#moon god lance

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Lighthouse keeper, huh?”

Keith watches Shiro’s face carefully, because he’s not sure what to expect. Not anger — Shiro doesn’t do angry, not with Keith — but not exactly excitement, either. He’s not sure.

Shiro sighs, hanging his head. He doesn’t speak or move for several moments, only staring at his clasped ands, jaw set. Keith remains where he is, leaning against the bookshelf covered in stickers placed carefully by six-year old Keith, ugly as sin but impossible for sentimental Shiro to throw out.

Shiro braces his hands on his knees, sighing again as he heaves himself up and walks over to Keith. He cups Keith’s face in his hands and leans their foreheads together.

“Why do you always have to choose the least safe option, huh, kiddo?” His voice is a mix of tired and fond; strained and loving.

Keith shrugs. His hands tighten on Shiro’s shirt. “That’s what you did.”

The remark makes Shiro crack a smile.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Tyrant,” Keith says. The familiar tease — remnant from when Keith was younger and angrier and fought every choice Shiro made for him, regardless of whether it was the right one — makes Shiro huff a laugh, pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead before pulling away.

“You have to promise to call me every week, okay? At least once. Lighthouses get lonely.”

“Okay,” Keith says quietly.

“And get decent groceries when you go out. Vegetables. Lots of them.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t do anything stupid, like go swimming in an icy ocean at night to chase a cryptid or something.”

Keith smiles a little. “No promises.”

Shiro sighs again, but it’s not as heavy this time. This time there’s an edge of acceptance to it.

“Just — be safe, kiddo. I can’t lose you, too.”

“Okay,” Keith says again, and he means it.

———

Lighthouse keeper. Lighthouse keeper.

What an insane job.

Is Keith qualified for it, technically? No. Not even a little bit. But after a little resume-fudging — okay, a lot of straight-up lying — and a myriad of people refusing to come near the lighthouse they swore was haunted, Keith landed the job.

“Look, it’s kind of isolating, okay?” says the coast guard, pressing a massive ring of keys into his hand. “Like, it’s not a hard job, really, except for during storms. You mostly just get to chill and check on the bulb every once in a while. But it can get…lonely.” She cuts him a sideways glance. “You know the story?”

Vaguely.

Keith shrugs.

“This used to be a real popular port,” she says. “People landing day and night, every day of the year. Used to be people manning the light every second of every day, groups of six or seven living here at once, like one big family. But then we shifted from using coal to using all that renewable shit, and the port stopped being so popular ‘cause there were less ships out to this area. Employees dwindled to just one guy, here by himself, every day of the year for decades.”

She pauses for a moment, drumming her hand on her car door. Keith pretends to be way less intrigued than he is.

“He went mad,” she says quietly. “No wifi or anything in the 60s, you know. Not a damn thing to do. He said he fell in love with the moon. Refused to retire, to resign. Stayed up in that tower until he was way too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms ‘cause he was just to frail to be out in those elements, y’know? But he wouldn’t leave the damn place behind. People say he never really left — that his ghost haunts the place. That’s why it’s been abandoned for so long.”

She shrugs, somber look melting off her face as quickly as it came. “Well, I’m sure it’s all shit, anyway. You’ll be fine. Good luck!”

Before Keith can so much as utter a single ‘hey, what the fuck’, she ducks into her car, slamming the door and speeding down the gravel driveway.

“Well, goodbye,” Keith mutters, shaking his head and walking down the cobblestone path to the door. “Thanks for that.”

Ghost, huh?

That sure as hell wasn’t on any of the waivers he signed.

He hopes it’s not an angry ghost.

———

Turns out Shirt had nothing to worry about. Keith keeps a radio on him once it gets dark, making his way up to the light when he gets word of a ship coming near, just to make sure everything’s okay. He doesn’t really do much except watch the sea, basically. He supposes he’ll be a lot busier in a giant storm or if something breaks, but as of right now, his biggest trouble is boredom.

And oh, what a trouble it is.

Turns out manning a lighthouse is boring as shit. 24 hours is a lot of goddamn time in the day, and there’s only so many times Keith can scroll through his phone or read a book before he goes insane. It’s almost never worth the gas money to drive into town, and besides he doesn’t know anyone, so mostly he just sits and mopes out the window or skips rocks along the shoreline (his current record is 20 skips in a row, which would be cool as shit of the every second of every day didn’t feel so blah). Even the calls with Shiro are too mundane to pique his interest — his brother’s life isn’t too exciting, either, although talking with Shiro still has its enjoyment.

There is something magical about the stillness of everything, though. Like, yeah, Keith would love it if he could maybe experience something that was even a little interesting, but he’s felt more peace in the past few months than he has his entire life.

(Not that that’s saying much.)

(But, still.)

He particularly likes sitting out on the balcony by the light once the sun has set, watching the stars. It’s gotten warm enough now that he can sit out for hours without getting cold, just watching the stars. He’s so far away from any city that he can see what feels like every star in existence.

The moon, though, is the most breathtaking of anything. Somehow it looks more breathtaking every night. This far out on the coastline Keith can see it with startling clarity, every dip and crater and crevice glowing a soft silver. Sometimes Keith is so captivated by it that he watches it from sunset to sunrise, feeling like barely an hour has passed.

It makes Keith feel a little less lonely, somehow. Like maybe his heart doesn’t hurt so bad.

———

Keith wakes up at two in the afternoon feeling strangely pleased.

It’s not because he slept in, or anything — he usually wakes up at around two, since he’s up all night manning the light — or even that his sleep was particularly restful. He doesn’t know why he feels so…excited? Maybe that’s not the right word. But he goes through the day feeling all floaty, humming as he cleans up his living space and dancing around as he makes food. The air buzzes with anticipation, although for what he’s not sure.

Closer tonight.

Keith freezes.

Huh?

He waits a moment, hands still int the soapy water. What was that? That was a strangely…foreign thought. What’s closer tonight? What does that even mean?

