disgusted.”

You chuckle a bit, almost nervous. Al-Haitham isn’t quite sure of what to say. Grasping at straws, he opens his mouth to speak but you shake your head.

“To be honest, I never gave myself a chance to let my love for you die,” you whisper. “The disgust comes from remembering what you did, but it’s so overwhelmed by everything else. The longer I sit talking to you, I just feel like everything’s the same.”

“But it isn’t.”

“It can’t ever be, Al-Haitham” you agree. “But I’m willing to pretend. Just for a little while.” You look down at your hands, and slowly pull your glove off. A plate of silver metal catches the sun rays and Al-Haitham’s heart lodges right up in his throat at the cylindrical fingers that tug at your other glove revealing skin and a hand that he recognizes. “I thought it would be best if you saw it.”

“Does it… feel different?”

“Yes. I don’t… feel much the same way anymore, but most of the work was internal. Injections, a heightened metabolism, tinkered senses. A new leg. My eyes, obviously.” You gesture to your pupils, but they seem more natural the longer Al-Haitham watches. “My Vision gave me even more durability and he couldn’t kill me because of how useful I was to him, but I was the next best thing to a perfect subject.”

“Your father, then?“

“He’s alive. It was either him or me, and I gave myself up in an instant,” you answer. “I don’t regret that much of my life.”

He reaches forward tentatively for your flesh hand, but your mechanical hand comes into contact with him first, warm against his wrist. It’s almost like you’re still alive there, but the texture is too smooth, the edges where the metal plates too sharp to be human, and he looks down at the hand that touches him.

This is who you are now. This is who he’s made you.

“I want to move my family away from Snezhnaya, Al-Haitham,” you tell him in the lowest tone you can muster. Al-Haitham’s eyes meet yours, and a soft, pleading expression has taken over your face. “I know you’re the Acting Grand Sage, and that you have duties to the Akademiya, but—“ and he hears it for what it is.

I want there to be a chance for us.

“I would give you anything I could in a heartbeat,” he swears immediately. “If you need asylum, I’d be more than obliged to grant you your request. I—“ But nothing comes out. What his words cannot say, he hopes the silence can. I love you. I will help you in any way I can. I love you. I miss you. I love you.

I’ll find you.

I love you.

“You have beautiful eyes, Al-Haitham,” you whisper, lifting a hand to his cheek. When metal touches his smooth cheek, his eyes flutter closed, and a soft amused hum leaves his companion. “I think I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?”

Cupping your wrist with his own hand, he turns his face into your palm. It smells like nothing, yet there is a hint of your scent clinging to your sleeve that slowly seeps into his nose. His lips kiss the ticklish part of your hand, and your mechanical hand reacts like your normal flesh one would—your fingers curl against his face, and your thumb strokes underneath his eye.

He smiles. “Yes. Yes, I’m certain you have.”

Buer - About Samsaras

The Traveler reaches Port Ormos by nightfall a few days later. By then, it’s too late and they’re too exhausted to even think about trying to find the man they search for. For all intents and purposes, he could be gone, but it doesn’t hurt to ask around on their way to their room.

They ask the owner of the hotel, Shapur, manning the concierge, who briefly mentions seeing the Acting Grand Sage walking with a woman renting a room in the hotel by the water. She had the most distinct purple eyes.

Somehow, the Traveler knows that’s who they’re looking for and they take off again with renewed vigour, and leave Paimon in the dust.

They reach the port quickly. It’s mostly empty, but there are two distinct figures sitting by the water speaking. The moon is their only witness, and when the Traveler steps from around a pillar to observe them more clearly, they can see those purple eyes that Shapur mentioned clearer than day. They glow, even at night, and look almost fake. They’ve never seen eyes of a normal mortal glow like hers do.

Then, Al-Haitham, leaning back onto his arms, pushes himself up, and he extends a hand to his companion to help her up. When he turns, his eyes, too, catch the bright moonlight in a flash of golden divinity.

For a moment, time seems to stop, and the Traveler watches as they, holding hands, begin to walk further down the pier.

“This world is an eternal samsara,” someone comments. Spinning around, the Traveler’s eyes widen at Buer walking from a nearby ramp. When had they fallen asleep? She smiles, green eyes wide and innocent. “Just as there are memories of passed family members living in those of the present, gods never truly die. They are reborn when the time is right, and even alike souls can find one another again.”

The Traveler frowns. “What do you mean?”

“They’re happy. Let’s not disturb them,” she says instead, stretching out her hand. The Traveler takes it, and instantly, they are brought back to their room in Shapur Hotel. Paimon has fallen asleep, and the Traveler sits on their bed. Buer perches herself on the table, her feet not quite making it to the chair.

“When did I fall asleep?”

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t a long time. I just didn’t want to ruin their reconciliation,” she explains. “I don’t remember them well, anymore, but as I’ve read more ancient texts in hopes of… remembering the more important details that have been lost to me, the times I had with King Deshret and the Lord of Flowers come clearer. Together, we were the three God-Kings of Sumeru. It’s unfortunate you were unable to meet them. They seemed to be my greatest friends.”

“They both died ages ago,” the Traveler says, and the knowledge that comes to their mind is stuck in their throat, chained from being freed. Rukkhadevata and the forbidden knowledge. That must be a secret that stays a secret.

Buer giggles. “Died in the loosest sense of the term. Gods don’t truly die. They may be banished, or lose their memories, but their essence is immortal. Even when they seem to be gone, a seed of them will always remain on this planet, seeking the right time and conditions to sprout.”

The Traveler’s spine shoots ramrod straight, and their mouth drops open. “You don’t mean…”

“Although it’s hard to confirm, I find it hard to mistake the similarities between your friend and mine. Deshret has been reborn,” she says, “not resurrected like the Eremites had predicted. As for the Artificer. Her purple eyes, although artificially made, bear a striking resemblance to those Padisarahs of ages past, don’t they?”

“Like the one in Nilou’s dream,” the Traveler realizes, all of it dawning on them like a flood and crashing wave.

Buer nods. “There are very few coincidences in this world. Be happy for them. Their ending in their last lives was not a happy one and they’ve struggled and toiled in this samsara, too, just for the chance to meet again. Even still, they will have to continue to fight these challenges to persevere.” She sighs, looking down at her feet. “Hopefully in the next one life, they can just be born friends and save each other some heartache, and maybe we can be friends again, too.”

“The Goddess of Flowers sacrificed everything for the price of King Deshret’s divine knowledge,” the Traveler points out distantly, their voice soft and wistful. “He drove himself mad because she was gone.”

“There are some events that must repeat on different scales in each samsara,” the Dendro Archon agrees quietly. “A first meeting, a death, a betrayal. I’m happy that my friends have found one another again, even if they don’t remember, but perhaps that is their pinned, pre-determined fateful event that must happen in every samsara. I don’t know. Irminsul’s powers are beyond even my full understanding.”

“They say she disappeared in a storm.” A sharp chill shoots down the Traveler’s spine as Buer hums, nodding. “And she was never seen again.”

“You’re understanding,” she says, delighted. “This time, though, she came back to him, and this time, he knows the knowledge he craves is not worth losing her love.” Buer smiles cheek-to-cheek. “The rest is up to them, now.”

a/n: reblog/comment if you enjoyed! did you catch all the parallels and foreshadowing? there was as much as i could stuff in, from subtle to unsubtle! i read and watched so many theory threads/videos for this and again this was such a fun collab!

the prompt was to either make the third person (in this kaveh) a love interest or someone who helps the main couple get together, and i thought why not a bit of both. after all, it is kaveh who was al-haitham’s biggest reason not to confess, and also kaveh who told al-haitham where to find you. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ heheh thank you for reading!!

#fic: a love immortal such as mine #zhongrin.elementalsupercharge #al haitham #al haitham x you #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact al haitham #genshin al haitham #my writing

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months

Text

Battle Scars

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet + Fluffy

Requested: literally, anything hurt/comfort or angst with a happy ending preferably Jack or newt but love your dnd au too Thank you love your writing ❤ Hello, could I request a Jack Dawkins x reader where maybe the reader gets in a fight or something over Jack and after he patches her up afterwards he is at first angry but after she tells him why she got into the fight he hold her close and it's fluffy and cute!

I stood, as usual, doing my work at the cat and bagpipes, men in the pub going about their business drinking, gambling, fighting and doing other such... manly things. Many of the girls I worked with were busy as they often were on Friday nights but I wasn't on that shift tonight, Instead, I was just serving and carting drinks around for My boss Rotty. I hurried about in my dress dropping things here and there as I went I noticed an empty tankard and the man to whom it belonged.

"Another Doctor Dawkins?" I asked as I collected some from the table beside his own,

"Uhhhhh no it's alright, Y/n." He said his face a little grim and tried as he pushed the tankard to the end of the table for me to collect it easily, I knew he wanted more but given his low pay or well lack of it he didn't exactly have a lot of cash to throw around on a Friday night, He would often come on a Friday night play some cards to get enough for a drink that he'd nurse a good while and then head home, he never saw the girls as he couldn't afford to even if I had offered him a discount more then once but he was such a gentleman and always politely declined.

"You sure? you sure nursed it,"

"It's been a long week,"

"Aww, one more? on me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah sure, got to keep the doctor happy," I smiled as I took the tankard to refill it for him and I gave his cheek a pinch as I left which forced him to smile, I returned the empties and paid for Jack's drink out of my my tips from the evening,

"I don't know why you bother with him, he's not got any money you don't have to be nice to him." Mags said as she leant on the bar with her fan in hand,

"Magnolia," I glared as I loaded my tray, "Off it," I told her, as I took my tray and dropped off the drinks dropping Jack's off last,

"Thanks y/n." He smiled,

"You're welcome Jack," I cooed patting his blonde head as I tried to continue but he took my hand tugging me gently back to him and giving my hand a soft gentle kiss, "Awww that's my tip?"

"yeah, sorry..."

"I am more than happy to take my tips as such, just from you," I winked kissing his head before I got on with my work,

The night went off as usual dropping drinking where needed, seeing the regulars and the new guys in from a ship in port today, checking in on the card games and breaking up a few fights, I didn't mind actually I kinda prefer when I'm on this shift as you see people and have a much better evening with more going on, rather then on the other shift were you come out into the bar for five-ten minutes longer if someone wants you sat on their lap for a while the rest of the night your just laid on your back. And I just wasn't feeling it today which is fine Rotty didn't mind I think she knows I'm more a bar girl than a bed girl nowadays. I often passed Jack and gave him a smile which he often gave back, the girls didn't much bother with him as they all had a joke that Jack was 'Y/n's regular' even if we had never actually done anything it was just what they often referred to him as, none of them ever bothered because they knew he didn't have money so never much bothered to give him more then a smile unless of course he had been at the card tables winning as he often did, Then the girls would check up on him.

I returned to the bar cleaning some tankards when Jack approached, "Here," he smiled handing over his empty tankard,

"Aww thank you, you're the only one who doesn't just leave them," I laughed taking it back, "Another?"

"No, it's okay I need to get back."

"Course, have a nice night Doctor Dawkins,"

"You too y/n" He smiled kissing my hand before he headed out and off back to the hospital,

"he is cute," Mags smiled as she leant on the bar,

"Maybe," I shrug, trying to hide my blush at such a thought,

"Shame he's stoney broke."

