#you have too many cups of tea one yours & one cold then half-warmed over & too sweet for your tastes but you’ve learned to drink it anyway

[crossbackpoke-check]

"This extra space next to me belongs to you. I know where I end now. I won't get lost." -- shoot me (metaphorically) and leave me for dead (metaphorically) why won't you. To make this about Dylan and maybe it's about Connor, maybe it's about Brinksy, maybe it's about any journeyman in the NHL. My brain screamed Chris Driedger and his memorable (to me) Players' Tribune article:

And how can you mention Dylan and Zach (Za-ach, the way Dylan says it) without me having a breakdown about them? You simply can't. And for the younger dudes, maybe it's a little Bords/Briss, not yet steady in The Show, a little bit of distance, a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately... and then a blurry insta story in Vegas. Just like old times but somewhere else. Maybe it's not the same bed, maybe it's not the same set of forks, but maybe it's the principle of the thing.

Anyway, goodbye. Sorry for this, your tag walls make me break out in imagined scenarios.

Much love. xxx

please never be sorry for sending me messages <3 i love reading them i love getting them i think they’re beautiful and i love them i’m!!!!! [🥹💕🦋🫧✨💘😭 <- the best approximation of what my heart is doing]

ok NOW i am taking this step by step because every narrative here kicked me straight in the knees (metaphorically) i am w e e p i n g (literally): i knew tangentially about chris driedger going to seattle but i had never read his players’ tribune love letter to seattle & all i can say is oh. oh. and with the part about trains delayed but still being right on time—

sometimes a dream is a truth your heart knows long before you do. the space that the city and the team made for him (“you’d be the only guy on the team”)🗣️🗣️🗣️ !!! but the way that chris talks about needing to put in the work & leo not letting him quit,,, that’s chris filling up the teakettle with twice as much water, crowding one side of the bed (falling asleep against a bus window dreaming), becoming unburdened by the idea of not being their guy, not having the fallback being their draft pick to content and settle himself with. that’s chris betting on a future. that’s the train coming down the tracks, right on time.

(i am feeling unhinged about it)

SECOND. i know i was the one that said zach and dylan to start so technically i brought this on myself but also i have been ktfo by the mere mention of the way that dylan says zach’s name different from everyone else, stealing an extra breath, stealing as much time as he can get with him, which reminded me of a poem i just read:

The Need Is So Great, Jim Moore

^^^dylan still in love with zach even as he’s leaving, can feel himself losing him, and taking every sliver of the love in his smile that he can get. even if he knows zach doesn’t still feel the same way he’s drawing out the long goodbye & saying i love you in a thousand ways without ever saying it out loud (“i have been asking for a time but in ways that have no words” because he doesn’t want to ask too much, to ask for love) in the hope that zach will say it back OKAY I’M LEAVING i can’t do this

that was a lie because THREE. “maybe it’s the principle of the thing” please insert the most ungodly screech how could you just (lovingly) come in straight with the steel chair and bean me upside the head with that l i n e i think this story has the potential for such tragedy in it but also the most tender domestic longing because bords & briss have known each other for a long time (i think) and guys do sometimes lose themselves when they first get to the nhl.

it’s a big scene, you’re with big name guys, you’re finally doing the thing you always dreamed about, you’re no longer necessarily the best because everyone’s the best, you’re not sure how you fit in, you can get lost in the glitz and the glamor of it but you can also literally get lost in it, the slog of the season and getting caught up and down between teams and leagues and endless airports and buses and travel and ice rinks, losing your phone (accidental) and having new people hound you for quotes and fame and connection so you lose your phone (on purpose) and i think where i’m trying to go is: this could play out as the tragedy of borde going to the california coastline and briss shipping off to the vegas strip and both of them getting a little lost.

maybe there’s someone else, maybe i am steadfastly not thinking about “a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately” as either a summer of them pretending things are ok after a year of barely speaking and now being completely different people they never were before OR a summer of them trying to pretend like they can forget about each other because maybe they didn’t think their relationship was the same thing, is all, when they were or weren’t together. maybe it’s nobody’s fault but for the fact that they were scared and tired and lonely trying to make it in the big times and didn’t know how to show it. and then borde shows up with takeout and plastic forks in vegas and it’s december and nothing like winter in ann arbor and still they fill up all the empty spaces in each other with the things they didn’t know they’d miss until they were gone and this is the real thing, not whatever they were trying too hard to be, to recreate their own nostalgia for the love in their memories. it’s the principle of the thing, is all, to always be true to the love they have right now & not what they think it should be.

sorry that i wrote you kind of an essay of an answer but i had so so so many thoughts because your ask was so lovely so thank you for sending it to me (you are always welcome to!! i love your imagined scenarios!!! cannot even explain how much!!!) & thank you for taking the time to read my walls of tags :))) <3

#liv in the replies #every time you send me a message i do the thing where i’ve got heart emojis for thumbs & cease any coherency #FIRSTLY chris driedger who i loved as seattle’s goalie without even knowing the story: #dreidger fourth layer of a dream is making me tear up AGAIN hours later as i try to write this the echl the coast easy come hard to leave & #when he talks about being somebody’s guy laying my head down in the bog & dragging my hands over my face chris who let you say that. who let #u break my HEART i truly don’t think i will ever recover from the inception reference bc that’s what they all talk abt u know? the nhl dream #the players’ tribune articles are often some of the most poetic & touching sports writing & every time i am reminded i lose my shit about it #SECONDLY: #the ever present spectre of dylan’s first boyfriend zach werenski #i have so so so many quotes? drafts? posts? about the thing with saying someone’s name to call them closer to you i say your name to speak #more of you into the world so i will possibly look for some of those to say what i mean but also: this poem was originally reminiscent of #willingly by tess gallagher which is my ajax jack / superbuddies poem & this specifically did go with the a drop of paint / the light has #fallen through you part of it but there’s a part of THIS poem which i did not include that talks about the late light / has already happened #will go on happening forever & that whole poem with this now to say i know it’s embarrassing i’m asking for it :: easy to write about light #like falling asleep on the couch & having to carry yourself up to bed is the dylan/zach heartbreak of this. waiting & waiting for the things #you used to do & the love you used to / were promised to have with the hope that if you keep the coffee ready he’ll come drink it & instead #you have too many cups of tea one yours & one cold then half-warmed over & too sweet for your tastes but you’ve learned to drink it anyway #okAY now third: #this w/the UMICH BOYS? N O I DIDN’T EVEN!!! NOT A THOUGHT IN MY BRAIN!!! & now i can’t stop thinking!!! & i had an entire PLAYLIST already #a ??? while ago before i even truly knew the umich boys Narratives™️ i heard maude latour’s song ‘one more weekend’ & went hahaha isn’t that #a great song for when you have that One Summer of college before everyone splits off into their own lives? isn’t that a fun little umich boy #going into the nhl narrative?? to which i said NO but then it spiraled into a playlist &now there is delightful heartbreak to go with vibes #umich scholars please feel free to correct me if i’m wrong on any points i can’t remember anything presently about anything #also the f a c t that that vegas picture is real and i know exactly what you’re talking about is making me %^•*]+£’ bc how!! is that real!!! #okay ALSO just throwing in brinksy like a casual AHAHA have brainworm for a year (my autocorrect tried to go bringst like angst which. lmao) #connor and dylan… all of my journeymen… we did not touch that because i WILL start yelling about sam gagner and marc staal and #the chrysalis and the caterpillar

[dustofthedailylife]

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Diluc x (gn!) Reader

Summary: The Christmas season is rolling around and you spend those days with the one you love most. How are you spending it?

Tags: Fluff, comfort, kissing, teasing, consumption of (reasonable amounts of) alcohol

A/N: this is my secret santa gift for @jellalism for the @2023gisecretsanta event! (Hi, it me again :3). Once again I hope you have a merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season. Sending you many hugs and I hope these fics make your holiday season a little brighter! <3

WRIOTHESLEY

It was a cold day in Fontaine and Christmas wasn’t far off. Just a little over a week and you’d be able to spend your first holiday together with Wriothesley. You already bought all the Christmas presents and had your bags packed to spend Christmas over at his place. 

The presents still sat neatly packaged below the beautifully decorated Christmas tree in your living room. But they wouldn’t stay there for much longer as you had agreed to come over today and stay until Christmas. So the presents needed to be relocated as well. 

You were beyond ecstatic to finally see him again. Especially since he even took some time off work as well to spend it with you.

Loaded with your bags and gifts you enthusiastically knocked on his door and it was soon opened by the man himself. He was wearing a cozy hoodie and sweatpants and looked like he had just woken up from a nap. At least judging by the pillow imprint on his cheek. 

Cute, you thought.

“Hi, sleepy head. Enjoying your time off?” You greeted him teasingly, pressing a quick peck to his lips before squeezing inside past him.

You quickly kicked off your shoes and impatiently waddled behind him, following him into the living room. You were curious to see how Wriothesley had decorated his home for the holidays, so when his back left your field of view and you could finally see the room you saw…

Nothing.

Not even a single Christmas light could be found in his house. There was no Christmas tree, no Christmas cookies on the coffee table, no cozy candles, no ornaments or stockings, no nothing.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”, Wriothesley asked, gently taking your face in between his big warm hands.

“Uuuh…”

Your initial smile faltered pretty much immediately after you had taken in the utterly unfestive atmosphere and he seemed to have immediately noticed it, too.

“Is something wrong?” He inquired with a hint of concern in his voice.

“Where is the Christmas decoration?” You asked baffled. “You know Christmas is only a couple of days away, right?”

Now it was his turn to usher an awkward ‘uuuh’. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, scanning the room, before apologetically looking back at you with an expression that said ‘Sorry, it slipped my mind’.

“Well, uhm.. To be frank, I’m rarely ever here over the holidays so I don’t really… own any Christmas decorations.” He explained with a shrug and donned an embarrassed smile and scratched the back of his head. “Neither have I ever celebrated Christmas properly since I usually just work.”

“No no. This absolutely won’t do.” You lifted your finger up to his face in playful protest. “Go put on some clothes, we’re going shopping. We’re absolutely not celebrating Christmas before every nook and cranny in this house is looking festive and is covered in glitter.” You announced with determination, already marching towards the main entrance again to put your shoes back on.

“Right now?” He inquired in surprise.

“Right now.” You quickly confirmed. “And I pick the decorations – you pay.” You declared, putting your hands on your hips while glaring at him reprimandingly.

“Hey, wait a second! I never agreed to that.” He protested weakly, crossing his arms over his chest. But his smirk betrayed his real thoughts – he was enjoying this playful banter as much as you were.

“Well, too bad. You don’t get a say in this. Now come on, shopping time.”

Not even half an hour later and wrapped in your warm winter clothes, you found yourselves walking along the streets of Fontaine. It had already gone dark and a couple of snowflakes danced in the yellow light of the street lanterns. The shops by the road were all decorated with an abundance of Christmas lights and the air carried the fragrant smell of cinnamon and mulled wine.

You looked up to Wriothesley, who was walking hand in hand with you, while window shopping. When he noticed your glance his lips curled into a loving smile that was barely visible behind the gigantic red scarf that he had wrapped around his neck. His cheeks and nose were reddened by the cold and the snowflakes that got caught in his hair only emphasized how adorable he looked.

You dragged him into some stores that you knew sold various knick-knacks and decorations and bought what felt like an entire month’s salary worth of Christmas decorations. Although, despite all that, he somehow still managed to leave more money at his trusted tea store on the way back home.

Back at his house you quickly unpacked everything that you bought and got to work. While Wriothesley put up the Christmas tree you made sure not a single curtain rod, windowsill, and table was without any Christmas lights or candles. As soon as that was done you helped him put the red and gold glass ornaments on the tree.

All that was missing now was the big golden star tree topper that you attempted to hand to him, so that he could put it up on the tree himself. But before you had any chance to do so, he had already snuck both of his muscular arms around your waist and hoisted you up so you could stick it on yourself.

Once back on steady ground you looked around and marveled at your finished work. Everything was enveloped by a cozy light from all the Christmas lights and it looked even better than you had imagined. This would definitely do!

“I think we got everything.” You announced cheerfully, leaning your head against his broad chest and glancing at the tree to your left.

“Hmm.” Wriothesley hummed contemplatively, his chest vibrating against your ear as he did. “I think one thing is still missing.”

“Huh? What did we miss?” You lifted your head with a questioningly raised brow.

He fumbled around behind his back with a mischievous smirk plastered across his face. You knew that expression all too well by now – he was up to something.

You watched as he pulled out a little green twig with a red ribbon. You were barely even able to identify it as a mistletoe before he had already lifted it up into the air and held it over both of your heads. His free hand quickly found comfort around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Within the blink of an eye, his lips sealed yours with a passionate kiss, knocking the breath right out of you. You leaned into him with a giggle and felt him smile into the kiss in return. 

In an attempt to be even closer to him than you already were, your hand found comfort in his soft raven-colored hair. Reciprocating the sentiment, he snaked the arm he had held up over you around your midriff as well, hugging you impossibly tighter.

While leaning his forehead against yours and softly rubbing the tip of your noses together, he looked deep into your eyes with the same sly smirk he had donned earlier, before proudly declaring: “Now we’ve got everything.”

ALHAITHAM

With packed suitcases, you and Alhaitham crossed the bridge to your hometown Mondstadt. It was snowing heavily and the cold, biting wind was gnawing away at every sliver of exposed skin. It felt like icy needles were pricking at your face. 

It was peacefully quiet and all that could be heard was the crunch of the thick snow below your boots.  You watched how the snowflakes danced in the wind and how they got caught in the ashen hair and lashes of Alhaitham, who was walking by your side.

Looking at him in this kind of weather was almost comical. He was used to the humid and hot temperatures of the rainforest and had never really experienced the bitter cold of winter. He was treading carefully, trying his hardest not to slip on the frozen ground. His head was almost entirely hidden underneath the big wool scarf he had wrapped around his head as if he had tried to mummify himself with it. His nose and cheeks were reddened from the cold and you could faintly make out the chatter of his teeth. 

It would almost be adorable if he didn’t have the expression of someone who was about to murder the next person who spoke to him.

You bit your tongue to hold back a teasing comment about how he couldn’t handle the cold and instead opted to hold onto his hand that was rather stiffly dangling by his side. He glanced at you over the mountain of a scarf he had wrapped around his neck and immediately saw his expression ease up a little. His brows relaxed became less furrowed and the corners of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly.

“We’re almost there.” You reassured, which was only met with a slightly grumpy-sounding hum of acknowledgment.

Not long after you arrived at the Tavern. You picked up your room keys and quickly shuffled upstairs to settle down.

Alhaitham quickly kicked off his boots once he sat on the bed and hissed in pain. His toes were borderline glowing in red and blue hues and he wasn’t wearing any socks either. Needless to say, he was wearing his usual boots with the hole at the top. Clearly, everyone could see that they weren’t fit for conditions like these whatsoever.

“You know, these boots are kind of impractical for this weather.” You remarked snarkily. And if looks could kill you would’ve dropped dead on the spot right now.

“Don’t look at me like that!” You shot back before he could usher a word of protest. “You agreed to spend the holidays in Mondstadt after all.”

“And you didn’t think to inform me about all that before we departed?”

“Well, I thought a smart man like you would know that when I said there would be snow in Mondstadt you would naturally conclude that ‘frozen water equals cold’” You remarked in the same snarky tone.

You both looked at each other for a couple of seconds in an intense staring battle. The frown prominent on Alhaitham’s face as he desperately tried to warm his feet with his warm hands. Although eventually, your pokerfaces started showing cracks. The twinkle that started to show in both of your eyes, a twitch of the corner of his mouth, a giggle that was stuck at the back of your throat that you tried to swallow. All of them were telltale signs that your playful argument was about to end in a fit of chuckles, like so often.

And as if on call, you both started laughing out loud at the same moment.

Alhaitham pulled you closer by your hands and you sat down on his lap, facing in his direction. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and slung your arms around him, which he mirrored.

“You’re stupid.” You exclaimed, pressing a quick peck on the exposed skin on his neck.

“Oh, am I now?” He retorted smugly, raising one eyebrow.

“Well, I’m not the one who wore boots with gaping holes in them when there are five inches of snow outsi–” Before you were able to finish the sentence, he quickly began loosely wrapping his thick scarf around your face, effectively shutting you up.

“Rude.” You giggled, muffled by the thick fabric. “Now–” You began, once you had pulled his scarf off your face again. “How about we take a hot bath and then go and visit the Christmas market?”

You could see his eyes wander towards the window. He skeptically eyed the thick snowflakes that were still falling from the sky. Anyone would be able to tell that he really didn’t want to go outside anymore, at least not in this weather.