He shakes himself out of his stillness when he realises the water has started to go cold, continuing to scrub the dishes. Whatever. He has weird, intrusive thoughts all the time. It’s nothing new.

Full moon. Closer to Earth.

“Okay, what the fuck.”

Keith drops the dishes, yanking his hands out of the sink and taking a stumbling step back, stopping when he backs into the fridge. His wet hands drip onto the tile floor, steady plop sounds, one for every heavy inhale.

“Okay,” he tells himself, “I am going to dry my hands and then sit down on the couch. I am going to remain still for twenty minutes. If I hear a weird thought again, I am going to freak out. If not, I am going to assume my brain is trying to freak me out to make things more interesting, and I am going to dismiss this entirely.”

Twenty minutes later, when no weird thought occurs, Keith sighs in relief.

God, how bored must he be, for his brain to make up weird voices or whatever? Maybe he should take up another hobby.

Knit, or something.

Can’t hurt.

———

“Did you get lonely a lot, when you were deployed?”

Shiro hums; tinny through the shitty cell reception.

“Yeah, lots. There were a lot of long stretches where I felt like I might be the only person in the world. Made everything feel smaller. Why do you ask? You getting lonely?”

“Just curious,” Keith denies. He pauses a moment.

“Did you ever hear…voices?”

As soon as he says it, he knows he’s fucked up. The comfortable silence between them gets charged immediately, tense, and they may be hundreds of miles apart but Keith can physically feel the concerned look Shiro is sporting.

“Keith, maybe you should call a doc —”

“It’s not me,” Keith says hastily. “I’m just — I read a lot now, right? I don’t have much else to do. And I was reading one of the manuals lying around this place, and it said that if you experience any strange mental symptoms to switch out shifts, but I was just curious about what strange mental symptoms might be, I’m not actually —”

“Okay,” Shiro interrupts. “It’s fine. I believe. Just — stay safe, okay? Don’t be afraid to call for help, to call it quits. We can always figure out what to do next.”

Keith takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and smiling slightly. No matter what, he can count on Shiro.

“Okay.”

“Good. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, too.”

———

Keith squints at the sky. He tilts his head, considering, then squints harder.

“Maybe I am going crazy,” he says to himself. He hasn’t heard any weird voices since that one time, but he’s been feeling a lot of weird things in his chest, near his heart. For two weeks the night sky has felt almost…distant? Cold, even. But then he started to feel this growing pull to be outside more and more, the strong desire to stand and stare out at sea during the day, swaying with the waves, and to stare endlessly at the sky at night, drinking in the sights, watching the moon turn through it’s phases. The feeling is almost suffocating, now, like if he’s not outside he’s incapable of breathing. Everything feels so restless during the day, soothed only by the light of the moon.

“Or maybe I’m just dead bored. Who knows.”

———

Finally.

The voice startles him right out of a nap, tumbling off the couch onto a heap on the floor. He blinks himself awake fully, blearily checking his watch. His eyes widen.

“Shit,” he says, scrambling to his bedroom to grab his radio and sprinting up the stairs to the light. He’s late. He doesn’t seem to have missed any calls, thankfully, but still, he needs to be up there in case a ship’s radio is broken and they can’t call, or what if —

He freezes on the top step.

“What the fuck.”

Elbows on the balcony railing, leaning out facing the ocean, is a man. He’s tall, curly brown hair whipping around his angular face in the sea breeze, eyes closed in serenity.

Every part of him, faintly, glows silver.

“Took your sweet time,” he says, not opening his eyes. His voice is strangely familiar.

“What the fuck,” Keith repeats. He’s not sure how else to encompass the pure bewilderment he’s feeling.

Finally the man turns slightly to face him, lips curled in amusement and eyes opening to reveal a deep, dark brown that sparkles faintly in the moonlight.

“You’re supposed to be here when the sun sets, yes?”

Keith hums, nodding his head.

“Yep. I’ve officially gone insane.”

The man laughs, head thrown back and teeth gleaming white.

“Perhaps. Are madmen always so eloquently charming?”

“Figments of my imagination are not allowed to be mocking,” Keith snaps, because if he’s going to go insane it’s going to be on his terms, goddamnit.

“Good thing I have nothing to do with your imagination, then,” the man shoots back easily. He smirks. “You couldn’t come up with something as pretty as me if you tried.”

Keith scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Figures that his brain would cook up a bratty loudmouth with a bright smile to torture him. He’s his own worst enemy.

“I’m going to ignore you,” Keith informs the man. “If I don’t acknowledge you, then my brain will get the message and you’ll disappear.”

The man pouts. “Don’t be so callous. I only have three days, and then I’ll not see you again for a month.”

Keith ignores him. This lighthouse gig is kind of boring, sure, and yeah, he’s a little lonely, but it pays well and includes room and board. There’s not a chance in hell that he’s succumbing to his insanity and returning to fucking retail, or something, no sirree. He’s stubborn. He can wait this out.

The man sighs petulantly. “Of course you’re boring,” he mutters. “The last Moon Guardian got to fall in love with the lightkeeper, and I get someone who can scarcely believe I’m real. How unjust.”

The last lightkeeper… what was it the coast guard had said?

He said he fell in love with the moon…stayed up in that tower until he was too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms.

“Oh, real original, brain,” he mutters to himself. “Real fuckin’ original, with the Hollywood spooky stuff. I need to stop watching horror movies before bed.”

“Ugh,” the man says, rolling his eyes. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you? I bet you will refuse to even acknowledge me for months or even years. I should have chosen to guard one of Venus’ moons when ‘Llura gave me the chance.”

“Nope,” Keith says, waking to the other side of the balcony. If his brain is going to torment him with ridiculousness, then he is not going to listen.

He’ll just wait it out.

———

For the eight hours of sundown, he manages. He keeps stubbornly away from the hallucination, ignoring the man’s huffing and puffing and muttering, firmly telling himself that he’s just overtired and that he’ll sleep in extra tomorrow morning so this won’t happen again. The very second the sun peeks above the horizon, Keith books it for the staircase, rushing for the door before the hallucination can so much as mutter a word. He runs straight to his bed and sleeps for sixteen straight hours, completely dead to the world. When he wakes, he convinces himself to check the balcony, and is relieved to find the man gone.