"Mags," I warn,

"Ohh come on you can admit it he's a little lowlife"

"Mags." I warn louder,

"I mean everyone knows he's only a doctor because of the Navy, he's not smart enough to have gone to college like the other doctors."

"Magnolia," I warn,

"such a tiny little thing too, I bet we took his shirt off we could play a tune on his ribs."

"Magnolia, off it," I warn,

"at least as a doctor, he's got skilled quick fingers, 'cause he ain't doing much else with anything else."

"Magnolia enough."

"Really? Just cause you like him doesn't mean you have to lie, He's an uneducated scrawny little beggared"

"Mags!" I yelled setting my stuff down, "Enough."

"Fine," she smiled slowly moving away, "makes sense why he likes you so much, you're the only girl around here he can hope to afford." she smirked, "Or do you let him get off for free like his drinks?"

Okay, that's it! "Mag's Enough! you're a fucking whore you don't have cause to call anyone a lowlife!"

"I make more than he does!"

"Yeah lying on your back and letting men frost your stomach!" I yelled, "He saves people's lives, delivers babies, you know something actually worth doing!"

"Ohh come on you're only defending him because you like him!" she yelled back, "You ddin't have a crush on him we'd have kicked him out like we do every boy who hasn't the money to be worth anything! If you wanna go be some penniless doctor's housewife fine but don't waste a table on him that I- We could be making money on!"

"That's all you care about money!"

"Yes! So keep your poorper doctor boy in the gutter where he belongs!"

"Ughhh!" I yelled and pulled her hair, she screamed and shoved me into the bar.

Immediately it became an all-out fight and we weren't doing like a cute girl fight or even a cat fight this was a full-on bar brawl with chairs, tankards, punches, kicks, hair pulls, nails, slaps and at times biting, and when it was over we both needed a cart ride to the hospital for various injuries... and let's just say Rotty was not happy we were fighting, or breaking chairs, or tankards, and a window.

I was put in a room far away from Mags and I sat on the bed trying not to whine from pain,

"Y/n?" I heard making me look up to see Jack at the door he saw me and the state I was in for a second he looked heartbroken but then rage boiled behind his eyes,

"Hi, Jack,"

"What the bloody hell happened!"

"I can-"

"Who did this to you! what kind of sick twisted bastard did this to you!" He yelled,

"Jack please-"

"Who was it! I'll beat the living daylights out of them you just see if I won't" He yelled "Give me his name."

"Jack-"

"Give me his fucking name y/n!"

"Mags."

"M-Mag- Mags did this to you?" He asked softening for a moment, "Magnolia did this to you?"

"Yeah,"

"Why?"

"I uhhh... May have gotten in a fight with her."

"yeah, I could figure that out. why did she suddenly turn and fight you."

"I may have pulled her hair..."

"So you started it?"

"Yeah."

"Y/n! You can't start a fight with someone!" He scolds "Look at you! look at what's happened to you and you're lucky you got out with just this!"

"I know but-" I suddenly felt like a child being told off by their father,

"Why on earth would you start a fight with Mags she's twice your size and you know she can kick a horse down the street, are you stupid or something why would you start anything with her let alone let it go on to a full-on fight? I can't believe you!"

"I'm sorry Jack."

He sighed putting a hand through his hair, "Do you have any idea how stupid that was?"

"Yes..."

"she could have killed you!"

"I know..."

"At least you're alright," He sighed kissing my forehead, "But I'm still mad at you,"

"I know." I giggled,

"You know what no. I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?"

"No. I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed."

Immediately my heart sank, god damn why does that still work on me as an adult woman, "I'm sorry..."

"I know you are," He said, "Come on let's get your battle scars looked at," he said "But I am not kissing your bruises better." he joked

"Aww, why not?" I playfully whined

"No, no I'm not doing it I'm still angry at you. that's your punishment little lady I'm not kissing them better."

"But how will they get better without kisses?"

"well should have thought about that before you started a fight." He said slowly but surely he went over my body cleaning and wrapping my every cut, motioning every bruise, checking the extent of the damage done to me, "There, that's all of them, now look after yourself alright."

"I will I promise,"

"Good, I do not want you back in here for another fight." he warns, "Or else."

"Or else what?"

"Else your next battle is gonna be with me." He warns tapping my nose, "Okay?"

"Okay." I nodded,

"Good, what did you and Mags get into a fight over."

"I- I can't"

"Tell me." He ordered, "Now. Before I really do get mad at you again."

"...You."

he froze up looking me over before finally meeting my eyes, "Me?"

"Yeah..."

"You got into a fight with mags, over me?"

"Yeah,"

"You... you... got into a fight over me? why?"

"I can't-"

"Y/n. why did you get into a fight with her,"

"she... she said some bad things about you,"

"What did she say?"

"she called you stoney broke, called you a little lowlife, called you not smart enough to have gone to college, a tiny little thing, she said at least as a doctor, you've got skilled quick fingers, 'cause he ain't doing much else with anything else, she called you an uneducated scrawny little beggared" I explained and every word looked as if it cut him open, "She said we should keep the poorper doctor boy in the gutter, where you belong,"

"she- she said all that?"

"she did." I nodded,

"and- and you defended me?"

"Of course I did."

"You defended me! You started a fight for me! You... you got all these battle scars... for me?"

"I did."

He cracked a smile and gave my lips a soft gentle kiss before he pulled me into his chest as close as possible stroking my hair, "Thank you y/n."

"It's okay,"

"No, really, thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

"You're welcome Jack," I smiled, "Happy to get a few battle scars for you."

"Well, not too many I hope. You didn't have to do that for me..."

"I know, but I did. You'd have done the same for me wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would, I'd get a thousand battle scars for you." he said kissing my head, "that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you." he chuckled,

"I know," I laughed, "I accept that you're mad at me, for being stupid and starting a fight."

"No more starting fights, or getting into fights, just no more fighting in general."

"I promise." I nodded,

"Good girl." he cooed kissing my forehead,

#tbs smut #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas sangster #thomas sangster imagine #tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #jackdawkinsartfuldodger #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #the artful dodger #theartfuldogger #thearttfuldodger

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madame-fear · 6 months

Note

Hi, Amira!

I hope you are well and I am very glad that you have opened your requests 🥰🥰

I wanted to ask you if you could write a Jacaerys one shot with this prompt

73. friends to lovers situation. Getting hit with realisation that they're enamoured with you when [character] sees you laughing at someone else's joke, or flirting. Ends in love confession, too.

In a modern AU, Jacaerys and Reader going to a party together at one point get separated and Reader later sees Jace laughing about something with Sara Snow. I would like the confession not to be through an argument. Otherwise, maybe when Jace is taking Reader back to her house, he's worried because she's silent until she says out of nowhere, "I think I like you."

I can't wait to see how you develop this 💖 💖

Please take care of yourself and I wish you luck in your studies 💖 💖

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 .ೃ࿐

★ amira speaks! : Lu my beloved, I got so happy when I got your request! 💖 Thank you very much for all the luck and kindness, sending back to you positive vibes! This was such a great distraction for me to take breaks between my studies. I hope you enjoy this, dear! <333 — summary : [ — ✧ request ] — word count : 4.5k

— pairing : modern!jacaerys velaryon x jealous!reader — genre : friends-to-lovers, a bit of jealousy from the reader, but eventually fluff.

« 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄, 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎. »

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You leaned against your doorframe, with your arms tightly crossed against your chest. A sigh escaped from your nostrils faintly, having Jace’s tall figure towering your own with his height.

It had never been no secret that you had favoured Jacaerys ever since you became friends. Every single time you were together, or someone brought him up casually in a conversation, you were tirelessly teased by all the people that immediatly noticed the rosy hue creeping on your cheeks, dismissing the fact that everyone, including your own family, suspected that you were enamoured by him. You denied it endlessly, even to yourself. All Jace was to you, was your best friend.

Friends and relatives kept insisting that the reason why Jace was nearly glued to you 24/7 despite having other friends to hang out with, was because everyone was so certain that he crushed on you, probably just like you did. You always took their claims between pinches, believing that Jacaerys was merely loving with you, like any best friend would be, and again, you constantly tried dismissing them. You were in absolute denial.

At the present time, you now had the chance of going with Jace to a party, being invited by him and with no other friends from your friends group going with you — as far as you knew —, and unfortunately, you had been left with endless assignments and pending homework to present before the deadline you were given.

“Jace, I have no doubt it will be fun.” you retorted, inhaling a bit before continuing to speak, “But you know I have to study—” quickly, he interrupted you. Jace knew exactly what you would tell him, and he wasn’t having none of it. You were going to get dragged to that party with him, no ‘buts’ allowed.

“I know, I know. But pleeease, come with me?” the way he managed to put on a perfect lost puppy face to be more convincing was tempting you to accept, especially when he extended the word please. It was hard to say no, but you still tried to keep yourself disciplined. “I promise you, I will bring you back home safe and sound early. Please?”

With brief seconds of silence looming over you as you thought of his proposal, you released another sigh, as a little grin tugged at the corner of your lips. A bit of fun would do no harm, after all. And besides, you needed a break from the mind fog seeing all those scholar assignments provoked you.

“Fine. You managed to convince me. I will take my coat with me.” you said, turning around to quickly search for your coat, that surely was tossed on your couch. Immediatly his coffee-coloured eyes twinkled joyfully, stupidly offering you a toothy grin from excitement. Before getting back inside, you turned around, pointing your index finger at him.

“But, you promised you will be getting me back home early,” it was difficult to have a serious expression on your features while noticing how hardly he was fighting back a childlish little proud smile quivering on his rosy, plushy lips. “And you will be fulfilling that promise.”

And with that, Jace nodded eagerly. It was impossible not to adore him with the personified golden retriever vibes he carried. “Understood, ma’am.”

Going from your house to the house where the party had been hosteed was only a short drive. The moment you set foot on the ground off of his car, swiftly closing the car door behind of you, you could even hear from outside the loud music blasting inside and see some flashing bright lights that perfectly set the partying mood. It wasn’t your first time going to a party with a friend, of course, but this one seemed to be louder and more messy.

As soon as you were kindly greeted inside by one of his acquaintances — that was the party hoster as well —, your eyes curiously stared at the ambience. The strong scent of alcohol mixed with the smoke coming from some lit cigarettes was already intoxicating, and everyone seemed to be dazed into their own little worlds. Being such a large house, you felt a bit lost, unconsciously clinging to Jace to avoid getting lost.

“Wow,” you muttered quietly, observing attentively your surroundings. “This place is huge.” Jace quietly chuckled to himself at your reaction, noticing how amused you were at the environment. “I might just get lost at any given chance.” while that was meant to sound as a joke, truth remained under the lines of your statement. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“I know, right?” he retorted, beginning to walk around the large house, getting amidst the crowd of people. “But, don’t worry. You won’t actually get lost, you know? You get used to it eventually.” you walked behind of him like a lost puppy, almost. Your eyes curiously wandered around, occasionally craning your head around and pausing on your steps to mentally guide yourself through the house. Taking slow steps to allow you to catch up with him, a wide grin appeared on his lips as he turned around to look on you.

