#together in our sweet solitude

[thewulf]

Teaching Trails || Azriel

Summary: Request - can i request a teacher reader x azriel where she's Nyx's teacher/tutor and feyre or rhysand asks az to pick him up since they're busy and he swears he falls in love on sight seeing reader be so sweet on Nyxie and how comfortable Nyx is around reader? just something sweet and fluffy and maybe a super nervous az when reader notices him at the doorway?? You can decide the rest. love your work!

A/N: Ahhhh I loved writing this. Idk I just picture Nyx as a sweet bubbly 5/6 year old in this. Adored writing this!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy!!)

As you stand at the edge of one of the many expansive terraces of the House of Wind, the air around you is crisp, the sky a clear, deep blue above the sprawling city of Velaris below. This majestic residence is perched like an eagle's nest atop a solitary mountain and commands a breathtaking view of the Night Court. Its beauty a sure giveaway to ancient power and elegance. Yet despite its grandeur there’s a poignant isolation to it. Especially for young Nyx, whose days are spent within these walls that soar closer to the stars than to the streets where other children play.

Inside the palace is a labyrinth of ornate halls and vast chambers. Each room a masterpiece of art and architecture designed for gods rather than a playful child. The echo of Nyx’s laughter often bounces off the high ceilings. A reminder of the solitude that accompanies his royal upbringing. He is a small but vibrant figure roaming the endless corridors exploring shadowed corners and hidden nooks. His solitude veiled by the splendor surrounding him.

It's during one such quiet evening as the horizon painted a watercolor of twilight hues that Feyre brings up her growing concern to Rhysand. They are in their private chambers. A place where the masks of High Lord and Lady can be set aside. Where vulnerabilities can be voiced without the weight of a crown.

"Nyx needs more than just us. He needs more than this palace," Feyre starts with her voice steady yet filled with an urgency that draws Rhysand’s full attention. "He’s missing out on normal interactions. The kind that happen away from royal duties and ceremonial greetings. He’s a child. He should be learning through play, through friendships formed in mud and laughter. Not just in state rooms and formal gardens."

Rhysand’s expression is torn. As a father he yearns for Nyx to have every happiness the world can offer. But as a ruler the thought of his son, so precious and so exposed, wandering beyond the enchanted safety of their home is daunting. "It's dangerous, Feyre," he counters. His voice laced with a protective edge. "The world isn’t always kind, especially not to those of royal blood."

"But isn’t it more dangerous to raise him in a bubble? How will he learn to lead? To understand his people, if he only ever sees them from a balcony or at formal events?" Feyre’s hands gesture emphatically. Her eyes alight with passion. "We need to let him explore, Rhys. We need to let him be a child. Not just a prince." Their conversation stretches into the night. Debates entwined with silent contemplations until a resolution begins to dawn much like the first light over the Sidra. Rhysand’s fears don’t dissipate entirely but his love for Nyx and his trust in Feyre’s instincts lead him to a concession.

"Alright," he says finally. A reluctant smile breaking through his concerns. "We’ll find him a teacher. Someone who can guide him, teach him, yes, but also someone who can take him beyond these walls. Let him learn about life. About our people through his own experiences. Not just through stories and reports."

Feyre’s relief is palpable and together they set out to find the perfect candidate. The search is exhaustive with candidates from across Prythian and beyond interviewed. They seek not just an educator but a guardian of sorts. Someone who understands the delicate balance of nurturing a child like Nyx. Someone who can foster his curiosity and protect his spirit.

The search for a tutor for young Nyx was not a decision taken lightly. Within the ornate conference room of the House of Wind, Feyre, Rhysand, and other key members of the Inner Circle—save for Azriel, who was away on duty—gathered to commence the rigorous interview process. The room was filled with an air of solemnity as each candidate presented themselves. Their credentials scrutinized not just for academic excellence but for a deeper understanding and alignment with the values of the Night Court.

Mor, with her keen sense of people, led the questioning. Her bright eyes missing nothing. Cassian injected moments of levity lightening the mood with his humor. While Amren's piercing gaze seemed to delve into the very souls of the candidates searching for sincerity and resilience. Each member of the Inner Circle brought their own perspective ensuring that the chosen teacher would not only educate Nyx academically but would also nurture his emotional and cultural development.

Then you entered the room. With a demeanor both warm and composed you introduced yourself. As you spoke about your educational philosophy making sure to emphasize experiential learning and emotional intelligence the panel was visibly impressed. Your background in educational psychology coupled with your years of experience teaching in diverse environments highlighted your capability to adapt and thrive in any teaching scenario. More importantly your genuine passion for fostering young minds resonated deeply with Feyre who nodded appreciatively at your thoughtful answers.

Throughout the interview, your approach to education which focused on developing both the intellect and the heart of a student was clearly aligned with the Night Court's ideals. You spoke of the importance of understanding each student's unique needs and adapting lessons to fit those needs. Even suggesting outdoor classes and cultural excursions that would allow Nyx to learn about his heritage in a tangible, engaging way.

As the interviews concluded and the candidates departed the room buzzed with discussions. It was clear to everyone that you stood out not just for your qualifications but for the gentle strength you exhibited. A trait they all deemed perfect for handling the sensitive nature of their prince's education.

When the decision was made Feyre personally reached out to offer you the position. The joy and excitement in your voice as you accepted was palpable. Aware of the immense responsibility of teaching the heir of the Night Court you were nonetheless thrilled by the opportunity to make a significant impact in a young child's life.

As you prepared to step into this new role your heart was buoyant with anticipation. Not just for the challenges ahead but for the chance to contribute to shaping a future leader of the Night Court. The trust placed in you by such revered figures was not just an honor but a truth to your life's work and passion igniting a fervent desire to start this new chapter.

In the heart of Velaris away from the towering isolation of the House of Wind you spend a delightful morning with Nyx at one of the city's lush public gardens. The day is warm. The gentle buzz of the city a distant backdrop to the laughter and learning that fills the air around the two of you.

You laid out a picnic blanket under the shade of a towering silverleaf tree. The spread covered with books, sketchpads, and an assortment of colorful pencils. Today's lesson is about the flora and fauna of Prythian. A topic that has Nyx bubbling with excitement and curiosity. As he sketches a butterfly that landed briefly on the edge of your blanket you explain the role of pollinators in the ecosystem, delighted by his insightful questions and the meticulous care he takes with his drawing.

"Nyx, do you see how the colors of its wings can tell us about its environment?" you ask as you were pointing to the delicate patterns that mirror the blooms around you.

"Yes!" he exclaims. His eyes lighting up with understanding. "It’s like camouflage, right? They blend in to stay safe from predators!"

"Exactly," you reply. Your heart swelling with pride at his quick grasp of the concepts.

The lesson shifts seamlessly from science to history as you guide Nyx through the stories of the Night Court. Each tale woven into the landmarks visible from your spot in the garden. Nyx listens, rapt, as you tell him about the ancient fae who once walked these paths. The battles they fought and the peace that now thrives in their stead.

As the morning progresses Nyx's natural curiosity leads him to a question that makes you pause. His small voice tinged with genuine wonder. "Why don't you have wings like my mom, dad, Uncle Cassian and Uncle Az? Like that pretty butterfly?" he asks. His head tilting as he regards you thoughtfully.

You smile softly, touched by his innocent inquiry. "Well, not all fae have wings, Nyx. Just like not all flowers have thorns," you explain using an analogy you know he'll understand. "Each of us is unique with different abilities and gifts. It’s what makes us all special in our own way."

Nyx nods considering this. "I think it’s cool you don’t need wings to fly. You have books and stories that can take you anywhere," he decides with a wise look crossing his features that makes you chuckle.

"That’s a wonderful way to put it, Nyx. And remember, we all have our own ways of soaring," you say ruffling his hair affectionately.

As you begin to pack up the day's learning materials you lean closer to Nyx with a conspiratorial whisper. "Tomorrow, we’re going to do something special. We'll join a class with other children your age. You’ll get to play and learn together with them," you tell him watching his face light up with sheer delight.

"Really? I'll have friends to play with?" His voice is filled with excitement. His earlier thoughts about wings forgotten in the anticipation of meeting new friends.

"Absolutely," you assure him sharing in his excitement. "It’ll be a lot of fun and you’ll make lots of new friends."

Nyx's eyes sparkle with anticipation as he begins to imagine the possibilities. "I'm going to tell mom and dad all about it tonight!" he exclaims already planning out his evening conversation. "And I’ll tell Uncle Az too. He likes hearing about my adventures."

The mention of Azriel, whom you've only heard about through Nyx’s enthusiastic stories, adds an interesting layer to your perception of the mysterious figure. "That sounds like a great idea," you respond, amused, and intrigued by Nyx’s affectionate mention of his uncle. "It seems Uncle Az is quite the hero in your stories."

"Yeah! He’s really cool! He can disappear like a shadow and is always on secret missions," Nyx says. His admiration for Azriel evident in his wide eyes and animated gestures.

The day ends with Nyx bouncing along the path back to you classroom chatting animatedly about all the things he hopes to do with the other children. His excitement about sharing his upcoming school day with his family, especially with his beloved Uncle Az, whom you've yet to meet but feel like you already know through Nyx's tales, fills the air with joy.

Your heart warms at his enthusiasm knowing that these new experiences are exactly what he needs. As Nyx sketches another flower with his small hand moving confidently you know these moments of joy and anticipation are as precious to him as they are to you, nurturing not just a young prince’s mind but also his spirit. The connections he's building with his family, with you, and soon with his peers are shaping him into a thoughtful, well-rounded individual, ready to explore the world with confidence and curiosity.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon casting a warm, golden light through the windows of your classroom the day's adventures wind down to a quieter, more reflective pace. You sit in a cozy corner of the room on a soft, plush cushioned area you've set up specifically for reading. Nyx nestles beside you as his energy from earlier now softened into the gentle tiredness of a day well spent. In your hands a beautifully illustrated book about the legends of Prythian opens to a page where the heroic deeds of ancient warriors are painted in vivid colors.

As you read aloud, your voice smooth and soothing, Nyx's eyelids begin to flutter gently. You notice his weary smile as he listens. The adventures of the day transforming into the adventures in the pages. Gently, almost instinctively, you begin to caress his hair. Smoothing it back from his forehead in a tender, rhythmic motion. It's a peaceful scene, the kind of simple, heartfelt moment that often goes unnoticed in the bustling life of the Night Court.

Unknown to you his Uncle Azriel stands at the doorway having arrived to pick up Nyx. He pauses there, a silent observer, taken aback by the tranquility and warmth of the tableau before him. His task had been simple. He was to retrieve Nyx and bring him home but the scene he encounters tugs at something deep within him. A longing for such unguarded peace.

Azriel watches as Nyx's breathing deepens, the sweet child drifting closer to sleep with each gentle brush of your hand. Your care for Nyx, so natural and affectionate, strikes a chord in Azriel. He's seen many facets of life. So many forms of relationships and bonds but the simplicity and purity of this moment resonate with him profoundly.

He remains there at the threshold hesitant to interrupt the moment. He was captivated by the gentleness of your interactions with Nyx. The world he usually inhabits—one of shadows and secrets—feels miles away from the soft warmth of this sunlit room. In this pause Azriel realizes that his task isn't just about escorting Nyx. It's about respecting and appreciating the sacred, everyday magic that people like you bring into Nyx's life.

Eventually though the story comes to an unfortunate end, and you close the book before looking down at Nyx to see him fully asleep. A contented expression on his young face. As you carefully consider how to wake him Azriel finally clears his throat softly announcing his presence.

You look up, startled slightly, your eyes meeting his for the first time. There's a moment of mutual acknowledgment. A silent appreciation for the scene he's just witnessed. An understanding that while your worlds may be different the care you show to Nyx bridges them beautifully. Azriel steps into the room. His movements gentle as he did not want to disturb the serene atmosphere you've created.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Azriel says quietly. His voice carrying a warmth that surprises even him. "He obviously treasures these moments with you."

"You're welcome. It's truly a pleasure teaching him," you reply with a warm smile. Your eyes reflecting genuine affection for Nyx.

As you gently wake Nyx his eyes flutter open gradually clearing as they adjust to the presence of another in the room. When he spots Azriel standing quietly by the door a bright, sleepy smile spreads across his face. He quickly scrambles to his feet, excitement replacing any remnants of sleepiness.

"Uncle Az!" Nyx exclaims. His voice filled with delight as he runs into Azriel's open arms. Azriel catches him effortlessly before lifting him into a warm hug. They share a moment, uncle and nephew reunited, their easy laughter filling the room. You grin recognizing him as the infamous Azriel in Nyx’s life.

Then as if struck by a sudden realization Nyx turns back towards you with a look of proud excitement lighting up his features. With a firm grip on Azriel's hand he pulls him closer to you and announces, "This is Miss Y/N, my favorite teacher ever!" His voice carries through the room filled with genuine admiration and joy.

Azriel's gaze shifts to you. A slight tension beneath his calm demeanor as he processes Nyx's enthusiastic introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, his voice steady but softer than usual, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness mingling with his words.

You smile warmly, extending your hand in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you, Azriel. Nyx tells me you're quite the hero," you say. Your tone light and inviting.

Azriel takes your hand and for a moment his usual composure falters under your gaze. He's momentarily taken aback not just by the warmth of your smile but by the unexpected impact of your presence. She's beautiful, he thinks, and kind... The realization that he's slightly awestruck surprises him. He finds himself momentarily lost for words.

"And I've heard you've been learning about heroes in your lessons with Nyx," he manages to say his voice carrying a hint of warmth that rarely surfaces. Nyx obviously pleased with the exchange claps his hands excitedly.

"Can we all walk back home together?" Nyx asks looking up at both of you with hopeful, bright eyes, “Please!” He adds in for good measure as if you weren’t going to immediately say yes to him.

"Of course, Nyx," Azriel responds after looking to you for confirmation.

You nod, gathering your belongings, and the three of you step out into the cool evening of Velaris. As you walk Nyx fills the air with chatter about his day seamlessly weaving together his two worlds with tales of butterflies and ancient warriors. Azriel listens with a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His initial nervousness easing as he's drawn into the simple joy of the moment. His thoughts linger on you, intrigued, and unexpectedly moved by the genuine connection forming between you, Nyx, and himself. A beautiful end to an enriching day.

As the three of you begin your walk back through the twilight streets of Velaris the usual calm that Azriel embodies seems to waver slightly. He is typically a figure of stoic composure, his presence both commanding and elusive shadowed by the mysteries of his duties as the Spymaster. However, today, as he walks beside you, something is distinctly different.

Azriel's steps are measured. His usual fluid grace tempered by a hint of uncertainty. His glances towards you are quick, almost cautious, as if he's trying to decipher an unfamiliar script. The conversation flows easily around Nyx's enthusiastic chatter about his day but each time you turn your attention directly to Azriel a subtle tension flickers across his features.

"You really have a wonderful way with Nyx," you say hoping to bridge the gap with kindness. "He's always so excited to share what he's learned with you."

Azriel nods. A slight flush visible beneath the dusky hue of his skin. "Thank you," he murmurs as his voice is softer than usual. "It's... it's good to see him so happy. You do a lot for him."

The simplicity of your interactions, the easy smiles and gentle teasing you offer to Nyx, resonate with Azriel in a way that is both heartening and unnerving. He's unaccustomed to feeling this way—unsettled yet drawn in, eager yet shy. His hands though normally steady and sure whether wielding a weapon or a shadow clench slightly at his sides betraying his internal struggle.

As Nyx runs ahead a little, bursting with energy as he recounts another part of his day, Azriel takes a moment to compose himself. He glances at you again. This time holding your gaze a moment longer than before. The vulnerability rarely seen by others is palpable now as it was a quiet admission of his nervousness.

"I'm... not usually this unsure," Azriel confesses quietly almost to himself. "But there's something about these moments…. seeing Nyx so at ease with you. It's more comforting than I anticipated."

Your response is a gentle smile, one that acknowledges his admission without pressing further. It's a smile that seems to say you understand that the quiet spaces between words can be filled with kindness, not just silence.

The rest of the walk continues with a softer ease. A budding respect forming amidst the shared glances and the fading light of day. Azriel's initial nervousness slowly ebbs away instead replaced by a quiet appreciation for the unexpected warmth this evening has brought into his usually guarded world.

As the three of you approach the grandeur of the House of Wind, the towering structure casts long shadows over the cobblestone paths. It’s presence as awe-inspiring as it is imposing. Nyx who was still bubbling with energy despite the day's adventures, rushes ahead. Clearly he was eager to recount his tales to Feyre and Rhysand. You pause at the entrance. The vast doors open as if welcoming back its prince.

"It's been a wonderful day, Nyx," you say, giving him a soft hug. "Don't forget to draw that butterfly we talked about!"

"I won't, Miss Y/N!" Nyx promises. His voice echoing slightly in the vast entryway. He turns and dashes inside as his laughter lingered in the air.

You turn to Azriel with a smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for letting me share part of your evening. I should head back home now."

Azriel’s expression shifts. Concern etching his features. "It’s getting late," he observes while glancing at the skies, now painted with the deep blues and purples of dusk. "Please, allow me to walk you back to your home. The streets can be less than forgiving at this hour."