“See?” he reassures himself. “Just sleep deprived.”

He believes it all the way until sundown, when he jovially makes the climb up to the light, whistling to himself, only to trail into silence when the man stands there again, smiling smugly at him.

“Good evening,” he says.

Keith throws a book at his face.

———

“I despise you,” the man says nasally, glaring at Keith through bruised eyes.

Keith winces, dabbing blood off the man’s nose as delicately as he can with a damp cloth.

“Sorry,” he says, as genuinely as he can. “I really did think the book was going to go through you. How was I to know that you’re — well, that you’re real?”

“Because I told you!” the man cries. “Thrice!”

Keith huffs, stepping back as the man wrestles the cloth from his hands and starts to wipe the blood off himself. “Well, I said I was sorry, okay? Jesus.”

The man glares at him one more time before sighing. “I suppose I can forgive you.”

“Cool.” Keith shifts awkwardly. “Um, not to be rude, but who the hell are you? Now that I know you’re not my brain, it’s kind of super weird that you’re here.”

“I have many names,” the man says. “Luna, Alqamar, Dal. Moon. But the other Guardians call me Lance, so perhaps that is the name most suitable.”

“Okay,” Keith says, like this isn’t lunacy. “So you’re not just some random dude? You’re, like, the — moon? In the fucking sky?”

“Our spirits are one, yes.”

“Mhm. Great. That cleared up nothing.”

The man — Lance — raises an amused eyebrow. “What more must be made clear to you, Lightkeeper? The Moon and I are one. I am he who guards her, I am her. Is that so confusing?”

“You must know that it is,” Keith says flatly. “Like, up until right this second, I though the moon was a lifeless rock floating in the sky.”

“You’ve never felt the pull?” Lance asks softly. “Your kind has built your culture on her. Every one of you worships her in some way, ever group looks to her with some kind of fondness. You truly did not feel any of her pull, of her power? The power of any of the celestia? Have you not looked up and felt the breath knocked from your lungs?”

“I have,” Keith admits. Lance is right — the moon has always has spirit. Keith just didn’t think it was so literal.

“Good,” Lance says firmly. “There is hope for you yet, Lightkeeper.”

“Keith.”

“Hm?”

“That’s my name,” Keith says awkwardly. “Keith.”

“Oh!” Lance exclaims. He smiles, just as he did the first time Keith saw him, faint silver glow making him appear ethereal. “It’s good to meet you, Keith.”

Keith cracks a smile. This is weird as hell, sure — but didn’t Keith ask for something interesting to happen?

“It’s good to meet you too, Lance.”

———

“A friend?”

“Yep,” Keith says, popping the p. “All by myself and everything.”

“That’s great!” Shiro says enthusiastically. “How did you meet? Is he working for the lighthouse too, or does he work in town?”

“He’s a…traveller,” Keith says hesitantly. “Yeah. Only here three nights of the month, so I let him crash and we hang out.”

It’s as much of a truth as any. Keith has learned over the last few months that Lance can only come to Earth when the moon is closest — when it’s ‘full’.

“Your human denominations make no sense,” Lance argued. “I am always full, I’m just simply not always facing you. What is a ‘new moon’? I never change.”

Keith shrugged. “Do I look like I named the damn phases? People didn’t always get that, man. You looked like a crescent, you were called a crescent. Simple!”

“But you have advanced! You know the truth, now, so why keep the archaic language?”

“Lance. Dude. I am a lighthouse-keeper, and I made up all sorts of shit to get this job. I am not an astronomer.”

“Ugh. Humans perplex me.”

“Okay, mythical being.”

“…but I’m glad you’re not so lonely,” Shiro continues, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. “I was worried for a while there, kiddo.”

Keith snorts. “Thanks, Shiro.”

“Hey, don’t give me that! You have a tendency to get yourself into sticky situations and then make it worse by stubbornly refusing to back out while you can!”

“I do not,” Keith says, lying.

“Mhm, sure, kiddo. And I didn’t have to rescue you from a cult two separate times.”

“Whatever,” Keith says, scowling. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Yeah, yeah, goober.”

As much as Keith hates to admit it, life really does improve between Lance’s visits and Shiro’s calls. Both give him something solid to look forward too, and Lance’s visits especially often give him the element of physical touch that Keith didn’t realise he was missing.

Not that he’ll admit that.

But it’s nice, kind of. Even though Lance’s skin kind of feels like cool marble, and every time they hug it’s like the warmth is leeched out of him.

Not that they hug a lot.

Well, kind of. Lance is a touchy person. Moon Guardian.

Whatever.

———

“How does the guardian thing, like, work? In terms of science?”

Lance shrugs. “I haven’t the faintest clue,” he says easily. “My friend — he’s the Guardian of Phobos — he has a much clearer idea. It has something to do with quintessence, he supposes.”

“Quintessence?”

“Life force. Energy. The pieces that make up atoms.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that had a name.”

“Everything does. That’s why it exists.”

“Huh.” Keith sits with that for a moment. Not that he ever probably could, but he’d love to explain this to Shiro, to watch his nerd brain explode. It would be hilarious. “So do you guys just…spring to life when a new planet it formed, or something?”

“Oh, no,” Lance says, laughing. “I am only…twenty-five rotations around the sun.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? You’re my age?”

“Are you insinuating that I look older?” Lance teases. “Because if that’s the case, I can arrange to have you smited.”

Keith laughs.

Then he gets nervous.

Can Lance have him smited?

“No, no, you look great,” Keith says. Better safe than sorry.

“You look beautiful, really. It definitely makes sense that you’re the moon guardian, y’know? Like, if I had to picture someone who matched the moon, it would be you.”

Well.

That was certainly more than being ‘safe’.

Sometimes, Keith wishes he had even a little bit of a filter.

“You think so?” Lance asks quietly. Shyly.