“Don’t worry about getting lost, love. You can easily find your way back whenever you want. And there’s always someone who can help you, so don’t be afraid of asking for directions.” you nodded in agreement, feeling relieved at his words. The feeling of heat began creeping on your cheeks leisurely, becoming a crimson tint on your face. Hearing him refer to you as love, despite being used to him being this endearing with you, never failed to make you feel like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Everytime that feeling grew inside of you, you quickly tried thinking of something else to pretend you had never just felt those types of emotions with your best friend.

It was unbeknownst to you that the eldest Velaryon boy pretty much felt flustered of having your presence so near to his own, without having any other mutual friend around you. Noticing the blatant crimson shade forming on your cheeks, with his hand Jacaerys playfully ruffled your hair in a teasing manner, like he always used to be around you. “Or perhaps, I could also just leave you around here by yourself without you realising... And you’ll actually see it’s not so hard to find your way back.” he said with a chuckle spurring from your lips. Rolling your eyes again, you pushed his hand from your now chaotic hair from his ruffling, fighting back a grin to form on your lips.

“Do that and I will kill you. Mark my words.” now, he snickered a bit loudly at your comments. for Jace, being annoyed at his own teasing simply made you more loveable for him. He wouldn’t actually admit it, much like yourself, as he felt shy enough to even think about admitting such thing to you, but one of the reasons Jace adored playing around with you and getting you annoyed, or even calling you endearing nicknames, was to simply see your pretty cheeks light up all thanks to him. And he took pride on it.

Several minutes then had passed, with you walking by his side, nearly glued to his body. Jace walked around the large house, trying not to stumble upon the crowds of people in each space, as he lead you to different rooms to show you around. During several moments when you got distracted, you caught glimpses of people dazing themselves off with the alcohol, smoking, or even couples laying on the couches or hiding in a corner notoriously kissing in a rather fervent manner.

Curiously, without thinking much about it as over the passing time you grew slightly more confident inside the house where the party was being hosted, you decided to explore around by yourself. Not that you had forgotten about Jace, of course, but you had all the confidence in the world of strolling around the large party knowing Jace was near you. You hadn’t distanced yourself much from him, or at least you tried not to merely as to not test your own luck; it was just a few random rooms and spaces that you decided to briefly explore, before turning around and walking towards one of the rooms where you had caught a glimpse of Jace going to.

“I have no idea how you can easily walk around here without getting lost.” you spoke naturally, with your voice slightly raised due to the loudly blasting music, assuming Jace was going to be there where you thought you had seen him. “I mean, I get it that you’ve been here several times but Jesus Christ, I would get lost over and over each time.” you continued joking, with your hands on your pockets as your gaze lingered on the ground for a few seconds before raising them to look at Jacaerys.

But there was no sight of him, only a few small groups of people that talked with each other. Without realising, Jace apparently had kept walking mindlessly around, disappearing amidst the rooms and the large crowd of people that occupied the broad spaces. And by the time you tried to keep up with him after trying to quickly explore the house, you immediatly realised you had lost Jace from near sight.

Abruptly stopping on your steps, in the middle of one of the halls surrounded by sy strangers, you tried scanning the place. For fucks sake, how could have Jace disappeared in the blink of an eye? He was just around where you had been, he couldn’t be so far away! You could feel your heart slightly starting to pound against your chest, that provoked a burdening disorientated sensation on you at being in such vast, unknown space.

“Jace?” lifting your voice slightly, you turned around again, moving your gaze absolutely everywhere. A frustrated huff escaped from you. “You can easily find your way back whenever you want,” he said, “You won’t get lost.” and here you where. At that moment, you remembered the moment Jacaerys said he would abruptly leave you to your own so you would know how to find your way back. But, knowing him, it was most likely that he probably left you alone by accident rather than currently be playing around with you.

You were about to kill him for leaving you around by yourself, without a doubt.

The nerves were beginning to overwhelm you, feeling lightheaded at the disorientation you currently had. To which, you decided to trace back your steps, managing to guide yourself to the living hall where most of the guests were, and it was near the main front door. Maybe he was right, once you explored around and got used to this strangers — his acquaintances — house, you would get used to it.

After spending the few next minutes tracing back all of the rooms you had gone through, with your anxiety rising with the slow passing of the seconds, you released a sigh of relief the moment you reached the main living room. Perhaps Jace was there, or if you didn’t find him, you would just leave and wait outside next to his car — sooner or later, he would realise you weren’t there.

The blaring music coming from the speakers had increased in sound, as well as the loud chattering and drunken giggles. You reached the crowd full of people, occasionally tiptoeing a bit, nearly bumping into some as to spot for Jacaerys. You eventually found yourself nearly surfing into the crowds of people, being careful as to not spill anyone’s drink or anything. As you tiptoed again, you managed to spot Jace in a corner, making you feel relieved to have caught a glimpse of him. Immediatly, you rushed towards him, still being cautious due to the vast amount of guests.

And as you got nearer him, you realised a bit late that he was hanging around with a girl. Soft laughter spurred from his rosy lips as his eyes twinkled, hearing very faintly how they made silly comments.

You recognised the girl immediatly, as you had often seen her in the group of friends you shared with Jacaerys, and in a way, she could be considered rather popular. It was none other than Sara Snow. A tinge of jealousy overwhelmed you abruptly, feeling a tight knot forming on your stomach. You had to admit to yourself, she was literally beautiful; with long dark hair, fair skin, and in general, all her features were absolutely beateous. Sara knew how to be charming and endearing, but knowing how close to Jacaerys she was, it simply made you want to vanish right there and forget you had seen him laughing along her silly remarks and being close to one another.

A great burden sat on your chest rather uncomfortably, yet it was hard to gaze away. And now all you wanted, despite being hesitant in approaching them, was simply to leave. For those dreadful seconds that you stood there, almost out of the crowd, staring at them; you were leisurely being hit with the realisation that... Maybe, after all, your friends and relatives were right all along despite your constant denial and dismissing. You were indeed enamoured of Jacaerys. You were head over heels for him, and you felt a part of you being ripped apart brutally at the sight of him hanging around so casually with another woman.

Part of you tried to keep denying it, but another part of yourself, was much more strongly accepting the feelings that remained hidden in you for such a long time. You gulped anxiously, feeling a lump choke your throat, having a mix of jealousy, anger, and disappointment. Of course, you were well aware that both of them laughing and talking meant nothing... Probably. But either way, you had a growingly strenuous need of pulling him away with her, and having him taking you home again.

A shaky huff escaped from you, feeling your hands trembling from all the burning jealousy that had been ignited inside of you. “Jacaerys!” you brought his attention, immediatly breaking their conversation as you approached them, and their gazes fell on you. His coffee eyes seemed to become brighter at the sight of you, offering you a dumbfounding toothy grin. Gods, he could make you melt right there. “(y/n)! I had been looking for you, but I simply assumed—”

You interrupted him abruptly, moving your stare to Sara for a moment. “Sorry, I’m stealing him away from you for the rest of the night. But it was lovely seeing you again!” those words were nearly spat, sounding harshly cold before looking back at Jacaerys, forcing a smile. “We have to go. It’s getting late for me, remember?” your words came rushed as you raised your eyebrows at him, and Jace seemed to be completely oblivious about how you were seething.

His eyes were widen in realisation at the time, remembering you had to get back home early. The party had been a mere study break for you, that was all. “Oh, yes! You’re right, sorry!” he quickly apologised, looking at you for a moment, before staring at the girl in front of him. “It was lovely talking to you, Sara, see you another ti—”

Not holding yourself back from the smothering jealousy that seemed to increase with the passing of the seconds, you abruptly took Jace’s hand. It was the first time you had actually held hands, especially with such a tight grip as your own, currently. His hands were warm, and his skin had some sort of velvet texture. His eyes widened in surprise at your actions, realising that your physical contact seemed very soothing, in a way.

A faint rosy tint formed on his cheeks, as well as your own, starting to drag him away from Sara Snow, and the entire party. He managed to wave goodbye to her in a hurried way, but really, his focus was now on you like it always had been.

Your steps were loud against the floor, nearly stomping. There was something in the atmosphere around you that clearly indicated, you weren’t exactly holding the most positive vibes. Maybe something had happened, besides you wanting to get home early to study and present your assignments on time, and he wasn’t aware of it. The door was swiftly open, taking him outside with you, and you slammed it close immediatly. In a way, you felt embarrassed of not hiding the fact that you weren’t content, but it didn’t matter at the moment.

“Jacaerys Velaryon, I will so kill you. I’m getting late.” you muttered between your clenched teeth, letting go of his hand so he can use his keys to unlock the car, and get inside. Those words didn’t mean to sound angry, but rather, as if you were rushed. And you were, you now wanted to get back home and simply forget about the situation and the own realisation of your feelings. “I’m sorry! I thought you had found your own way around the rooms to have fun!” he shouted back, excusing himself. There was no lie in it, he was merely being innocently genuine having thought that you would follow him, but then noticed how you kept exploring the vast rooms.

Reaching the car door, you opened it, and wasted no time in getting inside of it. Loud slamming was heard from both of you, as he felt a certain discontented hurried vibe to you. It was clear in your words, way of acting, and the certain frowny face you expressed. Fastening your seatbelts, he wasted no time in getting the car started, faintly hearing in the background how the music continued being played, and everyone was immersed in their own little world. Pressing your head against the window with your arms tightly crossed against your chest, you tried to balance the feeling of being angrily moody at the situation, and as well, balancing how you suddenly realised that you did in fact fancy him more than just a best friend.

It was hard for you to admit it. And having to find out about your feelings thanks to another woman so blatantly trying to flirt with Jace and scooting closer to him wasn’t the best manner to find out. Jealousy rooted itself venomously on your stomach and chest, fighting back against the memories of them laughing and talking ever so casually. But at the same time, you felt awkwardly embarrassed of having that outburst with no control of your emotions in front of him. He had no fault in your own emotions, Jace was simply kind and polite with everyone, and obviously he just wanted you to have some fun with him.

As the car started, the rest of the ride was entirely noiseless. Awkward silence bloomed with the passing seconds, only hearing very silently the wind gushing through the slightly open car windows, and the sound of a few cars driving past you. Your eyes were fixed on the view of your passenger window, not daring to even flinch or move to avoid making things more awkward and tense, somehow.

Having known you for quite some time, Jace always sensed when something was wrong with you, and being the lovingly caring person he is — especially when it comes to you —, he always felt the imminent and only natural preoccupation growing in him.

The car leisurely stopped from driving as you had to pull up in front of a red light; being merely a few blocks away from reaching your house. Your arms continued tightly crossed against you, with your head leaned against the car window. The soft gushing of the wind continued passing through the slightly open windows, feeling refreshed in a way to have the cool breeze hit delicately against your face in such a tense moment between the two of you. Maybe you had overreacted, as you really wasn’t angry with him; you were overwhelmed with

Despite not daring to turn your head and stare at him, or even speak up about what happened, you could feel his gaze piercing on you with concern. His fingers fidgeted anxiously as he dreadfully awaited for the red lights to turn green. Clearing his throat, Jace decided to speak up first for both of you. “(y/n), are you... Alright?” he inquired, with a low cooing tone, fixing his stare on you. Your body stiffened slightly as he broke the ice in the atmosphere, but slowly tried to relax.