You pause appreciating his concern but ready to reassure him of your safety. "That’s very kind of you, Azriel, but it’s no worry. I know these streets well," you say as you turned to make your way down the path.

Before you can take more than a few steps a subtle but firm presence stops you. Looking down you see one of Azriel’s shadows has stretched out across the path in front of you almost playfully barring your way. It's a gentle unspoken plea that catches you by surprise echoing Azriel’s silent wish for you not to go alone.

Azriel takes a step forward. His gaze earnest. "I would truly feel better if I could ensure your safe return. Please," he adds. A rare hint of vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't expected.

Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes and touched by his quiet insistence you nod to him with a smile spreading across your face. "Alright, Azriel, if it means that much to you then I’d welcome the company," you agree. The warmth in your tone matching the softness in his eyes.

"Thank you," he replies visibly relieved. He quickly steps inside to ensure Nyx is settled and returns to you with a more relaxed demeanor ready to accompany you.

As you and Azriel begin the walk back to your home the streets of Velaris are bathed in the gentle glow of the stars and softly lit lanterns casting an enchanting light over the cobblestones. The atmosphere lends a serene backdrop to the conversation that begins to unfold between you.

"You know, Nyx speaks so highly of you," you start by breaking the initial silence with a warm tone. "He's always so excited after spending time with you. You must have some exciting tales from your duties."

Azriel chuckles softly. A sound so serene that it seems to dance in the night air. "Nyx has a way of making everything sound more thrilling than it might actually be. But yes, there are times when my duties hold some... intrigue." He pause, as if weighing what to share. "Mostly, I'm just ensuring that the court and our lands are safe. It's not always as adventurous as Nyx might depict."

"And what about when you're not cloaked in shadows and mystery?" you ask genuinely curious about the man beside you beyond his role as the Spymaster.

A hint of surprise flickers across Azriel's face. Surprised yet pleased by the interest you’re showing in him. "I enjoy solitude, usually. Reading, training... Though I have a fondness for sword making. It’s a craft that requires precision and patience much like my usual work but with a more tangible, creative result."

"Sword making? That’s fascinating," you remark smiling at the thought. "It must be rewarding to create something so intricate and vital."

"It is," he agrees. His voice softening ever so slightly. "And what about you? What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

You nod before reflecting on your simple pleasures. "I love hiking and just watching nature. There’s something peaceful about observing the natural world. Just seeing how it exists so beautifully without any need for interference."

The conversation flows naturally from there. The earlier apprehension melting into a mutual appreciation for each other’s hobbies and life outside of official duties. As you talk Azriel’s steps seem to synchronize with yours. His presence an incredibly comforting shadow by your side.

When you finally reach your doorstep the city around you has quieted even further. The only sounds being the distant murmur of the Night Court's nightlife and the gentle rustling of leaves. Azriel pauses, standing just a bit closer than before. His usually guarded demeanor dimmed under the starlight.

"Thank you for allowing me to walk you home," he says. His voice sincere and gentle as if reflecting the calmness of the evening.

"It was my pleasure," you respond, finding yourself reluctant to end the conversation. "I enjoyed our talk, Azriel. It’s nice to see the person behind the shadows."

He smiles. A true smile that reaches his eyes making them sparkle with a rare lightness. "I did as well. More than I expected. Perhaps we could do this again, maybe take a hike together?"

"I’d like that," you agree. Your heart light with the promise of future conversations, of shared paths both literal and metaphorical.

"Good night, Miss Y/N. Take care," Azriel says as he steps back ready to meld back into the shadows from which he came.

"Good night, Azriel. And thank you… for everything tonight," you call after him. A smile still playing on your lips as you watch him disappear into the night. The connection between you both stronger and sweeter for the shared walk under Velaris’ starlit sky.

In the days that follow Azriel finds himself inventing reasons to visit your classroom or accompany Nyx to his lessons more often than strictly necessary. Each visit, purportedly to check on Nyx’s educational progress or to discuss scheduling with you becomes a cherished opportunity for him to engage in brief, yet meaningful conversations with you.

Each encounter, ostensibly casual, subtly deepens his affection and admiration for you. He begins to notice the small details: the way your eyes light up when discussing a new teaching method, the gentle patience with which you guide Nyx through difficult lessons, and the enthusiasm that bubbles up when you talk about your nature hikes. Azriel who was typically reserved and composed finds himself drawn into your world of vibrant enthusiasm and heartfelt dedication.

One afternoon as Azriel stands somewhat hidden by the doorway of your classroom just like he did that first day he met you observes a particularly touching scene. Nyx, having mastered a particularly tricky spell, turns to you with a triumphant grin. You laugh, your joy as vivid as the sparkle in Nyx's eyes. He swears your laughter seems to light up the room.

Watching this Azriel feels a warmth spread through him. A warmth that has little to do with the sun filtering in through the windows. It’s in this simple, unguarded moment that he realizes his feelings for you have deepened beyond mere admiration. He's not just falling for your kindness towards Nyx but also for the genuine spirit and infectious joy you bring into every interaction.

As he steps away from the doorway with a thoughtful smile playing on his lips Azriel knows that what he feels is something profound and undeniable. Your spirit which was so vibrant and full of life calls to him in a way that no one else ever has. And as he walks away with his shadows trailing behind him he’s certain of one thing. He wants to explore where this connection might lead not just for Nyx's sake but for his own heart’s as well.

After ensuring that Nyx was safely back at the House of Wind you begin to make your way back towards your home. The day's light is waning casting long shadows that stretch across the cobblestone streets of Velaris, adding a mystical allure to the city’s evening charm.

As you step forward, the sound of your footsteps is a soft echo in the quieting city. You're lost in thought pondering the pleasant interaction with Nyx and looking forward to the solitude of your evening walk home. However, before you can get far you hear Azriel’s voice calling out from behind you.

“Wait, please!” His tone carries a blend of urgency and hesitation that halt’s you in your tracks.

You turn around surprised to see him approaching quickly. His usually composed demeanor replaced by a slight breathlessness. The shadows that always linger around him seem to pulse in sync with the heightened beat of his heart.

Azriel catches up to you. His expression earnest. “I just wanted to ask properly,” he starts, his voice steadying as he meets your gaze. “Would you join me for a hike this evening? There’s a trail not far from here that’s especially beautiful in the evening light. I think you’d really enjoy the views, and...” He pauses before taking a breath reassuring himself, “I would really enjoy the company.”

Your smile deepens, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerable way he presents his request. The softening of his features and the hopeful look in his eyes paint a picture of a man stepping beyond the shadows that define him.

“I would love to, Azriel,” you reply warmly. Your voice filled with genuine excitement. “It sounds like a perfect way to end the day.”

Relief washes over Azriel’s face. His usual stoic mask giving way to a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he says as if a weight was lifting from his shoulders. “Shall we meet at the edge of the city in half an hour?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you agree already anticipating the quiet beauty of the trail and the shared moments ahead.

As you both part ways to prepare for the evening hike the anticipation of the upcoming adventure brings a new spring to your step. Azriel turns back once more watching you walk away, his heart lighter. He realizes just how much he’s looking forward to exploring not only the natural wonders of Velaris but also the potential of a new and blossoming relationship with you. The thought brings that rare and hopeful smile to his lips. One that he carries with him as he disappears into the shadows to ready himself for the evening.

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[teyamsatan]

High Infidelity

Adult!Neteyam x (f)Metkayina!Reader x Ao'nung

Warnings: cheating, smut (fingering, oral - f receiving, praise kink), cursing, 18+ minors dni

Word count: 3.7k words

Notes: oops, was supposed to write other things, but listening to this song triggered smth in my brain so here it is x enjoy ;)

next part (x)

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

“I’m tired, we can do it tomorrow.” 

“Ao’nung, we haven’t been swimming together in months. We’re supposed to be together for the rest of our lives, you’d think I wouldn’t have to drag you outside to spend time with me every other day.”

“Maybe if you stopped nagging me like we’re already mated, I would be more inclined to want to spend time with you.” 

You couldn’t stop the tears falling down your cheeks any less than your legs making a run for it at the slightest pushback from your mate-to-be. Running away was the only time you felt free anymore. You loved Ao’nung. He’s been in your life… well, your whole life. There was little of you that wasn’t tied back to him and there was little of him that wasn’t embedded in you. You grew up together, Tsireya’s best friend and confidant, Ronal’s long-lost daughter, it seemed. You might as well be, since your parents were never around anyway, not to raise you, or to teach you better than to accept such treatment from a boy, who had been sweet and kind to you all your life, until he realised you liked him, until he realised that no matter how little he gave, you would cling on to it for dear life, you would pretend a drop of water was a fountain, and that it could sustain your thirst until the next drop came. 

You didn’t stop until you hit the beach, that was deserted this time of night, and sat down on the warm, soft sand. You sighed, allowing yourself the kindness of respite, of crying it out without shame, without constraint, without being made to feel stupid for being soft. You felt so foolish, so used and yet somehow so useless, at the same time. You were deep in thought, so deep in your own sorrow, that felt like it was drowning you, keeping your head forcefully underwater until there was no more breath in your lungs, that you missed the steps tracking closer until a tall form was towering above you.

 

“Are you alright?”

You shot up and onto your feet, pried out of your anguished reverie and shaking from the scare of another person, at a time and place you thought you would have the safety of solitude. You immediately recognised the young man sitting across from you, the rhythmic bioluminescent waves shining over his face, making him glow with ethereal beauty unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It was hard not to know who he was, as him and his family have been the talk of the village for a while now, the buzz surrounding their arrival constant and unending. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the son of Jake Sully, the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya and the Sixth ever Toruk Makto. Everybody knew his story, everybody admired him, for his valiant win over the demons that took so much from the Na’vi and from the Planet. Now there he was, in your village, with his whole family, asking for Uturu, asking for a new chance, asking to be trained in the Metkayina ways. 

Neteyam Sully was a beautiful man. Tall and muscular, his body was a deep shade of blue, so unlike your own, so unlike anything you’ve ever known. His stripes were even darker, an intense indigo that reminded you of the night sky, of the sea during a heavy storm, and the contrast was hypnotising, so hypnotising, in fact, you couldn’t stop the booming in your heart or the way you were shamelessly staring at his arms and chest. His hand went to your chin, and he brought your face upwards to get you to look in his eyes. You swore your breath stopped when he touched you, all of your 18 years of breath practice and your phenomenal control right out the window. His eyes were bright like the stars in the night sky, which might as well have been dull and pointless when compared to the freckles on his face, that shone brilliantly and moved upwards as his lips lifted in a soft smile. 

“Can you hear me?” 

You shook your head lightly, trying to push the thoughts out of your head and bring the sane ones back in. 

“Y-yes, I can. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I just wanted to make sure you are alright. You seemed… upset.”

His hand didn’t drop from you chin, and his lingering touch sent shivers down your back that reached the tips of your fingers and toes before dissipating and being replaced with new ones, electrifying your entire being. 

This was wrong. You were promised to another man. To the future Olo’eyktan. You had no business getting shivers down your spine, no business getting lost in his eyes, no business feeling feelings you have never felt before, not with Ao’nung, not with anybody else. You took a step back and watched and his hand fell from your face limply besides his body. 

“I’m alright. Thank you for checking, you are very kind. I should probably go now. It’s late.” 

You didn’t look behind you as you passed him and headed hurriedly back towards the village, hoping this way you could outrun him, the emotions he evoked in you, the shame that followed and the guilt that you knew was lurking menacingly in the shadows. 

“I’m sorry for being such a dick. Forgive me?” 

The shell he was holding out in his palms was gorgeous, everything you liked about the world and the sea wrapped in a tiny, magical package. He knew what you liked, he knew you very well, a thought that made you despondent. If he knew you, that means he knew what he was doing to you. He knew the feelings that plagued you, feelings that he brought upon you, that his actions brought upon you, and he still did them - unapologetically, at least until the last second, when he came asking for forgiveness, which you granted every time. He raised an index finger to your chin and lifted your head and you couldn’t help the booming in your ears when the action reminded you of the Omatikaya boy and the night you’ve pointlessly tried your best to forget about the past couple of weeks. 

As your lips touched, a messy, sloppy kiss, filled with intention and need, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as not even this kiss, passionate as it was, invoked a fraction of the same reaction in your body as Neteyam’s one touch. Still, you loved Ao’nung. You always have. You were to be a mated pair soon. You were to be together…forever. He moaned as he deepened the kiss and you smiled at knowing, despite everything, it was you who made him feel this way. He might be acting out now, but he loved you, he wanted you. And one day, he’ll love you enough to show you in more ways than just the one. 

“I still have to teach the Omatikaya, how about you come with me?”

“NO!” 

Ao’nung looked at you curiously and tried to understand where this reaction was coming from. You knew you exaggerated and had to calm yourself if you were to not raise any suspicion. Not that there was anything to raise, you didn’t do anything wrong. And yet still, you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling, the lingering thought that you had to lie, that what happened had to stay between you and the eldest Sully. 

“I’d rather not, I have other things to do around the village anyway.”

Ao’nung scoffed and rolled his eyes irately. 

“You know, you keep saying we never spend time together, but then you pull this shit. I’m busy, you know? I can’t always entertain you whenever you want.” 

You felt the all-too-familiar sinking feeling take over your mind again, just like the tears that formed almost instantly at his words, threatening you, praying for one moment of weakness so they’d fall and make a mess out of you again. 

“Ao’nung… I come most times you ask. Every time you ask, in fact, which is very rarely. I just can’t right now. I’ll wait for you to come by my marui tonight. My parents aren’t home.” 

Why did you do that? Why did you ask him to come? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. You made a promise, though. To the clan, to the Tsa’hik and Olo’eyktan. To him. It was an unbreakable promise, a sacred bond. You were mere weeks away from completing your Iknimaya, short time away from giving yourself to him, allowing him to do to you what you knew was the ultimate form of intimacy, what you’ve wondered about for years, what you’ve been craving for the last few weeks. 

You walked on the beach, the same beach, a beach most Metkayina didn’t come to, as it was out of the way and filled with big rocks and greenery that took away from the beauty of it all and the usual uninterrupted patch golden sand which people liked to lie on, to feel, as it grazed their sea-green skin. You hoped the walk would clear your mind, a hope that quickly vanished from sight as a certain cerulean Na’vi tapped you gently on the shoulder, making you jump out of your skin. He laughed softly, his sharp, pronounced canines coming swiftly into view, and you felt a sudden urge to touch them, to see if they were indeed as sharp as they looked. Could they draw blood? Could they pierce your skin easily, as they grazed over you, over your neck, over your -

“Sorry I scared you. I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

“I…” you took a deep breath in a futile effort to calm your nerves. “I thought you were training with Ao’nung.” 

He eyed you intently, his gaze trailing over your face and landing on your lips. You opened them slightly to accommodate the deeper breaths you felt the need to take, like your body needed an increase in its oxygen intake to keep up with the intensity of his presence. 

“I was, but my dad needed me for something. I’m on my way there now.” 

Your hand felt like it caught on fire as his fingers wrapped around it, lifting it up in front of you until your palm was facing upwards and he dropped a bracelet in it, closing your hand with a touch of his hand and letting you go. 

“You lost this, that night on the beach? I have been meaning to give it back to you, but you have a way of eluding me, it seems.” 

You opened your hand again and inspected the item that was now residing in it. It was a bracelet you got as a gift when you were much younger, when your mateship with Ao’nung was first announced. Your shoulders dropped at its sight. It was pretty, and ornate, and a bitter reminder of what was beautiful and has now soured through time, like fruit left outside on a hot day. 

“Thank you. I appreciate you finding it for me. It’s very precious to me.”

He chuckled a little, unable to keep the sarcasm from coating his tongue. 

“Is it? It’s been weeks since you’ve lost it, and the way you reacted makes me think you didn’t even realise it was gone.”

You took a step back at his words and felt your ears flattening in response. Your dour expression must have taken him by surprise, just like his words did you, because he took a step towards you and spoke. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to infer. You know better than me what this means to you. It was rude of me, and I apologise.” 

You couldn’t help staring at him once more, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, unable to understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. He… apologised? He said something untoward and he just… apologised? You don’t think this has ever happened to you. You didn’t think that was possible, not to you, at least. Other girls, your friends, had mates like that, had relationships that were… well, happy. They were happy, and filled with love and lust and passion, with sleepless nights and midnight swims, with lingering touches and anticipating gazes, filled with feelings of flickering flames and wondrous woes, filled with so many things you’ve never felt before, with all the things you were feeling right in this second. 

“So you are Ao’nung’s mate?”

Why was he asking you this? Why now?

“Mate-to-be.” You whispered, knowing that if your voice was any louder, it would be shaky and breathy. 

He nodded to himself, looking deep in thought as his eyes darted to your much smaller body and then over in the distance, at the waves crashing on the beach. 

“Why are you asking, Neteyam?” 

His step faltered a little as you said his name, but he regained his composure almost immediately, falling back into step with you, as if it never happened. His face gave little away, although his tail was moving behind you furiously, running up and down the back of your thighs in their haphazard motion. You felt heat pool in the pits of your abdomen at the quick brush of the soft appendix, that you tried to will away to no avail. 

“Take care of yourself. I should go train with your mate.” 

And just like that he left, leaving you to deal with your chagrinned heart and leering mind, all on your own. 