“Yes,” Keith chokes out, picking a random star and praying to it that his blush fades. “I think so.”

A cold finger curls around his.

“I think you look beautiful, too.”

———

“Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith —”

“Shiro, piss off,” Keith mumbles, reaching blindly for a pillow to smack his brother with. “I’m tired.”

“Well, get up! This only happens thrice a year, and I want to make the most of it!”

Wait. Keith only knows one person — well, ‘person’ — who says thrice unironically, and it’s not Shiro.

“Lance?!” Keith yelps, startling awake. He shoots a confused look to the frankly ecstatic man before him, and then looks, even more confused, out his window. The sun is high in the sky, it can’t be more than noon.

“How are you here?”

“Supermoon!” Lance shouts excitedly. “Every four months, I am as close to Earth as I can possibly be, even closer then what you humans call a ‘full’ moon, and so I can be on Earth a full day cycle! It’s very exciting. I tried to wait for you to wake, but you slept so long. I couldn’t wait any further.”

“Ugh,” Keith groans, flipping back onto the pillows. “It’s early.”

Really, he’s as excited as Lance, but Lance can’t know that.

“Half the day has passed!” Lance argues. There’s a dip in the bed, and it’s Keith’s only warning before there’s suddenly a weight flopped on him.

“Oof.”

“You’re being exceptionally boring,” Lance says, pushing himself up on Keith’s chest to look him closely in the face. “I want to explore the town. I’ve always been too shy to go on my own. Take me, take me, take me!”

Keith fights off a blush, both from their position and Lance’s accidental innuendo.

“Okay,” he says weakly.

Lance cheers, scrambling off him and running out of the room.

“Hurry and get ready! I will try and make us breakfast — I think I understand how to use the stove!”

“Yeah, yeah.” It takes a moment for Lance’s second sentence to sink in. “Wait, Lance, no, stay away from the stove, you don’t know how fire works yet!”

———

Keith is going to collapse into particles. Really. That, or melt into goo on the ground.

It’s just that Lance is so cute.

Sure, he’s always beautiful. Ethereal, really. And he’s funny, and smart, and obviously very fascinating on principle alone.

But watching Lance flutter excitedly through the tiny coastline town, fascinated by every tiny, mundane thing?

Oh, Keith is not going to make it out of this one alive. Seriously. It’s straight out of that one scene in The Little Mermaid, except Lance is a million times more adorable, and knows what a fork is.

“Oh my stars, look at all these things! It’s all ridiculous! There’s no purpose for it! I want one of everything!”

“How do you even — wait,” Keith says, as something occurs to him. “Do you have, like, a house on the moon, or something? How do you store all your shit? Because you clearly have, like, clothes and stuff. And you understand some book references. Is there like a Celestial Guardians neighbourhood, or something…?”

“Oh, everything I have is stored with yours, only on the astral plane,” Lance says dismissively.

“Right. Okay,” Keith says. He pats Lance on the shoulder. “This would be one of those times where you say something that you think is very normal, but is actually batshit insane.”

Lance blinks. “Oh.” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head. “If you don’t know about the astral plane, it might be hard to conceptualise.”

“Let’s grab some food,” Keith suggests. Lance lights up at the suggestion, making Keith smile. Lance loves human food.

Once they’re settled at some random, tourist trap restaurant, Keith pokes Lance in the shoulder.

“Astral plane?” he prompts.

“Right,” Lance says, speaking through his bite of food which should be disgusting but is instead only endearing. “Quintessence is a very finicky thing. It exists and it doesn’t, in more places than are possible. It is, in many ways, the explanation for things that do not make sense.”

“So it’s not a specific material?”

“It is, it’s just also everything else that doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, that’s confusing.”

“Mhm. That’s what’s so fun about it! The most important parts that you need to know, though, is that every physical plane has an inphysical plane, and every single thing on those two planes are entwined on a quintessential level.”

Keith nods. “That means almost nothing to me.”

Lance laughs. “Well, think of you and me, yes? You are a human, a physical being. I am a Guardian of the Moon. I am physical only in certain ways, and only because my quintessence is tied completely with yours. We are mirrors to each other, connections to the two different worlds. Does that make sense?“

Keith stills, fork halfway to his mouth. Because, scientifically — no. Nothing about what Lance said is in any way something Keith can conceptualise.

But, like, on spiritual terms?

“That makes it sound like you’re my soulmate,” Keith says quietly.

“That’s a great way of putting it!” Lance says, smiling brightly. “Our souls are mated, yes. That’s one way of seeing it. Every part of our lives has been linked together from the moment we existed — I exist, as a Guardian, because you exist, because you are my tether to the physical plane — and will continue beyond that. Fascinating, yes?”

Keith nods numbly.

Soulmates.

For the second time since he’s met Lance, Keith thinks back to the coast guard’s story, back to the man who guarded the lighthouse and fell in love with the moon, who never retired, who stayed with the moon until his very end.

It sounds a lot less spooky, now.

———

Lance is still a bundle of energy when they finally head back to the lighthouse, sun beginning to set on the horizon.

“You’re my favourite human I know,” he says, pressing a smacking kiss to Keith’s cheek. “Thank you for taking me to the town.”

“I’m the only human you know,” Keith responds wryly, hyper aware of the spot on his cheek that Lance’s lips just touched.

Soulmates rings in his ears.

They climb the stairs in comfortable silence, lying down on the balcony next to the light and looking up contentedly at the stars.

“It looks far more wondrous on Earth,” Lance says quietly. He smiles. “Most things do.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, just as quiet. “I would’ve thought you could see more out in space.”

“You can, but there’s something special about being down here.” He turns to face Keith. His smile has turned shy. “With you.”

Keith’s throat goes dry. He takes a deep breath, then reaches out a shaking hand, cupping it around Lance’s cheek. Lance leans into it.

“Lance,” he says, voice surprisingly steady. “Do you know what it means, for humans, to be soulmates?”

“Yes,” Lance whispers. “I was — I know what it means to me, at least. And I know what I hope it means for you.”