His eyes returned to the steering wheel and the road, the moment the green light brightly reflected upon both of you. The car continued moving, but in a tranquil manner as you were about to return home in a few minutes. “You seem upset,” jace continued. With your arms still crossed, you shyly decided to face him. “Did something happen back there that I need to be aware of?” gods, he was such a caring person. You felt bad of having reacted that way around him, but at the same time, you knew you couldn’t possibly be angry with him. In fact, you simply felt jealous towards Sara Snow, but not really upset. “Or... D-Did I do, or say anything to possibly make you feel angry at me?”

Despite not wanting to get his eyes off the road, his gaze met your own for a second, before entering the block where your house was located. At hearing his words and the hint of genuine concern behind his voice tone, your heart dropped heavily. Your eyes widened, as you shook your head. The least of things you wished right now, was to possibly make him feel bad at himself for a simple misunderstanding. In any case, you felt like the one to blame for the situation. “No, no! It’s alright, you didn’t say or do anything!” you clarified quickly, feeling your heart beating against your chest nervously.

“I-It’s just that, I...” you trailed off, stroking your arm with your hand up and down in a very slow manner rather awkwardly. Swallowing anxiously, you were uncertain whether to be honest with him, or simply keep up with the lie that you dragged him out of there because you were getting home later than expected. But, as bold as speaking up for your feelings was, with the risk of him possibly not reciprocating them, you felt the ardent need of admitting it to him. At least, it was much better than leaving him worried about you, or wondering what could’ve happened to you to react in such a strange, unlikely-of-you manner.

With a few seconds that passed, with an awkward silence being left after you left mumbled words to trail off into nothingness, the car eventually pulled up in front of your house. You sat in the passenger seat nervously, feeling a knot in your stomach, fidgeting with your fingers. As he stopped the car, his eyes managed to properly focus on you now, attentively hearing whatever you had to say. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jace. You could never make me feel upset,” you began. Softly, you inhaled air, lingering your gaze on your lap before raising it to stare at his own eyes.

“I think I like you.” you blurted out, immediatly swallowing.

Slowly, realisation dawned upon him. His lips parted very slightly as if to speak, but no words came, not for some time at least. Jacaerys seemed to be taken aback by this abrupt confession of yours, unsure of how to respond back to it. You bit down on your lower lip, waiting. The silence felt thick and heavy, suffocating you. His cheeks became a notorious crimson hue, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“(y/n),” he whispered, looking at you, “Do... D-Do you really mean it?” his words came out as if he were in utter disbelief. For his friends and close acquaintances, it was wellknown that Jace badly swooned after you, and his gaze never failed to be fixed on yours the moment he spotted you somewhere; unfortunately provoking him endless teasing. His cheeks became a notorious crimson hue, taking over his pale skin. You swallowed again, feeling the pressure build in your throat as your heart began to beat faster.

“Yes. I... I do mean it.” you admitted, nodding earnestly. Jace didn’t say anything further but you could tell from his expression that he was satisfied enough to know your answer. Silence kept hanging around the environment after you admitted it, dropping your gaze to your lap once again out of embarrassment, noticing that Jacaerys wasn’t saying anything else.

But you were surprised when one of his hands delicately, yet firmly lifted your head by your chin, and he leaned closer to you. Softly holding you by your chin, his lips were pressed against your own. They were beautifully plushy, enough for you to have the need to nibble on them playfully. Your eyes initially widened at the feeling of his warm lips locking with your own, but eventually they fluttered shut, allowing him to do as he pleased.

It was gentle at first, then gradually it became slightly more intense, tilting your head to your side to kiss him deeper. He held you securely with his arms around your waist, kissing you so tenderly that it seemed as if Jace had waited years for this to happen. You felt his hand travelling to the back of your neck, with his fingers reaching your hair and tangling themselves up on it’s silky strands. After what seemed to be an eternity, despite merely being almost a minute, your lips parted from one another.

With your eyes opening again, panting from the lack of air during the kiss, a silly little grin tugged at the corner of your lips, quivering until it became a proper toothy grin. Both your faces were equally flustered, as some giggles spurred from your now glossy lips. His arms remained around you, holding you dearly. “You could’ve said so much sooner, you know that?” he mumbled, gazing down at you tenderly with his beautiful brown eyes.

His lips went to your forehead, placing a loving smooch on your skin. His fingers continued lazily playing with strands of your hair, twirling them around his finger. You were nearly breathless, allowing your head to rest against the crook of his neck. It hadn’t taken him long to notice you had become jealous at Sara Snow... But why get jealous, when all he could possibly think about all day long was you?

“You know,” Jace continued, resting his chin on top of your head. He knew you had to go back to your home soon, but the least he wanted was for this moment to end. “I think I should get you jealous more often, somehow it makes you look prettier than you already are.” a proud smirk appeared on his lips at his own teasing, feeling you click your tongue as to dismiss his words, and you immediatly looked up at him; several chuckles escaping from Jacaerys at your reaction.

“You are such an idiot,” you began, helplessly smiling back at him. Your nails gently scraped his skin under his chin, slightly leaning to kiss his jaw. “But you’re lucky I adore you just like that.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @phantasyy @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @hopelesswritergall @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x reader #modern jacaerys x reader #modern jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys strong x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #modern hotd x reader #modern house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd fic #house of the dragon x y/n

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mercyreg · 17 days

Text

“Trip Afar.”

Strollonso Crime!AU. Is this messy and a bit out of wack? Yes. Am I still posting it? Yes. Yes I am.

Lance wandered around aimlessly, desperately trying to speak to the locals surrounding him. He was getting no where with this and it frustrated him. Out of this entire town no one seemed to get a lick of English that he was trying to plead in. His father had demanded this trip via business yet had given the young boy no warning in advance and sent him to a country he didn’t know. Lance now stands in the hustling streets of Spain, clueless on where he is and lacking the understanding level of Spanish to get to where he father had instructed him to go to.

He looks all around him before starting to walk down one of the many roads branching off from the Plaza, his eyes narrowing down on what looks like a bus stop. Lance held his bags close to him while he sat at the stop. The foreign name of the streets tumbling off his lips as he tried to figure out how to pronounce it. He wasn’t having any luck even as the bus pulled up and stopped in front of him with a “skeeewwsh.” Noise. He files in line with the other people getting on the bus, finally stopping in front of the driver, paying his portion and through broken Spanish, states the address he’s trying to get to. The bus drivers face quickly pales, the color draining from his face as he looked Lance up in down, muttering in Spanish before waving him off to a seat. Lance couldn’t figure out why he reacted that way.

He sat down, gazing out the window, quickly plugging in his headphones and pulling out his phone, opening Spotify and browsing through the song options, settling on The Neighborhood and Isabel LaRosa. The people trickled off the bus, one by one, eventually leaving Lance as he stayed sitting in the seat, mind clearly not present in the current moment, thinking about before he left on this trip.

“Lance?” A voice called to him before the familiar figure of his girlfriend entered his room. Her eyes scanning about the room before landing on him as he packed his bags quietly.

“Lance. Where are you going?” She said as he walked past her to get the rest of the clothes he needed.

“Just going on a quick trip for the summer, My dad wanted me to go on it.” He said it like it was obvious because to him it was. He had no reason to go to Spain besides for his father.

“Isn’t this dangerous? Why can’t someone else go!” She exclaims, worry filling her voice as she steps in front of him.

“They’d recognize them if they sent someone from my dad’s job is what he said, therefore he can’t go obviously.” Lance says, stepping around her and still gathering the needed items.

“So they are sending you?” She questions, eyeing him.

“Correct because I’m as close to off the grid that you can get WITHOUT being off the grid. I don’t mess with my dad’s work but… I owe him right now.” Is all Lance says as he gathers the last item, turning to sort it into his bag, unbothered by her now seething anger.

Lance never really messed with his dad when it came to his job. His dad never let him get involved with work, Lance doesn’t even know what he does, He just knows it makes a lot of people not happy with him. This seems to not exclude his girlfriend.

He snaps from his thoughts when they hit a pothole, his attention being dragged to The driver who kept giving him worried looks through the mirror above his head. As they drove on the city faded out into dirt patches with barely drivable bricked roads, The city chatter fading into the back of his mind. Trees and sky surrounded Lance as he gazed out the window, watching as they got further from the city and into a reclusive era. He was just going to ask the driver where exactly this place was until the bus pulled to an abrupt stop, the force causing Lance to move and slam into the seat in front of him, his bags going almost to the floor if he hadn’t caught them in time.

He quickly looks up at the driver he did a motion that Lance assumed meant that they were there but upon looking out the windows, he realized he was stopped at the end of a road. “Cannot go further, sí?” The bus driver called out to him in broken English as he slowly gathered the two small bags he had, confusion laced his voice as he called back. “Why not?” The bus driver seemed to be thinking as Lance stepped up to the door. “Simply cannot.” Is what he concluded with before opening the doors of the bus, hollering a quick “stay safe-“ The doors shut quickly the bus was leaving as quickly as it came, leaving Lance with no chance to ask any sort of questions.

He stood where he had gotten off the bus, saying a quick prayer before slowly walking down the road. Unsure of where he was going and a bag full of zero hopes, Lance was starting to regret agreeing to this trip, even more so when he most likely pronounced the address wrong. His dad claimed it was gonna take him to a family friend’s house in the city, this was definitely a ways away from the city. He kept up his pace, taking his headphones out to be more aware of everything around him, He’s not thatdumb. It’s a foreign country after all, a beautiful one at that. He kept walking, eyes drifting to the ground.

The sound of a car coming from the road ahead on which he walked, startled him out his thoughts. First instinct came and now he finds himself hiding amongst the lush trees and bushes, watching as the car drove by, Men armed with guns being carried. Everything inside Lance’s mind just froze as he stared at the various amounts of guns, the men clearly all meaning business. Two things were all Lance thought. One: I might be killed. Two: Which fucking way do I go. He could continue down the road where the men CAME from or head back down the road to where they are HEADING. He carefully climbed out the ditch he sat nestled in, keeping close to the tree lines now. A pep in his step as he stayed acutely aware of everything around him now. He just hoped whatever was done this road was better than what those men were heading to.

#strollonso #formula 1 #f1 edit #f1 #formula1 #formula one #aston martin #fernando alonso #lance stroll #f1 rpf fic #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fic #crime au #f1 fluff #f1 smut

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matthewkniesys · 10 months

Text

LA - trevor zegras x famous singer!reader au

a/n: so every time gracie plays a new show at the eras tour i'm making an edit for it (since shes the face claim) so here you go!! we are here!! it's the last leg of the usa eras tour and that means y/n's last show!

trevor zegras x famous singer!reader

yourusernameofficial

Liked by @/ taylorswift, radvxz, abbyweiser and 704 304 others

yourusernameofficial - okay so where to start... i don't even know. this has been the most amazing summer and the best experience of my life. i'm so grateful to have gotten this opportunity and i cannot begin express how i'm feeling.

thank you to @/taylorswift for your friendship, your guidance, and for letting me be a part of your amazing tour. getting to see you preform every night was the most magical thing in the world.

thank you to all the amazing crew who helped run this show because it could never have been possible without you.

thank you to everyone who supported me, especially my mom, my dad, my best friend bea @/radvxz, and to you guys who were there with me every step of the way.

thank you. i will forever be thinking about this.

Tagged: @/ taylorswift

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taylorswift - 💙💙💙💙💙

↳ fan17 - 5 BLUE HEARTS WHAT ARE YOU UP TO TAYLOR

↳ y/n#1fan - 👀

*view 16 457 other replies*

trevorzegras - so very proud of you and so extremely happy to have been beside you for this journey 💙

↳ yourusernameofficial - 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

↳ fan283 - WAIT trevor was travelling with y/n???