He didn’t show. Once more, you waited for hours in your tent, until way past eclipse, and your mate didn’t show. You were crying in your hammock, trying to undo the hurt in your heart, hoping that if you cry hard enough it will just escape through your tears duct and be gone from your body once and for all. You were playing with the bracelet he gave you so long ago, cursing it and cursing him for the years of hurt and pain, the years of broken promises and shattered expectations, and with newfound determination, you dropped it on the floor and left for your beach. 

You were a little surprised when you found Neteyam sitting peacefully on the beach, looking into the darkness that enveloped the sea for the night, only the glimmer of the bioluminescent plankton being hit by the soft waves visible. You swallowed audibly, and made your way to this man you had some sort of unspoken connection to, trying to ignore the way your heart thumped in your chest at the mere sight of him. 

His ears twitched as he made out your presence, but he didn’t made any effort to acknowledge it otherwise. 

“He didn’t show, did he?”

“H-how did you…?”

“I overheard you. In the morning.” He got up and turned around to face you, a fervid look on his face that made your legs quiver and push together to accommodate the feeling growing in between your thighs. 

“Why were you so adamant about not coming training with us?”

“I was… busy.” 

His body got closer to you, closer and closer, regardless of how many steps back you were taking, regardless of the fact that you made every effort to get away from his presence that overwhelmed your every sense, clouded your every critical thought and replaced it with a blabbering mess of heightened emotion and need. You gasped loudly when your back hit the trunk of a tree and you realised there was nowhere to go anymore. No place to hide, nothing to do but deal with it, with him. 

“You’re lying. Don’t lie to me.”

His beautiful aureate eyes were fixed on your face, an ardent, hungry look haunting them, haunting you. Your knees were weak and wobbly, cowering under the weight of his presence, under the weight of the lust washing over you. His hands raised to your face, and the rough calloused feel of his fingertips made you pant, made you fantasise about how they would feel against other parts of you that desperately craved attention. 

What are you doing? This is wrong. This is so wrong. 

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

You knew as his face was closing in on yours that you were doomed, that you didn’t have it in you to stop him, that you didn’t want to stop him. You knew that this kiss would mark a point of no return, a path of illicit affairs and unspeakable secrets, and that nothing could ever take it back, but you didn’t care. You wanted to know what it felt like, to be wanted, to be owned, to feel special.

His lips were nothing like his hands, instead they felt feathery and soft, and he tasted sweet, like a ripened fruit or like a child’s laughter. The kiss was hungry and needy, like you were, and your lips were brushing over each other, devouring any ounce of sanity still left in you as his tongue trailed over your lips and into your mouth, and you welcomed him with your own, allowing yourself to taste him, allowing him to taste you, to explore you. 

“I want you. I want you so badly, I want you to know what you do to me. I want to show you what you deserve.”

He broke the kiss to place new, wet ones along your jaw and down your neck, and your couldn’t help the moan that escaped you and the way your head threw back, chest heaving at the sensation, at his maddening words. His lips were roaming your body, licking and sucking and biting on every inch of your torso and abdomen, like he was uncovering uncharted territory and wanted to know every secret within it. He knelt in front of you as he reached your hips, and you found yourself using the very limited amount of critical thinking you still had to push his head away from where you knew he was headed, from where you desperately wanted him, from where you knew he couldn’t be. 

“No. We can’t. This is wrong.”

“Yes. Yes, we can. You can, and you should. You should see what you’re missing out on by being promised to him. Let me show you how good it can be. How good I can make you feel.” 

He tightened his hand around one of your thighs and plopped it on his shoulder and then wrapped his fingers in the waistband of your loincloth, untying it easily. You groaned as the breeze hit your now uncovered core and shut your eyes tightly when the sight made Neteyam let out a wild, throaty moan that made you feral. 

“Look at that. You’re already ready for me. You’re dripping wet, that’s how badly you want this. How can something that feels this good ever be wrong?” 

You were a hyperventilating mess as his face got so close to your folds, you could feel his warm breath on you. A kiss is all it took for you to melt under his touch, for all reason to leave your being, every memory of your promised mate erased from your mind, like he never existed. Like nothing ever existed outside of this man, outside of the feelings he evoked in you. He pushed his tongue inside of you and you pushed out unintelligible noises, that got louder the harder he thrusted in you, the more his lips moved fluidly and skilfully on you, sucking and biting until the pleasure was coiling inside of you like a spring ready to give out at any blow of the wind. His tongue was swiftly replaced with a finger, and the foreign sensation made you squeeze your legs together as you discovered it, as you revelled in it. 

“You’re taking it so well, baby girl. So well. Think you can do one more finger?” 

You had no words, no words could be formulated in your state, so you just nodded aggressively, bucking your hips against him and he chuckled. 

“So needy. Needy for my fingers, huh?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer as he retracted his middle finger and pushed it back in, adding the ring finger, until he reached a spot that made you scream out, eyes rolling in the back of your head. 

“That’s it, that’s the spot. Feel good? You like being fingered, you like my mouth on this needy cunt, huh?”

His words made you a mewling mess, and you felt the pressure in your core build up and you knew it was building up towards a release that would take everything out you, that would ruin you, just like he was ruining you. 

“I can feel you squeezing my fingers. I want to see you come, I want to taste your cum on my tongue, baby girl. Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His tongue found his way back to your clit, licking and sucking while maintaining an unrelenting pace of his fingers and with little warning, your orgasm washed over you like a rogue wave in the middle of an ocean of pleasure, overtaking you, drowning you in him, in this feeling you never wanted to end. 

He smirked as he got up and kissed you, and you loved the taste of yourself on him, loved it in all its unholy, nefarious, sinful glory. His thumb brushed your lips as he spoke.

“One day, you’re going to beg me to fuck you. And I’ll do it so well, you will never be able to get me out of your mind, never be able to touch yourself again without an image of my cock slipping in and out of you ingrained in your brain.” 

He walked away without looking at you. 

“Sleep well.” 

pt. 2? maybe? maybe not?

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar masterlist #avatar writer #avatar writing #avatar fanfic #avatar smut #avatar angst #neteyam #neteyam fanfic #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #neteyam angst #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader

[hyperactively-me]

Can you imagine king ghost and princess are having a super intimate moment, like they about to kiss 💋 😘 😗 buuuuttt 🍑 just before it can happen someone calls ghost for urgent king things and bros dying inside because he has to leave 💔

The soft crackling of the fireplace filled the room, casting a warm, flickering light that danced across the room's rich tapestries and polished furniture. You and King Ghost had found a moment of solitude in the midst of the palace’s hectic schedule. The two of you were nestled together on a plush couch, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder as you both read a book. His arm rests on the back of the couch, his hand settled on your shoulder. 

Simon's fingers lightly traced mindless shapes on your shoulder, and his warm breath tickled your ear as he spoke. “I can't believe the main character made such a reckless decision,” he remarked quietly, his voice filled with playful disbelief.

You chuckled softly, turning a page. “Well, you know how some characters can be. Always getting themselves into trouble.”

Simon licks his lips, his eyes flitting down to your neck as he responds, “Much like someone else I know.” 

You couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone. “Are you comparing me to a fictional character?”

He chuckled, the deep sound rumbling in your ear. “Only in the best way, love. You’ve livened up the place with your personality since you’ve been here."

As you continued to read, Simon's hand began to slowly trail up and down your arm, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. His words and touch were a sweet distraction from the story, and you found yourself more focused on him than on the book.

Simon's voice grew softer, more quiet. “Y’know, I could think of a more interesting way to spend our afternoon than reading.”

You looked up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh really? And what might that be?”

He leaned in, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. “A kiss,” he whispered.

You freeze for a moment, your heart stopping in your chest. A kiss. From him.

A real kiss. You hadn’t admitted it out loud to him, but you had grown genuine feelings for him recently. After spending so much time together, getting to know each other, you grew affectionate of Simon. You enjoyed being around him, loved his personality, for who he was. You weren’t sure when you would be ready to admit it to him, but his words in the moment make you want to scream it from the top of your lungs, to dance and jump up and down with joy.

Before you could tell him, and before he could close the gap between you, the doors swung open with a thud, and in walked one of the royal advisors, his face etched with urgency. 

“Your majesty,” the advisor said, trying to catch his breath, “I apologize for the intrusion, but there's an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention.”

Simon let out a sigh of frustration, his head hung low by your shoulder, an annoyed expression painted on his face. He slowly drags his head upwards, staring at you longingly. He stares at your lips for a moment, then looks into your eyes, the way they’re widened with anticipation. Fuck.

He looks at you apologetically. “I'm afraid I have to go, love. Duty calls.”

You sighed, but a small smile played on your lips as you gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Go on, they need you.” 

Simon rose from the couch, reluctantly leaving your embrace. “I promise I'll make it up to you later,” he said, determination in his eyes.

You nodded, knowing that duty often came first. “I'll hold you to that.”

As Simon made his way to the door, you watched him with a mixture of affection and longing. Despite the interruption, the moment you had shared on the couch had only made you more anxious to tell him. And you were going to hold him up to it.

#omg #so close #we're almost there guys PROMISE #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

[littleholmes]

“My quiet world of solitude had been intruded upon by the most boisterous invader. But I did not dislike our time together.”

Awwwww! The Elegant Clapper and The Masked Warrior Ballerina, “Lady M”🥰 This is so sweet

#sxf #sxf 97 #spy x family #martha marriott #Henry Henderson #sxf manga spoilers #sxf thoughts #sxf manga #spy x family manga #spy x family manga spoilers

[yabakuboi]

A Truth Acknowledged

one time i made a post about regency omegaverse steddie and i found it again so here's a potential part one if the spirit compels me again i'll continue

The house has been quiet for many years now, so Steve is not unused to the stillness that's long settled over Harrington House. He much prefers it, even. At twenty and four years, unwed and without a mother or a tutor to tame him, Steve has grown as wild as his home has grown quiet, left often to his own company. Since his presentation, he's roamed the hills of Loch Nora to his pleasure, long days of solitude interrupted only when his father calls him to his side for some soiree or ball, where Steve is bid to perform as a proper omega should: to dance, to simper, to laugh, to sing—and sometimes, as improper, to be pulled into secluded rooms to be sampled.

It's the reparations to be paid for a thing like him to be born. Steve bears it best he can, knowing he'll return home to be left to his own again. Quiet house, green hills, a loneliness he is safe in.

Until, of course, his father's pockets grow too shallow. And it is time for Steve to perform once more.

Except this time, there's a new face in Harrington House.

"Stephen," his father calls, all false pleasantry and cheer. "I'd like you to come meet young Mister Munson. He is our new neighbor, he and his uncle are staying up at the Thompson estate for the summer."

"I see," Steve says, trying to gather his thoughts between the wool gathering in his head. No one has visited their home since Steve's presentation. "I... I'm very glad to meet your acquaintance, Mister Munson."

Mister Munson, with his round face and large eyes, seems to struggle just as much as Steve does. "J-Just Eddie—I mean, Edward is fine," he says, stumbling over his words. He has a thick accent, and the air of a man learning to speak with the same pomp and confidence as Steve's father. "A pleasure to meet you, as well."

"I thought you might like to show Mister Edward the garden," his father says. He looks at Steve with cold calculation, and Steve feels himself being weighed and priced where he stands.

"Of course," Steve says, dipping his head.

Though Mister Edward doesn't offer his arm, Steve still takes it, hooking their elbows together as Mister Edward fumbles himself into a more proper position. Steve does it smoothly though, and gently pulls Mister Edward out into the sunlight.

He can't help but notice that the two relax minutely once they're out from his father's direct eye. Mister Edward does stay overly stiff though, as Steve leads them along the overgrown garden path, and when he looks up, Steve has to smother a smile to find Mister Edward's face pink across his nose and cheeks, all the way to his ears.

"You must forgive us, Mister Edward," Steve says, his voice soft and intimate. "The two of us are unused to visitors this far into the country."

"Nothing to forgive. If anything, please forgive me," he says, unsure and awkward. "I don't— Is it proper for me to be alone with you?"

Steve truly must fight the smile from his face. "Shall be frank with you, Mister Edward?"

"God, please," Edward breathes, a man out of his depth. "I'm not used to the ways you rich folk talk about nothing but actually say a whole lot."

Laughing, Steve jostles the two of them a little, glad he's gotten Mister Edward to relax enough to speak plainly. "Don't worry, I will translate for you, best I can," he says. Probably a little foolishly. Steve's having his first conversation with the man and already hoping to hang on his arm long enough have more.

Yet, it's worth it, because Edward turns to him with a smile on his face like Steve's handed him a Christmas miracle. "Will you, now?" he asks, a giddy grin crawling his face. "Well tell it to me, pretty thing, why in the world did your fancy father invite a ruffian like me here to meet someone as sweet as you?"

Steve feels himself pinken. Alphas of all types have said many a crude thing to him, but this earnest flirting easily turns Steve's head. What a foolish omega he is.

"I'm sure my father means for us to court and marry."

"My god! Are you sure? Is he mad?" Mister Edward gapes at him. "A proper noble like you married to me?"

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes. Proper. How silly!

"A proper noble like me is still an omega, and a man at that. I'm not a suitable pick to bear heirs," Steve tells him. "He's after your money."

"What money?" Edward laughs. Like his strings have been cut, Edward relaxes against him, his gait a swaying thing, pulling Steve along as they bump together along their ill-given journey. "I don't have a cent to me! It's all my uncle's, you know. He never married, and then my mother wrote him when I came of age and shipped me off to be his heir for a sack of coins. I grew up in London, working in factories."

He lifts his right hand to Steve, showing where two of his fingers are part missing at the first knuckle.

"I was born a roughneck, Stevie," he says, not looking at Steve anymore. Steve should scold him for being so familiar, but instead he finds he likes it. "Born poor and starving. My uncle can dress me up and give me all kinds of lessons, but I'll always be what I was born."

"Well," Steve says, shocked to find himself a little breathless. He watches Edward's profile for a moment longer, watching the unease settling on that handsome brow, twist in his mouth. "It seems we match rather well then, don't you think?"

Edward—Eddie turns to him with wide eyes. "Are you mad?" he asks. As he speaks, he leans in close, until their breaths share air. "Don't you want a good, proper alpha of good stock? Keep you nice and comfy up in some castle?"

"Not particularly," Steve tells him, truthfully. "My father would want nothing more than to marry me off to a high born alpha, to keep a house and have children, and to bring the Harrington name some sort of recognition once again."

Steve turns then, looking down the path and away from Eddie's eyes, so focused on Steve and his words. No one has listen to Steve speak with such attention before.

"I'd much rather marry for love," he admits on a quiet breath. Beside him, Eddie was a line of heat and weight, pressed against him, his gaze burning. "Or, if I can't have love, then at least for friendship. I'd rather not be alone anymore."

"I see," Eddie says.

Turning back to him, Steve gets caught once again in those intense eyes, dark and warm. He has to remind himself, again, that he's just met this alpha, that it's silly to entertain thoughts of love and companionship with a man he's only spoken to this once. Even if Eddie looks at Steve like he could look at him for the rest of his life.

"Well," Eddie says, turning back towards their destination, but letting his hand travel down Steve's arm, until he can link their fingers together. "I suppose we are quite a match, after all then."

Steve can't stop the smile that curves his lips this time, turns his head to try and hide it. "Yes," he agrees, "I suppose, we are."

#stranger things #steddie #my fic #catch me shoving a ton of backstory into 1.2k words hahaha #revisiting my austen and bronte roots #my steddies

[vagabond-umlaut]

gray cashmere

Solitude makes many a tough decision too easy to make.

However, is one truly ever 'one'? Or are they 'one' from a collection of many such 'one's' — guaranteed to be affected by the actions of one another?

Strictly isolated systems are mere hypotheses, anyways.

[Alternatively: Amanai Riko's life overlaps with that of three young students from Tokyo Jujutsu High for only fifty-five hours, yet the effects they leave on her and the effects she leaves on them– they can be felt even after a period of one-hundred-and-fifty-five months.]

▸ student! gojo satoru x student! fem! reader; 4400 words of me trying my best to forget the horror of the 'Hidden Inventory Arc' by writing THE CANON-DIVERGENT FIC I DESPERATELY NEEDED TO FUNCTION ATP; riko is the little sister yours truly the reader never had; kuroi is the gentle sunshine on a winter afternoon; THE sweet romance between satoru & reader; suguru is the most awesome best friend and/or brother figure ever; FUSHIGURO TOJI IS HIS OWN WARNING; Hidden Inventory Arc Spoilers with Canon-Level Violence; Angst with a Happy Ending.

▸ notes: The reader's CT was to read others' thoughts freely without them knowing, but after a binding vow she undertook when young [disgusted with the way the old geezers governing the jujutsu society misused it for their personal gains], she lost it, gaining the ability to instantaneously kill an entity the moment she opts to read their mind in place. Not even a special-grade can stop her attack. Aniki = older brother in Japanese.

▸ belongs to series we're the summer to our winter rain but you can read this as a stand-alone if you wanna!

▸ the gif, divider and characters used ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

DAY 1; 11:44

Yours is a beautiful, awful life when it's the one chosen for the sake of all.

Everyone everywhere will remain smiling, crying, speaking, yelling, moving – living, if put in a word– yet you'll be nothing more than a name and, if lucky, a fading face filed away in a mind. Yet, yet, yet– everyone everywhere will remain smiling, crying, speaking, yelling, moving— and one young Amanai Riko thinks that's what makes her fate so bearable.