Slowly, Keith brushes his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone, back and forth. His skin has started to glow again, in tandem with the moon. It makes the brown of his eyes seem darker.

“What do you hope it means?”

Lance’s gaze flicks down to his lips. “That I am yours.”

“And what about me?”

“What do you want to be?”

“Yours, if you want me.”

Lance smiles, a flash of white in the darkness. “I do. I always have.”

“Always?” The words are barely a whisper, their faces so close together that their breath intermingles, tiny freckles over Lance’s nose shining like mini constellations.

“Yes,” Lance says, and then their lips finally meet, Keith’s eyes fluttering shut as he cradles the face of the Moon carefully in his hands, caresses the coolness of his skin. He breathes in the scent of his soulmate, and he knows he will go just as mad as the lightkeeper before him; desperately in love with the Moon.

Somehow, he doesn’t mind.

#been having some big feelings about celestial bodies lately if u couldn’t tell #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #friends to lovers #moon god lance #lighthouse keeper keith #i’m going to go ahead and say i’m the first person to ever create this au lol #modern au #mythological au #brown-eyed lance #keith & shiro #broganes #protective shiro #my writing #fic #longpost #soulmate au

[the-mocha-pokepuff]

I Miss Them So Fucking Much.

#not a oneshot #not a hc #pokémon #lance has spoken #pokemon #pokémon ultra sun and ultra moon #pokémon ultra moon #Pokémon ultra Sun #this is blasphemy #I MISS THEM #I WANT THEM BACK PLEASE #ULTRA RECON SQUAAADDDD #ultra recon squad #I’M GONNA SOOOOOOOBBB #I MISS DULSE AND ZOSSIE THE MOST THOUGH #I PLAYED ULTRA SUN AND #MY SIMP ASS WAS GLAD BC GOD I LOVE DULSE #BRING THEM BACK PLEASE

[klanced]

spreading out the lance answers to distribute the results, i see? lance behaviour if i’ve ever seen any/j

nahhhhhhh can we please be fr. lance does not know how to cheat and sabotage like me.

#i kno we like to treat this boy as the strategic one but lance will never reach my evil heights #actually who would be the prolific liars and cheaters on team voltron #we know pidge tries to lie but she is sooooo bad at it (see her identity as pidge gunderson) #i think keith only knows how to gaslight lance and maybe shiro #allura would be SO GOOD at lying cheating killing but she wants to be lawful good sooo bad #hunk could gaslight gatekeep girlboss any time of the day but he's too busy shoring up his reservoirs for some big d day level event #coran is a trickster god. this is again why he is my moon sign or again whatever the terminology is. moon in coran or smth #i think it would be funny if krolia is actually a terrible liar so instead she masterminds elaborate events so she only has 2say half truth #i think romelle doesn't have the patience to lie but she will automatically instinctively cheat at every board game without even meaning to #ask #anonymous

[moonxsuncelestials]

Tags for Yun

#darkside of the moon #musings of the darkside of the moon #body aesthetics of the darkside of the moon #one of light and one of darkness siblings forever #lair of the darkside of the moon #yun ic #familiar of the dragon god #children of the darkside of the moon #the sun is a star and shines for the darkness (yun x adrian) #a sea nymph is my paladin (lance x yun) #the heavens are the stars around and above us #ice and darkness are not always cold and evil (yun x aki) #we are flying high through the stars and skies #family of dragons and the gods #aesthetics of armageddons avatar #face of armageddons avatar

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 4

Pairing: Lance x Reader, Grid x Reader

Summary: no spoilers 😈

A/n: I’m not ready to let them go, so send in book club requests so we can keep the club going 🥲

requests are open 🗣️ masterlist

—————————

“Nico, when did you ask your wife to marry you?” you dangle upside down on his couch, just chilling and asking for life advice, similar to how the book club started.

“When I knew the time is right and she was the one. Are you second guessing Lance?” he asks, sitting in a chair beside you. You are both in your racing suits, ready for the upcoming race.

“Not necessarily, it’s just that we’ve been together for so long, and god I really love him. You could ask me to marry you right now and I’d say no, that’s how down bad I am,”

“He’s your pookie,” Nico says, smiling proudly at using slang.

“Hell yeah,” you high five him. “I know he wants to marry me, I just wish he’d propose,” you groan.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Never, ever, ask a girl that. And the answer is no. I just- I don’t want to rush him. I know Lancelot, and he’s gonna want to make it perfect, so I don’t want to make him feel rushed,” you explain and Nico nods.

“Well then, in an alternate universe, I have already asked you to marry me,” Nico says, trying to comfort you.

It’s true, on Earth 2, you and Nico are closer in age and married.

“God, I can only hope,” you grin at the Haas driver, moving to sit normally.

“Don’t worry about it, I see the way he looks at you, it’s only a matter of time,” Nico reassures you.

“Thank you. You really are one of my closest friends. Our little club is my family,” you tell Nico who pulls you into a hug.

“We always will be. Competitors on the track, family off the track,” Nico says as Kevin walks in.

“Y/n, you okay?” Kevin asks, sitting on the other side of you.

“I’m okay, just a little in my bag, probably about to start my period or something,” you wave Kevin off.

“Okay, well you are basically our grid daughter so if there is anything bothering you, let me know,” he gives you a small hug.

“Guys, stop, you are gonna make me cry for real,” you tell them, a little laughter in your voice.

“Alright, go crush this race,” Nico says, walking you out of Haas. You head back to your garage, feeling a lot better than you did before.

Little did you know, was you were venting to Nico, Lance was panicking in front of Fernando, Lewis, and Valtteri.

“What if she says no? Oh my god, she will finally admit that she actually despises me and barely tolerates me,” Lance paces.

“Mate. I don’t know if you noticed, but she looks at you like you hung the moon and the starts. You look at her like she is the thing that makes you live and breathe. You will be ok,” Lewis quotes the song he wrote based on the book you selected.

“Really?” Lance stops his pacing, his eyes shining happily.