↳ y/nfan3 - probably not cause we probably would've seen him at more than just the 4 shows he was spotted at

↳ fan17 - trevor with a blue heart too??? and y/n with 5 hearts??? you guys are killing me

radvxz - bestie i love you, you are stunning, you are amazing, you deserve the world and i am so proud of you 💙

↳ yourusernameofficial - bestie i love YOU, YOU are stunning, YOU are amazing, YOU deserve the world and i am so proud of YOU 🤍

↳ fan17 - NO MORE BLUE HEARTS I CAN'T

fan1989 - i love you y/n i'm so happy i got to see you on the best night of my life

*yourusernameofficial liked this comment*

jamie.drysdale - my best friend

↳ trevorzegras - nope y/n is my best friend

↳ yourusernameofficial - nope jamie's my best friend not you trevor

↳ radvxz - what about me??

↳ yourusernameofficial - you are my ride or die forever, my sister

↳ radvxz - i won

jack.hughes - honestly seeing y/n and taylor live in one night was the best experience of my life

*yourusernameofficial liked this comment*

trevorzegras

Liked by @/ yourusernameofficial, jamie.drysdale, jack.hughes and 403 945 others

trevorzegras - recharging after the best experience of y/n's life

Tagged: @/ yourusernameofficial

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fan17 - awww they're together

fan3 - can't be convinced they aren't dating like people usually recharge by themselves but they want to spend time together so badly they are doing it together

jamie.drysdale - me not being there is honestly the biggest loss

↳ yourusernameofficial - agreed

↳ trevorzegras - disagreed

↳ jamie.drysdale - honestly y/n should just ditch trev and come to canada

↳ yourusernameofficial - looking at tickets rn

↳ trevorzegras - uh no you're not... i'm trapping you here with me

↳ yourusernameofficial - jamie save me

fanaccount8 - coffee date perhaps??

*trevorzegras liked this comment*

jack.hughes - i love y/n so much, like literally the coolest person in the world

↳ yourusernameofficial - factsss

y/nfan6 - they are gonna hard launch in the next month mark my words

thanks for reading🫶requests are always open for fics, blurbs, ig edits and just thoughts!!

taglist: @woodruff-edwards @nicohischierz @makarhughes @cobrakaisb @huggy-hischier94 @boldysswld@cole-mcward48@kashee-h@kjohnson-91 @jackhues @corneliaskates @imma-mirrorball @hvghes @emptyflowerpots @h0e4fictionalme-n @ivy-34 @jayisamirrorball @diary-of-jj @estapa94 @whenjasfallsinlove @sammiejane22

join my taglist

#claires aus #trevor zegras x famous singer!reader #<- au tag #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #x reader #nhl imagine #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes #cole caufield #alex turcotte #claire tries writing <3 #fake ig edit #social media au

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beanghostprincess · 4 months

Note

Okay you're making me obsessed with Sabosan- I'm in need to posts about them

Just an AU where they meet during childhood, like, Sabo and his parents go to Germa bc of some politic shit and he don't want to be there so he just walks around.

And be accident he finds Sanji outside the castle, crying, and he knows he is one of the princes since they were already presented to each other. But the boy is hurt and crying so much that Sabo can't not help him.

In the beggining Sanji is scared, but soon he notices the other blonde don't want to beat him like his brothers. They talk all the day and for the first time in Sanji's life, he feels like he made a friend.

When Sabo's family has to go back to Goa, both kids are sad but hope to meet again soon. After this, everything in Sanji's past happens (Sora's death, he being locked and running away).

Month's later, the nobles from Goa go again to Germa and Sabor receive the terrible news that Sanji is dead. This broke's his heart 'cause the boy was sweet and kind and even just being with each other during one day he was sure the prince was amazing.

Since Sanji were 8 and Sabo 9 during this, ge just meet Luffy one year later and all he can think sometimes is how much the two would love each other. But don't matter now, his friend is dead.

Everything happens, and years later he remember everything and all he can think is how he forget them? How he let other person he loves die? The boy is broke bc he lose another person.

And he is going to meet Luffy's crew, hearing his young brother talk about them when he says about a guy named Sanji and- Sabor freezes, he ask about him and this boy is identical to his dead friend- but can't be him, right...? He can't have hope.

When they arrive in the ship, he's knowing everyone and then he go to the kitchen with Luffy to meet said boy and- it's Sanji, alive. Breathing, older and so much beautiful.

And Sanji is looking at him too and- both are in shock. Luffy is there, confused and looking at the two. "Luffy, can I talk for a moment with your friend?" Sabo asks intenting to not show how he is emotional.

"Uh? You know each other?" Luffy ask but go outside the kitchen anyway, they still are silent during some minutes. Sanji is read to say something when Sabo hugs him.

"I thought you were dead" is all he says and the blackleg hugs him back, feeling bad for making Sabo think this.

Both don't say much, but they are happy they're together again.

Agh, you all know I am extremely weak for childhood AUs!!!!! This is beautiful :(

I can't stop thinking about Sanji obviously getting forced to meet Sabo, but he doesn't really want to because he always hates it when important people come over. Yes, his father is more distracted with them, but that leaves them a free day from training, and sometimes those are even worse than regular days. Because even if his brothers already make fun of him and beat him up when they train, whenever they're not doing anything it's even worse because they take their time and it's a complete nightmare. Besides, introducing himself with the name Vinsmoke has always made him want to throw up, even from a very early age, and there's this uneasy feeling inside of him whenever Judge speaks about him normally instead of saying how much of a disappointment he is. He prefers that rather than him lying to strangers because he knows what he says isn't true. He doesn't consider him his son, and he doesn't see him as his father either. It's nauseating.

When Sabo and Sanji get introduced along with the other Vinsmoke siblings, Sanji doesn't want to look up. He has to, of course, but he doesn't feel like being there at all. But he's even more scared of what might happen if he doesn't do what Judge says. When he looks up, he can tell that the kid in front of him doesn't want to be here either. He's good at pretending, though. He smiles politely and shakes their hands and it's obvious that he's been trained to act that way, but he doesn't look at all like a noble. He has a missing tooth and scratches in his hands and face and it's quite obvious that he tries to cover it (not him, his parents) but it isn't working for Sanji. Besides, there's this rage in his eyes that Sanji can't quite place but he knows something is going on with him. That just scares him even more, because, even if it's not the same rage his brothers have in their eyes, it's still rage. If he was a simple kid like all the others that have come to their kingdom with their families, Sanji would not be that worried, but he isn't. And Sanji fears the worst because he can't figure him out.

On the other hand, Sabo wants to jump off a bridge. He would rather drown than be here. Get the kid out of there!!!!!!!! He didn't want to come at all but his parents wouldn't stop pressuring him and tbh it was easier to end this quickly so he could go home even quicker (home being Gray Terminal and next to Ace, thank you very much). So he's on his best behavior so he can just quickly go back home. He hates them. The kids, he means. Rich, spoiled brats that are modified to be that way. To be selfish. To kill. It's disgusting and he despises how the father talks with so much pride about it. But- But he never, not even once, mentions the blond. He talks praise about all of his kids except him, but he also doesn't even mention him. Sabo can tell his name is Sanji because his brothers won't stop teasing him about stuff Sabo can't understand, but he knows enough to get that something's off. Whatever. Not his fight. Not his siblings. Not his responsibility.

But his sense of responsibility and morals are already strong enough to make him overly sensitive to this stuff, so he watches the behavior of the kids carefully. Their parents tell them to go do whatever because they're talking about "grown-up stuff" and they need to form "royal bonds for future needs" or whatever bullshit they keep making up. And, uh, Sabo fucking hates it. The kids are scary as fuck. Like, creepy. Type of thing he wishes Ace were with him for because this is way worse than the things they've seen happening at Gray Terminal. The way they speak about the staff and human lives is just disgusting. With no emotion in their voices other than plain selfishness and cruelty. They show Sabo around the castle and- And Sanji isn't around anywhere? Apparently? When he asks where he might be, that's when his brothers start trash-talking him. Calling him a coward. A weakling. Worse things Sabo does not want to repeat but- But it's just extremely fucked up. But again, not his fight. He can keep an eye on them but not intervene because he really, really wants to go home soon. And he's pretty sure this is just the way siblings talk about each other. Rich, noble siblings, at least. Even if Sanji seemed different, he's still one of them.

Sabo eventually gets bored of them, and also they're disgusting to be around. So he just disappears and hopes they don't give a fuck about him to look for him. That's when he finds Sanji crying outside of the castle. He really knows he shouldn't intervene. He never does when he goes to these meetings. But Sanji seems different. He's crying. These kids, in theory, should not be able to feel like this, right? There's just something so human about him, from the first second they saw each other, that Sabo can't help but want to protect him. He's not much older than him, but still. Sanji looks way weaker and shorter in comparison, and,, And in need of someone. Like he's always asking for help.

And so they talk. Sabo approaches him and the first thing Sanji does is flinching. He thinks Sabo is going to hit him, apparently? What the fuck. Sabo instantly kneels beside him to tell him that he is definitely not here for this, and why the hell would he even think that?? Sanji doesn't reply, of course, he just hugs his knees closer to his chest and looks away, hoping for Sabo to not ask more questions. But Sabo notices this glint of hope in his eyes that he doesn't want to show. Like begging for him to get him out of there. Sabo just sits beside him in a very nonchalant and very not noble way and starts talking. He tells Sanji how he doesn't want to be here either, and trash-talks his family and nobility and starts saying all of these things he only tells Ace about. He usually doesn't trust people so easily, and Ace would kill him for this, but Sanji needs this. And apparently, it doesn't bother him at all to give him this. Sanji starts opening up little by little, hope in his eyes and excitement starting to come out of his voice when they change subjects. Sanji, apparently, isn't like his siblings. In any way. And he likes cooking and sea creatures too! Sabo has a lot of stories to tell about those! And they keep talking and talking and hours pass and suddenly Sabo doesn't want to go home. It's not only fun to be here, but scary to leave if it means never seeing Sanji again and leaving him here. Especially when he tells him about everything his family does to him (because they end up talking about that) and he has to hold Sabo back from yelling because he has never been angrier in his entire fucking life. What the hell does this family think they are? Sanji doesn't deserve this. He's nice. Cute, too. Smart. Extremely sweet and empathetic. Selfless. Kindness itself.

But time moves quickly and they have to return to their ship. He hates leaving Sanji. He really does. But they promise to see each other again! He even gives Sanji his white handkerchief. The one he likes. The one that's all ripped and worn out. Because it's the one he uses the most. The one he uses when he's with Ace! And it has his initials engraved there, but the S is the only thing that can be seen, so it's okay! Sanji keeps it like a reminder of freedom and the fact that they'll for sure see each other again!

But they don't.