Too bad one of her three bodyguards doesn't think along such lines.

"She's too young to die. Why is she even agreeing to this merger?"

Your quiet voice breaks Riko's scuttling from one room to another, in search of the things she needs for school.

Craning her neck, she peeks into the room, only to find you standing by the windows, holding a cup of tea delicately as you look intently at your companions. Geto's shoulders rise and fall in a short sigh. Gojo gets up from his slouch on the couch to drape an arm round you.

The girl thinks it's the softest she has seen the goggles-wearing boy appear in the time you all have been here.

(Honestly, this is the first time she is seeing Gojo act so careful and you, so disquietened, in the three hours the three of you have been here—

A jarring contrast to the way the boy introduced you as 'the coolest and hottest jujutsu sorcerer ever' who also happens to be his 'better half' while you greeted them with a beam (which did not reach your eyes) and turned away, focus switching to your beeping mobile.)

(Geto looked like an old grandpa then, when he whispered to Kuroi, a wide smile on his face as he looked at you, how difficult it was for the two of you to get together as a couple – and how happy and relieved he and your other friends are now, watching the two of you be so very in love with each other. Kuroi let out only a tiny quiet sigh with a small gentle smile at his words.)

Your boyfriend's voice pulls her away from her mind.

"You heard the brat, didn't you? She is Tengen-sama; Tengen-sama is her. So she isn't really going to die; she's going to live forever and ever and eve–"

"I thought I was the one who couldn't read between lines well in this relationship, 'Toru," you interrupt him, frowning. Riko finds it too hard to stifle the giggle that threatens to follow – albeit, the threat doesn't stay strong for long, vanishing away at your next words. Thrown into the room, a mix of visible anger and despair.

"The kid was obviously spouting all that nonsense, more as a means to convince herself than to convince us," you say; the young student considers bursting into the room, exclaiming she ain't a little kid, yet a voice in her urges her to stay put outside the door. Begrudgingly, she listens to it. You continue, tone the same as before.

"There's some part in Riko-chan which doesn't really want to merge with Master Tengen, but a burden once dumped on one's shoulders has to be carried, and Riko-chan has no option left but to choke that wily voice in her head until it quietens forever."

Gojo's eyes drift over to the door once. A bit startled and a lot scared, Riko shrinks into herself, yet budges not an inch from her spot. Focus returning to your puckered features, the junior high schooler watches him croon softly into your ears, "Babe, how about we discuss–"

"I don't think there'll be a later, Satoru," you say, then exhale air out in a burst of clear frustration, "And I seriously cannot understand how in this world you and Geto senpai can be so relaxed about this? Y'all are answering Yaga's calls as if Riko's an important but lifeless mail, while we three are some FedEx employees and not three sorcerers leading a girl a few years younger than us to her death, grinning and singing."

The cup in your grasp looks dangerously close to shattering; not to mention the way your cursed energy swells and swells until it comes too close to suffocating the hell out of her — it ebbs away faster than it came.

Face morphing into an easy smile, the girl watches you slip out from under your boyfriend's arm and walk over to her. She wishes the grin she shoots back is half as bright as she hopes it is.

"Hey, Riko-chan," you greet, voice shifting into a soothing melody, "Ready to go to school? Geto senpai's already called the driver. He must be waiting downstairs."

"Oh, I see," Riko responds, a bit lost as her gaze rakes over your face, then darts over to the two still in the room. The weird-bangs-sorcerer offers a small smile while he cuts an apple into slices. The other boy's eyes remain trained on the back of your head, upbeat nature nowhere to be seen.

She looks back at you. Kuroi asks her to hurry via a frantic yell of her name. The girl sighs and slowly moves into the direct line of sight of everyone.

"Have any of you seen a thin blue notebook anywhere? I can't find my music no– OH MY GOD, ONEE-CHAN!!! YOUR STUPID AS HECK BOYFRIEND DID NOT JUST MAKE PAPER PLANES OUT OF MY NOTES, DID HE!?!?"

———

DAY 2; 19:55

"Satoru is not really bad, y'know?"

Your comment arrives few hours and many adventures later – though Riko wonders how much of an adventure they were for you or the two upperclassmen of yours, given the way you three were kicking ass for the entirety of the time, both before and after Kuroi was captured.

Lips curving into a teasing smile – one which the woman, taking care of her since the latter's childhood, shares – the teenager returns her attention to you.

You blink back, a tiny smile playing with the corner of your lips before it widens, digging into your cheeks and crinkling your eyes.

"What?" you ask with a giggle, "Is there something on my face? Or is suggesting my boyfriend to be kind of good really that outlandish of a concept?"

"Hmm, do you want the nice answer or the honest answer?" Riko asks back, plopping a spoonful of the ice cream you bought, then breaking into a shiver as her brain freezes from how insanely cold it is. Neither you nor Kuroi bothering to hide your chuckles, you hum. "I'm not sure which I will find honest and which, nice; why don't you shoot both my way, Riko-chan?" you suggest then add, mirth gleaming in your voice, "Of course, when you're okay again, only then."

The girl thinks of retorting to you with a silent glare but opts to think better of it. Couple of minutes pass in almost silence, Kuroi and you chit-chatting about Okinawa in general while the three of you amble down the sidewalk lining the inky-black sea, casting eerie shadows in the sparse lights dotting the streets — when she decides to reply to your suggestion from before.

"I don't really think Gojo-san is a bad person," She says, stopping and offering you a smile over her shoulder. You too stop and accept it with a bright smile of your own.

Riko continues, "I mean, yeah, he's very, very annoying all the time – making fun of me and calling me a kid or brat – but if you chose him to be your boyfriend, I guess he's kind of fine. Maybe. Plus, you don't really seem to have a bad taste," she adds with an appreciative once-over at the sundress you're wearing.

You crack an amused grin. Riko turns to her caretaker. "C'mon, Kuroi. Tell onee-chan. She has a pretty nice taste in outfits, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, you do," the other woman is quick to agree with a kind grin, "I suppose Riko-sama is correct in saying this; although, Riko-sama..." trailing off, Kuroi smiles at the addressed girl the way she used to in her childhood, whenever the latter used to babble the stuff children always do, and gently rebukes.

"Having a good taste in outfits is not the best indicator of someone's taste in men. You must never view a person from an angle as shallow as that."

"Kuroi-san is right, Riko-chan," you pitch in your two cents an instant later, then cast the woman beside you a sly glance, "Though I wonder if that was an indirect criticism of 'Toru... I hope it wasn't – was it?"

"No, of course not," Kuroi denies with a small laugh. Riko watches you crack a freer smile at her words, which slowly softens when you move your gaze back to her. The ice cream in her hand seems four seconds away from melting; still the girl decides to ignore it in favour of giving you her undivided attention.

(Ever since she met you three, you've always struck the young girl as someone a bit... different.

From the way you train your focus on your opponents during a fight; to the way you speak, neither too loud nor too quiet, just the perfect loudness and pitch required to snatch everyone's attention and keep them for yourself; to the way you carry yourself, neither as pompous arrogant akin Gojo nor as discreet smug as Geto, but as a girl who is aware of her worth and won't hesitate to show another their place, if the need so arises.

Riko thinks if she lived a little longer, she might have wanted to make you her role model. Not that it matters now, though.)

Your musing voice break through her thoughts.

"Satoru was the one who suggested this trip," you say, sharing a half-smile with Kuroi, "The best option would have been to take you back to the school as soon as possible, where you and Kuroi-san would be safe and sound. Plus, our mission too would have been complete. An extra feather to our cap, given we delivered the Star Plasma Vessel to Tengen-sama and secured the foundations the entire Japan is based on. Yet he argu–"

You abruptly fall silent, the loving look on your face withering to one of helplessness and profound sadness when the ticking hands of the wrist watch you wear catches your eye; and you shove your emotions beneath a forced chuckle.

"Oh no, it's almost eight," you say, a faux buoyancy to your words, "Do you wanna go back to the hotel and have dinner there, Riko? Or some place outside, maybe? Our schedule's packed tomorrow – our littlest Riko-chan needs some good sleep tonight to not be fussy tomorrow, doesn't she?"

Glancing at Kuroi, only to find her with the same tense cheerfulness, Riko stifles a sigh and parts her lips into a mirthful beam she doesn't feel at all.

"I really wanna try the soki soba and the yashigani. Do you know any good restaurants nearby?"

You nod exaggeratedly, lips thinning into a solemn line though the faint ray of fun can still be made through the grey clouds cast over your irises. "Don't you worry, Riko sama. Your two faithful servants will certainly find a place to dine to your liking. You just keep being the cute little princess that you are."

The girl opens her mouth to snap back at being called a little girl yet again – you aren't very different from your boyfriend, after all – then shuts it, then opens it again, a teasing giggle wanting to bubble out.

"Y'know, onee-chan," she says, skipping over to you and smiling in an innocent fashion, "I answered your second question, but I never gave a reply to the first one – you wanna know it?"

You take a second before shrugging. "Um, yeah, why not?"

Throwing a mischievous glance to Kuroi, who hides her mouth with a palm and looks away, shoulders shaking a little, Riko returns her eyes to your expectant smile. And beckoning you to come near, whispers.

"There isn't anything on your face. But the foundation's on your neck and shoulders is kind of off, I guess. Were you bitten by a bug, onee–"

An obnoxiously cheery ringtone cuts the girl off. Your face burning a deep hue of coyness, she watches you pluck your phone out of your bag, then walk a few steps away, voice dropping to a hushed murmur – which takes a minute before growing shrill then silent. Your cheeks and ears sport the deepest shade of red Riko's ever seen.

Asking them for a little more time, grin so sheepish and flustered, you whirl on your heels and walk a couple of feet away, your hand fiddling with the Okinawa keychain your boyfriend bought you today at noon.

Lips quirking in a fond smile, Riko looks away from your shy giggling figure to the chuckling Kuroi, to the big ocean waves crashing on the sands below.

Yeah, it might've been good to have a chance at a bit longer life.

———

DAY 3; 15:08

This is not good.

Oh heavens no. This is so not good.

Tears springing forth and streaming down her cheeks, Riko moves to take a step towards you. Then, stills when you put up a bloodied hand asking her to stop. Face scrunched into a smile which, the little vessel knows, conveys nothing of the agony tearing at your insides; you cast a glance at the gaping hole in your palm, then drift your gaze back to her.

Something acidic and pungent surges to the girl's mouth — though not at you, never at you – but at herself, the sole reason why you're clutching your profusely bleeding wound, left by the bullet originally meant for her; why Geto stands shocked and numb, with a hundred curses looming round the room, ready to attack at the slightest hint of an order; why Gojo's probably lying near the torii gates, dead and swarmed by cursed maggots – if what she heard less than a minute back, isn't a lie, that is.

Judging from the sharp gasp of air you drew in then — it isn't, Riko thinks.

Your smile stays as pathetically serene as ever; the only traitor now being those rivulets of grief carving their courses on your face. You part your lips in a heart-wrenching plea.

"Run, Riko-chan. Run to a place far from here. Somewhere none can find you. And don't ever come back. Please."

Shaking her head a 'No!' as fiercely as she can, the girl bites back her sobs. A cold hand pulls her by the shoulder towards the entrance; she keeps her feet firmly planted to the ground.

Everything was going so, so well– why then did this abominable man have to appear out of nowhere and upend everything in her life? Only when she realized she did not want to be the sacrifice for the sake of everyone else, and that, she too could afford an ounce of selfishness — why then did this man have to appear and extinguish that singular flame of hope lit in her world? Why, why, why—

A harsh bark of a laughter barges into her thoughts.

Your eyes develop a pinch of panic as they travel from the man you froze in the entrance to them, then back to him. The victim of your cursed technique sneers.

"You're that girl with the psychic powers, aren't ya? Thought you can only use your power to kill a person; since when can you freeze them like a statue, eh— can see, hear and feel everything, but can't move a single muscle, except to speak, huh? Or, no, wait–" A second raucous laugh rings through the halls and corridors; you clench your wounded hand into a fist so tight, she thinks she too can feel the pain weighing on your senses right now.

The assassin jeers, "You must be so, so tired to not be able to kill this poor cursed energy-less bastard, hm? And on top of all that, you also must not have refined the technique enough to shut me up, yeah?" A vein throbs in your temple; the man speaks, more gleeful than ever.

"And given how I'm slowly losing the numbness in my arms and legs... your technique is so fucking weak, girl. And the jujutsu society called you their messiah, eh? Fucking fools, the whole lot. Their six eyes in a pool of his blood outside while their other trump card's soon to meet a similar miserable end at this monkey's hands. How funny, ain't it?"

Giving no semblance of a reply to him, you turn your eyes back to her – no, to Geto who's standing behind her – and urge him, so desperate and desolate, every breath you take a short jerky heave of your chest, "Take Riko somewhere safe, senpai. And don't return till you've gotten help. Now, go. Quick."

Craning her neck upwards, the teenager catches a glimpse of the boy grasping her shoulder firmly — hoping he'll refuse to listen to you and stay right there, fighting the monster right beside you — but finds no fragment of dissent on his face.

Extreme reluctance? Yes.

Profound melancholy? Yes.

Stifling resignation? Yes, yes, yes.

But dissent? No.

It makes an appearance, now and then, but never persists for long.

She makes yet another attempt to get closer to you.

"Onee-chan, no," Riko begs, snarling and thrashing from under Geto's unyielding hold on her arm now, "please don't do this. I wanna live my life to the fullest, but I cannot if I don't have y'all beside me. So, you–"

"Riko-chan, no–"

"–ask me to go away like an escapist coward–"

"Riko-chan, listen–"

"–staying right over here, next to–"

"RIKO!"

The harsh call of her name makes the girl stumble and stutter. It isn't you who called her so; it's Geto, peering down at her with moisture in his eyes. An ugly sob crawls out her throat. He mumbles, "You're way too young to understand all this, but know that, if you're out there in the world– safe, free and happy– the Star Plasma Vessel mission can be marked successful only then. Whatever sacrifices all of us made or are going to make today," a glance at you shows the bittersweet smile you're wearing; Riko's wails worsen, "they won't make any sense if, at the end of the day, you're harmed. So, please listen to us and escape with Kuroi-san, yeah?"

The man to her not-so-distant left flexes his fingers a bit. The three of you look at him before looking at one another. You look a few minutes away from passing out, skin paling and breaths growing labored with every second that elapses.

Eyes screwn shut, Riko lets go of the fight she was harbouring in her body. Geto's voice breaks with unshed moisture. "Try not to die, kid. I already lost a best friend today, don't wanna lose a sister too."

Riko doesn't need to open her eyes to know your reaction; the heart-rending sob paired with the "No promises, aniki," you let out tells her enough – before your cursed energy expands yet again, and a chilled palm pulls her by the hand into a swift run, the hit of her shoes on the floor echoing in the stuffy underground air.

Air which soon switches from the suffocation of ancience to that of blood and death — the teenager takes but a moment to realize who the person is. Biting down harshly on her lower lip, she swallows the raw anguish tearing her sinews apart, and keeps her eyes shut firm.

Willing the darkness reigning behind her eyelids to overtake every part of her body – especially her mind, being hurtled one memory after another, and another – Kuroi making her lunch for school; Kuroi teaching her to tie her braids; Kuroi congratulating for every success of hers and supporting her after every failure, be it big or small; Kuroi being the family she once thought she had lost in a car crash–

The sharp ding of the lift and the crackling warmth of the sun on her tear-stained cheeks are the last two things Riko registers, before the world round her fades away into a noiseless black — finally.

———

DAY 4718; 16:02

"Anableps can see both above and below the water at the same time, y'know?"

The statement and the awed "Woo!" that follows it rouses Riko from the siesta she was teetering on the brink of. She yawns and rubs her eyes. Then yawns again, a bit more subdued this time, considering a family walks past her.

Uni's been very stressful of late, and to top it all off, the woman who's supposed to handle this shift has called in sick – so, as fucking same as before, the manager is gonna call in some newbie to work instead.

The newbie being none other than Riko – very unfortunately – on a tiring Friday afternoon as today.

At least, the job pays well and she gets to spend time explaining fish and their world to excited kids, plus the occasional one or two adults who look a touch different from their usual bored indifference.

But, of course, there's always a group of friends who come bounding in.

Worse than a class of kindergarten children fighting for the single toy of a dinosaur their teacher has brought — Riko avoids such crowds of like the plague. Storming past them, turning down their query, asking a coworker to fill in for her – the young grad student applies all tricks and methods known to her to escape the situation.

To escape the familiar buzz of cheer and enthusiasm.

To escape the familiar weight of nostalgia and gloom.

To escape the—

"Um, miss, where can we find the whale sharks' tank? Heard it's the main attraction here... And, uh, we're also a little lost, actually."

Trains of thought thrown off-track, the young woman squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them again, a customer service smile flitting onto her lips as she turns back. And holds back a very exasperated groan. Why the fuck did Mio had to leave for a snacks break now of the innumerable times she could have gone before? And why does this crowd have to be the very thing she hates dealing with? Ugh... Never mind–

"Just turn to your left, go down the corridor, then to your right. You'll find the whale sharks there."