“Yes, you two are insanely love sick, it is cute,” Fernando says, amused at the Canadian.

“Just ask her when she wins, she will be too excited to say no,” Valtteri says, Lewis and Fernando gasp, as well as Lance.

“That’s not nearly romantic enough,” Lance groans.

“We arranged for a romantic track walk and picnic at turn two, here is a book with a hole in the pages. When she opens it, eso,” Fernando says, confirming what they had been working on.

“It took a little convincing the FIA, but we did it,” Lewis says. Lance visibly relaxes, a lot of tension releasing.

“How can I repay you for this?” Lance asks, a little overwhelmed, but very grateful for their help.

“Take care of our grid daughter, make sure she is happy for the rest of her life,” Valtteri says simply.

“Hey guys, sorry we are late,” Daniel walks in with Checo.

“What did we miss?” Checo asks, sensing the odd atmosphere.

“Just giving Lance permission to marry our grid daughter,” Lewis tells them.

“Did you ask Kimi?” Daniel asks, the whole grid knows how close the two have gotten. You don’t have a great relationship with your dad, similar to Max, so Kimi has easily filled that role.

“He was the first person I asked, then I asked Kevin and Nico since she is really close with them,” Lance nods, knowing you are probably with them.

“We will be out there taking pictures, don’t worry,” Valtteri reassures the young Aston Martin driver.

“Amigos, it is race time,” Checo says, leading everyone out to the track. Lance spots you with Logan.

“Yeah, you can totally join, I’ll give my copy of this weeks book since I finished it. Just don’t tell the other non-club drivers,” you tell the American. You have gotten closer with him, seeing how excluded he is from some other groups in the Paddock.

“I’ll see you later, thanks for being a good friend,” Logan says, squeezing your shoulder gently.

“Hey, Lancie,” you grin, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“Hello, love. Are you excited for our date after the race?” Lance asks, his hand resting on your waist, his warmth blocked by your fireproofs. You chat until you reach your respective destinations.

“Good luck, I’ll see you when I overtake you,” you tell him, and he returns your sentiments with a laugh.

You end up placing P4 after pushing the car harder than you ever had before, so you were extremely pleased. After a shower, media responsibilities, and debriefs, you change into a sundress and fix your hair. Lance meets you outside the motorhome, looking handsome in a button up and dress pants.

“You look so hot,” you tell him, jaw dropped a little. 10/10 girls would agree that the only thing hotter than a guy with a baby or small animal, is a guy dressed up in a well fitting suit.

“You look cuter,” he kisses you sweetly, grabbing your hand as he leads you through the paddock to the track. He told you about the track walk after weighing in. The grid helped him set up the date spot while you got ready. Your breath is taken away a bit when you approach turn two. There are fairy lights hanging from the fence and a blanket with a picnic basket on the track.

“Lance, this is incredible. How did you set it up?” you ask him in awe. The clear night sky lets stars shine bright above you.

“The grid helped, especially Fernando, he’s a big romantic and really liked the idea,” Lance admitted shyly.

“It’s perfect,” you take his hand to assist you in sitting down. Lance sits beside you, offering you a snack from the picnic basket. Conversation flows easily between you, talking about anything and everything except for racing, the one topic always off limits on date nights. Lance reaches into the basket and pulls out a book.

“I got you a little something,” Lance says, pushing down his nerves. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the grid popping out of their hiding spots in the grass area.

“I do love my books,” you smile, taking the book from him. As you usually do, you flip through the first few pages, pausing when you see a ring taped to the third page.

“I had a big speech planned, but will you let me make you happy for the rest of your life and make me happy the rest of mine by marrying me?” Lance asks and you can only nod as tears start flowing. You launch yourself into his arms, holding him close.

“I love you so much,” you whisper and he holds you tighter.

“I love you more,” he says. You pull away slightly and kiss him. Lance carefully removes the ring from the book and puts it on your hand. It’s simple yet stunning, absolutely perfect for you. You both look at the grid when they start cheering and hollering.

There is a social media intern for Formula One somewhere in the group who captured the whole thing on video, Fernando paid her under the table for it and he hid another camera and microphone on the wall of the track. He knew the guys would only remember to get pictures.

You take your time thanking each driver and hugging them, you really tear up when you see Kimi there.

“Congratulations, you raced so well today, I am very happy for you,” Kimi actually hugs you, if there wasn’t photo proof from Lando and Daniel, who’s jpg accounts broke the news of the engagement (you wouldn’t want it any other way), people wouldn’t believe it.

“Thank you. Wait, you said you weren’t going to be here for the race!” you gasp, looking at him a little betrayed.

“If you knew I was here, you would insist on getting dinner with me instead of going on a date,” Kimi shrugs, a small knowing smile on his face. Not only is he basically your dad now, he has been mentoring you a few times a week, even hopping in the sim once in a while.

“You’re right. I’m just glad you approve,” you smile as Lance wraps an arm around your waist.

“He was the first person I asked,” Lance kisses the side of your head.

“Wait, I thought we were the first,” Kevin says, looking at Nico.

“As long as she’s happy, I’ll get over it,” Nico jokingly mourns his loss of you.

“The ring is gorgeous,” George says, inspecting it. He is the babygirl of the group.

“Alright guys, let’s leave the happy couple alone,” Logan says, Lewis helping him herd everyone away from you and Lance.

“This may have been the most perfect day ever,” you sigh happily.

“Only because I am with the perfect girl,” Lance grins at you, holding you close as a blush covers your face.

“Shut up,” you giggle, pulling him down onto the blanket with you. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes before you yawn.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel,” Lance chuckles, helping you stand up. He is grateful that his assistant is taking care of the cleanup and your assistant packed up your drivers room for you.

“Mhmm, I need cuddles ASAP,” you yawn again, thankful for everything the day has brought you and that the hotel is close by. When you get back, it doesn’t take too long for you to crash.