“I know it’s freezing, but – if we go out, we can go buy you a pair of warm boots and I also know just the thing to fight the cold.” You intercepted before he could usher any words of protest. And after a brief moment of hesitation, he agreed with a loving smile.

After a steaming hot bath, you both found yourself back outside again. Not long after Alhaitham also waded through the thick snow with his newly acquired cozy and warm leather boots and some additional heat-insulating wool socks. He already looked a lot more comfortable than he had when you arrived here.

You walked in the direction of the Christmas market that was being held at the feet of the statue of the Anemo Archon, in front of the cathedral. 

Hand in hand you climbed the stairs up to the plaza. You could already make out the Christmas spices that wafted through the air before you could even see the first booth. And with every step you took your excitement got bigger and bigger. Your heart was thumping loudly inside of your chest and you felt an excited prickle in the pit of your stomach. The last time you were at a Christmas market was ages ago, so you were practically bursting with excitement.

Once you arrived at the top of the stairs, you headed straight for the stand of the Dawn Winery, dragging Alhaitham along with you excitedly. You could already make out the prominent scent of mulled wine and several other hot beverages. No matter how cold the winter was, a cup of mulled wine was always the best thing to warm one up from the inside out.

You bought two mugs of steaming hot spiced dandelion wine and handed one to Alhaitham. He skeptically took a sip, unsure about whether or not hot wine would taste as good as the stuff he was so used to. But when his eyes widened and a surprised hum escaped him you could only chuckle. You had expected this reaction.

“You didn’t lie, this really helps against the cold.” He remarked after taking a couple more sips from his mug.

“See! I told you so. And as you know, I’m always right.” You teased, to which he just rolled his eyes and huffed amusedly. “Don’t you dare say anything now, Haitham.”

He stepped closer to you, embracing you in a tight hug and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re so cute, or else–”, he paused dramatically, not intending to finish his sentence any time soon.

“Or else, what?” You asked, perking your eyebrows.

But Alhaitham had already ventured off to look at the market stalls with a smirk plastered on his lips. He just knew which buttons he needed to press to tease you. And clearly, you wouldn't be getting an answer out of him either.

“Dork.” You huffed, hurrying after him, interlocking your arm with his, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked around the plaza with your warm mugs in hand.

DILUC

Christmas time was always the busiest time of the year for the Winery and the Tavern. Diluc was basically shipping out orders all day when he wasn’t at the Angel’s Share. During these times you always made sure to help him alleviate some of the stress by taking some work off his hands.

Today you filled in for someone at the Christmas Market stand of the Dawn Winery who fell ill. Your job was to man the booth for the mulled wine and punches and serve them to customers. 

It was the last weekend before Christmas and therefore the Christmas Market was packed to the brim. You barely got any time to take a break and only noticed that it was time to close up shop as soon as Diluc stood before you.

He helped you serve the last remaining customers and clean up the booth before you both started making your way back home to the Winery.

It had already gone dark outside now and the Christmas lights on the windowsills of the houses by the streets wrapped the environment into a warm light. 

Diluc’s hand that was intertwined with yours was comfortably warm like it always was. You could feel it even through your thick gloves.

Both were a stark contrast to the thick snow that crunched below your boots and the cold icy air that pricked at your skin. Every exhale created a little cloud of icy mist in front of your face.

Diluc squeezed your hand a little tighter all of a sudden and nudged his head towards the left, motioning you to follow along.

“Come with me.” He urged, an excited smile playing around his lips.

He led you out of the side gate of Mondstadt, near the Angel’s Share, and headed straight for the frozen lake. He let go of your hand and right in the next moment he was already slithering across the ice with a huge smile plastered on his face

“What are you doing?” You inquired curiously, eyeing him from head to toe as he looked at you expectantly. He stretched one hand out while putting the other behind his back, making him look unbelievably elegant.

“Join me!” 

The way he had slithered across the ice had looked so graceful and almost easy. But you had the inkling it wouldn’t end up being as easy as he made it look.

The way the snowflakes peacefully danced around you both in the yellow light of the nearby lantern made this scene almost feel dreamlike.

There was a comfortable silence in the air right now. As if the Gods had draped a white blanket over the world that muffled everything but the most important sounds. Only yours and Diluc’s steady breathing could be heard, as well as the rustling of the snow-covered trees by the shore and the soft pitter-patter of the falling snowflakes.

You stepped closer to the frozen surface of the lake and carefully put one foot on it to test the waters – or more accurately: the ice. And as expected it was extremely slippery and you almost fell the second you tried standing on it.

Diluc had come closer again and wrapped both his hands around your waist to steady you on the ice. He took hold of your hands and carefully pulled you along with him for a few meters. 

It looked like he was floating over the ice while you looked like a newborn foal that was trying to stand up for the first time in its life. Your knees were shaking and you tried your hardest to not lose your balance. But despite that the mere presence of Diluc made you feel safe.

“Why are you so good at this?” You inquired curiously, almost losing your balance once more.

“I used to do this every winter as a child. Whenever my father caught me he scolded me for what felt like hours because I could hurt myself. Although that never deterred me from doing it again every winter.” He explained amusedly as his ruby-red eyes began shimmering in the dim light of the lantern.

“Well then, is there some special technique to it? Because I feel like I’m going to fall on my butt the minute you let go of me.”

“I’ll simply not let go of you then.” He retorted with a smirk and you could feel how his grip on your waist tightened. “In all seriousness though, don’t bend your knees inward so much. Keep them straight and your soles flat on the ice. Then only bend your upper body forward a little bit.”

“Roger that.” You replied and did as he explained. And much to your surprise, you stance on the ice immediately felt a lot more safe. Your knees stopped shaking and you were able to stand somewhat comfortably now.

“Yes, just like that!”

“It works!” You exclaimed.

“Now, try moving your feet, while keeping this stance.” He instructed while slowly letting go of you, leaving you some room to move once he was sure you could stand on your own. 

He demonstrated the movement to you and you followed him by mirroring them.

Not long after you were still insecurely but steadily moving across the ice.

“Look, I’m doing it!” You yelled excitedly, looking back at Diluc who was watching you with the utmost adoration in his eyes.

“Indeed you are.” He answered proudly as he joined you again, slithering behind you and putting his hands on your waist once more. He carefully pushed you along with him.

You twirled around on the ice with a giggle and it felt like you were two figure skaters in perfect unison, showcasing their breathtaking performance. Although you were sure it looked much more amateurish than it felt. No less, because you weren't actually wearing any ice skates. But at that moment, it didn't matter.

Both of you basked in each other's presence and it felt like you let your inner child run free. The endorphin rush was indescribable. You felt practically invulnerable.

You soon felt comfortable enough to do pirouettes on the ice all by yourself. You had found the right balance to move across the ice and could even move faster than you did before.

You let go of Diluc’s hand and started circling across the surface of the frozen lake. Faster and faster you slithered across the ice.

The problem came about when you wished to come to a halt again. You never asked Diluc how you were able to stop again once you had built some momentum.

And before you had the chance to ask him you slithered and fell face first into one of the big puffy snowbanks that had piled up at the shore.

Snow immediately covered you, got stuck in your hair, fell on your face, seeped into every crevice of your clothes, and made contact with your skin. The icy sensation felt like needles pricking at your skin.

You heard Diluc yell your name muffledly and could make out hurried slithers that came in the direction of where you had fallen. He worriedly pulled you up to your feet again by your hands, patting the snow off your clothes and hair softly.

“Are you alright? I'm so sorry I should've paid more attention. Did you hurt yourself?” He was fussing over you as if you had just fallen down a cliff instead of a bed of soft, albeit cold, snow.

You giggled at his worried expression and slung your arms around his neck, looking intensely at his beautiful eyes.

“I'm alright. Don't worry about me. Although maybe I'm a bit cold now – some snow crept its way into my clothes, I fear.” You pouted with a giggle.

He wordlessly took your hands in his and removed the gloves from your fingers, intertwining his warm ones with yours. You made out a faint flare from the vision on his hip before you felt warmth seep into every fiber of your body, warming you up from the inside out.

“Be careful or you'll melt me.” You teased with a wide smirk. 

At that, he brought his face closer to yours, with an equally wide smile, before ushering: “Only your heart” against your lips, before passionately catching them into a deep kiss.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#gixrsecretsanta2023 #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #astronetwrk #wriothesley x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin comfort #genshin brainrot #genshin scenarios #🍁彡 gi #🍁 dust writes

[bad268]

hope you’re having a great dayy :)) wondering if you could do one for paul aron in a situation like sleepy back hugs when the other person is busy whipping up breakfast in the kitchen, catching them by surprise smth like that? just fluff cause I rarely see stuff for paul 😢 tysm!!

Morning Surprises (Paul Aron X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (thank you for being patient and tbh i was 🤏 this close to changing it to Ralf. idk why but I'm on my Ralf arc rn, I'm gonna start writing for Ralf so send it in <3)

Warnings: shirtless Paul (need I say more?)

Pronouns: You/your

W.C. 1101

Summary: Sleepy hugs in the morning. What's not to like?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Paul's insta from February 23, 2023)

It was too early to function, in your opinion. Half seven in the morning may seem late to people like your race car driver boyfriend, Paul, but to you, it was too damn early to function. Rolling over in bed to hide in Paul’s side, you notice he’s not there. In fact, he had not been there for a while since his side was completely cold.

You groaned as you got out of the warm blankets and found one of Paul’s many sweatshirts lying around before throwing it on. You walk out of your room and are met with a familiar smell, but you can���t tell exactly what it is in your drowsy state.

You walk into the kitchen and see Paul standing over the stove. He was wearing grey sweatpants and no shirt as he was making what looked like a burnt egg. You held your breath as you crept up behind him before snaking your arms around his waist quickly, causing him to quickly look back at you leaning against his back.

“Are you trying to kill me?” You mumbled as you laid your head on his shoulder, already planning to fall back asleep. “That looks burnt. I don’t think Gigi would approve.”

“I tried, okay?” He chuckled as he dumped the burnt eggs into the trash and began a new omelet. Once it started cooking, he took one hand off the skillet (skrittle) to rest it against your arm. “Are you falling asleep again? Or have you died?”

“I mean my heart is still beating. Only for you of course,” You joked halfheartedly, leaning back on his shoulder to look up at him. “I was planning on going back to sleep. You’re just too comfy, but I don’t want to leave you alone and risk burning the apartment down.”

“You’re so cheezy, I love you,” He teased, leaning over to press a small kiss to your forehead. He turned his attention back to the omelet just in time to flip it are the right time, and it landed back in the pan perfectly. 

“You’re so domestic. I love you,” You joked back, pulling away to make you both cups of coffee/tea and set them at the table. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“As far as I know, we have nothing planned,” he replied, dishing up the omelet he made to share with you as he also grabbed some fruits he had cut up earlier before sitting next to you at the table. “We can do whatever you want.”

“That’s a slippery slope, Aron. Don’t give me that much power.”

~~

That night, Paul was pulled into a last minute mandatory call with Toto Wolff and Mercedes about who knows what at this point. You took it upon yourself to make dinner, one of Paul’s favorites. He was pacing around in the living room as you busied yourself in the kitchen.

You were just pulling it out of the oven when he ended the call, and you just set it down when he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up. He spun you around in a few circles, causing you both to laugh before he placed you back on your feet as you turned in his arms.

“I assume it was a good call?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as you both made eye contact. His only response was to pull you close and kiss you hard, leaving no room between you. Despite not wanting to pull away, he pulled back with a huge smile on his lips. “Wow, that good, huh?”

“Guess who has a seat in F2 next season!” He exclaimed, tightening his hold on your waist as he bounced back and forth on his heels, unable to stand still.

“Hmm, let me guess. Dino?” You teased, causing his face to fall in mock offense as he froze entirely. You laughed at his expression before going back on your word, “No. Definitely not. I’m pretty sure it has to be Zak!”

He gaped at your exclamation as he rolled his eyes, “No. You’ve got one last guess.”

“Oh, one last guess? I better guess…” you hesitated in mock joking again to get a raise out of him, “Ralf?”

“Oh, you’re just fucking with me!” He shouted, pulling you in for a bone crushing hug again, swinging you around once again. “It’s me! I’m getting a seat!”

“I couldn’t tell!” You laughed as you tightened your hold on his shoulders. He set you down with a sharp glare as you smiled back at him. “I’m kidding. I figured as much. That’s why I made your favorite food.”

~~

It was too early to function, in your opinion, but you would not dare to oversleep on a day like today. Today was Paul’s first day in Formula 2, and you wanted to surprise him with breakfast in bed.

You carefully crawled out of bed, struggling to release Paul’s arms from your torso, and snuck out of the room. You made it to the kitchen where Ralf was making oatmeal or something already. 

“How did you get in here?” You whisper shouted as you walked toward Ralf. “I was going to make him breakfast in bed. You ruined my surprise, Ralf!”

“I have a key, did you forget?” Ralf chuckled as he set two bowls in front of you. “You can take it to him. I’ll hide out here and make the protein shakes.” 

“Let me check on him first. I’ll bring him out here,” You responded, turning around and heading back into your shared room to find Paul not in the bed. You looked around and saw the light in the bathroom on as well as the sound of the shower turning off. You gave him a couple of seconds before walking in, seeing him with a towel around his waist as he ran his hand threw his blond locks. You walked up behind him as he finished pulling on his boxers and jeans, wrapping your arms around him as he did so. “You’ll never guess who broke into the apartment.”

“Gigi or Ralf? My money’s on Ralf,” he laughed, leaning back into your embrace.

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner!” You replied in mock enthusiasm, jumping up to place a kiss on his cheek, immediately feeling the roughness. You pulled back quickly and made a face at Paut through the mirror, “Dang, you need to shave. I’m going to eat the food Ralf made!”

With that, you left him to finish up in the bathroom as you got started with your day.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#paul aron x reader #paul aron #paul aron imagine #paul x reader #formula 3 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #formula 3 imagine #prema racing #mercedes amg petronas #f2 x reader #f3 x reader #f2 imagine #f3 imagine #f2 #f3 #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Coming Home

Eris x Reader, taking care of him after battle

Warnings: Illusion to smut for one sentence, war but nondescript

Word Count: 3.1K (not proofread)

The kettle screamed in the kitchen, the hot water begging to be removed from the fire and poured alongside fresh herbs and chamomile. You quickly set your book aside, careful to tuck a corner of your soft blanket between the pages before pulling yourself from the warm corner of the sofa. Bitter cold nipped at your bare feet as you skipped across the uneven floorboards, creaking at each step. You crossed your arms across your chest, the thick brown sweater tucked between your arms and over your neck.

Your boyfriend had a tendency to wear turtlenecks, preferring to trade his formal jackets with stiff collars for the comfortable hand knitted sweaters. He also had a tendency to leave them at your house.

You smiled at the memory, how the male would reluctantly crawl from your bed, grumbling something about the cold weather, before retracing his steps from the previous night, plucking up each article of clothing you’d thrown somewhere across the room. He’d have a multitude of items, usually a soft linen shirt, followed by a more stiff white button down, a vest maybe, a sweater, then the final layer: a tailored coat. He would throw you the sweater - only the softest, thickest material for the High Lord’s son - after he’d seen you curl up in the fleece sheets, wrapping them around yourself as you sleepily gazed over at him. He’d always pair the action with a small smile or a wink, to which you couldn’t stifle your grin. It was a silent battle between the two of you: whether he’d ever leave your home with all of his clothes, but it was one that he would happily lose, especially if he got to spend the morning making you breakfast while you sat on the counter all curled up in his sweater - it was his favorite sight. 

You poured the steaming water over the leaves and flowers, silencing the noise that pierced your small home. You’d gotten a few complaints from your neighbors, when you’d left the kettle over the fire just a bit too long this late into the evening. Sometimes you’d just be too enthralled in your book, unable to stop yourself in the middle of the paragraph to head to the kitchen. Other times, you abandoned the kettle, the mere thought of tea long forgotten as the male in your arms kissed all down your neck. 

The steam swirled around the rim of the mug as you grabbed the handle and carefully trudged back to the couch. After setting the cup on the small table beside you, you sat back between the plush cushions and curled your legs into you, tucked safely under the thick fabric of the male’s sweater. You threw the blanket over yourself for good measure, picking up your book with the blanket inside, and continued reading. 

It was late, but by no means early morning yet, and sleep had evaded you. Despite countless cups of tea and tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you couldn’t manage one minute of shut eye; so, you’d given up completely and ventured to the living room to finish your novel. It was a tale of romance, a forbidden love between a stable boy and the princess - cheesy, no doubt, but it was one that made a smile cross your lips, a glimpse into your own relationship, however the roles reversed. But your heart swelled, as true love always found a way, the feeling almost too similar to how your own relationship had persisted regardless of the many obstacles in your way.