Because the news of Sanji dying reach Sabo and he's devastated. It's so unfair. And it's true. He knows he's dead and he can't do anything about it. But he also knows his family had something to do with it because he's not stupid. He has to move on past the rage, though, even if it's extremely infuriating and frustrating. He has to move on. Sanji, on the other hand, doesn't let go of the handkerchief and Sabo's words, even if he has lost all hope. Yadda, yadda, yadda, you know how the story goes. So Reiju helps Sanji escape and he knows he'll probably never see him again, but he still hopes. Sabo thinks, meanwhile, when he meets Luffy, that he'd love Sanji. With how much he keeps talking about food and dreams! And Sanji would love being here too. Well, not really, because Gray Terminal doesn't seem at all like something Sanji would enjoy, but it for sure would be better than Germa. And Sabo would be able to protect him too. It doesn't matter now, though.

Time-skip moment. Sabo remembers his childhood and his brothers and Sanji. And Ace just died. So great. It seems that the world is always against him. He doesn't have much time to think about Sanji because right now the only thing he has in mind is Ace, his fruit, and finding Luffy. But Sanji's image, for some reason, keeps appearing in his mind. He isn't sure why, but it's still engraved there. He tries to forget him, but now that he truly wants to forget, he doesn't. Fuck it. Well. Dressrosa happens. Yay! He got a brother back and Ace's fruit. Yadda yadda. We know how it goes.

He doesn't actually get to meet Sanji in Dressrosa because I'm trying to be loyal to the timeline, so let's say that this is post-wano and pre-egghead (and Sabo is fine and he isn't in the huge mess he's in right now). Sabo goes "oh, I want to pay an actual visit to my brother's crew. I didn't get to meet everyone properly" and that's when the cool stuff happens.

You know, he tells Robin first about it and she informs the crew and stuff. When Sabo gets there, the only one on deck is Luffy, so of course he gets all excited and jumps to hug him and keeps talking about his crew and how much he's gonna love everyone! Like Nami because she's super smart like him!!! And Usopp because he has the coolest inventions!! And Sanji because he is the best cook-

Wait, Sanji?

And it can't be, because his Sanji is dead. His Sanji can't be Luffy's Sanji, right? Impossible. He guesses it might be just a coincidence and tries to move on from Luffy's words. But then he starts meeting everyone and Sanji gets out of the kitchen to greet him and- Oh. Okay. Yeah. That's definitely him. He has not forgotten those eyebrows and blue eyes and bangs. He could tell it's him from a mile away. Sabo thinks it's his memory playing with him, but then he remembers Sanji's sudden death without any explanation and blames his young self for not realizing sooner what truly happened. What's funny is that Sanji had the same reaction, because when Luffy talks about Sabo for the first time, he freezes at the name. But he guesses it can't really be him, and Luffy doesn't talk enough about him for Sanji to make the correlation.

But no, yeah, it's definitely him.

As you said, they both freeze. And it's actually kind of weird because everybody is looking at them, but they're only focusing on each other so it's also extremely romantic. Sabo tries to act calm and collected when he asks Luffy if he can speak to Sanji in private, and Luffy instantly says:

Luffy: It's to ask for extra food, right?! I am not going to steal yours like when we were kids! I don't do that anymore! Usopp: He still does that. Luffy: But Sabo can have whatever he wants! Sanji will make it! But not more than me. I'm sure you're gonna do it just to piss me of- Sabo: Luffy, you can have all of my food if you want to. Just let me talk to him for a second. Luffy: ?? But why?! It's been so long. I want to be with you! Sabo: Because- Sanji: If you let us talk in private I'll give you two desserts. And more meat. We'll have whatever you want tonight. Luffy: OH! AWESOME! Nami: What is this about again? Franky: Yeah... It looks like you two know each other. Sanji: Who says we don't? Luffy: YOU TWO KNOW EACH OTHER? Sabo: No. Not- Luffy. Give us a moment. *They go into the kitchen together* Zoro: First he's a prince and now he's fucking Luffy's brother. Are we sure Curly doesn't have anything else to tell us? Luffy: He's not- Nami: Shut up!! I can't listen to their conversation through the door if you keep talking!

(She doesn't hear them at all, actually, because the others keep talking and Sabo and Sanji are pretty quiet and she gets bored of trying to spy on them).

They don't really know what to do except to stare at each other. Sanji is about to make some joke or something to make things lighter, but Sabo goes and instantly hugs him tight. Sanji feels he's about to start crying. Especially when Sabo says "I thought you were dead" / "Well, I am not" / "I can see that" / "I- I'm sorry. I truly hoped we could meet but- Things have been a little- Fuck. Just. I'm sorry. Judge- My-" / "Yes. I know. I mean. I don't know, but it's obvious you don't want to talk about it now and I know it's your shitty father's fault. Don't worry about it" / "... Alright" / "Is it weird if I don't want to let go of you?" / "Shut up. You're the one making it weird" / "You grew up. Quite a lot. Remembered you so tiny and cute" / "Oh, fuck you, I am not-" / "Still cute, though" / "You were nicer to me back then" / "You were less sarcastic" / "Touche" / "Hey! So you finally got to be a cook! And for the future king of the pirates! How does that feel?" / "Tiring. Exhausting. Frustrating... A dream come true" / "....... You look happier" / "I am.... Hey? Can you keep like- Holding me for a while? Because-" / "It's okay. Yes. If I let go of you I might start sobbing. This is fine. As long as we don't move, we're fine" / "Great". (Also have in mind that this is post-wano so Sanji is extremely sensitive and wants to kind of sort of die. This is probably the best thing that has happened to him lately. Or ever)

And this is getting reaaaally long already so to end this just say that they definitely end up kissing at some point and dating and then uh, things™ happen. But just think about them having a happy ending. I- I want to write a fanfic now. You can't do that to me. Ughhh. What if I did- What if I did write this fic- Thinking thoughts.

#they're my absolute beloveds #they make me go insane yes #aaaaaaa i love them so much i am so sorry this is long kjwefkbfkjeb #i got a bit carried away and i still have more ideas #like sanji telling him he still has the handkerchief like wtf gay people #also sanji cooking for him i am gonna die #and them staring at each other during dinner #and then seeing each other at night while everybody is asleep because sabo stays for a while and #and look can i write this please this was such a good idea and i need it right now in my veins #i know i say this a lot but this time i want to finish this #IF YOU WANNA WRITE IT THO YOU CAN DO IT IT WAS YOUR IDEA AFTER ALL BESTIE #but if you do tag me bc i am in desperate need of sabosan #one piece #black leg sanji #revolutionary sabo #strawhat pirates #sabosan #sabo x sanji

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cocogrrrl · 11 months

Text

my princess (choose your own adventure!)

a choose your own adventure story where you, a princess, spend the day getting to know your soon-to-be husband, prince kyle.

prince!kyle x fem princess!yn (arranged marriage + royal au) cw: near breakdown bc of sensory overstim for one of the routes wc: 1157 for this chapter, 9201 for all parts

an: omg its done!! :'] please wait from me to attach the links if you're early btw HAHA while there is no bad ending, there is one ending i consider to be the canon one because i may or may not make a part 2 ;0 ps: i made the parts in very different states of mind LOL + take a shot everytime it says word hum, muse, and silence

For most princesses, their fate was often sealed by the decision of their parents. You were no different.

Last week, your parents told you that you would be wed to Kyle Broflovski of Larnion. First and foremost, it was to form an allegiance with his family, seeing how your kingdom’s, Halcyon, military was quite advanced and strong while Larnion was very wealthy. Second, he and your parents have known each other for a long time, so it was a no-brainer to set your children up, I guess.

You’ve never met Kyle, to be frank, but you’ve definitely heard of him. He was stereotypically perfect—physically active, studious, and ambitious. People praised him for the person he was. You weren’t stoked to meet him, but you weren’t upset either. You knew of your fate ever since you were a child, and what you got didn’t seem so bad.

What did he think of you, though? Most, unsure if he was one of them, viewed you as an educated, well-spoken, and graceful young lady. You weren’t well-spoken, though, you just knew when to shut your mouth. You didn’t like the very feminine appearance you had in public, yet some thought you were a bit too smart for your own good. They did get to you sometimes, but you believe that it’s best to just brush it off. However, the main thing you were worried about is if you were going to be wed to a person like those people.

The carriage turned by the circular driveway of the palace, where you would stay for the next week. If there was only one word you could use to describe the place, it would most definitely be posh. It looked like it supported only lavish lifestyles. You wouldn’t call it aristocratic, but it was shocking just how sophisticated and elegant the place was decorated.

Your parents, with your following behind them, proceeded to head to the throne hall, where you spotted Prince Gerald and Queen Sheila—two familiar faces you saw from time to time growing up. Beside them sat, what you could only assume, is Kyle.

For the most part, he looked what you expected his to look like, just a lot more lanky. You heard he took quite a few sports growing up, including football and horseracing, so your best judgment was that he was super buff—which didn’t exactly stoke you. You were happy to see that he didn’t look like a bodybuilder with a small head popping out at the top. It was the opposite, he did seem fit, but his body seemed faintly toned. Sleeper build, you guessed.

Greetings and compliments were exchanged between your parents. You stood there, smiling and waving to Mrs. and Mr. Broflovski. Kyle had gotten up to say hello to your parents as well. As the four of them chatted by the side, Kyle made his way to you, a polite and welcoming smile on his face.

“You must be YN?” was the first thing he said.

“And you must be Kyle.” Your head was raised high, nodding at him.

“I am” he hummed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” He got on one knee as he took your hand to gently lay a kiss upon it.

You caught your cheeks heating up, taken aback by the action. You expected this, but that didn’t mean you were prepared to actually deal with it. “Please, the pleasure is all mine.” You curtsied as he stood back up.

“There’s our soon-to-be,” a voice chimed from the side. You two turned to look see who it was—it was Kyle’s mother.

You exchanged a look with Kyle, both of your eyes sending a ‘What do we do?’ to what she said. Luckily for Kyle, you spoke first.

“Oh, Mrs. Broflovski,” you swoooned as you feigned innocence and embarrassment with a chuckle.

“Please.” she grinned at you. “Call Gerald and me, Mom and Dad.”

“A-Already?” Your surprise was genuine, but your tone continued to remain soft and calm.

“We insist, dear.” She walked towards you, stroking your hair.

Your father joined Sheila. “You may call us Mom and Dad as well, Kyle,” he said as he pat his back.

Kyle seemed to laugh it off, but with a quick glance at him, you could tell he felt a little awkward about the whole thing. The tense in his shoulder and the way he look everywhere but at the people in the room said it all. “Haha, thank you very much…”

“So, you two are aware why we’ve brought you two here today, yes?” Gerald spoke. Although you knew Sheila, or now Mom, to be the sterner one between the two, Gerald had a more serious tone than the rest right now.

You and Kyle simply nodded to his question. You were going to spend time together and get to know each other better in preparation for the wedding. It’s a good thing they didn’t rush you into marriage right away, but it’s not like you had a choice if you didn’t like Kyle anyway.

“There’s going to be a masquerade ball tonight,” your mom explained. “You don’t have to come, but we highly suggest you do.”

A few more words were exchanged between you two and the adults, and, soon enough, you found them leaving you and Kyle left to your own devices.

“See you later, little baby girl!” Your father waved ecstatically as he strolled off. You shook your head, feeling humiliated. Kyle spotted your embarrassment and laughed at it. Maybe a little too loudly for your liking, but any volume of laughter from that was plenty too much for you.

Before Sheila left, she quickly made her way to Kyle. “Take care of YN. Okay, booby?” You tried to hold in laughter. Kyle stared back at you, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Mom.” He sighed.