“How did I get so lucky?” Lance whispers, pulling you close to him. Your steady breathing lulls him to sleep.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #checo perez #daniel ricciardo #f1 grid #f1 grid x reader #george russell #kevin magnussen #fernando alonso #valtteri bottas #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lewis hamilton #nico hulkenberg #kimi raikkonen

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexYou Pep-Talk

Summary: Pre-relationship yearn alert! This is a BIG yearn. Thank you @orangekittyenergy for the idea! Gale goes to seek you out (gender neutral) after a long day. Mutual pining, angst, fluff. Word Ct. 1.4 k

Master List | Read on Ao3

After the merriment and bustle of the night wore away and gave into the doldrums of sleep, Gale flicked his gaze around camp searching for you. You slipped away and although he expected you to return, the emptiness in your absence haunted him. 

He sat outside of his tent, then stood, pacing with book in hand. He wasn’t worried. Not necessarily. You had been traveling for a few weeks together now and you had a certain levels of tenacity it seemed even gods and devils refused to trifle with. 

It was just that he had grown accustomed to your company post-dinner and campfire camaraderie and felt a pang of remorse in your absence. The night air too quiet without the soft hum of your laughter. Sometimes, he would read aloud to you, other times you would both get lost in conversation, and sometimes would sit in utter silence. It intrigued and terrified him, that you sought out his private company despite the others being starved for your attention. 

It was quite flattering and made him want to rip out the persistent thrum in his heart. He couldn’t indulge in such frivolities and would cause far less suffering to not humor the feelings at all. The orb’s ever looming threat didn’t allow Gale to succumb to whatever emotions festered in his gullet. At least, not consciously. 

His mind began down the treacherous path of ‘what ifs.’ It was a game, like lance board, Gale was excellent at. As the moon greeted the stars, Gale’s anxiety intensified, his mind whirling with options. It had to have been a least an hour you’d been gone, longer than you’d take for bathing - not that he knew exactly how long that was! It was just something he happened to notice. Coincidentally. 

The foreign thrum of desire stirred and the thick hair on his arms stood straight up as he wondered if you were bathing. If you allowed the water to kiss your supple skin, to know your secrets. Gale shook his head, embarrassed and felt his face redden. Keep it together. They could be dead and you’re fantasizing over their wet body? You should be ashamed of yourself. 

Gale expected you to traverse through the trees any moment, prepared to feel ridiculous at his worrying. Why did he care? It’s not as if there was anything more than friendship between you two, at least from your end. He had to repeat this to himself to be convinced. 

When he overheard Astarion ask Shadowheart if she’d seen you, Gale felt the whispers of envy touch his heart and decided he spent enough time wasted, musing over your whereabouts when you could be lost, or worse besides. 

He couldn’t tolerate the sudden pain that gripped him with that ‘what if,’ and he walked into the brushes to find you. 

*** 

Relief roiled through him at the sight of you, despite your disheveled appearance. Gale’s breath caught in his throat and he stopped, gripped when he looked upon you in the pale moonlight. Your eyes were red and swollen, it seemed like you’d been crying. He felt his knees buckle and he cleared his throat, so not to startle you. 

You whipped your head around and Gale’s lips parted when he saw crimson blossom across your cheeks as you wiped away the streaks with the back of your hand. “Oh, I um.. how long have you been standing there?” 

“Not long, I assure you,” Gale’s voice was tender, quiet. He held up both of his hands at waist level, palms facing up and smiled at you. “May I join you?” 

You hesitated for a moment and Gale panicked that he’d made the wrong move, said the wrong thing and of course he had already messed up any chance he might have because he was so pathetically out of practice. You’d think a man who bedded a goddess would have a bit more self confidence in his seductive prowess, but being shunned and cast out by your former omnipotent lover does a number on one’s self esteem. 

When you nodded, he tumbled off the cliff and the orb revolted as it mingled with the rush of adrenaline and rapture he felt from the simple gesture. One nod. To Gale, it was everything. He felt welcomed into your world, elated you’d allow him to offer support. You didn’t have to, and yet you did. 

Gale joined you on the boulder that was nestled in the thicket, the soft buzz of nighttime harmonizing with his unsteady breath. “Hm… I know that look,” Gale said, gazing at how your lips curved. “And a clear mind does not eviscerate flowers quite like this.” He fingered a petal and gestured at the flowers and stems, all petals plucked intentionally from their root. “A nervous habit, no doubt.” 

You sighed and his heart swelled, “I just don’t know what I’m doing. Every lead ends up in either more unanswered questions or unhelpful ends.” You groan and grip your chest, your breath coming in unevenly. “I’m exhausted,” as your head fell into your hands Gale, without thinking, rested a hand on your upper back and stroked your hair behind your shoulder.  

“Ah, heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Gale felt warmth pulse through him as you laughed, whether genuinely or out of pity he wasn’t to know. He wasn’t sure he cared. “For the record, you have pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes most skillfully. You’ve shown remarkable courage and determination and, I’m confident the others would agree, many of us would not be so fortunate to still be alive if not for you. You must know that.” He rubbed his fingers in small circles along your upper back. When he became conscious of what he was doing he pulled back, ashamed and nervous by the electricity that seemed to flow between his skin and yours although barred by cloth. You whined a little and Gale cocked his brows, “What?” 

You turned and as your gaze locked with Gale he drowned. Oh. He was jolted by the flash of profound need and emotion that coiled through him. Every part of him felt aflame and he worried that it was his end, that the orb was at last collapsing in on itself. Yet, as he remained next to you in the thickening silence, he realized it wasn’t the orb at all. When you spoke, Gale thought surely this was the moment he was becoming a mindflayer, a wicked dream to lull one as they succumbed to the parasite. “I.. .can you do that again?” 

“Gladly.” Gale shyly returned his fingers to your back and as you leaned into his touch, Gale knew it was not longer a matter of if, but when. As you leaned farther, you almost rested in his shoulder and his throat closed. He swallowed hard and tried to steady his body and mind, every cell quaking with anticipation and overstimulation. 