A harsh sigh left your lips as your ears perked up at the sound outside your front door. The clatter of metal, more than likely a candle holder, accompanied by a knock - one that no doubt belonged to your old neighbor, Mrs. Brittel, who had to pay you a visit at the slightest of disturbances. You groaned as you heaved yourself from the sofa, once again placing your book on the soft cushions. 

Your eyes flitted to the clock on the fireplace mantle: nearly half past eleven; not too late to be up, but a decent enough excuse to answer the door in such an unbecoming state. You turned the lock, opening the heavy wooden door just a crack before poking your head through. A prickly greeting was already positioned at your lips, but your jaw fell open at the sight you were met with.

The male was tall, looming over you as the door fell open, your hands dropping to your sides. His helmet covered his fiery hair, though tufts of dark red curled around the edges of the metal. Silver adorned his body, a scuffed breastplate and armor lining his arms and legs. Dark leather bound his body underneath, visible at all his joints and tucked into his boots. A heavy-looking silver sword hung at his hip, his hands, tucked away in dark gloves, were shaking. 

“Eris,” you breathed, his name the only word your brain could form. He sighed, chapped lips parting at the sound of your voice. His eyes shined, red irises glinting as silver lined his bloodshot eyes. A few cuts and scrapes adorned his flushed cheeks, riddled with marks or dirt and grime. 

The male before you usually didn’t knock. He’d simply sneak in, entering your small cabin and sweeping you off your feet all in one quick motion. But he stood before you, dressed in armor, fresh from battle, shell shocked in your doorway. 

He breathed your name, nothing but a whisper on his lips, as he stepped forward and held you by the shoulders. Your bodies didn’t touch, nothing close to the hug you’d been expecting to pull you into. He held you at arms length, weapons clinging against the metal along his legs, scanning over your form. What would normally have him in a frenzy, seeing you in his clothes, sweater busy barely covering your curves, not daring to even cover your bare legs - you normally wouldn’t be able to pull him off of you. 

But he was ferally in search of any injuries, anything that may have been off about your form. Your hands rose to his wrists and found purchase against the leather that bound his arms into the armor. You felt his skin burning through the layers, that no doubt the heat was leaching into the silver.

You couldn’t even imagine what he’d seen, what he’d returned from. 

Whatever it was, the dead bodies, the torture that must have been inflicted upon him and his men… you were just glad he made it home.

“I’m okay, Eris,” you whispered, gaze locked to his. You saw him press his lips together and swallow harshly. “You’re okay,” you continued. He looked okay, at least. No blood, no missing limbs, a few cuts and scratches - hell, you’d patched up many worse wounds inflicted by his own father. 

The slightest nod. 

“It’s cold, let’s come inside.” You waited for another nod before you stepped backwards, retaining your grip on his arms, slowly pulling him with you. The cold Autumn air had overtaken the whole living room, in which you couldn’t even feel the fire in the small hearth.

He heaved a sigh, dropping your shoulders as he began to recognized the room around him, when he realized where he ended up. It felt like his body was on autopilot - without even thinking he’d winnowed himself to your front door. 

Eris’s hands fell to his belt, unfastening the holster his sword was looped into, and let if fall to the ground with a heavy thud. He flinched, then, returning his shaking hands to the metal plates on his chest. Those red eyes burned into yours, begging apology at the disruptive noise. “It’s okay, Eris,” you noted calmly, raising your hands to his armor. You helped him remove the heavy shielding, pulling at the thick leather laces at his sides, unweaving the knots and pulling free the strings.

He was frozen for what felt like hours, watching you work diligently, not flinching at the dirt that clung to your fingers as you pulled at the leather. The only thing he could focus on was his ragged breathing, the burn in his chest at each breath he took. He snapped out of it once you grabbed hold of the chest plate and blew out a breath as you tried to lift it off his frame. 

His hands rose up to pull it away from you, the contoured metal much heavier than you could’ve ever guessed. He set it down, leaning it against the trim beside the door behind him. A small gasp fell on his pointed ears when he turned around, to which he shot back up to see you with your hands covering your mouth. 

You motioned for him to turn back around, grimacing once you touched the dent on the metal hanging off his back. He shrugged it off, groaning at not only the loss of weight, but at the ache in his back. The whole piece of armor was dented at his spine, from when they’d killed his horse and he’d fallen onto their barrier walls. He thought it a miracle that he could even walk after that, but not after an ache with every step. He wasn’t sure how many bones were broken or how long it would take them to heal, but by the gods he couldn’t wait another moment to see you. 

He shook his head, begging you not to ask, and continued on removing the armor, then the leather bindings, then the outer layers of his clothing. Eris was left in just his trousers and linen long sleeved shirt, the once loose material had become matted to his body, brown with grime and sweat. You tried not to stare at the flecks of blood, wounds that had probably already begun healing over, or the tears, where no doubt enemy swords may have scratched or even penetrated through the gaps in his armor. 

As the broken male stood before you, eyelids heavy and shoulders slumped, you picked up your hand and raised it up to his prominent cheekbone, running your thumb over the scar adorning his pale skin. He hummed at your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm, as if his head was so heavy he could barely hold it up on his own. 

He shut his eyes so, in fear he may fall asleep standing in your doorway, you tilted his chin up with your forefinger, and lifted his head up. He opened those bloodshot eyes and blinked a few times. “Can’t let you fall asleep so dirty, my love,” you whispered, running your thumb over his sharp jaw before you dropped your hand, only to grab his instead. “You’ll sleep much better if you’re clean.”

A small smile tugged at his lips at the sweet gesture of the female he loved as he followed you down the hall and into the bathing room. 

The tea on the side table had been long forgotten. 

You lit up the candles with your own fire power, the scent of maple and pine wafting around the room. Eris stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for you to guide him to the next step. He craned his neck in all directions, a low crack echoing off the walls. His shoulders ached, too sore to even move his arms, as he tried to roll out his shoulders. “None of that,” you stated over the sound of the copper tub filling with water. “Let me help.”

You grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, stuck against his abdomen, as you pulled it free from his lean muscle and pulled it over his head. He groaned, raising his arms only high enough for you to bunch up the material and slip it over his head. You repeated the action with his trousers, allowing him to step free of them and then into the water. 

His skin was covered in bruises, some yellow, some still ripe and purple. His muscles were tense, you could see all the valleys of his toned legs and arms, the contour of each muscle that bound his bones. You touched his arm ever so lightly when it was time for him to step into the tub, adding a handful of soap into the stream of water. 

Brown and red speckled along the surface of the water, the grime leaving his body as he nearly dropped himself into the water. He sighed, the water relaxing the ache in his bones. You grabbed the cloth and saturated it in soap, lifting his arm and dragging the soft material across his skin. A few minor cuts and scrapes, nothing that wouldn’t heal by the morning.

His eyes shut and his head fell against the edge of the tub as you worked your way across his body, stopping only to inspect the cuts adorning his skin. “Come on, Eris, wake up,” you murmured, leaning over from your spot at the edge of the tub. You lifted his head into your hands, scooping the water over his sweat-soaked locks. “Lavender or green apple?” 

He hummed, opening his eyes only just a crack before responding. “Lavender.” His voice was low, so low that you almost didn’t hear it. The purple marks under his eyes were more prominent in the candle light - the male had been through hell and back, clearly, and needed nothing more than your gentle touch to heal him. 

“Then you’ll no doubt fall asleep on me,” you hummed, lathering up the lavender soap in your hands before running your fingers through his hair. Your fingertips scratched at his scalp just the way he liked, running the sudsy soap through his long curls. If he weren’t so tired, he would have grabbed your arms and heaved you over the side of the tub, holding you over his lap while you washed his hair. He’d nip at your breasts as they’d fall right in his face, and maybe he’d tease the head of his cock through your folds as you bounced above him to clean the back of his head.

But he was so fucking tired.

And there was always tomorrow.

“Ok almost done,” you whispered, probably more to yourself than him, as you cleaned the soap from his hair. “You ready to get up? Or are you spending the evening in the tub?”

He smiled for the first time that evening, his lips pressed together with smile lines carved into his cheeks. His eyes had nearly fallen closed again, and although he did feel so comfortable in the warm water, he knew he ought to get up. He’d much rather spend the night in your warm bed wrapped in your arms than the water that was soon to grow cold. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he almost moaned, pressing his large hands to the sides of the tub and pushing himself up. The water moved around him, falling off his body in waves. 

“Don’t mention it,” you replied, wrapping a towel over his shoulders and beginning to wipe him dry as he stepped from the bathtub. You fetched some clean clothes for him - his stockpile he’d reserved for when he decided he needed to spend weeks at your house, not daining to leave even to winnow home for more clothes. 

I’m not leaving you, (Y/N). I’ll just have to spend the week naked with you, he’d say. After that week, spent more in his arms than anywhere else, you’d forced him to fill your armoire with clothes for the next impromptu vacation. 

You pushed over the bathroom stool, splaying your hands on his broad back and pushing him towards the chair. You opened up the expensive salve on your counter, swiping some with your fingers and spreading it over his cheeks. You rubbed the salve into his skin - your skin will go dry in the cold, you’d told him. 

In truth, he loved being pampered. He was the High Lord’s son for gods’ sake. He’d been used to a lifetime of it; but his male-pride showed when he’d spend the first night at your house, grimacing as you attempted to put the product on his face. Only this once, he’d responded, giving in only when you’d jutted out your bottom lip in protest. 

But he secretly loved it, and let you do whatever you wanted to him. Which is why he sat so still on that chair when you started to run your fingers through his hair, using the heat building up in your palms and fingers to heat up his hair, drying it quickly as you sifted through it. 

Between the heat and your fingers pulling at his red locks, his head fell backwards and his eyes fell shut once more. You smiled down at the male, with the hard and rigid exterior, the no one can touch me god-like complex, melted and so soft under your touch. 

Once his hair was dry enough where you knew he’d have no issues falling asleep in the cold air of your bedroom, you traced your fingers over his cheeks and down his neck, over his collar bones, then down the thick muscles of his arms. Your thumb drew circles over his hard muscles, still tense and no doubt sore. 

He hummed, a groan deep in his throat, as he opened his eyes and held your wrists in his hands. “We done here?” He grumbled, knowing you’d like to pamper him much more, more serums and salves - and by the Cauldron he wasn’t one to refuse a good massage. 

But you knew he was tired, you bit back the smile and nodded, allowing Eris to finally stand and guide you back to the bedroom. He made sure to get you into bed first, pulling back the covers that were already strewn about from when you’d tried to sleep earlier that evening. You crawled in first, pushing back the layers of covers before so you both could lay out under the blankets. 

Eris followed you in, laying on his side, bending his legs so his feet didn’t hang off the edge. You curled up to his side, chest to chest, enveloped in his warmth. His arm fell across your back, holding you close to him, and you tangled your legs with his under the pile of blankets. Eris’s breathing fell steady - you knew he fell asleep the moment his head hit the soft pillow. 

No matter how hard you’d try to sleep in, you knew you’d wake before him. He was in dire need of a night of undisturbed sleep, relaxation and healing the forefront of his exhausted body’s priorities at the moment. You knew that even if you tried to sneak out as slowly and quietly as you could, he’d hold you tight in his sleep, not even waking to wrap his arms tighter around you. So you’d lie awake in his arms, tracing the scars on his skin and counting the freckles adorning his cheeks. 

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you

[lennadanvers]

Three times Simon wanted to hug you (and the one time he did)

This is the part 2. The first part is here <3

Somehow, he felt even worse this time.

And he wasn’t the one who had spent months out in the wild, only for the mission to fail miserably. He was just fine: he had slept, eaten (half his usual portion, but that was just because he had heard you were on your way back) and he didn’t have any recent injuries.

You, on the other hand, looked a second away from breaking down. All colors suited you, but the greyish purple shade of your dark circles had him wanting to apologize (even though he knew he had zero responsibility over them). Your hair looked simply sad, and it only helped accentuate your expression: you looked guilty and scared, and your frown was the one you wore when you had to ask for help (you felt useless, he was sure).

When you stepped down the back of the truck, he realized with horror that you were covered in blood too, not only dirt. And were you limping? Your right ankle had always been a weak point of yours. Ghost took a step forward. The backpack you carried was gigantic, even more for your beaten, exhausted body. It was inches away from falling off your shoulder.

You didn’t look up at him- you didn’t have the courage- and he thought that you looked cold and tiny. As you walked in his direction, his hands itched again. Ghost wondered if you’d feel offended if he grabbed your backpack, take the weight from you, help you carry what he could (after all, the deaths of your teammates were something he couldn’t lift from your shoulders). Just as he decided it wouldn’t be worth taking the risk- he refused to make you feel worse-, you walked past him. Without uttering a word, without as much as blinking in his direction.

That night he couldn’t sleep. The image of you all bummed, dirty and tired haunted him. Laying alone in his way-too-comfortable-bed (it was actually not that comfortable, just way more than he felt he deserved), Ghost wondered if he could have helped. If he had grabbed your bag, tossed it on the floor. If he had hugged you, firmly, softly, hiding you from everything. If he had let you cry (he had never seen you cry, and he didn’t plan to, but what if you could hide your tears, safe in his chest, next to his heart?), if he had shared his body heat to help soften the ache in your bones. If he had reached out, would it have made you feel the tiniest bit better? Would he have been able to offer any semblance of comfort?

He hoped not, because if he had denied you that, he deserved many more sleepless nights.

Next morning, he marched towards the kitchen; fueled by that dark and soft thing that had taken place in his chest. He boiled some water, and over the sound of the kettle, he heard his mother’s voice: A good cup of tea is like a warm hug for the heart.

He knocked on your door. You opened it, looking just as miserable as the previous night, but cleaner. Again, you didn’t look at him in the face. He knew the guilt, the shame, that came with loosing a team member like that. He also knew you had done everything you could to try to save them. Even worse, he knew no one could help you feel better.

Still, he offered you the steaming cup of tea. You grabbed it, hands around your favorite mug like you were stopping yourself from clawing at it. Ghost didn’t say anything, just nodded and turned around. He heard the faint sound of your lock clicking closed, and, even though he was standing alone in the hallway, he didn’t feel as though you had left him outside.

After all, behind the door, you were sipping directly from his boiling heart.

I already have parts 3 and 4 ready, I'll be posting them over the next week. If you liked it, feel free to comment. Also if you have any ideas/thoughts you want to share, asks are open.

#cod #fanfiction #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon needs a hug #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ao3 #part 2

[nena-la-fresa]

The Dragon and The Wolf |Part 4|

18+ Account | Minors DNI | Do NOT Follow, Like, or Comment | Pls have your age in your bio, if you do not I will automatically block you because I’ll assume you are a minor.

Part 3

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f! Stark Reader

Warning: Smut with Plot | Pregnancy | Soft Aemond | Biting | P in V | Light Choking | Oral F Receiving | Tiny bit of a Violent Dream | A bit of angst

Word Count: 4052

A/N: Hasn't been proof read yet. Sorry this one is a long one but I wanted to end it here. Ik i wouldn't be able to commit to a longer story. So imma stop it here before I fuck it up. I also plan on writing some one shots of Aemond and some of Michael Gavey cuz I have a small obsession with this man at the moment.

No matter how many times you had visited the godswoods in the Red Keep you had not seen a single vision. You had kneeled there for hours, yet nothing. You prayed to them, hoping they had not abandoned you. This gift they had kissed upon you had been taken for what felt like a month. You hoped this would not be the end of your life and your families. Even if it was the end you kept praying. 

“M’lady please.” Your maid begged you once again as she had an hour ago. 

“Mira, you do not need to stay. I’ll do another hour.” 

“M’lady please. You’ll catch a cold, you’re drenched. We need to warm you up.” 

You finally opened your eyes, you looked down and noticed the smell of the water beneath your knees. The way your loose hairs had stuck onto your neck and face, and the way the water had tickled your cheek as it ran down. Now out of your trance you heard heavy footsteps approaching you and Mira. 

Ser Criston Cole had appeared, with a blank expression on his face he spoke, “The queen would like to speak to you.” 

You sighed before getting up, “Thank you Ser Criston Cole. Let me change and then I shall meet with her.” 

“Now” He had hardly spoken. 

Taken aback by his tone, “Are those in her words or your?” 

“The matter is urgent. She would like to speak now.” 

“Alright.” You rolled your eyes before attempting to pat off the dirt that had clung to your dress. 

In a hushed hiss voice Mira spoke, “M’lady you sat there in the rain for hours. A simple pat would not take it out.” 

You said nothing but a quiet sorry. She was right to be upset though.