“Alright. I’ll be heading out now. See you two cuties soon.” Kyle’s mom smiled, walking in the direction where the rest of your parents were.

“So, booby,” You teased.

The red on his face when he got flustered or angered was cute, you thought. “What is it, little baby girl?” He spat back, not realizing how weird sounded when he said it.

“Don’t say that. It sounds weird.” You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the arm. He paused, looking at you to process what you meant by that. Once the realization sunk in his face more red than you could ever possibly imagine.

To ease the tension between you two, changed the topic. “Today’s free rein, though,” you continued. “You have any ideas where we could go?” You gave him a smile, hoping to ease his embarrassment even a little bit.

“Well, there’s the masquerade ball,” he hummed, looking everywhere but at you. “I suppose we can also go to the garden or a nearby village here as well…”

Which do you pick?

The Garden.

The Village.

The Masquerade Ball.

#south park fanfiction #south park x reader #cocogrrrl's writing #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader #my princess by cocogrrrl (all routes)

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jjkeverlast · 2 years

Note

17 + 37 + 41 from the smut prompts list with jungkook 👁👁

be good for me | jjk

-> pairing fratboy!jk x female reader

-> genre smut, college au

-> summary you take a chance at showing up to one of the most popular frat parties, meeting no other than jeon jungkook, a fratboy who's famous amongst the women on campus. or is he?

-> word count 3.0k

-> warnings swearing, alcohol, masturbation, cum eating, finger sucking, fingering, handjob, lots of teasing, dirty talk, biting, protected sex!

-> author's note oop- got kinda carried away with this one, i'll try for future requests to keep it short, hope you enjoy either way love <333 (prompts are marked in bold!) be aware that i don't have taglists for requests! thank you <3

Frat parties. More like, parties where every girl on campus gets a chance to get a taste of one of the Bangtan Boys. You? You’re not included, by choice, to be exact. So it’s a surprise to your friend Mena to see you stepping inside of the so-called frat party after you clearly told her ‘’It’s childish and stupid.’’ It is, although you finished your paper a little too soon, and you didn’t want to sulk alone in your dorm room for the rest of the night. And a small part of you was curious over just why these frat parties are popular.

‘’Y/N! Am I dreaming? Are you really here?’’ Mena is shocked, of course she is. She’s never in her time of knowing you seen you enter a frat party by choice.

‘’I’m here, don’t pinch me.’’ You notice how crowded the house is, almost no space to really wander around. Thankfully Mena knew her way around this house and guided you to the bar, which actually is the kitchen filled with alcohol.

‘’Drink?’’ You hum a yes, tapping your fingers against the kitchen island, while Mena is pouring what seems to be a Vodka Red Bull. She finally hands you the red cup, leaning on the island while you let yourself taste the drink.

‘’It’s good.’’ You compliment her ‘bartender’ skills, letting the vodka aftertaste rest on your tongue for now.

‘’Well if it isn’t Y/N.’’ You hear from the corridor, which leads to the kitchen. You know that voice, the voice belonging to Jeon Jungkook. There isn’t a lot to say about him, besides that he’s most likely been in every girl’s pants on campus. At least that’s what the rumors say, but you aren’t really in on it. You know Jungkook from sharing the same course as him, Art Design. Seeing how he looks, it’s hard to think this man carries a creative mind, but he does!

‘’Jeon Jungkook.’’ You smile and Mena’s mouth is hanging open over you knowing Jungkook. It’s not because it’s unlikely to know him, most who do have either 1) been dicked down by him or 2) friend zoned. You? You’re either, which is why Mena’s mouth is still hanging open over your interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

‘’I’m gonna go say hi to Hoseok. Talk soon!’’ Mena squeezes your shoulder lightly, before stepping out of the kitchen leaving you alone with Jungkook.

‘’I cannot believe you’re at my frat party.’’

‘’Shocker. I know.’’ You take another sip while Jungkook’s laugh erupts in the room.

‘’Well, now that you’re here, let me show you around.’’ He takes your hand in his with no warning and drags you out of the kitchen. You take notice of his tattoos covering his hand and fingers but when you look up, all eyes are on you. Some girls are murmuring in the corner, subtly pointing their finger at you and Jungkook’s intertwined hands. People are getting the wrong idea and that makes you pull away from his grasp. Jungkook turns, seeing his hand is no longer getting warmed up by yours and his smile drops.

‘’This is the patio.’’ You both step out, the outdoor couches and chairs occupied by multiple couples, one of them being Hoseok and Mena. Jungkook catches you looking at your friend grinding herself on the fratboy.

‘’So this is what she meant by saying hi to him.’’ Jungkook’s lips turn into a thin line as he nods and guides you back inside. You’re stunned but happy for Mena getting some action tonight. She had complained for a while over how no one was that interesting to her. So to see her all hot and bothered for Hoseok? Brought a smile to your face. She deserves this.

Jungkook takes you upstairs, showing you a room one by one.

‘’This is Taehyung’s room.’’ He opens the door, revealing Taehyung’s head buried in between a girl’s legs sprawled in nothing but a bra on his bed. Both you and Jungkook’s eyes pop out of their sockets and he quickly shut the door again, letting Taehyung finish his job.

‘’Sorry about that.’’ He apologizes on his friend’s behalf, although it was 100% the both of you’s fault to open the door with no warning.

‘’And lastly, here’s mine.’’ The room is by luck not occupied by anyone. You take a look around, the wall decorated by Nirvana posters. Jungkook’s room is personal, which you admire. Your smile is on display as you walk around, catching a sight at his jewelry and cologne by his desk.

You hear a lock being turned which makes you stop in your tracks. He doesn’t think you’re stupid does he?

‘’What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?’’ You spit out, before Jungkook gets in over his head that you’d ever let him.

‘’Is that what you think I’m trying to accomplish?’’ Your head turns, seeing Jungkook grow confused over your bitter question. Now you feel stupid, by the looks of Jungkook’s face you’ve gotten the wrong idea of him — reasons being the rumors you’ve heard all over campus.

‘’Is it not?’’

‘’No.’’ He lets out a ‘this is unbelievable’ laugh and you feel downright dumb.

‘’Oh.’’ You turn back around, strolling through his room as it grows quiet between you. You let your hand play with the bedside table lamp, not daring to look into Jungkook’s eyes.

‘’Did you want it to be?’’ He breaks the silence, your hand stops and your heartbeat increases. Did you want him to?

‘’N-no.’’ Fuck. Your stutter definitely gave it away.

‘’Right.’’ Jungkook for once moves away from the locked door, sitting now on his bed, legs spread for your eyes. He looks mesmerizing. The long white sleeve rolled up, showcasing his sleeve and his baggy dark washed jeans making his thighs look inviting. You don’t know who’s speaking right now, you or the alcohol. But looking at Jungkook, with the golden yellow light from his lamp shining onto his face — makes you reconsider just what you want from him.

‘’Funny you’re saying no, yet you’re staring.’’

‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about.’’

‘’You’re bluffing.’’ He calls you out and you mentally take note to become a better liar in the future. ‘’Maybe I am.’’ You take some courage to sit next to Jungkook on his bed, rather than play with whatever is on his bedside table.

‘’Why can’t you just admit a part of you finds me attractive?’’

‘’Probably because I’ve heard one or two things about you on campus.’’ You’re honest, which surprises Jungkook hearing the reason behind you not being remotely brave with him.

‘’So now you’re believing rumors?’’

‘’It’s hard not to!’’ You protect yourself, you’ve never really gotten to know Jungkook — only been followed by rumors coming from every girl on campus.

‘’You know that most of the rumors are from girls I’ve rejected right?’’ Your mouth hangs open, not believing the rumors were made up. ‘’I didn’t.’’ Your fingers fidget with your denim skirt, the guilt seeping through your skin about you believing the rumors from the very beginning.

‘’Well, now you do.’’ Jungkook lets his hand run through his hair, waiting for you to say something, anything.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ It’s sincere, you looking at Jungkook showing him you’re truly sorry for letting your brain believe such gossip.

‘’It’s fine, just really disappointed me to know the one girl I like, only thinks I want one thing from her.’’ Your heart drops at his words, does he mean you? Does Jeon Jungkook like you?

‘’Are you saying—’’ You stop yourself, only for Jungkook to continue, ‘’yeah, thought it was pretty obvious when I took the same course as you.’’ You’re speechless, your mind not being able to comprehend that Jeon Jungkook chose the same course as you, reasons being he likes you. You were too quick to judge, if you really opened your eyes you’d probably be able to see that Jungkook was never after just a quick hookup.

‘’I’m so stupid.’’ You mumble in your hands, your face dropping down on them.

‘’Just a little.’’ He grins, his hand patting your back. It’s comforting, the warmth from his hand seeping through your blouse. ‘’I should’ve known you didn’t feel the same way. Yoongi warned me a long time ago.’’

‘’Stop.’’ You shush him, your finger lingering just over his lips. Jungkook’s adam's apple bops once, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips. ‘’Just stop.’’ You whisper, letting yourself relax for once. You drag your finger over his lips, Jungkook’s breath hitches from the contact.

‘’I do want you, so just stop.’’ Your finger traces the shape of his lips, letting it pull at the bottom lip, revealing the inner part. You’re imagining how his lips would feel on your clit, his tongue circling around it.

‘’Do you really?’’ Jungkook cuts off your dirty thoughts revolving his mouth and your finger stops in its tracks. ‘’Yes.’’ You let out, your lip getting tucked in between your teeth.

‘’Prove it. Prove how much you want me.’’ It’s a challenge and you’re surprised by Jungkook gaining sudden confidence since he was shy not even a minute ago.

You remove your hand from his face, placing your fingers by the entrance of your mouth. You pop a finger at the time, letting your tongue swirl around it, getting it nice and wet. Jungkook’s stunned, not expecting you to suck your fingers in his room, in front of him, at a frat party. It seems unbelievable. You maintain eye contact with Jungkook, his tongue poking at his lip piercing. Fuck, that’s hot.

You guide your fingers towards your entrance, Jungkook having a view of your thong as you’ve lifted your denim skirt to tease him a bit. He’s patient, keeping his hands to himself, letting you control.

You slip your wet fingers beneath the material, a whimper escaping your mouth as you let yourself feel just how wet you are for Jungkook. Meanwhile Jungkook is trying his best to remain calm, as he watches you grind yourself on your two fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, focusing more on the pleasure that erupts as you slowly push a finger at the time, letting yourself stretch. The end of your palm rubbing against your clit, making you bite back a sudden moan.

Jungkook grows hard, seeing you touch yourself, his name almost escaping your lips as you pant. He’s curious how your lips would feel, how you taste and how you’d feel around him. He wants to know, he’s almost on his knees for the answer. ‘’Please let me taste you.’’ You smirk at his request, letting your eyes open, finally getting a glimpse of Jungkook. He’s biting his lip, hand firmly grasping on his lap, trying it’s best not to grab onto his cock hardening under his jeans.