The pink-haired boy accepts the reply with a nod and a bright thanks, before the black-haired boy places a hand on his shoulder and he falls quiet. The latter looks strangely familiar, Riko thinks... ignoring it, she shoots the boys a quizzical smile. "Is there anything else you would to like to ask or—"

"You're my mom's friend. I've seen your pictures at home," he cuts her off, brows furrowing. His friend looks at him, so perplexed, not much unlike how Riko's feeling. He pays no mind, continuing, "You attended a Catholic school, love music and aquatic life, and have an obsession with coconut crab meat and soba, don't you?"

"Megumi..." A slightly older girl standing behind them with two girls donning identical t-shirts, begins in a lightly chastising tone, but the tour guide feels she's miles away from them. Catholic school, music lessons, aquariums, soki soba, yashigani, Okinawa... it simply cannot be you—

"Tsumiki! Mimiko!" A voice, Riko once was under the impression she'll never be hearing again, except in nightmares, rings through the near-empty hall of the aquarium, soon followed by the appearing of a face she thought she'll never see again, except in the sole photograph left with her on the phone Geto gave her, besides 5000 円 and contacts he asked her to get in touch with, as soon as possible, that evening a good twelve years ago in Osaka.

You reach a stop before the group, a young brown-haired girl trailing you with a worried scowl on her face. Dumbstruck, Riko watches you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I can understand Nana-chan's phone is busy being used in clicking photos but the same excuse cannot be extended to you, can it? No. So, why on earth can't any of you four pick your mobile up when I'm calling you, hm? Or please don't tell me the batteries are dead. Again."

The blonde girl, presumably Nana-chan, smiles smugly while three out of the addressed four kids shoot a sheepish smile your way. Your frown slowly gives way to a fond grin and you huff a chuckle, shaking your head – which only grows in intensity when the girl following you lets out an annoyed hmph! and launches into a tirade how extremely worried the two of you were and how much dumb and careless them five are.

Eyes welling over with emotions percolated over the course of many, many years, Riko watches you grin so freely — only for it to still and fade when the spiky-haired boy says he has met your friend from the photograph, and you look from him to her standing inconspicuously, half-hidden in the shadows.

A painfully slow second passes.

The entire gaggle of kids falls quiet at the disbelieving watery chuckle you let out. Taking two steps forwards, she offers you a mirror image of your expression.

"Told you the aquarium's fun, didn't I?"

A call of your name bounces off the grey walls in a saccharine tone: Riko knows instinctively, can be no one's except one blue-eyed and white-haired bastard's. You cast a glance at the tall man rushing to you, then return your gaze to her, with the same radiant beam you gave on that day twelve years back, when Riko first expressed her real thoughts out in the air.

The young woman wastes no moment before running to you and engulfing you in the tightest hug she can possibly manage, tears rushing down her face. Your gentle voice shushes her, the way an elder sister would do to a younger sister.

Riko's lips stretch in the widest and freest grin she has felt in forever.

Joyful and thankful her onee-chan is finally back in her life, giving the added length it received some much-needed hues — 'cause a longer life is obviously good but it's the best when your life is long and spent with your near and dear ones.

▸ notes: The reader was in the process of developing and perfecting a new CT, hence her CE was so unstable – spiking and ebbing – besides the fact it drained her energy like hell. Toji was a smart man, he figured it out pretty quickly and easily. [And for the ppl who're wondering how the reader was able to stop the attack on Riko: she used a tendril of thoughts emanating from a person's mind to detect their presence, instead of their cursed energy remains.] [She can't read those thoughts, though.]

▸ masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fics #jjk imagines #gojo drabbles #gojo fics #gojo imagines #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

So recently I’m new to the Genshin fandom and I’ve noticed that I share a birthday with Childe….how do you think SAGAU Childe and Foul Legacy would react to sharing a birthday with there creator?

oh my goodness that's so cool!!! there aren't any genshin characters that share my birthday, but maybe one day,,,,,

Childe and Foul Legacy would both be incredibly honored to share your birthday! Childe is the one who mentions it, idly telling you that he'll be away for a few days to celebrate his birthday, only to gasp when you respond with "Oh cool, our birthdays are on the same day", grabbing and shaking you by the shoulders as he asks you to pretty please repeat what you just said. when you confirm you swear his eyes become stars with how much they sparkle, if only in your presence, before he pulls you away to celebrate. he wants to shower you in gifts and festivities- you are his Creator, after all- but you gently ask to have a quieter day with just the two of you, which would be the greatest gift of all in your eyes, and with a blush on his face and a smile across his lips, Childe agrees

he does get you a gift, though- something small, something sweet, something that truly shows how honored he is to be by your side

Foul Legacy doesn't really understand birthdays- or at least, he doesn't hold his own birthday in high regard. his whole life before you was spent fighting, tearing away at a starless sea before finally clawing his way into the light. to be honest, he barely even remembers when his shared birthday with Childe is until you happen to bring it up, his wings fluttering when you tell him happy birthday. Legacy's never really celebrated his birthday, so he nudges you happily and goes along with whatever you want to do, which usually involves sneaking outside and dodging all the people who keep trying to grab your attention and worship you. luckily all the mountains of Liyue are open access to you, since you and the Adepti get along quite well (they understand your position and want for solitude), so you'll spend an entire day in the mountains together, you in Legacy's arms and him hugging you close

he picks a flower that he thinks you'll like, a gorgeous glaze lily, and with a chuckle you take it from him and tuck it behind his horns

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #sagau #genshin sagau #chit chat #anon #you tie a bow around legacy's horns :) #legacy and childe are the best things that have happened to you since you came to teyvat #OH you eating pastries together #in celebration of your birthdays #childe would definitely want to take you home and celebrate there but it'd be a bit awkward to bring the Creator to his family #short scenario #other's stuff #good evening :) #perhaps one day i will share a birthday with someone... but today is not that day #also welcome!!!! it's nice to have you here :D

[literary-motif]

Strictly Business

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

Isaac asks for a relationship that is entirely professional. You oblige, to both your disappointment.

Warnings: talk of insomnia

“I just thought—” you began hesitantly, moving the tray of cinnamon swirls closer to Isaac, prompting him to take a second one. The placating motion did nothing to ease the frown on his face. His hard stare remained fixed on you, annoyed and dismissive. You felt your heart sinking and averted your eyes.

Isaac hummed unbothered as if he couldn’t care less about your request to spend time together — as if he did not care in the slightest to entertain your pathetic longing for human company. “I’m busy, you know,” he said by way of dismissal and pushed the plate of freshly baked cinnamon swirls back towards you. 

After a bit of prying, you had found out that his mother used to make them when he felt sad and — with the anniversary of his parent’s death so recent — you wanted to cheer him up and surprise him with his comfort food. Isaac did not appreciate your efforts, evidently.

You tried to take the blunt rejection of both your company and care for him in stride, but you could not suppress the tight clench of your jaw as your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. “If I overstepped the other day in the garden,” you said slowly, raising your gaze to meet Isaac’s and show him the sincerity of your apology, “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. I—”

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, rising from his seat at the table and straightening his tie. “Think nothing of it. It was a lapse of judgment on both parts. We can pretend it never happened.”

“But I actually—”

“No,” Isaac interrupted, holding up a hand to silence you, “our relationship is strictly professional and I intend to keep it that way. I’m sorry, but I am in no way interested in anything more. There is nothing between us. Understand?” 

Isaac’s stare burned into you and you swallowed thickly, hiding how much his words hurt. “I understand,” you said in a tone so calm and drained of feeling it took Isaac aback. 

He blinked in surprise, no longer used to your flat tone and apathetic stare. ‘Sir’ hung unsaid in the air between you. Isaac cleared his throat to break the loaded silence stretching across the house again. 

You got up from your seat, brushing down the front of your clothes. “Well, as you said, my services will not be needed on my day off. I will be in the library should you change your mind,” you said tonelessly, leveling Isaac stoically. 

There was a glint of worry in his eyes, a chip in his armor you could only spot because you had spent many hours with him, paying close attention to his expressions and mannerisms. Isaac looked unsure. His mouth was slightly agape, but whatever he wanted to say was buried a moment later, hidden behind the thick wall of nonchalance and indifference he put up. 

The crack in his mask was sealed, and expressionless eyes met your own.

“Happy reading.”

Isaac thought he knew what loneliness felt like — he had lived in solitude for years now — but no amount spent on his own had prepared him for the heart-wrenching sorrow he felt as you continuously brushed him off, retreating into yourself and being the strict definition of utterly professional. 

He felt hollow, watching you set the table with only one plate for him to eat at alone, hearing your monotonous voice ask him if he would prefer rice or pasta, seeing your lips twist in a polite but ingenuous smile as you greeted him in the mornings, handing him his coffee and disappearing to start on your daily chores. 

There had been no sweets, nor snacks you would prepare for him and shily requested he give you feedback on. There were no little bursts of light throughout his day as your paths crossed and you shot him a smile or playful wink. 

There were no intimate moments between you two where you would look at him with an open, vulnerable expression and rest your head against his chest as you told him about your past. There was no tender, featherlight caress of your fingers on his cheeks as he revealed some of his fears and troubles to you. 

You had shut him out, adhering to the boundaries he had impulsively set as his anxieties got the better of him. Now he was left with the consequences of pushing you away.

‘There is nothing between us,’ he had said, but why was his heart breaking every time you looked at him with your cold stare and turned your back a moment later? Why was he lying awake at night, his mind occupied only with thoughts of you as the devouring feeling of loneliness and loss swelled in his chest and choked him? Why was he missing you so terribly that it made tears gather in his eyes when you had your back turned?

It was pathetic, and one night, after you had shot down his concern for the dark circles under your eyes and told him it should be of no matter as long as you performed your duties to his standard, he recognized his sentiment to be a lie. 

There was something between you. There had to be because the sinking feeling as you, clearly hurting, turned away once more tore him to shreds. There was no other explanation for it, but Isaac was afraid of what that realization brought with it.

He was afraid that the admission to his all-encompassing love for you would be the very thing that destroyed him. Everyone he loved was gone, and he felt his hands beginning to shake at the thought that you — now among those he adored — would meet the same fate because he was too slow, too weak, too incompetent to protect you.

Still, there was only so much hollowness he could endure, and the loneliness engulfing him was so acute that it had begun hurting to exist in the house. Your brief company somehow made him feel the loneliest of all.

A quiet sound of protest came from one of the corners of the library as Isaac switched off the light. “Sorry,” he apologized tiredly, turning the light back on to look at you, huddled on the small sofa with a blanket around you and a book in your hands. Judging by the cover, it was Frankenstein. “I thought you had already gone to bed and left the light on by mistake. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. It was late. However, something kept you from sleeping for the past few weeks, and no matter how tired you were, it was nearly impossible for you to doze off. At times, when the morning sun was slowly rising over the horizon and the first rays illuminated the dark blue of night, it felt like you were too tired to fall asleep.

“No worries,” you said curtly, resuming your reading, “I will make sure to turn off the light when I go up in a minute. Good night.” 

The lie rolled off your tongue as if it were nothing. Isaac did not move from his place in the doorway. You knew he knew that you couldn’t sleep. It was evident in your appearance, your red eyes with dark bags beneath them that looked more like bruises with every passing day. The soft footsteps he could hear pacing around the house at night when you were too restless to sit down. He would be a lousy private investigator if he had not noticed your insomnia coming back in full force.

“I—” he said into the silence, making you look towards him.

“It is rather late,” you answered, trying to discourage Isaac from starting any conversation. In truth, it hurt having him near you when he was seemingly an infinity away, hidden behind some brick wall he had put up to keep the world out — you included. 

It was his decision, and after the kiss, or as he called it, a ‘lapse of judgment,’ you did not think it right to push his boundaries after he had so clearly told you and shown you with his actions, that he wanted nothing but a professional relationship with you. It made your heart crack, but you were adamant to give him only what he asked for, only as much as he wanted from you. It made the situation somewhat bearable to know it was what he wanted.

Isaac cleared his throat, stepping further into the room. “I know, but I— It’s just that you—” he stuttered, suddenly nervous at confronting you. “You haven’t been—”

“Well, I certainly am tired,” you said, marking the book to set it on the small table beside the couch and rising from your comfortable cocoon to fold the blanket neatly and place it over the back of the couch.

“Wait, I—”

“Good night then, boss.” You brushed past him and kept walking towards the door, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. “Don’t forget to turn off the light,” you said, fighting against the urge to lean into Isaac’s light touch. It wasn’t professional. That was not what he wanted. There was nothing between you.

“Don’t call me that, Pickle,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing small circles against your wrist. “I haven’t been— Our relationship has not been strictly business for a while now. It never was to begin with.”

“I thought that was what you wanted out of me,” you answered, unable to keep your voice from breaking as Isaac raised your hand to his lips, softly kissing the back of your hand. “You said—”

“I was wrong,” he said quickly, his eyes so earnest that you could not help but believe him, “I was scared that I would get too close to you after the kiss and then you would— you would leave me and— I don’t think I can go through that again, losing a person I love.”

At Isaac‘s words, something within you broke.

Tears began welling up in your eyes and you stepped closer to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace, which he returned immediately. It felt so good to have him close to you again, his fingers running soothingly along your back as you could feel his elevated heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“You love me?” 

Isaac swallowed, squeezing you tighter and pulling you even closer to him as he steeled himself. “I do,” he said shakily, but the truth of his words was evident in the underlying confidence with which he delivered them, “and I’m sorry I made you doubt that. I’m sorry I pushed you away and dismissed our relationship as a mere work association when it has always been more than that. I— I was scared and I didn’t know what to do after you— after what you did for me and—“

You leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “Can I kiss you?” you asked, longing to do it properly this time, wanting to erase the bitter taste of rejection that had accompanied the feeling of Isaac’s lips on yours.

“Please,” he whispered, inclining his head as you moved to meet his lips.

Suffice it to say, with Isaac lying next to you in his soft double bed — him pulling you close and whispering sweet nothings into the darkness of night as your head rested on his chest and his arms were securely wrapped around you — you fell asleep almost immediately.

Isaac smiled, placing a kiss against the top of your head as he listened to your breathing even out.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #isaac rhoades #isaac rhoades x reader

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20A: I Don't Need Nothing When I'm By Your Side

So hold me close, better hang on tight Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride We're two kids hitching down the road of life Our world, our fight

-- “Born To Be My Baby,” Bon Jovi (1988) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || February 1989

Jamie frowned, looking back and forth between the shelf he’d just put together and the three unpacked boxes of books (two marked CLAIRE, one marked JAMIE).

Would she like them organized alphabetically by author? Genre? Size?

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Or perhaps she wanted medical books in her workroom? And maybe he could put his music books on the cabinet in his studio –

“There you are.”

He hadn’t heard Claire pad into the room – at some point they would need to get throw rugs to protect the gorgeous old hardwood floors – and smiled as she effortlessly stepped into his embrace.

They held each other for a long moment – his lips against her hair, her face buried in the safety of his neck.

Almost three months since the acoustic tour had ended, the night before Claire’s birthday. About six weeks since they had closed on their dream house, nestled against a mountain in the forests of North Carolina, not too far from The Ridge. And about two weeks since the items in storage – from her packed-up apartment in Boston, and his packed-up house in Los Angeles – had arrived.

The property had everything they needed. Privacy and solitude, of course. An old barn that they were using as a garage for Jamie’s motorcycle and cars. The house – an old cabin, really, dating from the 1800s and which had been lovingly expanded over the years – was perfect. A spacious living room, complete with the original stone fireplace. An eat-in kitchen, with newly replaced appliances. Two small rooms off the back that were now his music studio and her workroom – spaces to pursue their interests. A modestly-sized master bedroom. And a small extra bedroom – which for now was for guests, though God willing would be a nursery very soon.

Claire had insisted on doing two things quickly, before spending their time unpacking all the boxes.

The first was to hang his six gold and two platinum records in his studio – and he agreed, after he had hung her framed medical school diploma on the wall of her workroom.

The second was to install the fax machine on the bare floor of the studio – which, together with the phone, was their only link to the outside world.

For as much as they isolated themselves in this beautiful, peaceful place – the world pushed along without them.

In March, they would leave for L.A. and three weeks of rehearsals with the band. Maybe play a few small gigs in clubs on the Sunset Strip – Jamie had always wanted to do that. And in April, they’d fly to Europe, and kick off the tour that had swelled to 120 dates and stretched into 1990.

Colum was busier than ever – finalizing logistics, negotiating with local promoters, running interference with the suits from the label, upgrading the concerts from arenas to soccer stadiums. He had a conference call with the band every Tuesday – with Ian calling in from Lallybroch in upstate New York, and Angus from various resort spots in Mexico and the Caribbean (“I can’t believe Charlotte and Molly haven’t worn him out yet,” Jamie had mused to Claire one day. She had only shrugged and said, “they take care of each other”). Colum would always have a punchlist of decisions for the band – OK to book studio time during the week off in Scandinavia in July? The roadies couldn’t figure out the pyro setup without the band, OK to wait until rehearsals? They would need to film at least three music videos, which one could be a live performance? – and follow up with decisions in a fax sent later that day.

Jamie had been clear with Colum that he had three conditions for the tour: that Claire would be with him, that Raymond would be traveling with the band, and that the same no alcohol/drugs/groupies rule from the acoustic tour would carry through to this tour. Of course Colum had agreed. Just as he’d agreed to make provisions for Jenny to periodically fly out to visit Ian, and for Angus to always have a suite with two bathrooms to keep his girlfriends happy.