You had gotten looks from almost everyone as you walked down the corridors to the Queens chambers. You had excused Mira as you and Cole had entered the room. As the doors opened Alicent had turned around, her eyes widened. 

“My gods, what on earth happened to you.” She grabbed a blanket nearby and walked over to you to wrap you with it. 

“Forgive me your grace. I was praying in the godswoods and had not noticed the rain.” You pause and cling onto the warmth. “I was going to change but Ser Criston Cole said it was urgent.” 

In the corner of your eye you could see him glare at you. “The matter was urgent but you could have changed.” She began to pull you towards the fire to warm up. “I’ll keep it short then.” 

As you both were seated she handed you a cup of tea. “I’m sorry for the bluntness but, have you bleed?” 

Your hands stopped, it took you a moment to process. It had been a month, a month of praying to the gods of the old. A month of sitting there and not a single moment had you realized you never bleed. An entire month, you had never been late, your cycle was always on time, maybe a few days late but never a month. “I” You paused, “No, I haven't. Not since before the wedding.” 

With a bit of remorse on Alicents face, she gave a half smile. That look you had was one she knew all too well. “That’s wonderful. It’s wonderful news, especially news we can give out at Aemonds coronation day.” 

“Oh, yes, his coronation day.” The events that had taken your wedding day came flooding back. “Will you be telling Aemond” 

She nodded, “He should be here soon.” 

Just as the first day he met you, he saw you sitting there. This time by the fire, he watched as the fire had illuminated your face. The way it kissed your features, the way it had made your face glow. Yet this time there was a somber look on your face that you tried to hide with a smile. 

“Hello Husband. We seem to keep meeting this way.” There was an ache in his heart as you went back to calling him Husband. He loved the way you called him by his name. Yet he knew it was his own fault. He had pulled back from you, not because he despised you. But because he despised himself. How could he touch you, not after what he did, not after what he did to his flesh and blood with his own hands. The situation with Aegon was different than Lucerys, with Lucerys it was out of his control. But with Aegon, it was by will. Not only that but for another reason he could not even dare think of it in fear it may come true. 

Alicent could feel the tension, she spoke to try and break it. “Aemond, please sit. I’d like to speak to both of you.” 

He nodded his head and proceeded to sit next to you on the sofa. 

“I was telling Y/n that your coronation day was coming soon. Your grandsire has arranged everything and things have been prepared accordingly. As for your coronation day, we will first check with the maester, but if our assumptions are correct, we will announce the celebration of your first child.” 

You could feel his hard gaze on you as fidgeted with your fingers. Was he mad? Was he upset that you had gotten pregnant so fast? Did he now feel even more tied to you? Did he resent you for this? Like always thoughts had flooded your mind. Without the sight it was impossible to make decisions or to pass judgment on him. You felt vulnerable, you had never felt like this before. You had always been two steps ahead of any suitor or any man in general. But now here you are, a wolf in the den of a dragon. What were you to a dragon? Nothing really. Your sight was all you had to feel in control, and now with it gone you truly felt what other women felt. Powerless. 

“I see.” Aemond had spoken. “Thank you mother. I hope that in time you will be able to guide my lady wife in her responsibilities as the new Queen.” 

She nodded, “Yes of course. And your grandsire will speak to you of your responsibilities as well.” 

“Was there anything else?” 

“No, that was all. You both may take your leave.” Alicent stood up. 

Both you and Aemond had as well, as you all headed towards the door Alicent spoke for the last time, “Congratulations. You both have done well.” You and Aemond nodded. 

Just as you think you both walk in opposite directions Aemond places his hand on your lower back. You look up at him, yet he does not look at you. He began to guide you towards his chambers. When he noticed some maids passing by he asked them to draw a bath in his chambers. They obliged. 

By the time you both had reached the room the bath had already been drawn. He excused the maids. He led you to the front of the tubs, from behind he began to untie your gown. You looked over your shoulder and pulled away. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Stand still.” His voice stern. Yet he continued to speak, “Do you know how idiotic it was to stay in the rain? You could have gotten sick.” 

You spoke lightly, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Clearly.” 

He helped you into the tub after he had removed your dress and let down your hair. As you laid back in the tub he began to wash your hair. 

“The realm can not afford to lose its heir.” 

You had rolled your eyes, “Yes husband, as I am simply a child maker. And my life does not matter.” 

He lightly pulled on your hair causing you to glare back at him. “I wasn’t finished.” He had grabbed your chin lightly so that you wouldn’t look away. “While the realm can not afford it. I could not afford to lose you.”

Your eyes looked away from his, “Oh and is that why you have avoided me for a month?” 

“Yes.” You scoffed at his remark. 

“My uncle is still alive. We killed his children and his wife, what do you think he’d do if he found out I have grown fond of you. That I have a weakness for you, and now our child. He would burn you alive. Cut you in half, torture you, feed you to caraxes. What would I do if that happened?” 

“Kill him and remarry.” 

“You think that coldly of me?”  

“I have heard rumors that you were with a woman before me. What would stop you from doing the same? You are clearly loyal to your mother and if she wished you to remarry for the sake of the realm you would. I am nothing but a pawn in your family's game. I have done my duty and if I die then that is in the fate of the gods.” 

He was taken aback by your willingness to die. He had noticed a shift in your behavior for a while. The past month he had watched you from a distance, always seeing you praying in the godswood. It was all you did, he had to send maids to come and bring you food whenever you noticed you being there for more than an hour. 

“You have the sight. You are not just a pawn. Clearly my grandsire saw it as something.” 

“Yet I do not have the sight! The gods have clearly punished me! I have not had a single vision or dream since I got here. I have nothing, I am nothing.” 

“You are not nothing. You are my wife. You are to be queen.” 

Tears began to well up, “But I can not just be that. My whole life I have been a greenseer. How could I have that taken from me?” 

“Would you like to go back for a few days?” 

“Where?” 

“Home. To Winterfell.” 

“No, it’s too far. Your coronation is soon, riding there would take months.” 

“Not by dragon's back.” 

“Dragon’s back?” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“I’ve never been on a dragon. Let alone see one up close.” You shook your head. 

“It would only be for four days.” 

“Why are you being nice to me?” 

“Were you not listening to me, my lady wife?” He teased. 

“No.” 

“I could never replace you. You are now everything to me” He had leaned in closer. 

He planted a soft kiss on your cheek, “That is why I am being nice.” 

His lips moving closer to your lips. His kisses were intoxicating, no matter if you were angry at him. No matter if he had ignored you. Ever since that day he first kissed you, you had become addicted to it regardless of your feelings. 

“You can’t leave me again. You can’t shut me out. I can’t be here alone. I can’t do this without you.” Your eyes clouded with lust, with caving for his affection. 

“Alright.” He smirked lightly. 

“Promise?” 

He chuckled, “I promise.” 

His lips touched yours. The kiss was sloppy, desperate. You turned around to face him, pulling him closer. Through the kiss you began to help him undress. As he got in the water he pulled you onto his lap. His hands on your waist to hold you up right while your hand drifts down his chest. 

You found his cock already hard, it twitched at your touch. You gripped it tightly causing him to hiss. Your lips leave his as you travel down to his neck. As you suck on his neck you begin to pump his cock causing him to grunt lightly. You looked up at him, seeing his eyes closed as his head leaned back. The look of him like that caused your body to feel on fire. You bit his chest lightly, a groan left his lips. 

Unwilling to wait anymore you aligned him to your cunt. Rubbing him against your lower lips.

“Fuck” His hand moving from your waist to his cock.

But before he could grab himself you stopped his hand. This caused him to open his eyes and look up at you. He watched as you guided his hands from your stomach, passed your breast to reach your throat. That was when you sank down onto his cock, taking all of him. You let out a light moan feeling his warmth. 

He watched as you arched your back and began to move your hips. He lightly squeezed his hand causing your breath to hitch. All he could do was watch, watch as your perfectly shaped tits bounded with the rhythm of you bouncing on his cock. He hadn’t seen you clearly the first time you had sex. But now, he could clearly see you. The candles that surrounded the tub had illuminated you perfectly. The way your hair clung to your neck, the way the water dripped down your face. It made you look ethereal. Too delicate for him to touch, he was afraid that he would break you. 

But your whispers of his name tempted him. He needed more. He sat up, moving you with him. Once he had you both in a comfortable position he lifted you up. He carried you over to the bed. He had placed you on the bed and told you to get in the center. He then told you to turn around and bend over. He watched as you hesitated slightly but then did what he told you to do. Your forearms resting on the bed as your ass stuck up in a position that gave him a view of everything. You felt vulnerable, especially as he had not made a sound. This caused you to look back at him. You just saw him standing there looking at you, his cock just as hard as he had begun to stock it at the sight he was blessed with. 

“Aemond.” You whispered his name again. 

Just with his name he had moved closer to you. You felt the shift in the bed, you felt his hands making their way to your hips once more. His cock aligning with your cunt, he had rubbed himself against you smearing his juices against your wet cunt. It didn’t take long before he filled you up. He groaned at the feeling of your warm cunt, it pulled him in and held onto him tight as he pulled back and forth. 

His pace began to speed up and the sounds of your sweet moans. Each trust is getting harder and hitting the right spots. You felt him pull you back to him, your back against his chest as he continued to fuck you. He moved the hair from your neck, his lips sucking gently on your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine. Your cunt tightening around him more. That last squeeze was enough to tip him over the edge. He came, his cum overflowing out of your cunt as he pulled out. 

He watched as his cum dripped from your cunt to the bed. You felt a shift in the bed again. You felt something between your legs. Before you knew it his lips were against your cunt. He lapped at your dripping cunt. His groan vibrated against your lower lips. 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

You sat up and watched him, his eyes closed as you would grind down on his face. You moaned as you felt his tongue slip between your folds. As you gripped his hair you watched as he opened his eyes. He stared back at you, sucking hard on your clit. You felt a tingling sensation pass through your whole body. Your knees felt weak, Aemond could feel it too. Once you had come down from your high, you got off him. 

Your back now against the bed. You took a moment to collect your thoughts. He was in you just seconds ago but you missed the feeling of him filling you up. But he wouldn’t let you rest, not yet. 

“I’m not done. Not yet. I need you, in every possible way.” Aemond leaned down and kissed your lips as he entered you again. 

Your moans and the sound of the bed creaking could be heard throughout the halls. The whispers of your marriage not being consummated during your period of silence with each other would be silence. 

Morning came quickly, the sun was now shining as the storm had passed. You awoke to the sound of the birds singing and to the feeling of an arm wrapped around you. You opened your eyes and looked down. Aemond had done the decency to cover you both after you had knocked out. But what made your heart flutter was the placement of his hand on your stomach. You didn’t know if he placed his hand there intentionally or just by coincidence. Either way it made you feel secure. Not just for you but for this child.

You placed your hand on his, he was warm. You didn’t understand how he could always be so warm, especially with how cold he looked. You tried to remove his hand to get up but he pulled you back into him. 

“Are you planning to run away so early, wife?” Aemond nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. 

You smiled and turned around in his arms, “No dear husband. I plan on getting ready so that we may go to Winterfell.” 

“Everything is ready. We just need to get out of bed.” Aemond kept his eyes closed and ran his fingers up and down your arm. 

“How do you know it’s all ready? We only spoke of it last night.” 

“Earlier this morning, your maid had come in to wake you. I told her of our plans and asked her to get help setting everything up.” 

“I see.” You paused, “So then why are we still in bed?” 

“Because my dear wife. After all your nagging yesterday, you looked so beautiful sleeping. I could not dare wake you.” 

Aemond opened his eyes to find you glaring at him. He kissed your forehead, “After all that yesterday, you still find ways to upset me?” 

“How could I not?” He smirked before placing a kiss on your lips. 

After an hour or two you both had finally got ready. He had taken you to where Vhagar was, and there you stood. The giant stood before you, the air it had realized from its nose blew your hair slightly. Aemond pulled you closer, he placed your hand on Vhagar. He spoke in High Valyrian, and it seemed to have called the dragon down. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to ride with you?” 

“Yes. You’ll just sit in front of me.” 

The trip was long, but not as long as you had spent in the carriage. You felt the cold breeze hit you. The smell of open air, of the woods you had always remembered. Once Vhagar had landed you were greeted with your fathers men. They were taken by surprise and led you both to your father. You had explained everything to him, and how you would only be there for a bit so that you could be back in time for Aemonds coronation. With that he let you go, but requested an audience with Aemond. There you were taken to the godswood. It felt different, different than the one in the Red Keep. You kneeled in front of the tree and began to pray.

After what felt like hours there had been footsteps behind you. Turning you noticed Aemond heading towards you. You watched as he took in the woods. 

“Beautiful isn't it.” You got up and headed towards him. 

He nodded his head and reached up to touch one of the red leaves, “I didn’t expect it to look exactly like the one back home.” 

“They all look the same. At least that’s what I’ve been told.” 

“Have you finished?” He looked back at you.

You smile at him, “Yes. I feel much better now.” 

“Good.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead before turning around to walk back. He stopped when he noticed you weren’t by his side. 

“What is it?” 

“After your coronation. Do you think we could come back?” 

“What for?” 

“Well ever since I was a little girl I always wanted to get married here in the godswoods. And I know we already had our wedding. But-” You looked down at your hands before looking back up at him. “I’d really love to get married to the man I have grown to admire here.” 

Aemond walked back over to you, “If that is what my Queen wants, then I shall give it to her.” 

All you could do was smile at him. Yes your relationship was not ideal, this was not how you had expected it. Especially with him ignoring you, but now, now that you both promised. You both came to an understanding you felt like you could really build something with him. Clearly there was attraction, but you could be more than that. And his openness towards it was all you needed. 

Later in the day at dinner you had felt nauseous and excused yourself to your room. Aemond was going to go with you but you told him to enjoy himself and to keep talking if he wanted to. And he did. He found the environment less hostile as the one back at Kings Landing. Time had passed and without wanting to disturb your sleep, Aemond slept in a separate room. The night had continued yet Aemond could not stop tossing in his sleep. 

He was stuck, as if someone was holding him back. He watched as Daemon pulled you by your hair. You hold your swollen belly to protect your child, your face red and bloody. 

“Nephew, you started this war but I will end it. A wife for a wife.” Daemon pressed the dagger against your cheek, nicking it. 

“Aemond.” Your cries out before all he could hear were your screams. 

Daemon moved the dagger to your eyes, gouging out one after the other. Your tears mixed with the blood that ran down your eyes. Your screams had continued until they had felt real. 

Aemond jolted awake and yet he still heard your screams. His mind scattering, he ran out of the room to find yours. He flung open the door, your screams got louder. He was met with the sight of you, sitting up in bed. Your hands covering your eyes as if you had felt the pain. The pain he had dreamt of. He ran to you and touched your arm. But you had begun to hit him, trying to push him away. 

“Y/n. It’s me. It’s just me.” He waited until you calmed down to see it was really him. He watched as your tears ran down your face. The tears were overflowing, you let out a sob and whispered you were sorry. He shook his head and told you it was fine. 

He had pulled you into him. He had never hugged you so tightly before, he didn’t even know you were capable of that much strength. 

“I had a dream. Your uncle he-” 

“I know. I saw it. You don’t have to say it.” 

Your sobs hadn’t stopped. You both stayed there for more than an hour. Aemond had set you back, and hugged you tightly in hopes to calm you down. It was working, but it did nothing to calm him down. It was all he could think of. Your screams, it made his entire body ache. He was stuck, he felt helpless.

But it was true, he had started this war. He was the cause, he didn’t deserve happiness and his uncle knew it. Just when he found it, just when he found someone who understood him. Daemon would take her from him. He knew if he didn’t find Daemon this would eventually be their fate. It would be your fate. And it killed him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if you died. Not after all this. He knew this would not end not while Daemon was still alive. 

#xreader #x reader #hotd aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen smut #smut

[grogusmum]

Medicinal Purposes

FRANKIE MORALES X F!READER

RATED E 18+

WORD COUNT: 2400

A/N: Okay so this is a little different for me. And my first collaboration! I had a headache and started thinking Frankie thots.

So while sharing my thots on discord @flightlessangelwings showed interest in writing, so we collaborated. With Jey's help the smut is very hot, and a little more explicit than my usual. Thanks m'dear for writing with me!! 💚

Did you know migraine pain can be alleviated by anything that gets your motor running down below?That's right! Hanky panky, masturbation, an erotic story or daydream can help.

🤓here's the science:

Many migraines are caused by or in part by the constriction of blood vessels in your head (this is way hot showers/baths and heating pads can help), but when we get aroused blood travels where? Down to our nethers!

SUMMARY: Your friend Frankie helps elevate your migraine pain in an unorthodox way. It's fingering, that's the unorthodox way. Oops

WARNING: migraine, blindfold, fingering, unprotected PiV (for the love of fantasy!)