You stop moving your fingers, pulling them out and moving closer to Jungkook. ‘’Open.’’ He releases his bottom lip, his mouth falling open, you trace your fingers once again over his lips, teasing him with the taste of yourself resting on the end of your fingers. ‘’Suck on my fingers Koo.’’ His eyes light up over your demand, a small smirk appearing at the end of his lips before he fills his mouth with your coated fingers. His mouth feels warm, tongue circling around every inch of them. His eyes are squeezed shut, low moans exiting from his mouth. You’re in awe of the sight laid out in front of you. Jungkook bopping his head on your fingers, getting everything, not leaving any trace behind. He lets go of your fingers with a pop, his eyes back on yours. ‘’Shit, you taste amazi—’’

‘’Come here.’’ You pull him by the shirt, your lips molding with his. They’re soft, carrying the aftertaste of you but you don’t mind. You feel Jungkook smiling in the kiss and it resolves into you having butterflies swarming at the bottom of your stomach.

‘’Mmm— can I fuck you?’’ Jungkook pulls away, his nose nuzzling against yours as you both pant to catch your breaths. You want nothing more than for Jungkook to be in between your legs, but seeing you have a lot of control over him, you want to play for a little longer.

‘’Are you sure?’’ He nods and you grin, removing his hand gripping on his cock and guiding it towards your entrance. He’s careful when he pushes two inside of you, immediately filling you up. You hum in pleasure by the way his fingers curl nicely between your walls.

‘’Are you sure it could fit? It’s not too tight is it?’’ You’re trying your best not to laugh but when Jungkook’s expression turns to offense, you’re bursting. You’re quick to shut up when Jungkook moves his fingers inside of you, making you gasp from the sudden movement.

‘’You’re such a tease. I’ll show you.’’

‘’Show me.’’ You pull him back for a kiss only he stops, hovering over you instead and peppering your neck with kisses, and light biting. His fingers still resting inside of you, keeping you filled until it’s finally exchanged with his cock. When he’s at last settled in between your legs, your hands go to grab his erection, only he stops you.

‘’Be patient.’’ You roll your eyes at his act, but obeying either way. Your hand tracing patterns on his sleeve, looking down seeing how his fingers pump in and out of you.

‘’I don’t know how long I can be—’’ You feel the smirk forming on Jungkook’s lips, as he runs his tongue over your exposed neck. The tables have turned, him now in total control over you and you being nothing but a mess under his touch.

‘’Come on Y/N, be good for me.’’ He bites down on your earlobe and you fight every part of you to not give in and touch his cock that’s poking your inner thigh. Your grip tightens around Jungkook’s sleeve, impatience growing within you but you want to be good for Jungkook and show him how patient you can be for him.

‘’Yeah, that’s it.’’ His praise helps you keep your hands away from him. To your luck Jungkook kisses you again, the aftertaste still lingering on his tongue. You’re quick to wrap your arms around his neck, letting your tongue play with his. He feels so soft and warm and you never want to stop touching him, feeling him up so close to you and the slight graze of his lip piercing in the corner of your mouth.

‘’Touch me.’’ He mumbles against your lips and you’re cheering internally, content over being able to touch him. You drag your hands across his chest and longer down to his abs, them finally reaching his zipper and getting under his briefs. Jungkook hisses from the contact of your hand finally dragging over his cock. You pump in a slow and tender pace, sending Jungkook on edge. Small pants escape his lips and a low moan when your thumb traces over his tip, smearing the pre-cum all over.

‘’Fuck this.’’ Jungkook stops you, removing his fingers from inside of you, hiking your skirt up in a hurry and pushing your thong to the side.

‘’Look who’s being patient now.’’ You tease as you spread your legs wider, wanting nothing more than to feel Jungkook fully in you.

Your fingers are already tracing circles on your clit, growing desperate to reach an awaited orgasm. Jungkook’s never been faster in taking off his clothes, throwing them across the room one by one.

‘’I’ve been waiting too long for this to be patient.’’ His hand grabs ahold of the handle to his night table, fishing for a condom. To his luck, he’s quick to find one and unwraps it with his bunny teeth. You feel nervous, not because of the act itself, no, it’s because it’s with Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook you’ve never imagined having a chance with, yet here you are, about to have sex with him after he admitted he likes you.

He moves back down to you, his left hand cupping your cheek as he presses a kiss. As the kiss deepens, you feel him guide himself inside of you. The stretch is bigger than his fingers, pleasing and filling. When he’s nestled fully in, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

‘’It’s not too big is it?’’ He smirks, mocking your remark from earlier making you giggle slightly. You hum a no, leaving him grinning with you. You go back to attacking your lips with his, never growing tired of kissing him. He begins to rock his hips against you, the action making you gasp against his mouth, parting your lips as you let out breathless moans. You’re losing yourself completely in Koo’s embrace. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and as he picks up a strong pace an orgasm reaches your body slowly. You praise him, letting your teeth and mouth sink in his shoulder, to refrain yourself from moaning too loud and causing attention to the rest of campus. But fuck does he feel good.

Your back arches in response, when his tip grazes over your g-spot, your fingers almost growing numb from touching your clit. Jungkook takes notice, pressing his thumb on your clit to help you release all over him. You encourage him to continue, your pants increasing as he continues to slam his hips in a rhythmic pace.

The build up increases, your teeth biting harder down on his shoulder as you finally come undone, letting out small puffs. Jungkook feels you coating him, looking down seeing the condom smeared in your arousal. He’s so proud of himself to have you come undone beneath him and biting his shoulder to refrain from screaming too loud for others to hear. The sight of you being such a mess, sends Jungkook till his own, giving you a final thrust as he fills the condom up. You’re both a mess, panting to catch your breaths, a smile on display on the both of you.

‘’Did I prove it?’’

‘’Mhm.’’ He captures your lips again, humming in satisfaction over finally having you.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungguk smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook x female reader #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook bts #bts jk #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

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jaeyunverse · 2 years

Text

the bet

pairing: sim jake x fem!reader

genres: fluff, neighbours to lovers, summer romance au

wc: 1230

warnings: i can think of none, but lmk if you want me to add anything!!

summary: in which jake bets he can make you fall for him in three weeks. you don’t tell him you’ve already lost.

note: happy jake day!! ♡ i raced against time to complete this before the 16th and YAYY i still have a little less than two hours :D i hope this is to your liking!! feedback would be appreciated <3

masterlist

“We should compare hand sizes.”

You averted your gaze from the sea and raised an eyebrow at the boy lounging beside you. “Really?”

Jake hummed, his eyes following a crab that was skittering several feet away from where you were seated. He was lying down with his legs stretched out in front of him, his elbows propped up to support his upper body weight.

There was barely anyone on the beach. One of the town’s biggest events was commencing at sundown and everyone was busy getting ready for it. Jake wanted some alone time with you before the festivities began, so he had dragged you to the shore to watch the sunset with him.

The cool evening air ruffled his fluffy hair, and you bit down on the urge to run your hand through the soft strands. It was a beautiful sight, really, watching him be at peace with nary a care in the world.

Tucking your knees under your chin, you rested your cheek on them. “Did you run out of ideas already?”

“Old is gold,” he quipped, finally sliding his eyes to meet yours. A mischievous smile adorned his lips as he said, “Though we can try something else if you want; how do you feel about comparing feet sizes?”

You laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”

Jake snorted. Pointing at himself, he feigned disbelief. “I am impossible? You are the one who keeps playing hard to get. I’ve been trying to woo you for over two weeks.”

“Giving up already?” you teased and pointed out, “I told you I wasn’t going to make things easy for you.”

You’d met Jake at the start of your break. Spending summer vacation at your grandma’s home was an old tradition for your family, but you hadn’t been able to visit the previous year due to a multitude of reasons.

On the day of your arrival, you’d exited the car and sprinted into the beach house even before your dad could stop the vehicle fully. You hadn’t seen your Nana in so long—your excitement obviously knew no bounds.

However, instead of finding her, you had come face-to-face with a strange blonde boy unloading groceries on the kitchen island.

Your first encounter with Jake had been horribly embarrassing. His soft, boyish features had thrown you off.

Literally.

You had tripped over your own feet when your gazes locked. Thankfully, he’d proven to be someone with good reflexes and caught you before you could fall.

Your Nana, upon hearing the commotion, had rushed inside (from the garden out back, you’d assumed) and gotten introductions out of the way.

Jake Sim and his family had only recently moved into the house next door. His parents, after a successful career, had seeked early retirement and taken sanctuary in the small town of Rockcrest.

Jake, apparently, surfed and ran errands for your grandma when he wasn’t busy doing his summer job as a waiter at the golf course.

The two of you befriended each other and started hanging out, only to discover that you actually had a lot in common.

For instance, both of you had the terrible habit of betting on things to prove to other people that you were right. One thing led to the next, and here you were now, risking your prized possessions yet again to win another bet.

If Jake couldn’t manage to make you fall for him in the span of three weeks, he would have to surrender his DSLR. But if he did make you fall, you’d have to hand over the signed first edition copy of your favorite book.

The stakes weren’t nearly as scary as the dangerous game you were playing. Though, you supposed, there wasn’t really anything to be afraid of.

The damage was already done. You’d fallen for Jake long before the bet came into existence.

Why, then, did you agree to his conditions?

Jake Sim was cocky. He was overconfident. If given the chance, he was sure he could convince you to be his girlfriend.

Admitting that you were already head over heels for him would have been embarrassing. It would have implied that he’d managed to have an effect on you without even trying. No way were you going to allow that to happen.

So, you let him try. You let him hold your hand. You let him hug you. You let him take you out on dates. You let him kiss the corners of your lips and do all sorts of cheesy things.

You let him in.

Each moment you spent with him made you open up to him more and more. Not only did Jake know your dreams and the things that made you happy, but he was also aware of your insecurities, fears and sorrows.

You didn’t even care about the bet anymore. Your pride and competitiveness could go down the drain for all you cared. You only had two months left before school began; time was of absolute essence.

“Jake—”

“Why would I give up when I know I’ve already won the bet?” he interrupted, answering your question. His eyes bored into yours and you felt your heart rate pick up. “Why would I accept defeat after I’ve managed to make you fall for me?”

Your mouth parted open in surprise. You could only stare at Jake dumbfoundedly as he stood up and dusted himself off, offering you a hand. “You might have done your best to keep up the pretense, Y/N, but I noticed your slip-ups.”

“Since when have you known?” you whispered, slipping your hand into his and allowing him to pull you to your feet. He didn’t let go, though. He only intertwined your fingers and caressed your face.

“A few days into the bet,” Jake answered, his gaze darting between your eyes and mouth, as if he had a hard time not looking at the latter. “I was reaching for a bottle behind you, but you thought I was going in for a kiss.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You hadn’t realised he’d known.

“Sorry for disappointing you then,” he mumbled. “Can I make it up to you now?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Breath hitching in your throat, all you could do was nod. But Jake wasn’t having it. Tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, he whispered, “Use your words, princess.”

You exhaled shakily. “Make it up to me, Jake.”

And then his lips were on yours. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Tilting his neck to the side, Jake deepened the kiss.

You thought you had died and gone to Paradise.

Your heart swelled with happiness and contentment, and if it weren’t for Jake’s thumb caressing your face in a comforting manner, you might have exploded into an array of light.

All your other senses dulled and for the first time in your life, you realised what it was like to live in the moment. To enjoy it so thoroughly that everything else becomes meaningless.

Out of breath due to the sheer euphoria you were experiencing, you broke the kiss and rested your forehead against his.

“Y/N?” Jake murmured. “Can I ask you something?”

You slowly opened your eyes in response and stared into his hopeful ones.

“Will you accompany me to the festival as my girlfriend?”