Claire and Jamie knew that this tour would be difficult, for so many different reasons. But they would be better prepared this time, to draw strength from each other, and to have Raymond for support. And maybe, just maybe they would return home from Europe with the best souvenir of all…

“Another fax from Colum,” Claire murmured after a long while.

Jamie snorted against her hair. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.”

“I do admire how hard he’s working for you and for the band. And how much he’s keeping all of you in the loop on the decisions he’s making. He doesn’t want any surprises.”

“I’d imagine not. The amount of bullshit he has to be putting up with right now must be insane. I just hope he doesn’t crack.”

“He never said if he’s bringing Tricia on the tour.” Tricia – Colum’s wife of more than ten years. She stood a head taller than her husband, still impossibly beautiful in her late thirties, smiling for every frown on her husband’s face. Claire had only met her once – couldn’t say she really knew her – but she knew enough about her.

How she had first met Colum at a party in 1970, when he was a roadie for Led Zeppelin and she was part of a gaggle of groupies that held court at the Riot House in L.A.

How, when she and her girlfriends joined the Led Zep tour the following summer, he had punched out the lighting guy at the Cow Palace in San Francisco when he heard the guy didn’t understand what Tricia meant by saying “no”.

How Geordie Ash – the reporter who had put Jamie (and, in a way, Claire) on the map last year with that Rolling Stone article – had sent flowers to her hotel room every day for a month during Led Zeppelin’s 1973 U.S. tour. Not knowing, of course, that she was allergic to lilies – or how Colum, who knew more about her by that point than he cared to admit, had wordlessly disposed of them for her, every day that month.

“I don’t think she likes to tour.” Jamie’s thumb traced lazy circles on the skin of Claire’s back. “Too many bad memories.”

If you asked any rock journalist or musician who had found Alex MacGregor – assistant to Led Zeppelin manager Peter Grant – dead in his Seattle hotel room in the spring of 1975, they would all say quite confidently that it had been Colum Laird, who by that point had advanced to lead Zeppelin’s touring crew.

But a handful of people – Peter Grant, and Colum, and Jamie, and now Claire – knew the truth.

Tricia woke up, Alex cold beside her in bed, a needle in his arm. The only thing she knew to do was slip quietly down the hall, tumbling into Colum’s room…and finally, his arms. Where she had remained ever since.

“I couldn’t imagine being away from you for so long.” Claire sighed. “I don’t know how they make it work.”

Jamie shrugged. “They love each other very deeply. They fixed the broken pieces in each other. And now she has the two boys to keep her busy.” He kissed her forehead. “Something for us to aspire to, perhaps. What’s in the fax?”

She held it out for him to read. Sharing a smile at Colum’s scrawl.

J+C: I’m not calling because I interrupted enough moments between you on tour and I’ll probably do it again this year. I don’t have Raymond’s info pls have him get in touch so we have a copy of his credentials and the travel agent can make all arrangements for Europe. I got the label to foot the bill for his travel meals and hotels, convinced them it’s a business expense, you’re welcome. Stay out of trouble. Colum.

“We’ll have him give Colum a call after he arrives this afternoon,” Jamie mused, folding the fax and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Claire nodded. “The guest room is all ready. And I’m glad Dougal and Gillian and William will be here tomorrow – I’m so happy they’re so close by.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, and released her. “As am I. Now, I have a question for you about these books…”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

[vinnieswife]

Forbidden love

Sukuna Ryomen x reader

words: 961

warnings: main characters death.

In the depths of a lush and enchanting forest, bathed in dappled sunlight, two figures moved silently among the ancient trees. You, a noble woman with flowing hair, and Sukuna, a rugged and mysterious criminal with a hidden gold heart, found solace in the solitude of the forest.

Your love, forbidden by the laws of class, had led you to this hidden refuge where you could exchange affection away from prying eyes. Hand in hand, you ventured deeper into the forest, your hearts filled with a mixture of fear and longing.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers, and the melody of bird songs followed your every step. Beams of sunlight illuminated the path ahead, creating a whimsical atmosphere. As you walked, your whispered conversations floated softly on the breeze. "come on just say please and i'll give it to you" you said running with his necklace, he easily caught you "you know i never beg love", you laughed at his response giving the necklace back.

"Y/n, my love," Sukuna whispered, his voice filled with tender longing. "Though our love may be forbidden, my heart beats only for you. Every moment we spend together is worth the risk."

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears as you tightly squeezed Sukuna's hand. "I too would defy the world for the sake of our love," you confessed. "But the consequences could be terrible, Sukuna. We must be cautious."

You reached a clearing where a small brook trickled through moss-covered stones. The sound of running water provided a soothing backdrop for your stolen moments. Sukuna released your hand and stepped closer, his gaze filled with an intensity that stirred his soul.

"My dear," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "Let us forget the restrictions of the world, if only for a moment. Allow me to hold you and let us share a stolen kiss."

Your heart raced with anticipation and the allure of forbidden love. Sukuna closed the distance between you, your breath mingling as your lips finally met in a passionate embrace. Time stood still as your bodies intertwined, and the world faded away, leaving only the love that bound you together.

You pulled apart, your foreheads resting gently against each other's. Your eyes brimmed with tears, a mixture of joy and sadness. "This... feels like a dream," you confessed, your voice trembling.

Sukuna held you tightly in his arms, providing a sense of security amidst the uncertainty. "Even if it is just a dream, it is our dream," he whispered.

The air is charged with anticipation as the rustling of leaves and the song of birds become the backdrop of an unlikely encounter. Your hands are intertwined, souls entangled in a love that society deems unacceptable.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps grows louder, accompanied by the clinking of armor. Your eyes widen in fear as you watch the city guards approach, led by your stern and inflexible father. Panic tinges Sukuna's eyes, but they remain steadfast, refusing to let their love extinguish.

"Y/n! What does this mean? How can you be involved with this bastard?" your father says venomously.

You tremble, tears filling your eyes, as Sukuna takes a step forward, their voice firm but laden with regret.

"Sir, I know my past is stained, but I love your daughter with every fiber of my being. I have changed. Please." You can't believe what you're hearing. "Please," you've never heard that word come out of their mouth before.

Your father continues his speech. "A criminal? Do you think you can corrupt our daughter? Our family deserves better. You are betrothed to the prince."

The guards, fueled by your parents' anger, approach, surrounding you both with unwavering authority. Your heart beats forcefully in your chest. "I can't choose who I love. Marrying the prince will be torture. He is arrogant and narcissistic. Our social status may improve, but I will have a life of misery. I'd rather have a mediocre life with the one I love than live in a palace gilded with gold with someone I don't want."

Your father turns a deaf ear to your plea. "Seize him! He will pay for his crimes, and my daughter will learn her place."

As the guards advance to arrest Sukuna, you cling to him. Your hand finds his, and just a look is enough to know his next move. You both quickly start running, as fast as your legs allow, the guards closing in on you, with no escape.

Soldiers' shouts echo in the background, increasing your nervousness. Sukuna gently but firmly holds your face. "Listen to me. I don't care what may happen after this. I want you to know that I love you more than anything and anyone. I promise I will search for you in a thousand and one lives." Tears fall from your eyes, knowing that your love is coming to an end. The guards are behind you, all armed with bows and spears, as one of them draws the bowstring, aiming with ruthless intent. The arrow's hiss cuts through the air, and time seems to slow down as it hurtles towards its target.

Seeing the arrow being released, Sukuna turns his body completely in an attempt to protect you, but sadly, he couldn't. Looking down, you see the arrow piercing through Sukuna's chest and yours. Your gazes connect, knowing that this is the end. Time seems to freeze as your lips meet in a final kiss.

The ancient forest bears witness to your tragic fate, its towering trees mourning the loss of a love deemed forbidden. Your spirits will always be entwined, finding solace in the knowledge that your love, though extinguished in this world, will live on for eternity.

#cute imagine #fluff imagine #soft imagine #cute #love #soft #sad imagines #light angst #angst imagine #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #roommate sukuna #sukuna headcannons #sukuna ryomen imagine #sukuna smut #sukuna imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

[tafeekafee]

⌛🐶We can make everything together

Sickie: Yunho

Caretakers: Seonghwa + Hongjoong

A small knock on the door had Seonghwa and Hongjoong look up. The members had had an exhausting and long day, so they all had decided to at least retire to their respective rooms for once if not go to sleep early. They were both sitting on Seonghwa’s lower bunk, legs stretched out in front of them and Hongjoong’s head resting against the taller’s shoulder. Before the interruption they had been talking quietly, reveling in quietness and solitude for once.

“Come in”, Seonghwa called and San stuck his head inside before his body followed. He, like his hyungs, was clad in pajamas which made him look especially young. His hair stood up in all directions, obviously just toweled dry and free of any products. There was an unhappy frown on his bare face and he was biting his lower lip.

“Sannie? What’s wrong?”, Hongjoong asked, sitting up and already half-way out of bed before he finished his own questions.

San sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s Yunho-hyung”, he answered quietly, “he said he isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh”, Hongjoong said, stunned for a moment. All hopes of a relaxed evening vanished into thin air. “Thanks for getting us”, Seonghwa added and got up too, “let’s go see what he needs, hm?”

Together, with Seonghwa’s arm wrapped around San’s shoulder, they walked towards the younger members’ room. Yunho was sitting on the lower bunk, San’s bed, with his head in his hands and San's blanket wrapped around his shoulders. There was a puddle of water soaking the mattress next to him. When he heard them come in, he looked up at them with tired eyes and a pale face. He definitely didn’t seem well.

“Hey, baby”, Hongjoong greeted and walked over to squat down in front of the younger, “what’s going on? Sannie said you don’t feel good?”

Seonghwa and San stayed in the doorway, the eldest never letting go of his worried dongsaeng. Yunho nodded vaguely and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel good. Exhausted. Bad.”

Hongjoong hummed in acknowledgement and rested the back of his hand against Yunho’s forehead. Just as he had expected from the small blush he noted from up close, the younger was burning up. “You’re running a fever, Yunho-yah”, Hongjoong said with a sad smile, “no wonder you aren’t feeling good. How long have you been feeling off?”

“I don’t know. I was tired all day but I thought maybe I just didn’t sleep well last night. But I was so tired, hyung, when we came home and then when I had to climb up to my bed, I was just so exhausted. I couldn’t do it. And then I accidentally spilled Sannie’s water bottle. I’m sorry.” The dancer’s eyes were glazed over and wet with tears at the same time. 

“It’s alright, Yunho, I told you. It was an accident, you were dizzy”, San protested, pouting. That explained the puddle at least.

“Hey, don’t cry”, Seonghwa said, coming to sit next to Yunho together with San, “you’re not feeling good and are running a fever. You don’t have to be strong right now. Climbing up to your bed sounds really hard - that’s why I made Hongjoong take the upper bunk.”

Hongjoong spluttered a bit, causing Yunho to smile tiredly. At least something.

“How about we take your temperature, get you some fever reducers and you come to sleep with hyung’s in our room, hm?”, Hongjoong suggested, brushing back limply hanging hair. There was no way they would make Yunho climb up to his bunk and since San's bed was wet the only option left was their room.

Yunho nodded reluctantly. 

“Sannie? Why don’t you have a sleepover with WooSangHo?”, Seonghwa added, already sensing that San would not want to stay alone in his room for the night. 

“I want to help”, San said quietly, looking at Yunho with worry in every feature of his face. 

“I know you do, San-ah, and that’s very sweet of you”, Seonghwa said, “but let hyungs worry tonight, okay? Yunho-yah will be fine.”

Yunho nodded, then as the movement seemed to hurt his head he leaned his head a bit more into Hongjoong’s palm that had never left his face. “Don’t worry about me, San-ah. Get some sleep”, he whispered. That was apparently the push San needed.

“Okay”, he accepted and stood up, walking to Yunho and wrapping him in his arms, “sleep well and feel better soon.” He pressed a kiss against his hyung’s forehead and left with a quiet ‘goodnight’.

“Why don’t you get the supplies, Joong-ah, and I’ll help our puppy over to our room?”, Seonghwa said. 

Hongjoong nodded and got up to walk to the bathroom where they kept the medical supplies. A few months ago - after the horrible stomach flu disaster of that year - Seonghwa had created the ‘sick member’-basket which now stood on the washing machine for easy reach. It contained the thermometer, various medications for different purposes, wet wipes and a regularly updated chart for every member which listed their allergies, medications they took and other health issues for easy reach if needed. 

When Hongjoong returned to his room he found Yunho sitting on Seonghwa’s bed, the eldest’s blanket and Seonghwa himself wrapped around the sick member. The short walk must have taken a lot out of Yunho, considering how badly he was shivering and how pale he had turned.

“Let’s take your temperature, get some medication into you and then you can sleep, okay?”, Hongjoong said and sat down cross legged in front of Yunho again. A trembling hand found its way out of the blanket burrito and took the thermometer from Hongjoong’s hand.

Looking up at Yunho, Hongjoong couldn’t deny how pitiful his dongsaeng looked with his pale face and red, feverish blushes all over his cheeks, hair astray and sweat soaked, the thermometer sticking from his lips. As they waited for the reading, Hongjoong busied himself with looking through the basket. Somewhere the liquid fever reducers - the only kind of medication Yunho would take and that Hongjoong had run across half the city to find in the middle of the night last time the younger was sick - had to be. Success! Just as the beeping started, Hongjoong managed to find the right medication.

“38.9°C”, Seonghwa read in dismay, as he took the device from their dongsaeng, “It’s pretty high, baby. Do you have any other symptoms? How do you feel?”

“I just don’t feel good”, Yunho mumbled, his head coming to rest on Seonghwa’s shoulder, “I don’t know how to describe it. Just bad. Tired and a bit dizzy. Everything aches.”

“Alright, take this and hopefully it will help, hm?”, Hongjoong said, measuring out the medication. The reddish liquid didn’t look appealing at all but if that was what helped Yunho get medicated he would take it. Yunho swallowed the liquid and handed the cup back to Hongjoong. 

“Drink”, Seonghwa said and held out a bottle of water. 

Yunho drank and sighed. “Can I sleep now?”

“Of course, baby”, Seonghwa agreed immediately. There was nothing more to be done. “Do you want to sleep down here with Joong-ah or with me?”

Yunho pouted a bit, looking like it was the hardest decision he had ever had to make. His eyes glanced back and forth between his hyungs but then he settled his gaze on the captain. “Joong-hyung? Is that okay?”, he asked quietly, not daring to look at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa tried to not look that sad as he assured: “Of course that’s okay. I doubt we both fit on this bed anyway.” The eldest probably had a point there.

“I’ll clean up here”, Seonghwa added, pointing at the medication thrown across the floor, “will you help Yunho-yah lie down, Joong-ah?”

“Sure, come on, let’s lie down”, Hongjoong said and got up. Hating how it left Yunho shivering, he unwrapped the blanket cocoon so that Yunho could stretch out over the bed. Well, he couldn’t really stretch out fully, body too long, but it worked. Once Yunho was settled, Hongjoong prepared to lie down himself but was stopped when Yunho quietly requested: “Can you lay down on top of me, hyung? I think the pressure might help the aches.”

“Absolutely”, Hongjoong agreed and careful not to hurt Yunho he layed down on top of the taller. His feet barely reached Yunho’s shins and Hongjoong wasn’t sure it was actually comfortable but Yunho sighed in relief. “Thanks, hyung.”

“Sleep, baby”, Hongjong said, reaching up to stroke Yunho’s hair. It barely took a few minutes until he had a snoring dongsaeng on hand. Seonghwa turned off the lights and climbed up to Hongjoong’s bunk, cursing slightly as he probably found the laundry Hongjoong conveniently had stored there so he didn’t have to wash it. At least the eldest didn’t say anything.

⌛

Hongjoong was woken up when whatever he laid upon started to shake. Despite being disoriented and feeling slightly seasick, Hongjoong quickly remembered how he came to be in such a situation.

Yunho, right. Hongjoong opened his eyes and reached through the darkness to search for a phone or the night lamp Seonghwa kept at his bed. It took longer than expected but soon he was able to turn on the light. 

Hongjoong slid down from Yunho to kneel on the bed by his hip. Yunho was shivering badly in his sleep, the whole bed frame shaking. It was a surprise really that Seonghwa hadn’t yet woken up. He probably was used to sleeping through worse aka Hongjoong coming home late from the studio. 

As Hongjoong kept watching Yunho for a moment the distress in his dongsaeng seemed to grow and he started to actually toss and turn from side to side. Sweat was pouring from his body and his eyes were rolling under his lids. Then he started mumbling. 

Hongjoong was barely able to understand what he said but he caught “no” and “eomma” and, surprisingly, his captain’s name. Figuring that Yunho was probably having a bad dream, Hongjoong decided he should wake him if only to keep him out of distress. And maybe re-take his temperature. 

Waking Yunho proved to be a harder task than anticipated. The fever had him deep in its grip and whispering his name and stroking his face did nothing. Hongjoong was left with no choice but to shake his shoulder and, luckily, after a few tries his dongsaeng began to show signs of waking up.