It was day 3. 

You were ready to do anything to get some relief… but in the end, you just cried, flopping face down on the couch, a bucket nearby.

You had gone through all your usual methods- the meds, neti pot, shower, ice pack, and heating pad, both at the same time strategically located on different areas of the body. There was another thing you had tried, but today you were just exhausted by this time to give it another try. 

As you lay in your puddle of misery, you heard wheels crunch on the stone driveway. Who was here? Now? Oh, you had forgotten with all the-

Frankie swung wide the door and called your name- well, half your name. He stopped when he heard you wince. He'd walked into what was once your bright and airy living room, now like a cave, the window curtains were drawn and the a/c was on, keeping it dark and cool… there was no music coming from the speaker in the kitchen as usual … he realized it was a migraine day. 

"Oh hermosa, I'm so sorry," he whispered, pulling out his phone and texting the guys to cancel game night.

"What can I do?"

You looked up, looking disheveled and peaked with bloodshot and watery eyes.

"Stick an ice pick through my temple, maybe?" 

Your eyes welled again.

"Hey, no, no," Frankie knelt beside you, rubbing your back as he took in the detritus of failed attempts to alleviate the pain, medication bottles, water bottle, tea cup, essential oils, heating pad, warmed-over cold pack, and the vomit bucket, "Lemme help you." 

He quickly cleaned up the coffee table and the bucket. He came back to your side, kneeling on the floor beside the couch with his brows knit in worry.

"What can I do? Run a bath?"

"I've taken two showers and had a bath, I'm waterlogged," you pouted. 

"Well, what about that weird stretch you do?"

"I've done it over and over, I'm just so tired, Frankie it's been three days. Three. Days."

"Is there anything you haven't done?"

There was, but again it took effort and energy that you didn't have left. And it was not something your friend… your friend that you… well, it's not something he could help with. 

Frankie knows you. He could see there was something. 

"Tell me."

"I- well, I did try, yesterday,” you sighed, “But it takes effort- I just don't have…"

Frankie's knee bumped something, he looked down and saw an item he missed in his hasty clean-up. A small vibrator.

 Oh.

"Hermosa, does, um," he swallowed, not sure he should go there. You were one of his oldest and closest friends. Of course, he had always wished, well it didn't matter what he wished. He swore under his breath.

"Does masturbation help?" His ears and neck were the first to go, he was sure he looked like a beet. 

Your hands went to your face, as it heated too. 

"Yes," you said in the tiniest voice he had ever heard from you.

"It didn't work this time?"

You shook your head, "I haven't, I was just so tired and frustrated… it reqi-." You buried your face in the pillow, muffling the last bit.

"Requires?" Frankie inched closer, helpfully.

You lifted your head a centimeter, "patience… and effort." And then your face went back into hiding.

Frankie looked at you on your belly in a jersey nightshirt, the back of your thighs on display.

"I'm patient," he murmured softly, boldly placing his hand on your thigh just above the back of your knee, awaiting permission. The shiver that went up you, came with a zing of endorphins. Frankie felt it too. The moment silence spun out and stretched and then from your pillow, he heard a muffled, "okay".

You're treading in dangerous waters, Morales. He thought to himself.

He had no idea you were thinking the same thing.

"Are you sure this is okay?"

You lifted your head to look at him, "I- yes. Frankie. Please, I need you," it had spilled out of your mouth in a way you hadn't intended.

'Frankie. Please, I need you' He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. 

In a panic, you blurted out-

"I have a cold eye mask, it's been chilling in the freezer, would you- would you get it first?"

Frankie nodded and got up, adjusted his jeans surreptitiously, and got the mask.

"How?- How do you want me um to- um…"

You sat up slowly, when he returned from the kitchen, you looked up at him, wide eyed.

Wondering, are we really going to do this? He placed the mask on your head and slid it down over your eyes. You sighed at the cool sensation. He swallowed as he sat beside you.

"Come get across my lap, belly down hermosa." Frankie patted his thigh, taking one hand to guide you.

You stretched out on your tummy over his lap, settling when your pelvis was across his thighs, your head to the side, unable to see anything. Frankie lifted your head and tucked a pillow under it. Then his hand went back to your thigh, just below the hem of your nightshirt. 

Your breath caught, and you giggled a little in shy embarrassment at being so sensitive, at this whole thing… but his touch was electric, enhanced by being blindfolded. Every touch was both anticipated and unexpected.  He was touching you with those broad, calloused palms- warm and dry, and exceedingly gentle. 

And of course, it's Frankie. 

Frankie who you dreamed about, but didn't dare fantasize about.

He huffed a bit of a laugh with you, then ran his hand over the swell of your backside, the hem of your nightshirt coming with his hand. You bit your lip as anticipation built and lifted your ass a tiny bit to meet his hand. 

Frankie realized he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly as his hand dipped between your legs. 

Your back arched, as you gave a little gasp, opening your legs a little more. He ran his fingers over your clothed entrance, finding the little bundle of nerves. Your fingers closed around the pillow gripping it as you tried to stifle a moan.

"Uh-uh, no hermosa. I need to hear those sounds. I won't know what works for you. Lemme hear it." Frankie presses his thumb to your clit through the fabric of your underwear. You gasped Frankie's name, you couldn't have hidden it if you wanted.

Frankie was trying to be the model of discipline. He was pretty sure he was doing okay, outwardly. But looking at your ass and luscious thighs, your back arching, and those perfect little sounds were driving him nuts. His jeans already felt tight and he hadn't even gotten your underpants off. When you had called out his name, he closed his eyes.

"Baby let's get these off," he said pulling the elastic band of your underwear. Hearing him call you baby sent another wave of arousal down to your core. You obediently lifted your hips so he could pull them down. He pulled them to your knees and you froze. Did he just groan, or moan… growl maybe? Whatever it was, it was cut short as you shifted your weight. Maybe you leaned on him in an uncomfortable way.

"Sorry," you muttered.

Frankie looked up at the ceiling for strength.

"You're good, hermosa. You are perfect."

With his newfound access, Frankie had the flesh of your folds between the lengths of his fingers, massaging along your lips, causing you to gasp. Then gently he rolled your clit between his first finger and thumb.

You cried out, no one had ever touched you like this… this good. Your hips bucked involuntarily, and you could feel Frankie's own hips shutter, and the hardness of him.

But Frankie was listening intensely to each breath and sound, paying close attention to your movements. He has wanted to touch you and pull wanton sounds from you for so long. He wanted to become an expert at you.

"How's that, hermosa?"

"Good, Franki-" you breathed.

He did it again, pulling another cry from you. You clenched on nothing and your toes curled as the coil within your lower belly gave a twist.

"Frankie, please…" you whimpered.

"Please, what baby? What do you need?"

"I need your fingers," you moaned. 

Frankie was beside himself at how needy you sounded, how wet you were. For him.

This is to help with your migraine, medicinal purposes only, he told himself, groaning as he pressed one of his thick digits into you. 

Your body's response was immediate, you tightened around his finger, like a vice and then your walls fluttered. Fuck you felt so warm and soft around his finger. Frankie vaguely wondered how good you would feel around his cock too… or how long he would be able to last inside you.

"Shit, Frankie," you panted. 

“Shh, I’ve got you baby,” he cooed as he pumped his finger in and out of you slowly.

Encouraged by your moans, he worked a second finger into you.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, “Frankie…”

“You alright?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” you breathed, “Keep going… Please…”

“Anything for you, baby.”

Frankie picked up his pace as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. This wasn’t to rush to a climax, but rather feel everything and make you feel better. He wasn’t in a hurry, and he just let you feel good as he enjoyed the wetness of your pussy around his fingers.

“So good,” you moaned, “So good, Frankie.”

His cock twitched in his pants at your words as he buried his fingers as deep as he could into you. When you let out a louder cry, he knew he hit exactly where he wanted to. Frankie smirked as he rubbed small circles on your clit with his thumb.

“You like that, baby?” Frankie whispered as he thrust his fingers in and out of you again.

You trembled in his lap, tightening your grip on the pillow, “Yes Frankie…”

He leaned down and kissed the side of your face as he picked up his pace, and he groaned when you clenched your inner muscles around him.

“Oh my g… Frankie… I’m…”

“That’s it baby, you can do it,” he whispered words of encouragement, “Let go. I’ve got you.”

With that, you came hard. You moaned loudly as your body shook as a rush of euphoria washed over you. Your entire body felt warm as you gushed into Frankie’s hand. The muscles of your inner walls clenched hard around his fingers and you cried out, Frankie could feel you relax across his lap. 

For several moments, you just laid there, breathing heavily as he pulled his fingers out of you with a soft word of praise. Once your mind returned to you, you felt slightly embarrassed. But as you came down your headache was infinitely better. You pulled off your mask.

"It worked," you smiled up at him, chin on your elbows, out of breath.

"That's great. Great… I know you must be tired…but um, are you tapped out?" Frankie smiled.

You brought your head up further and looked at his dark eyes. You could feel the effect his helping you has had on him.

"Mmmm, not necessarily,” you smirked, as you pushed yourself off his lap.

Frankie cupped your cheek.

"Can I kiss you, hermosa?” he whispered.

Your hands went to his shoulders as you straddled his lap, meeting his eyes, "Yes please Frankie, I - I need you," you repeated without resevation, matching his hushed tone. 

Frankie huffed with a crooked smile, taking hold of your hips, kneading the flesh.

"I need you too," Frankie started to rock his hips, "I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed.

“Frankie,” you moaned as your eyes rolled back. Your overly sensitive pussy against his cock sent shockwaves up your spine. When he chuckled against you, your eyes snapped open, “Let’s get these off.”

“Yes ma’am,” Frankie helped you unzip his jeans and he let out a low moan when his cock finally sprung free.

You couldn't help the moan you gave at the sight of him.

“Like what you see?” Frankie asked, suddenly feeling more confident.

“Very much,” you leaned in and kissed him hard as you lifted your hips and lined yourself up with his cock.

Frankie swallowed the moan you let out when you slowly sunk yourself down and the tip pushed past your entrance. He let out a low growl himself at the feeling of you around him finally. 

“Shit baby,” Frankie hissed through gritted teeth, “You feel so fucking good.”

“Frankie…” was all you could mumble back as he slid into you like a key to a lock. Wet already from one climax, your pussy offered little resistance and Frankie entered you as if you were made for him- a perfect fit. 

When you fully seated yourself in his lap and his cock was fully inside you, both you and Frankie let out heavy exhales.

Frankie squeezed your ass as you rocked your hips against his and just like that the two of you started your little dance. Your hips move together languidly.

“Fuck…” Frankie growled as he thrust into you harder, unable to hold himself back, “Shit I’m not gonna last baby.”

“Then cum inside me, Frankie,” you moaned as he hit that sweet spot inside you over and over again, “Let go, I’ve got you,” you echoed his words back to him.

“If I cum, then you’re cumming with me,” Frankie smirked as he toyed with your clit in time with his thrusts.

All it took was a few more pumps of his cock and you and Frankie came at the same time in perfect harmony. Sweat and heat engulfed both of you as you rode out your climaxes on each other until neither of you had anything more to give. Together, you collapsed into a panting pile on your couch, his cock still buried deep inside you. 

You stayed there, on the couch, Frankie still inside you, his arm tight around you. Both of you trying not to let doubt creep in.

“How do you feel, carño?” Frankie ventured.

You looked up at him with a grin-

“I have never been so happy to have had a migraine.”

THANKS FOR READING 💚

If you would to read more of my writing check out my masterlist and if you would like to be tagged for future fic follow the link to my taglist form

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal

[levmada]

//insomnia

The worst part about the tossing and turning, of the straining and reaching and hoping but being denied, stuck between blissful unawareness and cold waiting reality—is when Levi is absent while you're struggling. Working late in his office is an every-night affair, but it's torture when you're lying awake, on the brink of tears because you want to fucking sleep but you can't, and you know riling yourself up isn’t helpful: how much time you have left before the night lifts to make space for morning, how much rest you can pilfer, else the next day will be a lonely defeat, going about your day living a space-out, withered nightmare.

You breathe deeply, tuck into a small ball, stretch out, and then roll over. The blankets are too smothering, and you can't get the pillow to lay right under your weary head. But your eyes are wide open, staring off into the darkness. Panic, the old friend, creeps in.

Bothering Levi is something you want to do as little as possible. His chronic sleeplessness is different: he’s okay with getting as little as he can steal as long as the work done in the lonely hours of the night are worth it, and he'd rather be ready for anything if a disaster were to strike. It makes you feel guilty for wanting it so bad.

Guilt is heavy, a blanket over your heart, but you lift your head up, anxious to not go on like this. It's not like him being there to deal with you is a guarantee that you'll sleep, but at least you won't be alone.

You have no idea what time it is, but you could swear it's been hours spent in a half-doze or staring off into space or expending way too much energy focusing on letting go.

You don't know how other people do it, and who decided this nightly hell for you. It isn't fair. It isn't fair at all.

A chill sits in the air of Levi's office when you peak in. He himself looks nearly asleep, hunched over with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Crisp parchment is neatly filed on his desk. Maybe he was about to come to bed anyway.

He looks up at the slightest hint of your entrance, and matches the frown on your face. He straightens up. "What’s wrong?"

Your eyes dart down. "Are you coming to bed soon?"

Without asking, he reads between the lines. As he stands, he pulls his cravat loose and takes you in his arms when he approaches.

A wave of exhaustion. You close your eyes and put your arms around his waist. He's warm, and so solid. When the bedroom, then the rest of the world, becomes so unreal after so many waking hours, it feels good to have a reminder.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, not knowing what you're apologizing for exactly. "I can't fucking sleep, and..." Here comes the tears.

His hold turns snug, and one arm drapes over your shoulders and cups the nape of your neck. "There's no need. I know. I know how hard it is."

You can't decide if you prefer it when Levi is open about this, like a raw nerve to expose both your suffering when there's so little that can be done besides relax and try and try again. It feels like stooping down to your level. But you don't want him to pretend that he can protect you from this, either.

"I'll be there in a minute. Quit worrying about worrying, sweetheart." He pulls away and presses your lips to his. It feels like it lasts so short, but the exchange is so slow. "Go."

He brews you chamomile tea, just the slightest hint of honey slipping over your tongue before you resign yourself again to the blankets, belly warm. He has been stroking your arm for the past few minutes, eyes cracked open, his chin balanced on his fist.

"Need anything?" you ask.

Levi blinks slowly at you. "For you to sleep."

No promises. His ankle rests on your calf, his middle draped across your back, but you want to face him. You both blink softly into the darkness at each other.

"Save the shit on your mind for tomorrow. You can sleep now. You have time," Levi reminds you, like he always does.

Your eyes close. It's so, so nice to hear it over and over again. It feels like grasping at straws to try to tell yourself. His patience is incredible.

You take his hand and kiss it as your legs slide together, and Levi takes the chance to fix the blanket tucked up to your chin. All you can see of him is faint shadows on his face. His bangs are messed when your foreheads brush.

It makes your heart pang harder, but you want to say, "I love you."

His hand rubs your back, pauses, then squeezes you close. You register his lips on yours before you see it coming, a soft, reassuring press.

Most of the time, Levi doesn't say it back, but you always know what he means when he reacts, either by kissing you or looking at you in a way that hurts in the best way. He isn't used to being loved, but you know how he feels.

Your thoughts are naturally drawn to him before you drift away. Circumstances turned in your favor tonight, and in the morning you'll be wanting to cry, you love him so much.

| levi masterlist | main masterlist |

#i’m definitely not projecting at all. idk what you mean. i just wrote this randomly. off the top of my head #levi fluff #aot fluff #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman drabble #levi drabble #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot fanfic

[lunalockley]

Body and soul

Masterlist

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff and more fluff

Summary: After a long day you get home to watch your favorite movie with your favorite soft boy

Words: 800, working on making them longer

Notes: There's some rain, some Pride and Prejudice, some kisses and some fluffy Steven <3

It’s raining on your way back home. The city lights reflect a dazzling echo on the wet pavement, raindrops looking like sparkles on the ground. It’s magical. But you feel too exhausted to appreciate it.

You had too much work to get done today, having barely a few minutes to have a snack every now and then and now you are starving. Your head is pounding at your temples. Your hands are numb and your feet are creeping cold despite the warm socks you’re wearing under your shoes. Even your ears hurt from the chilling air.

All you can think is to put yourself under a stream of hot water and lay on the sofa wearing the comfiest sweatsuit you own with a big cup of hot tea. You don’t even feel like cooking, you’ll order some dinner while you wait for Steven to get home.

That’s what you are thinking when you open your flat’s door and the smell of your favorite soup feels so good that almost makes you cry. As soon as he sees you Steven rushes to kiss you, taking care of your umbrella and coat while he tells you they closed the museum early for lack of visitors.

But instead of answering you only react by holding him as close as you can. His embrace instantly makes you feel better.

You’d think your cold nose against his neck would make him flinch but he only hugs you tighter. Like he knew the warmth of his body has the power to soothe any pain.

“It’s freezing cold, isn’t love?” he asks, smoothing your hair and brushing his fingers in your neck, realizing the tension effortlessly. “I wanted to surprise you by picking you up at work but then I thought that waiting for you with some warm food was better”.

At your lack of words, he backs up a little to look at your face. And he doesn’t even need to ask, he already knows. That’s how much in sync he is with you. You could bet even your heartbeats pound in perfect harmonization.

“What if you change into some comfortable clothes and we have dinner watching whatever you feel like watching? Hmm? What'd you think, love?”

Yet, it still astonishes you how he always knows exactly what to say and what to do to make you feel better. You think he doesn’t even notice it because that’s who he is. Being this kind, considerate, and thoughtful is a second nature to him. It’s as natural to him as breathing.

So later, even when Pride and Prejudice it’s one of your favorite movies, you spent half of the time watching him instead. You’re hypnotized by his genuine reactions, despite the fact he must have watched the movie as many times as you have. You’re absorbed by how he’s not scared of showing his emotions. Completely caught up by the strength behind his open vulnerability.

You melt when he says he gets Darcy’s hand flex because that’s how he feels every time he touches you, when he shakes his head in disapproval at the appearance of Mr. Wickham, when he softly hums the melody of the dancing scene into your neck, when he laughs at the one flower Collin uses to propose, when he holds you closer at Darcy’s confession, when he caresses your hands holding them to his chest at the dawn scene, when he gets teary watching the emotion on Mr. Bennet's face at the end of the movie, and when he helps you get up from the couch, saying he can’t offer you half of Pemberley but all of his heart.

But then he makes you weak on the knees by repeating Darcy’s words in between kisses while leading your way to the bed: “You have bewitched me,” the gentle caresses of his palms on your cheeks, the breathlessness of his low voice sending goosebumps all over your skin, “body and soul”.

You turn around and push him into the mattress. Climbing onto him and easing with your lips that point where his brows meet sometimes, pronouncing the words as a veneration: “And I love,” a fluttering kiss on his eyelids that steal him a soft sight. “I love,” gentle kisses on his flushed cheekbones. Then you back up a little to look him in the eyes, your heart hammering in your chest and all the discomforts of the day long-forgotten as you whisper “I love you”.

#how says you can't have mr. darcy and steven grant in the same fic #just me being greedy #steven grant #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #moon knight #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x you #moon knight imagines #steven grant smut #mcu moon knight #pride and prejudice

[ariadventures]

Tea Eggs!!

You know what I haven't written in a while? A cooking/food post! Someone asked me something on Twitter which got me thinking and I figured I'd finally write about making food again, so I'm pretty happy to have something to post on here again.

Immediately at the start of writing this I understand why recipes come with a background story, because cooking IS personal and at least, since I'm not a recipe blog, what investment do you really have in this if I'm not saying something about it? But I'll put the extraneous details after the recipe. This is far from a formal recipe and just a musing of what I did. I mostly did it to taste but these are some approximate measurements:

6-8 eggs 4 cups of water 4 bags black tea 3 tablespoons dark soy sauce 2 tablespoons regular soy sauce 1 tablespoon sugar 4 teaspoons salt 2 teaspoons Shaoxing wine 1 teaspoon five spice powder

Important to note: Make as many eggs as you want as long as it'll all fit in the marinade you make - it's gotta cover all of the eggs, no peekin' out. If you need less marinade, i.e. you're putting it in a tight ziplock bag, feel free to halve or otherwise divide the ingredients to fit.

Make the marinade in a saucepan with all the ingredients besides eggs. I started boiling the water and put the ingredients in one by one. I cut open the tea bags and dumped it all in. The five spice powder is out of convenience - if you look up all the spices included in it, like sichuan peppercorn and star anise and cinnamon etc., and have all of those on hand, you can use those as well, but this is a simple recipe for a simple person.

After mixed and boiling, let it cool off to the side.

Soft boil eggs in another pot, put them in an ice bath afterwards or run them under cold water for a few minutes, whatever your jam is.

Gently (GENTLY!!) use the back of a spoon or something to crack the eggshells while leaving them on, but not break through too much of the egg. The marinade is pretty strong so you could theoretically just completely peel them and soak them for a shorter amount of time, but I like to make them traditionally.

Put the eggs into the marinade and simmer/warm them for like, an hour. After that, let the marinade cool down again, cover it, and refrigerate it for up to 24 hours. That's it!

*Notes*

The dark soy sauce is mostly for the marbling/color of it. If you want a darker marbling, you can add more and reduce the salt. Like I mentioned, I did a lot of it kind of by vibes, so I added in a little more soy sauce and salt myself.

I had a test egg after I simmered them for an hour. Simmer? Warm? As long as it's not boiling, you don't actually want to thoroughly cook the eggs unless you're okay with super overboiled eggs. Tasted good, but did taste so much better after soaking for a day. I note soft boiled above because when you simmer them they do cook a bit again, and traditionally it is hard-boiled, but if you want them not overboiled you should do the soft boil initially.

As seen in the picture above, I marinated it in a saucepan overnight and put some clingwrap over it. My first attempt I only made 3 eggs, and they fit in a mason jar so I just put it all in a mason jar and used maybe half of that recipe above. If you don't want a big ole saucepan, you can also put the marinade in a big ziplock bag that'll stay securely tight. As long as the marinade is covering ALL of the egg!

This is what I mean by marbling! OBVIOUSLY these pictures aren't great (I have never claimed to be a photographer) but this is just to show what the end result should look like. Sometimes the marbling doesn't really come through but it still tastes nice!

I grew up with tea eggs always at the grocery store and able to grab 'em any time I wanted. They were usually always warmed in a crock pot as you grabbed them with tongs, but since I'm not running a crock pot for days as I finish eating them all I have them cold and they're still glorious. You can honestly marinade them 8-24 hours or so, I just like marinading for longer so the color really comes through and for more of the taste to soak in. Marinade them too long and I think they'll get too salty. It's a great subtle flavor, and you can reuse the marinade for another batch if you're making more in a short amount of time (refresh ingredients a lil that may have evaporated) or I know you can theoretically cook meat and vegetables in that marinade so you'll have something tasty from it.

I'm (AS USUAL, everyone moans) having culture feels and been wanting to cook more as a result. Most of it has manifested in veggie soup or varying noodle dishes, but tea eggs are near and dear to my heart and honestly I am so glad they were easier to make than I thought. I have a lot of weird vibes and euughh, trauma 🙄 over being in the kitchen just due to weird family stuff I grew up with so cooking is a real chore for me. Ultimately this uses two small pots (saucepans? pots? whatever they're called) and a tablespoon so the dishes to clean afterwards is minimal.

I really like the tea eggs and I really like that I can make them now, and I wanted to share that. I will probably fixate on them for a hot second! They've got such a nice flavor and my whole apartment smells good after. Let me know if you make any! Thanks for reading.

#Ari cooks #tea eggs #I also realize when I write these posts I refer back to them so it's helpful for me to write down the process as well #I was trying to find my chili noodles recipe a few months ago and I did!! #Ari adventures #I hope you enjoyed the zoomed in low-res photos of my fingers

[rillils]

notes: I’ve been going through a bit of a rough time lately, writer’s block being just one of the issues, so I thought I’d put everything on hold for a little while, grab a prompt from a prompt generator and see what happened. Today’s prompt was: cooking for one another or cooking together. Here goes nothing :3 wordcount: 1137 additional tags: modern setting – no powers AU, pre-serum Steve, fluff fluff fluff, domesticity, they haven’t tied the knot yet but they’ve been practically married since they were 15 pass it on. You can also find this ficlet on AO3!

🍂🍁🍂

November has the crisp sound of crushed leaves, and the color of Bucky’s cheeks stung pink by the wind.

His smile is a soft thing when he reaches his arm out to wrap around Steve’s shoulders, herding him close into his side. “Wanna head back?”

Steve shrugs, “Yeah, if you want,” but his head has already found its natural place in the Steve-shaped slot under Bucky’s chin, where the wool lining of Bucky’s coat collar will tickle his cheek all the way home.

“I’m not cold, though,” Steve wishes to inform him, while Bucky guides them down the street at an easy promenade pace.

“’Course not,” Bucky agrees, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss to the top of Steve’s ruffled head. “Should have worn a hat there, Stevie. Wanna borrow mine? You know I don’t mind.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“’Kay.” A beat of silence. Two. Three. “Hey, you’ve got your gloves on, right?”

“Sure,” Steve replies, slipping his very much bare hand into the warmth of Bucky’s coat pocket.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky hums against Steve’s temple, absolutely and irrevocably one-hundred-percent fooled. “You know you’ll end up getting frostbite again, don’t ya.”

His voice brushes warmly against Steve’s cold skin, and Steve soaks it up like it’s the last summer sun, ducking his head low so Bucky won’t see him grin. “Yes, Ma.”

If Bucky then chooses crime and deliberately tickles him just under his ribs, over the spot he’s known since 2nd grade will make Steve produce the most embarrassingly high-pitched squeals, then Steve may have, perhaps, had it coming just a little bit.

He catches their reflection in the shop windows as they pass by; there’s Bucky’s grinning profile right there, his bangs mussed by the cold breeze, stirring fuzzily under his beanie; Steve’s own laughing face, the red tip of his nose, and their legs stepping together in perfect sync, one-two, one-two, fluid and easy, like they have a million times before. It fills him with a soft kind of awe, the way they move as one. If life was a poem, Steve is sure their bodies would rhyme.

Bucky’s hand curls snugly around his shoulder, bringing them just that little bit closer. “Let’s make something nice and warm for dinner.”

“Can it have potatoes?”

He doesn’t need to see Bucky’s smile; he can hear it in his voice, soft and amused, half-hidden in the fluff of Steve’s hair.

“Deal.”

*

Steve leans back against the kitchen island, cuddling a steaming cup of tea to his chest, watching the room – watching Bucky – come to life one ingredient at a time.

Bucky throws him a knowing glance, knife in his right hand, the sleeves of his sweater already pulled back to the elbows. “Are you gonna help at all?”

Steve smiles behind the rim of his cup. “Nope.”

“Called it.”

Dinner is a soft, long-rehearsed symphony, and Steve stands close by and listens gratefully, warmth curling like tender fingers in his chest.

The gentle rhythm of Bucky’s knife on the cutting board, chopping carrots into wedges and dicing potatoes into neat little cubes. The silken glide through pork, cut into bite-sized pieces. The languorous sizzle of onion tossed for a sweet little waltz in a drizzle of oil and a scoop of butter, and the splash of wine from the first and only bottle they’ve bought since moving in, and forgot in the back of a cabinet for months. The lazy simmer of the stew muttering quietly on the stove, like the old ladies in the front rows at Mass, with too many tales to tell and not enough time in between Hail Mary’s to spill them all.

Steve gathers every drop of it, of home wrapping her familiar embrace around him, and leans into the sound with his eyes closed, savoring it, Mm.

“You getting sleepy?”

Bucky’s looking at him curiously; Steve allows himself the pleasure of looking back, taking the time to drink him in. The steam from the pot has caused Bucky’s short hair to curl against his brow, and his eyes are smiling even when his mouth is not, and the hoop of Steve’s apron, the one that says Stick a fork in me, I’m done, sits a little too high around his neck. He’s never looked as beautiful, as heartbreakingly sweet as this. The very same thought crosses Steve’s mind spontaneously at least once every day, and every day it feels just as true as the one before.

“No,” he says, closing his eyes again, “I just like watching you.”

He can hear Bucky’s amused snort loud and clear over the bubble-de-bubble of their stew. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a weirdo, honey?”

Steve hums, contentment spreading from the center of his belly to the length of his limbs, reaching down to his fingers and toes.

“All the time, Buck.”

*

Their ankles twine like young roots under the table.

“Here, tell me how it is.”

Bucky feeds him the first spoonful from his own plate, and Steve indulges him, diligently opening up for the spoon.

Flavor unfolds like a many-layered story on his tongue: the sweet tang of rosemary, a whisper of black pepper, the tender bite of pork and the enticing juice of carrot – each voice speaks to him, describing a richness that cannot come from herbs and spices alone.

It’s the measure of everyday devotion; the care that was poured in every gesture, the peeling and the cutting, the stirring and the dishing. The simple pleasure of making something from scratch and saying, without words, For you.

Steve feels the grin bubble up from the well of his chest. The potato’s so soft, it melts like spun sugar on his tongue.

“Well?”

Bucky’s watching him closely; a small, near-shy smile curling his lips.

There’s something in his eyes, in the way they soften like this, in the gleam always kindled within, that Steve has failed to put a name to since he first saw it there.

Perhaps – he thinks, not for the first time – perhaps it needs no name, only a heart to feel it. And he does feel it, every time Bucky looks at him like this. Deep, deep-set here in his heart, in his stomach; in the golden crucible where tenderness is made.

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” Bucky prods. “Does it taste okay?”

It tastes like so many murmurs of ‘I love you’, is what Steve truly wants to say; but that’s a little secret he’ll keep to himself for now.

He snuggles his sock-clad feet between Bucky’s calves, like he often does on cold nights, when Bucky pulls him back against his chest, and their legs lock together like puzzle pieces under the duvet.

“It’s perfect,” Steve says.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle softly with his smile. Like poetry, Steve tells himself, as he lifts his own spoon.

#stucky #stevebucky #rillers scribbles #i cannot be held responsible for gibberish i write when i'm sad and stressed out so sgdjfhskdjfg #i feel extremely self-conscious about this one #but i'm also realizing it's my first fic of 2023!! #considering my history it could also be my last fic of 2023 lol but i hope that won't be the case #i love these boys so much ;___; #one day i'll learn how to post things decently #for now it's time to crawl back to my studying spot ;___; #putting this in the queue so i'll stop thinking about it #queue

[chirp-a-chirp]

How would the princes (+ Dia) react to their valets being sick?

Aww. And so the princes become the caretakers…

LYNT

Lynt will cover Tino in blankets. Subconsciously, Lynt gives Tino one blanket per apology Tino utters for allowing himself to get sick. So pretty much every available blanket on Colde surrounds Tino. Tino is now more blanket than man.

Lynt is rather insistent on Tino resting. His voice is quiet but unusually stern as he’s worried Tino won’t allow himself to recover.

TOA

Toa will notice Knight being sick before Knight does. Kind of like 24 hours before you get a nasty cold and there’s that tickle/scratch in your throat. Knight’s keen senses hit a blind spot when it comes to admitting he’s sick.

Knight: Toa I’m NOT sick!

Toa: Then explain why there’s snot that isn’t mine in this tea.

Toa gives lots of medicinal tea, goes out of his way to lighten Knight’s workload, lectures on how proper rest is needed to recuperate. And, if Toa thinks it’ll help keep Knight in bed, he’ll offer to feed the peer kitties in his place, or find someone to do it for him.

RIO

Thoma is provided 20 bowls of homemade soup—he gives the Saligian version of chicken noodle or vegetable soup with fresh ingredients from their garden.

Did I say 20 bowls? I meant 10, cause Rio ate half of them to ensure they were the best most hearty flavor combos. A soup from Rio is as warm and comforting as his hugs.

ROY

One of two things happens. Either Roy ensures Grayson is given lots of quiet and space to recover (ie, he’s respectful of Grayson’s privacy) OR he goes into full mother hen mode.

Mother hen mode includes making Grayson scones and herbal teas he can keep down; researching every symptom Grayson has to aid his recovery; taking care of Nox if the illness is extended. He’ll insist on taking over all of Grayson’s responsibilities to ensure Grayson rests. Sherry sees Roy running himself ragged, so she forces Roy to let her help him (“Brother, I don’t need TWO people to take care of!”).

If Grayson tries to return to work before he’s recovered, Roy jokes that he’ll let Sherry bake those get-well cookie’s she’s been clamoring to make. That keeps Grayson firmly in bed.

FENN

Sherry is at Violet’s bedside if Violet is violently ill, changing sheets, taking her temperature, putting a wet cloth on her head. Fenn initially jokes that Violet must have imbibed one too many cups of Luxure blue wine, but he changes his tune when Sherry misses classes and doesn’t come out of Violet’s room for an entire day.