His eyes shot open and he sat up straight, nearly colliding with Hongjoong. Once upright he nearly sunk into himself again, the sudden burst of strength leaving. Hongjoong managed to tip his body so Yunho was resting against his chest. With one hand he kept rubbing up and down Yunho’s arm, trying to calm him down. 

While the sleepiness soon faded, the panic of his dream and the fever burning him did not and Yunho started crying softly, big tears rolling down his red cheeks. Trying not to cry himself Hongjoong pulled him even more into his arms, whispering comforting nonsense. Was it already time to call the manager and ask to go to the hospital? He had never seen Yunho so out of it.

But gradually the sobs turned quiet and Yunho slumped fully into Hongjoong’s embrace. The leader didn’t even spare a thought to the tears and snot staining his shirt.

“Hey, you with me now?”, he asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer. He got an exhausted nod in return.

“Joong-ah?”, Seonghwa sleepily called from the upper bunk. Apparently the sounds of crying dongsaeng had woken him up after all.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep”, Hongjoong answered, hoping he was right about the first statement. But instead of following Hongjoong’s advice, Seonghwa came climbing down the ladder to sit by them.

“What’s gotten you so shaken up, baby?”, Seonghwa asked, gently taking Yunho into his own arms. Though reluctant to let his dongsaeng go, Hongjoong allowed it as he knew how much it would comfort Seonghwa too to have the younger safe in his arms. 

“Bad dream”, Yunho whispered into Seonghwa’s shoulder, so softly that Hongjoong had to strain his hearing to understand him. Whatever he had dreamed about must have shaken him up badly. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”, Seonghwa questioned, turning Yunho so he could look at him and wiped his face with his hands. The younger shook his head. 

“I don’t even remember it.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep then?”, Hongjoong suggested.

“I need to use the bathroom”, Yunho mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Okay, let hyungs help you there, hm?”, Hongjoong said, placing a hand on Yunho’s shoulder. He understood all too well. Running a fever that high, being dizzy and scared, exhausted. The uncomfortableness of asking somebody to help you to the bathroom was just the top of the cake. He just hoped that showing nonchalance would help Yunho feel better about it.

Tears glistened in the younger’s eyes again but he nodded. Together Seonghwa and Hongjoong lifted Yunho to his feet which was slightly awkward considering that Yunho and Seonghwa both were much taller than Hongjoong but they made do. Carefully they shuffled across the bedroom and into the hallway. 

Once in the bathroom Yunho looked ready to start crying again. “Hwa is going to wait outside, okay? I’ll turn my head and be just here in case you get dizzy. It’s really fine, we don’t mind”, Hongjoong reassured. Seonghwa gave them a half-smile and left. 

As promised Hongjoong just stared at the tiled wall until Yunho finished his business. But then the tap turned off and Yunho quietly called Hongjoong’s name. Within seconds Hongjoong was by his side, a hand on Yunho’s back.

“What’s wrong, baby? Dizzy?”, Hongjoong asked worriedly.

“Yeah”, Yunho mumbled, “hyung, I need to sit down.”

⌛

Before Hongjoong could react Yunho was already starting to slump to the ground and all Hongjoong could do was cushion his fall and make sure he didn’t hit his head. A concussion on top of this would be awful.

“Seonghwa”, Hongjoong called panically, at first not sure if Yunho was even conscious. The door burst open immediately and Seonghwa fell to his knees beside them full force. Hongjoong absently winced, surely the oldest’s knees would bruise.

Hongjoong adjusted his arms around Yunho, whose head was resting against the captain’s clavicle. Seonghwa gently tapped their dongsaeng’s cheeks, eyes wide in worry. “Yunho? Yunho-yah? Are you with us?”

A low groan came from the younger man and Hongjoong was able to take a breath again, at first not even having noticed he wasn’t breathing in anticipation. They had dealt with a lot of illnesses and injuries throughout their years together. Passing out wasn’t as unusual as one would think, hell, Hongjoong himself had fainted a lot of times before mostly due to exhaustion, low blood pressure or low blood sugar. It wasn’t even the first time Yunho had fainted. But it was so unexpected and Hongjoong was tired and worried.

“Yunho-yah?”, he tried, ignoring the shaking in his voice.

“I’m okay, hyung”, Yunho whispered, “I’m just so dizzy. Everything’s spinning.”

“It’s okay, baby. We can sit here and wait a bit,” Seonghwa soothed and pushed to his feet. “I’ll get a cool cloth.” Hongjoong nodded. It was likely a good idea.

“Hyu..”, Yunho mumbled, but he was caught off guard by a gag. Before any of them could react, a tiny amount of water, fever reducer and whatever Yunho had in his stomach, spilled from his mouth. Hongjoong grimaced, suppressing a gag himself, as he stared down at his shirt now covered in vomit. 

“Oh, no”, Seonghwa said, appearing beside them with the washcloth in hand. With a look at Hongjoong who was frozen in place, Seonghwa gathered Yunho into his own arms, pressing the cloth to his forehead. “Are you done?”

“I’m so sorry”, Yunho whimpered, clearly still very out of it. His breathing hitched and for a moment Hongjoong was scared he was about to be sick again but instead he started to cry again. Seonghwa shushed him and cradled him close.

Then Seonghwa turned his attention to Hongjoong, mustering him. Hongjoong couldn't really do much more but stare back. He could feel the sick seeping into his shirt, feel the warmth of it. There were chunks all over him and the stench was getting to him. His throat went tight and he had to swallow harshly. “Joong-ah, take off your shirt. Step out for a moment and breathe, okay?”, Seonghwa suggested warmly, “I got Yunho-yah.”

Mechanically Hongjoong nodded and took off his shirt, tossing it into the bathtub to be cleaned later. He was starting to feel really sick himself. He quickly left the bathroom, trying to escape the smell and found himself in the bedroom again, picking up a random shirt. Hongjoong had enough presence of mind to know that he did not accidentally want to be found shirtless by a dongsaeng in the middle of the night and he knew that Yunho would be terribly embarrassed if anybody knew the reason. 

Still feeling claustrophobic and not very well, he wandered into the kitchen to get himself a cup of water and an ice-pack for Yunho. It might help lower the fever better than only a cool cloth. 

He rested his back against the sink, nervous energy strumming in him. Hongjoong was exhausted, he had barely slept the night before due to nerves for yesterday’s photoshoot, and his worry for Yunho was not relenting. His hands were shaking a bit too and as he finished the water in one gulp, feeling the cool liquid hit his stomach, he regretted that action immediately.

Normally Hongjoong wasn’t very squeamish, he often was the go-to person for a sick dongsaeng. But getting thrown up on? It was disgusting and Hongjoong swore he could still feel and smell it. With how much his stomach was swirling - surely also a by-product of nervousness - he suspected he might actually feel better if he threw up. 

Hongjoong just hoped he would be able to keep it down until Yunho was ready to go back to bed. He couldn’t contamine the other bathroom - Wooyoung would already be anxious enough knowing that Yunho had gotten sick in the first one and Hongjoong had no intention of making him face the anxiety of the choice between the lesser evil or withholding that information from him. Wooyoung’s emetophobia would not care about the fact that Hongjoong was just sympathy sick, not ill himself. Also Wooyoung had asked them to tell him if it happened - he wanted to know because it was better than constantly worrying when he knew the others wouldn’t tell him if they had been sick.

No, Hongjoong would have to hold out. Luck, however, seemed on his side. Only a few minutes later he heard shuffling, a sure sign that Seonghwa had gotten Yunho up and on the way back to bed. Hongjoong went to greet them in the hall, finding Yunho leaning heavily on Seonghwa but his eyes a lot clearer than they had been. The moment he laid eyes on him, Yunho started to tear up.

“I’m so so sorry, hyung. I was so dizzy and suddenly I got nauseous, I didn’t mean to …”, Yunho started, and feeling his stomach churn, Hongjoong cut him off: “It’s fine, baby. I know you are sick, it doesn't matter.” Then he turned his attention to Seonghwa and pressed the ice pack into his hand. “Take this, I just need to use the bathroom, I’ll be back with you soon.”

Seonghwa eyed him suspiciously but nodded, moving their dongsaeng along. It truly was a miracle nobody had woken up from all that. 

As soon as they rounded the corner, Hongjoong rushed to the bathroom and locked the door behind himself, before falling to his knees in front of the toilet to be sick. In the few seconds it had taken him to cross the room he had noticed that the tub was empty and the washing machine on. He didn’t know how Seonghwa had managed that but he was eternally grateful. 

Hongjoong allowed himself the luxury of resting his elbows on the toilet seat, panting into the dirty water below him, before wiping his mouth and flushing. He felt much better after getting that out, not nauseous anymore, just empty. After a moment he managed to get to his feet and brushed his teeth.

The captain took his time to disinfect everything before pinning a note to the bathroom door for Wooyoung, just in case he woke up during the night. That would be a whole new disaster but it was a problem for future them.

⌛

When Hongjoong returned to the bedroom, Seonghwa was sitting at the head of the bed, running his fingers through Yunho’s hair. The younger was asleep though it was less than restful. He was shivering - if from the fever or the ice-pack Hongjoong couldn’t tell. The pale skin the captain could see was glistening with sweat. 

Seonghwa lifted his finger to his lips when Hongjoong entered, shushing him. He looked as exhausted and worried as Hongjoong felt, dark bags under his eyes. He silently walked across the room to slump down at Seonghwa’s feet to sit cross-legged on the ground. There was not much space left on the bed, with Yunho’s splayed out, body taking up nearly all of it. Originally Hongjoong had planned to just sit there but then the tiredness hit again and he leaned sideways against Seonghwa’s legs and rested his head on his best friend’s knees. Seonghwa showed no sign of surprise, only moving his free hand to the top of Hongjoong’s head, brushing back hair.

Hongjoong looked up at him as Seonghwa bent down a bit to take a better look at him. “You’re not warm but your breath smells like toothpaste. Are you sick too?”, he asked, forehead scrunched up in worry. Damn his perceptiveness. 

“No”, Hongjoong said truthfully, “tired and exhausted but not more than you are. Just sympathy sick, I think. It only started when he … uh … I feel better now.” Seonghwa looked him over with a critical eye but nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw.

“His fever is at 39.1°C”, Seonghwa changed the topic, “I managed to get more of the fever reducer into him and I think the ice is helping too. We need to keep an eye on him nevertheless.” And then. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” Hongjoong sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I … I am going to call my eomma. Ask her what to do.”

“Yeah, maybe that is for the best. We’re not equipped to deal with this. They should have given us a medical crash course years ago.”

“We’d never find the time on the schedule”, Hongjoong remarked before pushing to his feet. He grabbed his phone from where it still was on the bedside table and went back to the kitchen.

He slumped down at the table and dialed his eomma’s phone number. It took a few moments and Hongjoong was scared she wouldn’t pick up at all, very likely asleep. Just as he was about to hang up, her sleepy voice came through the speakers. It wasn’t often that he called in the middle of the night but it also wasn’t unheard of happening. Though the action itself meant that something was not going right.

“Hongjoong-ah? Baby?”, she asked, “what’s wrong?”

It felt so good to hear her voice amidst the happenings of the night. God, he missed her so much. He might be an adult in his twenties but he still needed his eomma sometimes often.

“Eomma”, Hongjoong started but he didn’t get further before a sob overwhelmed him and his voice broke off.

“Baby?” His eomma suddenly sounded wide awake and so worried, “Joong-ah, tell me what’s happening, please. I’m here to listen, I promise. I love you so much.” There was so much sincerity in her tone that Hongjoong was barely able to choke back the next wave of tears.

“Eomma?”, he asked quietly. 

“I’m here for you, baby”, she reassured, “tell me and let me help or at least support you.” 

“It’s Yunho”, he choked out, “he’s really sick. A fever of 39.1°C and he’s barely awake when he is awake. He … he fainted earlier for a second and threw up. I don’t know what to do. Should we take him to the hospital?”

“Oh, the poor boy”, his eomma sighed, “I can understand your worry. I don’t think it’s necessary, yet. His eomma mentioned he always tends to run hot and always has high fevers that make him dizzy and nauseous, so I wouldn’t worry too much. You have seen him sick plenty of times, you know how he runs hot and gets disoriented.”

Okay, that was good. Hongjong was so glad at least one could keep their head clear and that his eomma was such an amazing woman. He didn’t know what to do without her. “What do we do then?”, he questioned, feeling much calmer already.

“Check his fever regularly, at least every half hour or if you think there is a drastic change. Call a manager to take him to the hospital if he hits 39.5°C. You gave him fever reducers and have some ice on him?”

Hongjong hummed in agreement.

“You did everything right, baby. Don’t worry too much. Your Yunho is strong, I’m sure he will be fine.”

The reassurance nearly brought him to tears again and he sniffed.

“Thank you, eomma.”

“Always, baby. Is somebody helping you?”, she then asked.

“Hwa”, he mumbled.

“Stick to each other”, she advised, “I know you both will worry either way but don’t hesitate to seek comfort with each other. Call if you need me again, even if you just want to talk. Tell Seonghwa-yah he can call too. Let me know how Yunho-yah is, okay?”

“Yes, eomma, thank you.”

“No need, baby, really. Take good care of him.”

“I will. Sleep well.”

Hongjoong hung up, took a deep breath and went back to their bedroom. Neither him or Seonghwa commented on each other’s red eyes.

⌛

They took Hongjoong’s eomma’s advice to heart. Neither of them wanted to rest while the other kept an eye on their sick dongsaeng alone. It was better in company, even if they mostly kept silent. Seongwha stayed sitting up on the bed with Hongjoong leaning against his legs again. 

Yunho slept mostly, waking up once or twice from a dream but not awake enough to be coherent and soothed back to sleep easily enough. Whenever the ice pack got too warm they switched it with a new one, sticking the old one back into the freezer for further use.

Every half-hour Yunho’s fever went down, slowly but steadily. 

⌛

When San stuck his head into the room in the early morning, he found Yunho still fast asleep, with Hongjoong nodding off against Seonghwa. The eldest’s eyes were dropping with sleep too but both of them looked up at the sound of the door.

“Morning”, San whispered quietly, mindful of his sleeping hyung. “How is he?”

Hongjoong stretched and reached for the thermometer, gently sticking it into Yunho’s slack mouth with an ease that seemed to come from experience.

“38.0°C”, he read out, smiling brightly despite his obvious exhaustion. “It’s a lot lower than before.”

“Good”, San said, waving Jongho, who had waited outside, into the room. “We'll take care of Yunho-hyung from now on. I called the manager and we all have the day off, no use in practically half the group missing. Go to sleep in Yunho’s and my room.”

Hongjoong had half a mind to protest but seeing the tiredness in Seonghwa’s eyes he acquiesced and nodded. Jongho pulled him to his feet, steadying him when he waved, vision swimming from lack of sleep. 

Then he and Seonghwa were practically pushed out of the room. 

“Come on”, Seonghwa said and grasped Hongjoong’s hand. “Let’s sleep.”

The last thing Hongjoong was aware of before falling asleep was Seonghwa falling into San’s bunk beside him.

#Kpop #Kpop sick #Kpop sickfic #Sickfic #Emeto #🧚🏻‍♀️ #Ateez #Ateez sick #Sick ateez #Ateez sickfic #⌛ #🐶 #yunho sick #sick yunho #kpop blog

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Sweet on you event, romantic chocolates for malleus, giving him mini chocolates shaped as the diasomnia groovy candies. “I love you malleus, I hope you know how precious you are to me and your family.”

💝Thank you 💝

You know what? That last line of dialogue in the ask sure is painful given what’s going on in the main story right now 😂

Sweet on You.

Malleus marveled at the assortment of chocolates offered to him. There were jagged thunderbolts and pointed swords, tricky bats and the heads of noble dragons, shapes all set in creamy brown confections. So very different from one another, yet joined in the same container.

“Family…” He mused, his voice low like the quiet, distant rumble of thunder. “Many of those in the Draconia lineage were lost long ago. Now all that remains are myself and my grandmother. She is the only family I have left—but as of late, I had begun to wonder if it is truly possible to forge a bond so strong as to defy that of blood.”

Malleus indicated a chocolate bat. “Lilia has been by my side since I have hatched fro my egg. My mentor and confidant.”

His finger trailed to a sword crossed with a lightning bolt, tapping each in turn. “Silver and Sebek, my loyal retainers.”

He slowly lifted his eyes from the sweets, lancing your heart. “Then… there is you. A rare being able to look beyond the boundaries of the powers and titles that be. At the very moment our paths first crossed, so, too, did our stories collide… and irrevocably change as a result.

“We are nothing alike, yet here we are, having been brought together by some unknown magic.” Malleus chuckled into the night. His soft laughter was simultaneously bitter and sweet, like a curl of dark chocolate melting between the lips.

“Solitude so often came to me that, before long, it became the natural order. The value of such intimate relations… I fear I cannot understand it as you humans do. However, I once heard from a wise man that lives such as yours are as delicate as the threads on a spinning wheel. It is in weaving together that they can become something stronger Only now do I see the truth to his words.

“Different as we may be, our bond is still as strong as that of any other—and it can become stronger still.” Malleus’s fingers slipped between yours, locking them together, palms pressed against one another. His gaze intensified, smoldering like embers fanning into a great flame.