Fenn leaves every conceivable medicine, soothing broth, and potion by Violet’s quarters. He charms Sherry’s professors into not giving her makeup work. He even sets up a date with a man Fenn saw Violet flirting with at a local bar. Sherry allows Fenn in Violet’s quarters to discuss the date.

Fenn: So you see dear Violet, you HAVE to get better. And soon. The date depends on it!

Violet: *Coughs* You’re worried for me, aren’t you?

Sherry: It’s quite obvious he is, hehe!

DIA

There are many mysteries to Jay. No one knows his true age. The amount of wisdom and knowledge collected is on par with Lou. And…he never gets sick. Never.

But, Jay does get tired. Oftentimes, Dia will take advantage of that tiredness to escape to the woods or avoid class. However, if Jay seems tired for multiple days, Dia will grumble and make Jay a cup of tea and a plate of sautéed mushrooms. He’ll forage for mushrooms known for giving bursts of energy. And, if Jay seems particularly tired, Dia will begrudgingly go to class, if only to escape Jay’s exhausted sighs (Jay has been known to follow him in the woods; he does not follow him into class).

The moment Dia goes to class, Jay will suddenly recover all his energy. Jay will laugh and wink at Jasper. Jasper will wink back, fully understanding the lengths a good valet will go to ensure their charge does what he should.

GUY

Jasper is rarely sick. He won’t allow it. A premier valet would never let his master see him in that condition.

But even the heartiest of men have their tells for when their sick. Especially if they work for observant men.

One day, Guy notes that his red coffee is just a tad burnt. Guy looks up from his royal correspondence and sees a bead of sweat dripping from Jasper’s forehead.

“Go to bed.”

“Oh dear, do you wish to keep me to yourself, your highness?” Jasper smirks, discreetly wiping his brow.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Jasper.” Guy points to Jasper’s chambers. “Go.”

“I’m perfectly capable of—“

“That’s an order.” Jasper raises his eyebrows at Guy’s tone. It’s gruff, but rumbling with hidden kindness. “You won’t rest unless I tell you to do so. So I am telling you.”

Jasper bows and begins to leave. “Your Grace—“

“I’m perfectly capable of finishing this work today. Go.” Guy raises his voice, brooking no argument.

“Very well.”

Guy’s eyes remain on Jasper’s retreating form until he’s in his room. Guy sighs quietly, mentally preparing himself to stay up all night to finish the letters he had intended for Jasper to complete.

#court of darkness #voltage games #otome fandom #lynt akedia #fenn luxure #toa qelsum #roy invidia #dia akedia #guy avari #rio voleri

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

An Unexpected Return (Obey Me!) fic

summary: The brothers get their exchange student back much sooner than planned. Due to the Human World being more than this one human expected. Content includes depression, stress, feelings of inadequacy, comfort and fluff.

The text had been simple enough. One that was sent to Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Lucifer. The one sending the text being their beloved human exchange student, Myra. Who had gone back home to the human world last month. But this text proved that things were not okay with Myra. At all. "I hate to bother any of you right now. But I don't have a place to live here in the human world anymore and can't make it to the homeless shelter before closing. Someone please come and pick me and my few boxes of stuff up?"

It only took a minute before a portal opened in the Demon Lord's Castle. Solomon soon escorting his very miserable apprentice over the threshold as several cardboard boxes floated through the portal after them. Diavolo there to lift the goth wearing college student into his arms for a tight hug. "Lucifer is on his way right now. My word, you're as cold as ice." Barbatos approached with a warm blanket for the butler and the ruler of the Devildom to sit Myra down and wrap her in the blanket. While Solomon saw to moving what few possessions Myra had with her from the human World and into the entranceway of the castle.

By the time Lucifer arrives, Barbatos has given Myra a cup of hot tea to sip as Solomon and Diavolo sorted the boxes and bags. The Avatar of Pride walking forwards to stand before Myra and cross his arms. His words deep but hinting at worry as he sighs. "Myra Fordola Albaroiz. You have some explaining to do." The goth college student rolled her eyes to mutter out, "I wish to so many powers that no one had ever introduced you to 'I Love Lucy' last year. May we please do the short version of the story for now?" Lucifer nodded for Solomon to close the portal and sit himself beside Myra to pour himself a cup of the still steaming tea. So Myra had the time to speak openly. "Turns out my family weren't too happy about me going off to a school they never heard of. So when I got back, I found out they had packed all my things into a storage container. They refuse to talk to me and just tossed me a bill for the storage unit. So the money I made here to use there got burned into real bad. I paid off my old student loans. Since my old friend from high school said I could go back to my old job at data entry. But they decided to do a company overhaul last week and canned half the staff. So I was left with no job, no place to live, and the storage unit telling me to get lost."

All the men in the room go deadly quiet. So Myra sips her tea to make a point with her words that follow. "I already hexed the company building before I left. My family also have a convenient curse in the form of rotting shrimp hiding in the poles that hold up the window blinds through the entire house. The storage unit company is now under federal investigation after someone gave them a tip about a dead body in the unit next to mine. So I made sure to burn my bridges before I texted for a portal out of dodge." Solomon chuckles to look highly pleased with his apprentice. While Diavolo is trying very hard not to laugh as Lucifer smirks at the human exchange student. His words melted and full of warm approval at this woman of silent revenge. "That world doesn't deserve your pure wicked genius. Yet you should have been telling us all of this news as it was happening. For that I will scold you later."

Myra smiled to then finish her tea and huff. "Oh spare me, Lucy. I may adore you and all that. But I am a fully grown human woman with magic and seven pacts with demons that are considered ancient forces unto themselves. I only texted in the first place because I knew if I didn't you would slow roast and force feed me my own sculpted ass if I didn't." Solomon chokes on his tea to cough and try not to laugh. While Diavolo and Barbatos cover their moths to hide their grins. While Lucifer chuckles to then shake his head. "Now is the time for you to say how you really feel for the open air. So go ahead, lamb." Myra set the tea cup down to then clench both hands into fists. Her words flinted and aching with pure hate and evident sorrow. "My own family had the outright nerve to say I'm not worth all the time and investment raising me was. Something that never would have flown if my grandparents were still alive. So they heel stomped my worth into the muck and ground their heel besides. I pray they spend the rest of time paying for that. As for that executive bastard that fired me... He had the sheer audacity to state my job performance wasn't good enough to keep me around. When my performance numbers were third best in the entire company. Just because I'm a woman with a backbone. It took every bit of my will not to punch his smug face in with a enhanced fist jab. But I didn't. I'd rather do that to the piece of shit called life instead. I. Am. Not. Worthless!"

Myra rubbed at her eyes as a sob came out. Yet in the next second, Lucifer had swept Myra out of her chair to hug her tight and envelope her in his wings. Those ebony feathers tickling her frame as Lucifer placed a kiss to her forehead before he spoke words of rich conviction. "You are priceless! Fools would only dare to even think otherwise of you! Let those ignorant swine roll in their own stupidity without another thought! You belong to us! You are our most cherished soul in all three realms! Myra! There is nor will there ever be anyone like you!"

Lucifer soon eased up on his hug to then hand Myra over to Diavolo. Who was smiling bright to take Myra around for a spin like they were waltzing. His gaze to her full of love and favor. "We will never let you linger in such lies. You are flinted darkness and yet hold radiant light within. The sun itself cannot compare. Since you have been left to forge on without those fools, I vote we have you stay with us for a bit. At least until Solomon might set up a new place for you to dwell in back in the Human World. perhaps in a new country for you both to go on a trip to travel and see the sights." Myra perked up at that idea to then sigh. "After I see all my family here and get my head back on straight. So for now, I say we have a good meal and perhaps a movie or two."

#obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me shall we date #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me! fanfiction #obey me! fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #Obey Me! One Master To Rule Them All #Obey Me: One Master To Rule Them All #Obey Me! Shall We Date? #Obey Me: Shall We Date? #Obey Me! OC

[industria-adastra]

[Genshin Impact] - The answer given by god, tastes like sand - Chapter one: Act V, scene ? (take ?) - [1/8]

Summary: In multiple timelines, Furina and Neuvillette always have this conversation. And in every single timeline, Neuvillette cannot understand, and cannot accept Furina’s answers. No matter how far back she falls into the abyss of time, Neuvillette thinks that she’ll never understand. - Or: In a world where witches and magical girls exist, to circumvent fate is to create a god out of love, and be left wanting.

--

Next

Note: I genderbent neuvi for this madoka au

-----

Their first conversation, perhaps a hundred thousand turns ago—when Neuvillette had been just some gangly teenage girl, unknowing of the horrors of the world—about it, went a little like this. 

-

In the comfort of Furina’s room, on her bed, they watched a recording of an opera. Neuvillette was sure it had been Turandot. Her memories of later times were fuzzy, but this timeline had always, and would always be, one of the clearest ones. 

Their legs tangled together, and Furina was warm against her skin. Neuvillette remembered being vaguely surprised that Furina didn’t put up as much of a fuss over her often cold feet touching her much warmer ones. But she also remembered being happy and content with Furina in her arms, enough so that she didn’t question why Furina didn’t try to act out an improvised dramatic comedy about the state of Neuvillette’s poor blood circulation. 

She remembered thinking that Furina’s new spur-of-the-moment hairstyle would surely be less likely to tangle between them as it’d often done before. She remembered the smell of petrichor and the smell of lilies, fresh tea, and cakes. So, only half-focused on the singing actors, Neuvillette soon found her attention drawn to the teardrop on Furina’s fingernail. 

Absent-mindedly, she unwrapped an arm from Furina’s waist to lift that hand, staring at the ring and the blue nail print.

“Hm? What are you doing, Neuvi?” 

“Furina,” Neuvillette suddenly said, prompting her to pause the ongoing video, setting the laptop aside.

“Yes?” Two-toned blue eyes turned to look at Neuvillette. “What is it?” 

“Could I ask you a question?”

For a brief moment, something unreadable had flashed across Furina’s face. But it left as quickly as it came, and Neuvillette had dismissed it as a mere trick of the mind. (Stupid of her to do so—it should’ve been the first sign of the injustice to come; the first sign that she’d taken everything in her life for granted.)

“Of course,” she smiled, as radiant as the sun, “You don’t have to ask for permission, silly. Whatever it is, ask away!”

“Then… If I may ask, why did you decide to become a magical girl?” Neuvillette gently placed down Furina’s hand, waiting for an answer. Furina, in turn, leaned further back against Neuvillette. Tilting her head upwards, Furina’s eyes—forever mesmerising blues—stared deeply into her own. 

“Mmm…” Furina mused as the silence dragged out for what felt like an eternity in seconds. “Well, this world… It’s a wonderful, beautiful place—so of course I’d protect it. If I have the power to do so, don’t you agree that I, too, should do my part?”

It was a simple answer—casual, expected. It told Neuvillette absolutely nothing at all. She liked to think that she knew Furina. As such, the lack of eager elaboration, and the lack of clear, substantive reasoning all told Neuvillette that there was something she was missing. Something was being withheld from her, and Neuvillette did not understand why. Were all these years of friendship not enough for them to be close enough to share such personal matters? Neuvillette wasn’t just a member of the audience, one of many in the adoring crowd. 

“We both know that this isn’t your true answer, Furina,” Neuvillette said in return, deciding to be honest with her thoughts. “Let me ask once more, and give me the truth, and only the truth. For what reason did you decide to become a magical girl?” Her hands cupped Furina’s face, gaze boring down upon her.

Neuvillette watched as her eyes darted to the side.

Then, she sighed, eyes closing as she did so. “Oh alright, you’ve caught me,” Furina said, shifting Neuvillette’s hands away from her face, straightening up on the bed. “I’ll give you a proper answer in just a second.” The space between them widened as Furina turned to face her directly. Yet only a few moments later, Furina then beckoned Neuvillette to come closer with a hand. So, Neuvillette followed it with not even a moment’s hesitation. Just as their shoulders were about to touch, Furina lightly tugged on her arm, silently asking Neuvillette to lean down.

Furina’s arm curled her head, lightly pushing it down further. The smell of lilies was all the more distinct now, so close to her neck.

“It’s because you’re a part of this world,” Furina whispered into her ear, a string of words said with a gravitas that Neuvillette never understood (even in the distant tomorrow of a hollow victory). Those words warmed her heart as much as they confused her.

“...Because of me?” Neuvillette questioned. Perhaps she had wanted more confirmation, or perhaps even the truth given freely did not feel quite so complete. Furina’s skill with words had always left her floundering in more ways than one. Why her specifically? Why not mention her large family, or even the recent friends they’d made? Why only her as a reason? Imperceptibly, her cheeks warmed.

Furina giggled, all previous tension now lost. Taking advantage of her shocked stillness, in the blink of an eye Furina was now behind her. In an unexpected display of magic, she’d conjured up a comb and untied the ribbon holding together Neuvillette’s long, long hair in that same moment. Confused as she was, Neuvillette simply let her continue with whatever it was Furina wished to do with her hair.

After minutes of silent combing, Furina suddenly said, “I want you to be able to experience this world, from the delightful to the depressing…” Placing down the comb, her fingers artfully braided Neuvillette’s hair. Her hands never wavered in braiding, even as she presumably searched for the correct words to continue that unfinished line. “To the fullest extent possible, no matter what. That day… I—” Her breath hitched, and then all was silent.

The sensation of Furina’s fingers braiding her hair was a comforting one as Neuvillette waited for her to continue speaking. There wasn’t too much pressure, nor were the strands braided so tightly that they pulled on her scalp. Time trickled away in her hands like fine sand, but as Furina had always said—no use rushing the process to only fall flat at the finishing line. 

“There,” said Furina, all of a sudden. The noise jolted Neuvillette out of her previous relaxed state. She blinked, quite sure her expression looked hilarious to Furina, judging from the muffled giggle. “Want to take a look?” She asked, emphasising the question with a wave of her handheld mirror. Just now’s conversation was also clearly over. But that was alright. There was always time to ask later anyway.

“Since it was you who did it, I’m sure that it’ll be as perfect as always.” Yet with that said, Neuvillette still reached out for the mirror, curling long fingers over Furina’s hand. Well, she did need to see it with her own eyes if she wanted to properly praise Furina’s efforts.

“Ever the flatterer, hm?” Without resisting, Furina let Neuvillette move the mirror this way and that, waving it in all directions to find the perfect viewing angle. 

“I’m being honest,” said Neuvillette, admittedly more focused on her current task.

“At least let me remove my hand first,” she huffed, yet made no move to extract her hand from Neuvillette’s firm grip. At those words, Neuvillette simply hummed in response, finally having seen all she needed of her newest updo. 

“I like the braiding pattern,” she said, setting the mirror down, and Furina’s hand free. This time, she was the one to lean back on the other. Furina, of course, supported her without a fuss, letting Neuvillette’s head slide down until it hit her lap. Now comfortably nestled between a pair of soft thighs, Neuvillette picked up the tail end of the braid. Gazing at the multicoloured teardrop gem attached to the new ribbon, she asked, “When did you get this? It reminds me of your eyes.”

“Just yesterday. It reminded me of you.” 

‘I… I see.” Involuntarily, heat rose to her cheeks. There was only one thing to do in response to such a gift. “I overheard some classmates discussing this new cafe—would you like to try their desserts together sometime?”

“Of course, my dear Levia.”

-

They never did get to go to that cafe. That had been the last time they’d ever got to truly enjoy each other’s company as they were in that timeline—the one that had started it all.

#my writing #fanfiction #genshin impact #neuvillette #furina #furina de fontaine #neuvifuri #focallette #magical girl au #angst and fluff #time travel #genderbend #ping me if i left out any tags or if the current ones are incorrect #nvfr now doomed yuri in mind body spirit and situation #recently i rewatched pmmm and also finished link click s1 so

[sabraeal]

The Most Perverse Creature in the World, Chapter 13

[Read on AO3]

Written for @bubblesthemonsterartist, who one first place in the 500 Follower raffle MANY years ago, and enjoys using her golden tickets to torture me. SHE STILL HAS THREE MORE AFTER THIS

Mayu might well be a bird for how much she flits about your chambers, fussing at the tattered corners of your patience. The kind that flies in through an open window and then struggles to find its way back out.

“I did not expect you back so soon, my lady.” There’s so much clanking and clinking and clucking over at the sideboard that you despair of getting any actual refreshment. “When you’re in session, most times you don’t come back ‘till after dark!”

A lady does not glower, but so many months hidden behind lace has made your careful curation of expression lax. Your mouth thins before you catch yourself-- or rather, a glimpse of your veil, crumpled at the corner of the desk-- smoothing it to a neutral smile. “I am afraid there was not much to say today.”

Nothing for the ears of a young woman such as your maid, at least. Quite a lot had been said, at length, and you--

“There.” Steam curls up from the cup settled before you, sitting just askew on its saucer. “Are you satisfied then, my lady?”