“You are my most precious piece of the world. Accept my hand, child of man—for there is no other whom I wish to be bound to for eternity. My heart if yours, if you will have it.”

#Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland interactions #twisted wonderland #Reader #self insert #disney twisted wonderland #sweet on you #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios

[boltupbitches]

What Was I Made For? - Joe Burrow

Trigger warning: this one shot deals with serious topics such as clinical depression and depersonalization disorder.

Song inspiration: 'What Was I Made For' by Billie Elish

Nights like these feel like a tragic Billie Eilish song as I contemplate the question: what was I made for? Was I meant to be a trophy wife, a WAG? When did I lose myself?

It was all too much at times. The cameras, the fans, the media, and the eyes. So many of them are watching us with judgment and cruelty. Messages on Instagram, edits on TikTok of me cut out of Joe’s arms, death threats, and insults. Those are just a few things in the endless onslaught that is my life. It’s online, but even when I disconnect, I can’t escape it.

I find myself sometimes at night driving endlessly outside of Cincinnati. I am here. I am alert. I have my eyes on the road. I can see the cars passing me by, one by one. Bright lights, cars zooming. And I just feel as if at that moment that I’m not really there.

These are the days Joe is away at games, visiting former teammates, doing work trips, or taking a trip back to Athens. We used to go on rides together. Taking a drive to places through Ohio, us looking so alive, laughing and singing along to songs, stopping at gas stations, and visiting small diners scattered along the small country roads throughout Ohio.

As time goes on, I’ve slowly stopped going on trips with him and I stopped planning road trips. Now, I sit in solitude in our home, trying to convince myself that everything is ok, but it’s not really ok.

When did it end? All the enjoyment? I used to know, but now I’m not sure.

Sometimes, I can see him stare at me in concern out of the corner of my eye. I smile and tell him I’m fine when he asks. The smile on my face is bright and gentle as I try to force the fake joy into my eyes… but as we stare at each other for more than a moment, I find an excuse to look away. I don’t want him to see what’s going on inside of me.

He used to call me his Barbie when we first met. I was sweet and optimistic, he described me. I made his day and he made mine. At LSU we were inseparable. When he left Ohio State, and I still had a year left of my studies, I transferred and followed after him when he asked me to. I thought I could be the one who was in it for the long run. I would come to every game and support him as much as I could. I loved it and it was great.. Until it wasn’t. After the draft it all changed.

I feel like I’m slipping further and further. I used to float, but now I just fall down.

I can feel the creeping sensation in the back of my mind all the time anymore. I try to push it back and ignore it, but it is hard to.

I’m in this weird predicament of self-awareness and helplessness at my own mental breakdown. 

As I drive and drive, I finally decide it is time to go home. I don’t even realize, as I’m driving the 35 minutes back to our house that I’ve started to cry.

I am at a red light, a few minutes from our neighborhood when I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. And it’s shocking how much I don’t recognize the woman looking back at me.

I can only see the face that hundreds to thousands of faceless internet users criticize as ‘ugly’, ‘homely’, and ‘basic’. I can only see the eyes of a woman defeated and tired.. Of someone who is breaking down mentally. I can see the eyes of a woman self-destructing her relationship.

And I just can’t bring myself to look any longer as the light turns green and I hit the gas quickly, hoping to escape another reflection of myself.

After I pull in, I sit in my car and stare down at my lap. At times I feel like I’m outside my body, watching the motions of life happen. I fake happiness and joy, but I feel numb to everything around me. I pretend to sleep for hours as Joe snores next to me, but I can’t sleep more often than not. Yet, in the daytime I can sleep for hours.

I know my clinical depression has caused me to spiral once more, and as I look up at the house in front of me, the home that’s supposed to be ours, feels a lot like a stranger's home.

I slowly make my way inside, dropping my keys, and heading up the stairs to our bedroom.

As I sit on our bed and look around, I feel the first raw emotion I’ve felt in a while. It’s almost cathartic at the agonizing heartbreaking feeling that takes over the numbness.

I’m sad again, I guess, but I can’t tell my boyfriend. It’s not what he’s made for. 

He has success, happiness, love from everyone, and a glowing future.

Me? I’ll just bring him down with me into my spiral.

I don’t even realize that I’m packing a suitcase of stuff as I drift subconsciously away from reality. It’s almost as if I am now out of my body, watching myself pack chaotically as I am crying once more. Across the room I stand as I watch the stranger that looks like me plan her exit. The heartbreak is so strong and I don’t know how to feel any way else. 

I am now scribbling a note and leaving it on the bed.

Joe,

I am sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I am not ok and I haven’t been for a long time. I think I forgot how to be happy. Something I’m not, but something I can be. Something I wait for. Something I’m made for. Here, I am not happy. I can’t pretend to be her anymore. I want to be the old me again, and I know you can’t be the old you. I’m sorry. I love you.

-Your Barbie 🩷

-------------

Author's note: Thanks for reading! Was feeling very angst today and wanted to write something to encapsulate my emotions. I might do a part 2, but I'm not certain yet if I want to. Sadly, not everything in life has happy endings.

#joe burrow one shot #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fanfiction

[misshoneyimhome]

You and Will taking a bath together after his point streak ends and he’s not used to being the one that needs comfort but you end up holding him and reassuring how amazing he is and how much you love him and are proud because let’s be real even though he knows it’s not a big deal and to everyone else he seems chill you can sense he’s stressed that the media will turn on him again just a quick as they’ve crowned him king…want our lil Will to feel loved, every big man needs to be a lil spoon with forehead kisses every once in a while🥹

Bb, omg yes! This is so sweet, and I can just imagine it 🥹 everyone loves a good confident Willy, but that man can be a marshmallow and we all know it 💙 I hope I caught onto your thought right, btw

・✶ ｡ﾟ

The Waves Won't Break My Boat

**

The sound of the bag hitting the floor echoed unmistakably through the room.

Your boyfriend, William Nylander, had just returned from a road trip that hadn't gone as well as hoped, despite having given his all, William's point streak had come to an end when they lost to the Blackhawks right after Thanksgiving.

17 points.

And just like that, the streak was over.

Raising your gaze from the sofa, you watched as your Swedish beau entered the living room, welcomed eagerly by Pablo and Banksy. Bending down to give them affectionate cuddles, he greeted them with radiant smiles and genuine enthusiasm., and after fulfilling his most crucial role as a dog-dad, he settled down beside you, plopping onto the sofa with a sigh.

"Hey, love," you whispered gently, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on his slightly pouting lips.

"Hey," he responded softly, offering a faint smile before redirecting his gaze to the television, where hockey replays flickered across the screen.

"How are you, babe?" you asked, hoping he'd open up about the emotions you sensed he was holding back. Yet, as always, William simply shrugged, flashing a confident smile and replying with a casual 'I'm fine.'

But you knew him too well. Despite his composed and collected demeanour on the team and with the media, you knew him better than that.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

But as expected, he didn't. In his mind, there was nothing worth discussing, really.

He wasn't exactly in a bad mood, not really. Yet, a part of him harboured regret and disappointment. Frustrations lingered about how he'd lost his streak, and moreover, how the team had lost games they should have easily won.

But rather than pressing him further, risking an argument (a lesson learned from past mistakes), you gracefully rose from your spot and quietly made your way to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Willy remained fixated on the TV, and a knowing smile crept across your face as you realised his distraction was perfect for your little idea.

But then after some time had passed, William's attention was abruptly drawn away.

The replays had ceased, and he noticed that you'd been in the bathroom for quite a while. Initially assuming you needed your space, he then thought he heard the sound of running water and decided to check on you.

"Babe, you alright?" He knocked gently on the door before opening it.

"Yeah, come on in," you answered, as he slowly pushed the door open, only to discover you had set up a multitude of candles, played soft tunes, and prepared a generous bubble bath in the large tub.

"So, this is what you're up to?" William chuckled softly. "I'll leave you to your bath."

But before he could make his exit and leave you to the peaceful solitude, you halted him in his tracks.

"Actually, this is for both of us," you said timidly.

"I don't need a bath," he shrugged, trying to maintain a facade of toughness.

"Maybe not, but I reckon you'd actually enjoy it, babe... come on, just for a little while," you flashed him your sweetest smile, and as expected, he relented.

He'd have to mentally scold himself if he ever turned down an opportunity to spend some quality, naked time with you.

With both of you shedding your clothes down to your bare skins, you gingerly stepped into the tub, settling yourself at the far end with your back against the cool surface.

"Shouldn't I be at the back?" the tall blonde queried, still standing. Yet, you simply looked up at him and with a gentle smile, shook your head.

"Just come on in and try your best to relax."

And so, he followed your instructions.

Stepping in, one foot after the other, William settled himself in front of you, his back against your chest.

Usually, you'd position yourselves the other way around, given his larger size and how snugly you fit into his embrace and against his chest. However, tonight was about him, about coaxing him to relax.

"Come here, lean back, baby," you suggested softly, your voice gentle, as you adjusted your legs slightly to create space for his hips between your legs, allowing him to lean back against your torso.

With a bit of careful manoeuvring, you both found a comfortable position, him leaning against you, your arms draped over his shoulders, resting on his chest.

The steam-filled bathroom was suffused with soft melodies from the speakers, mingling with the soothing aroma of candles and soap.

You could feel Willy's breath, the rise and fall of his chest against yours, his hands gently finding their place atop yours. Despite his fast-beating heart, his posture remained composed and in control.

But you were aware that his mind was racing.

Despite not typically overthinking every little aspect of life, he did tend to dwell on his own hockey performance and all that it entailed.

So, after granting him the time and space you felt he needed, you gently interrupted the silence.

"Talk to me, baby."

"There's nothing to talk about."

His tone didn't betray any signs of anger or irritation, but his racing pulse told a different story.

"I know there's something," you prodded gently, nudging at the boundaries.

Finally, you hit the nail on the head when William let out a deep sigh.

However, no words followed. Recognizing his difficulty in expressing emotions, something that was familiar between you, you decided to break the ice a little.

"You lost your streak," you mentioned, aware it wasn't news to either of you. Yet, someone had to voice it aloud.

"Yeah... I did..."

"But you also gave it your best, putting your all into it," you offered in an attempt to console, still speaking softly.

"I suppose..."

"Babe, you performed amazingly... and deep down, you know it," your hand caressed his chest gently as you spoke softly, your head near his.

Even though you were aware that your words couldn't erase all his frustrations or turn back time, at least you hoped to help him articulate his feelings and let them out.

"I know, but..."

You had a feeling about what else might be preoccupying his mind.

"The media..." you mentioned, sensing his body twitch at the mention of them.

Shifting your hands from his chest to his neck and shoulders, you began a gentle massage, being cautious not to press on any tense muscles – that was a job for his physio.

"They lauded you... spoke so highly of you during your streak and all the points you scored," you voiced what you perceived to be his thoughts. "And now... they're not acknowledging your efforts..."

Your tone softened, cautious not to sound too assertive or harsh.

And once more, William released a deep sigh.

"It's not... It's not that I want all the praise and glory... I mean," he paused, and you allowed him the space he needed to gather his thoughts before continuing. "I just don't understand – how they can almost crown me as the king of hockey one minute, talking about my greatness and potential achievements... but as soon as I don't deliver in one game, I'm suddenly just another average hockey player..."

His voice remained subdued yet resolute, echoing his genuine sentiments.

You sensed his struggle to articulate his feelings, but also noticed a gradual relaxation as he exhaled, having admitted his frustrations.

Giving him another moment to speak, and as silence lingered, you tried to offer comforting words.

"Willy... it's just the media," you spoke carefully. "Good journalism died  years ago, especially with the shift to online platforms where articles became more about catchy headlines and clickbait rather than meaningful content."

"But people still read it."

"And it separates the smart ones from the rest," you added tentatively, running your fingers through his blonde locks. "There will always be people who swallow whatever nonsense some folks write about talented players. But true fans and supporters see the players for who they truly are, relying on direct sources rather than buying into conspiracy theories."

You sensed your words gradually affecting your boyfriend as his body eased further into yours, his head resting more heavily against you.

"You are William fucking Nylander, and no one ever makes you worry and doubt yourself – don't you dare start letting them get under your skin now," you whispered intimately into his ear, planting gentle kisses on his temple.

William could feel his heartbeat steadying with your reassuring words. While what you said held a lot of truth, there was a small untruth in there. Someone could indeed make him worry.

You could.

But you were also his rock. The one he came home to, to feel relaxed and enjoy the silence from the outside world with. And tonight was a perfect example of how you always managed to keep him rooted.

“Do you that I love you,” he then suddenly spoke, into the air in front of him, though you noticed how he’d leaned back entirely, and shut is eyes closed.

“I do, but I love you more,” you softly whispered.

“Not possible.”

#my asks #william nylander #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs interview #nhl hockey imagine #wn88 imagine

[talesofhestia]

Mugiwara no Ichimi AU: In another world, our favorite pirate crew consists of:

A rubber man who is also the incarnation of a god

An angelic-voiced singer capable of destroying the world

A swordsman with a very bad sense of direction

A temperamental navigator who is considered a sorceress

A lying sniper whose lies seem to come true

A chef with a painful family past

A talking reindeer who is slowly accepting that he's not a monster

A former noblewoman persecuted by the World Government for unknown reasons

An archaeologist who has been on the run all her life to survive

A cyborg who acts as a protective older brother to everyone on the crew

A skeleton that has been living for decades in solitude

A fishman who wants to see the birth of a world where humans and fishmen can live together

A sweet rabbit as obsessed with food as her captain

An oni that has managed to escape from Wano

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #one piece uta #roronoa zoro #one piece nami #one piece usopp #one piece sanji #tony tony chopper #nefertari vivi #nefertari d. vivi #nico robin #one piece franky #one piece brook #one piece jinbe #one piece carrot #one piece yamato #alternate universe

[cho-aaacho]

Happy Summer Days

Masterlist I Archive of Our Own

"Hey, wait..."

"Uh, Albert?"

You turned your body, gazing towards the voice that called you. You could see his beaming face from the distance, his face pulling into a smile as he grew closer to you.

You chuckled. You always received the same response every time he smiled at you like that. 

You stop walking and stand still in front of the bakery. The smell of a chocolate cake floats into the atmosphere. You waited until the figure approached, so you could see his face more clearly. He looks just like your savior.

As he gets closer, you can smell his summer sweat dripping down from his forehead to his neck. A rosy color crosses across his cheeks, tinted with a natural hue.

You have no idea why someone would dress like that during summer. With that black turtleneck and suit, he would die from the heat. But he seemed to don't care about them. He doesn't care about his looks, even if you call him goofy.

Albert pointed at the bakery and both of you walked into it. Both of you sat beside the window and he ordered a chocolate cake and iced Americano. Although you are not a fan of coffee, you ordered the same menu as him.

You frowned but after seeing Albert's soft eyes gazing at the bakery decorations, a smile formed on your face. "So... What's going on? You look happy."

Albert turned his head to you and touched your fingers. "Happy Summer Days!"

You giggled. He said those words so suddenly, like, something special had just popped up from his head and he immediately shared them with you. His eyes formed into a smile like a crescent moon. You didn't say anything, but shook your head and held back your laughter.

He swiped a red box with a blue ribbon on the top. He looked at the table, avoiding eye contact. You didn't understand what "Summer Days" meant; you had never heard of it in your life. But, since Albert said it with so much emotion and love, you didn't ask him about that.

After some time, he said, "Um... I bought them when I was working abroad. I thought... perhaps you'd love them."

Once again, a warm smile formed on his face. His eyes filled with compassion and his presence was calm and welcoming. He asked with a kind smile. "Open it."

You nodded.

You opened the box gingerly, fearing that you might end up ruining the box. You planned to save this box for later as a memento at your apartment. You looked at each other for a moment, sank into a solitude.

"Albert?"

"You like it?"

It was a plushie - a bunny with big eyes. It had creamy almond-colored fur, soft long floppy ears with a sweet embroidered face and rosy pink cheeks.

You looked at Albert in disbelief. You hadn't received a gift from anyone recently and this plushie... it was just too cute. The plushie felt so huggable; it was like holding a little ball of fur. It almost seemed like a real bunny. Albert noticed the sparkle in your eyes, he giggled and seemed proud of his gift.

His face turned serious. "I asked Alex. She's helped me to get this stuff; I heard these plushie are popular. So, I thought it would be nice to give one to you. What do you say?"

"Thank you, Albert," you said as you snapped your finger.

He rubbed his palms together and said calmly, "Oh, you can pretend that plushie is me when you miss me."

You smirked. "Oh, pretending that this bunny is you?"

Something weird just popped up in your head. You know it's always fun to tease him in public, making him flustered with those rosy cheeks. "Oh, so. I can do this?"

You closed your eyes and placed a small kiss on the plushie.

"...and like this?" and hugged the plushie tightly against your chest, felt the plushie in your embrace. Rubbing its head softly, you smiled down at it.

"Also,"

"Hey! Don't do that in public. It makes me think weird things when you do that!"

He couldn't believe that you were doing this in a public place. Did you intend to tease him? Of course, you did this on purpose. You could feel the nervousness in him, and it made you warm from the inside. You were surprised about how nervous he was.

"But, Albert, you said if I miss you-"

"Oh, God. Yes, of course I said that. But, not to do it in public."

#resident evil #resident evil wesker #wesker #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #wesker x you #wesker x reader