“Satisfied?” The word claws its way out, but you hardly mark the pain. “Surrounded by a council full incompetents, all of them bent on taking their pleasure and leaving me with--”

No words fit for company, at least. Perhaps if you too had been born to your seat with a half dozen forefathers left to warm it, their generous bottoms wearing down the unforgiving wood until it cradled yours as comfortably as a womb, you might plow ahead, unheeding of propriety or good sense. But instead your teeth snap around the sentiment, leaving it to be swallowed down with your other indignities. And oh, what a feast these men have made for you this evening.

“Ah, I only meant...?” Her eyelashes flutter, hands uncertain where they hang above the desk. “The tea...?”

“Oh, Mayu!” Ill-temper streams from you like steam from a kettle, the heat of it lost in one great sigh. “My apologies. I’m afraid I’m not good company tonight.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, ma’am,” she says, firm. “If my service isn’t pleasing, then it’s only right you be cross--”

“I’m hardly cross with you, my dear.” Her hands are cold between your palms, trembling and small. “I’m cross with...a great number of people tonight, but I promise none of them are in this room.”

“Oh,” the wind hums through the windows. “That so?”

It is only reflex that saves your tea, honed from a dozen summers of rescuing tablecloths from the sort of shenanigans only a growing boy could conjure. By the cat’s grin stretched across your sill-- and the endless expanse of legs that accompany it-- he expected no less. “That’s a relief.”

“You.” You set the cup clattering against the saucer, sweeping skirts up to standing. With one finger brandished in his direction, Obi flinches. “Has no one ever made you wear a bell?”

His palms fly up, the face framed between them the very picture of innocence. “It’s been discussed. Hey, didn’t you say you weren’t mad at anyone--?”

“That’s before I knew you were here.” Your hand drops, disappearing into the folds of your skirt, and he relaxes. “Though, to be quite honest, it’s not you I have quarrel with.”

“Oh?” A corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. “Who could it be? Maybe mister--?”

A huff escapes you, hands hooking around your hips. “As if Sir Mitsuhide were anything but a pleasure.”

That only makes his satisfaction all the slyer. “That’s certainly the opinion of quite a few professionals...”

To respond, even to admonish, would only serve to encourage him. “If you must know, it is your master who plays at my last nerve.”

“Ah, Master...” One of those long arms reaches behind his head, scrubbing at the bristle. “C’mon, my lady, you aren’t still sour about that business this morning, are you?”

I don’t make the rules. The boy’s scowl stretches across your memory, his hands useless where they lay on his desk. I merely uphold them.

“No.” The denial sounds like an affirmation from your lips, but there is no point in retraction. “If I am so sour, it is because despite his claims of being my ally, week after week I am left to defend myself against those dogs alone.”

“Ah.” Your shadow grimaces. “I take it that the meeting didn’t go well?”

There is a torrent of words that rushes to your mouth, a deluge of indignities that you could lay at His Highness’s feet. Whatever else one might say about His Highness-- and oh, you have quite a bit waiting to drip from the tip of your tongue, the sort of things that would make your governess clap her hands around your ears and hers in equal measure-- you can at least say this: he keeps his promise. To disappoint you, at least. “It would be a kindness to call it a disaster.”

Obi snorts. “That good, huh?”

“It has been made clear to me that since I consort with courtesans and whores--” your nails dig sharp crescents into your palm, and oh, how you wish it were not impolite to make them bleed-- “that my words are little better than their own. Lord Hiroki called for a vote upon a minor issue, one of his pet amendments, and I...”

I merely said nay. The fear grips you even now, safe in your chambers. I said nay, and they all fell upon me like hounds on a vixen.

Anger opens your mouth, but shame shapes the words into, “It did not go well.”

“Ah.” Obi’s long fingers casually curl, cracking as they dig into the meat of his shoulder. “I see.”

“I could canvas every brothel in Wistal, I could write a painstaking proposal for tax law that addressed every issue inherent in our current policy, but none of it matters if I do not have allies. Strong allies,” you press, pacing across the room. “Ones who bother to come to council meetings.”

Weariness washes over you, your head falling heavily into your hands. “I cannot do this alone. I must make a show of friends in high places, and fast. Even if there were a single man who agreed with me in that room, he would not risk speaking out against the rest. Why, I had to wait for Arluleon bother to speak for me, and even so it was only to say--”

Might I remind you that the lady here is of gentle birth?  His pompous tone echoes enough to make your ears ache even now, hours later. It is unbecoming to speak before her in such a fashion.

Your teeth grit, his words like sand between them, wearing your control down to nubs. “Well, it was not to remind them that I was a colleague deserving of respect.”

Obi is a boy of quick reflexes and even quicker wit, but when you pivot on your heel, prepared to pace across the pile you’ve already worn a runnel in, he’s quiet. Thoughtful, if you had to put a word to it. “Ah, lady, I was wondering...he’s met you before, hasn’t he? Before you came here.”

You work your way back through his question, trying to find what possible subject he could saddle that pronoun with, and finally ask, “Who?”

“His Grace, the Marquis.” He stares at you as if you are the incomprehensible one. “Haruka.”

“Arluleon?” Your husband had never sent for you while the council was in session-- nothing is more boring for a woman than to be married during the Season, he laughed the first time you asked, still too young to wonder, give it a decade or two, and then you can bring our daughters-- but he’d had visitors in the country. Friends though, not rivals, spending the long summers planning their coups for the next year. “He came to the funeral--”

“No, no. I mean before the whole--” his hand grimly sweeps in front of his face-- “business.”

You blink, lost. “Why do you ask?”

“Er...no reason. I just was thinking, seeing you two on the stair, that maybe...” It is impossible to discern which of his whims made him sail down this particular route of inquiry, but whatever it is, he changes tack. “Just curiosity, my lady.”

It’s a curious question indeed, but your suppose it’s harmless to entertain it. “Once, I believe. He attended the wedding. But that must have been...fifteen years past now, and clearly of no consequence to him.”

Obi hums, far too interested in such a dull matter. “What makes you say that, my lady?”

“He met me at the castle gates the day I arrived in Wistal, and if he recognized my name more than my title, it would be a great surprise to me,” you sniff. “He had been much more concerned about whether I would properly submit to protocol, should he only apply the right pressure. I doubt he even recalls whether the bride he met all those years ago was a girl in the flush of her first season, or a spinster being rescued from the shelf, let alone any detail of my face.”

Despite his love for the sport, your father had never allowed you on his hunts, not even when other ladies arrived trim and stylish in their habits, riding beside their husbands. It had not been until you had been a woman grown, married a year and some and eager to show your husband just what fun you could be, that you saw your first fox caught, ruthlessly cornered by the same hounds you fend scraps from the table. An unearthly sound tore from its throat as the teeth clamped clamped down, strangled and hopeless--

And mirrored now by your shadow, a hand pressed over his eyes.

“Are you quite all right?” It’s impossible that he could have hurt himself, not when he hasn’t moved from your sill, but still, you squint at him, attempting to assess the damage. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” he groans, hand flapping between you. “It’s nothing. I just...put something together. That I can’t really unknow.” A laugh gasps out of him, more pain than amusement. “Well, that will be interesting.”

You stare at him, brows knitted. “Why would you want to--?”

The doors to your study swing open, Mayu breathless between them. “Ah, my lady!”

Curious. You could have sworn she’d been over at the sideboard, fussing with yet another cup of tea. Perhaps she’ll make an admirable domestic after all. “Mayu, what are you--?”

“You have a visitor!” she gasps, color high on her cheeks. “At the door.”

“The door?” Your fingers idly pluck at where your veil lays crumpled, tossed aside in your fit of pique. There are few at court who you would name friend enough to visit, and fewer still who would call upon a widow still deep in mourning. “Will wonders never cease. Did they leave a card?”

“N-no.” Her eyes widen, guilty, and ah, the poor thing never thought to ask. “He’s, ah, waiting, my lady. In the parlor.”

“He?” Obi’s mouth curls with a slyness you’re quite sure you mislike. “Sounds like you’ve got some tenacious suitor, my lady.”

“What it sounds like is that some Wisteria has seen fit to take root on my settee,” you murmur, pinning your veil in place. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

“Me?” One hand presses to his chest, every inch of his raised brows professing his innocence. “Do I look like the sort of messenger that would spring a prince on you--?”

“Almost certainly,” you inform him. “And you’d stick around to watch.”

“You wound me, my lady, I would--”

“It’s not His Highness,” Mayu blurts out. “Either of them.”

“No?” It is a short list of men at court who would think to darken a window’s doorway, and to walk into your parlor, sure of their welcome-- or perhaps, uncaring of it--?

Your hands stiffen on the final pin, shoving it in clumsily enough the point drags over your scalp. “You don’t mean to tell me that Arluleon--?”

“No ma’am,” she pipes, her mouth twitching toward something close to a smile. “The opposite!”

Mayu’s assessment had not quite been...politique, but even you must admit that when your eyes fall upon the young man lounging in your parlor, cleaned and pressed and grin running parallel to the scar carved across his nose, the girl is not precisely wrong.

“Sir Zakura.” You incline your head the barest degree, enough imply regard without suggesting deference. Peer he might be, but baron hardly outranked a sitting countess. “Are you on your way to dinner?”

“Countess.” His mouth spreads wide on the title, a detail you hardly miss as he bows just a hair too deep for your station. “I thought you might be in need of an escort.”

Your steps stutter on the carpet, only for a moment, hidden beneath the weight of your skirts. “Sir,” you manage, your smile stiff on your lips. “It is kind of you to think of me. But surely you know I must decline.”

“Must you?” His head cocks, same as his smile, curious and too confident by a half. “Can’t say I see a reason why. Unless you already ate.”

“I haven’t,” you say before you can think better of it, and by Shidnote’s smile, he knows it. “But it would hardly be appropriate.”

“C’mon now, my lady.” He slouches against your mantel, rumpling the crisp lines of his coat. “Surely everyone knows you eat.”

“The problem is not with eating, sir.” It would be helpful if you could summon a chill to your words the way your great aunt had always done, leaving all who spoke with her in the cold. Perhaps that might cool the warmth in Sir Zakura’s smile when you tell him, “It is that I am in mourning still.”

His eyebrows are already the proper bent for incredulity, but the effect is heightened when he lifts them, one a hair higher than the other. “So you don’t eat dinner?”

“I am not supposed to keep company.” It is impossible for His Majesty’s aide to not know what propriety demands of you, but still, he only smiles when you protest, as if you were but a child refusing to eat their vegetables. “The thought is kind, sir, but I am certain my presence would put a damper on the evening.”

“As charming a woman as you?” He shakes his head. “I doubt it.”

You scoff. “A widow is hardly charming. Everyone might pity her, but few would welcome a reminder of their own mortality. Perhaps when it is lighter, I--”

“And when is that?” He shrugs, a sinuous movement even with shoulders as broad as his. “A month? A few weeks? I’m sure no one would mind if the rules were bent, just this once.”

Your mouth gives a rueful twist, one he cannot see. “Widows are not allowed much bending, I’m afraid.”

His grin stretches far too wide. “Now that’s not true. I’ve known several very flexible widows in my time.”

“Sir.” It is a mercy that lace hides you; your flush would only encourage him to outrageousness. “It would be inappropriate in the extreme for me to step out while I am so deep in mourning. I appreciate that you thought of me, but I’m sure one of the young debutantes this season would be must more to your like--”

“Not at all.” That mouth of his is utterly brazen when he tells you, “I like a mature woman.”

Your own pulls flat. “Then I must disappoint you. If the castle records are correct, I’m afraid that my own birth was quite a few months after your own.”

That grin of his sharpens down to a point. “Age had nothing to do with maturity, my lady. His Majesty tells me that one all the time.”

His Majesty. The title pricks at you. Sir Zakura might play at flirtation, but he hardly needs to impress you with his connections, not when the king has already asked you--

Ah. So that’s what this is. Shidnote might plead pleasure all he likes, but this...this is business.

“All right,” you concede, your hands clenching in your skirts. “I suppose one dinner could hardly hurt.”

#haruka x reader #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #i was hoping to get to some real plot and politics this chapter but it MUST WAIT #expect more zakura and perhaps even more of haruka #there should actually be quite a lot of haruka over the next few chapters #gonna finally get into the beginning of this romance #while obi suffers knowing that haruka doesn't know bederin is hot

[qserasera]

I was tagged by @ncfan-1 for this meme (thanks!!). The rules of the meme are as follows: Post the first lines of your ten most recent fanfics and then tag ten people. If you’ve written less then ten, just go for what you have written.

tagging @swankitty @blackidyll @defeateddetectives @javert @futuresoon if you feel like it

decided to categorize ‘recent’ as writing from within the last year hahaha :D

1. so sings the chimes, aleatoric Genshin Impact; Scaramouche (The Wanderer)-centric

"My daughter wishes to learn to play the koto," the older man says.

He clears away an empty bowl and a set of cups, taking them behind the counter of the izakaya stall. Behind the softly wafting steam, his face is cut in sharp lines, like ones etched in a woodblock by an artisan's hand. But the gentle fondness in his eyes as he speaks of his daughter softens the look of what must have been a once-prideful youth.

"Oh? Is that right, Shibata-san? How time catches up upon us like a tiger! How old is she now—six? Seven?"

The answering reply is from Malek, a regular at Shibata-san's stall—though he has the thin look common to many scholars of the Akademiya, there is a suggestion of strength in the set of his shoulders, in the expertly tied knots of the bags to his hip, the sheathed dagger at his belt.

i think i generally don’t prefer just like. Jumping right into a scene from the main pov character hahah. this was a fun bit of easing into the rest of the fic in a sideways way through some slight worldbuilding painting---the koto mention was a choice as one of the intentional threads of something that reminds the Wanderer of Inazuma (something something he cut himself off from his home but can’t help longing for it regardless when he gets reminders of it :)) 2. these sunlit days our hands engrave Zhongli/Childe, slight sideways AU for Genshin Impact

In a certain kingdom, there lived a boy in a village. He seemed no different from any other boy his age—half-wild and restless, a fledgling eagle not yet full-grown; and yet, still made tame enough by affection to return to his family's humble home by nightfall, where warm smiles and warm words were doled out in equal measure. One winter night—one dark and hollow as an iron pot on a cold hearth—he did not return.

a somewhat fairytale beginning for what does really end up as a fairytale type fic :DDD i think i like the phrasing of ‘a fledgling eagle not full-grown’ for a young childe  3. on a high peak, sentiments sweet Zhongli/Childe, canon-compliant-ish Genshin Impact

Light shimmers before the eye, like heated oil over a wok. Through the air, the humming of cicadas seems to drown out the usual talk and bustle of the city by a hundredfold.

Outside on the second-floor balconies, waiters lean their elbows against the railings, a spare towel held against the sweat on their foreheads, their pose thoroughly languorous. Children walk with their families, tugging on their parents' hands while whining for sweet dessert soups from nearby food stalls—for the flavors of shaved ice and sour plums, or mung beans chilled and sweetened with sugar.

what do i even say here---more scenic intros i guess :DD 4. willow pond, locked in smoke Ayato/Thoma (heavily implied), Genshin Impact

"A pity," the man mutters, as one of his fingers traces a half moon on the tabletop around his tea cup. "The first flush of tea this year is not quite as promising as I expected."

"Shimada-sama is too humble," Ayato replies. "There is an undeniable charm, is there not, to enjoying the first bounties of nature in shincha such as this? A reminder perhaps, of mortal power and frailty both—that not even things grown from our hands will always remain in our control."

u can tell that. i loveee social intrigue in my fandoms and also in my fic, especially for ayato :)))) (his trailer was soooo cool with the mention of assassins Aghhhhhhh). i wasn’t sure if ayato’s lines were hitting a more pretentious note than not, but i like how it ended up

5. after the hundredth night of waiting Zhongli/Childe, Genshin Impact

Childe's gaze is drawn to Zhongli's gloves. The creature resting between his palms is a small, delicate thing. Barely bigger than the bulb of an ice flower, feathers green-blue in the firelight. Qing 青—the color of spring, as Zhongli had once explained to Childe, a stem of qingxin clasped between his fingertips, their buds still veiled in pale green. 

the bird fic......this was more of an extended metaphor but i really do like this beginning and also the seasonal appropriateness of it

6. a poem, halfwritten Zhongli/Childe, Genshin Impact

  Zhongli lowers his cup to the table, sliding it over to rest besides its partnering wine pitcher. Both equally empty, though the taste of the wine leaves a pleasant sweetness on his tongue. 

zhongli is just elegantly drinking here. he’s so cool *chinhands*

#memeity meme #replies to an admiring bog