He inhaled. Temptation. You smelled like rain or fresh cut grass. You smelled like home. It was when you leaned into him, he was certain he forgot how to formulate a thought. Your head nestled against his neck and your side pressed into his. He wondered if the quaking was from your body or his. He dared not move, frozen as if Tara had fallen asleep on his lap. 

The pain that coursed from Gale’s chest through his veins was almost enough to send Gale back to camp. The undue excitement made the orb restless. Agitated. He was both grateful and nostalgic when you pulled away and sat up. “Thank you, for that. Let’s get back to camp. I don’t want the others to worry.” You smiled at Gale and it seared into the crevices of his mind, a look he would capture a thousand more times and it would never sate him. You gave his hand a squeeze and then stood, offering your hand to Gale’s with a cheeky grin. “Here, I’d hate for you too put too much strain on those creaky knees of yours.” 

Gale’s hearty laugh took him by surprise and he took your hand and stood with a grunt. “A wizard is useless without his knees, shame on you for poking fun at their fragility.” Gale chased the feeling of you, of this closeness and realized that, even before his isolation he had never met a person quite like you. Gale would have stood there in stunned desire forever had you not taken his hand to guide him forward, the movement breaking the trance and he pulled his sweaty palm from yours, embarrassed. He wiped them on his shirt and followed you back, his heart and head swimming with the idea of kissing you. 

#gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 gale #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale #gale of waterdeep #bg3 brainrot #gale x you #gale x reader #gale fluff #gale angst #gale yearning #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanficiton #gale fanfiction #bg3 gale fanfiction #bg3 gale fanfic

[heartshapedbubble]

Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )

HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡

[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]

fool's gold: imagine...⛏️

cut for length!

paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.

you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.

at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.

not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.

it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.

you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.

still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.

for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?

all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.

you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.

the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.

moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.

it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.

complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.

you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.

you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.

perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.

#identity v #idv #idv headcanons #idv imagines #identity v headcanons #idv fanfic #idv scenarios #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v x you #idv prospector #prospector idv #prospector #identity v prospector #norton campbell #idv norton campbell #idv norton #norton idv #idv fools gold #fools gold #identity v fool's gold #fool's gold #idv fool's gold #fool's gold idv #identity v fools gold

[calebwidgast]

🏎️ carlos sainz: favorite teammates?

hmmmmmmmm, good question... now this turned into a whole thing so my apologies 😭

first, i absolutely can't chose just one teammate pairing so i'll choose three... (+ one extra) 😂

lance and fernando: yapper and non-yapper 1.0. now... people who look at them and say they have such a sweet father/son dynamic... what do you mean?? 'cause yes, they have a mentor/mentee dynamic but that is absolutely not the same?? lance literally pinched the old man's butt?? in front of god and the grid?? fernando kissed this man after one race together?? and lance, when talking about fernando and his career, said 'he's a pretty good driver. he's done alright over the years.' with this huge grin on his face like the little shit he is?? and fernando is just incapable of being chill about lance?? whenever lance uploads something to instagram, within 2 minutes you can see the little 'liked by fernandoalo_oficial' marker on the post?? lance when asked who his biggest idol was growing up, whilst standing next to fernando on stage, straight up said 'michael schumacher. i was just a fan of the sport growing up, i loved racing. i watched fernando in my young years… he was the guy winning the races and championships. but i'm not gonna lie, i was cheering for michael at the time but… still really happy to have fernando in the team now and really excited to work together', again with a huge fucking grin on his face and whilst fernando was standing right next to him?? lance and fernando just checking in on each other during races?? and suggesting set up changes for each other?? and notorious war criminal fernando alonso continually enduring being in his hated former teammate estie bestie's company just so they can both spend the time staring adoringly at lance?? nANDO FREAKING SHOWED UP TO THE GRID IN LANCE MERCH?? aston martin literally uploaded a lance and fernando edit set to the lyrics:

'i like the way you kiss me, i can tell you miss me i can tell it hits, hits, hits, hits not tryna be romantic, i’ll hit it from the back just so you don’t get attached (‘tached, 'tached, 'tached)'

...anyway i'm completely unnormal about them and i blame @raapija for introducing me to them.

oscar and lando: yapper and non-yapper 2.0. they're so interesting to me 'cause oscar literally looks at lando like he hung the freaking moon (exhibit a: the 'finish the lyrics' video)?? also lando clearly hates losing to oscar whenever they do games or quizzes but also always gives oscar a way back in the game and then cries when he loses to oscar because of it (exhibit b: the summer games video)?? oscar constantly correcting lando when they first became teammates and he still kinda does but now he does it in a much softer way?? and usually waits for lando to look at him like he needs help with a certain word or phrase?? and lando's utter fascination with oscar's floppy hair?? and they're not very physically affectionate with each other but can't seem to stand further than like .2 centimeters apart?? but i'm pretty sure they don't spend any time together off the grid which... #healthyworklifebalance but whatever 😭😂

valtteri and guanyu: just the chillest dudes on the grid being chill together, drinking tea/coffee and staying out of the drama. (zhou making a helmet for the melbourne gp with valtteri's face on it!!)

honourable mention: prema logan and oscar!! i've been watching old f2 and f3 races and baby logan and oscar are everything to me okay!! all the weird shit prema made them do for Content™ really solidified their friendship okay!!

#replies #fernandoalonzoo #f1 #fernando alonso #lance stroll #strollonso #lando norris #oscar piastri #landoscar #valtteri bottas #zhou guanyu #logan sargeant #loscar #(<- tagging this so i can find it later)

[hwanchaesong]

┗🖋️ A once in a blue moon chance / Sculpts a rose and violet romance / In an ivory and rings trance / Comes a tragic wound by lance 📖

🎧: Taylor Swift - loml

wc: 1.3k

genre & warnings: angst, angst, angst 😭 itty bitty fluff if you use a microscope, character death (due to sickness), ghost!Sunoo, just pure angst for real, read at your own risk 😭

a/n: this is a part of The Tortured Poets Department series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You warm your hands on the freshly brewed cup of coffee that you ordered, lifting it up and taking a sip, not minding the burn on your tongue.

"This is delicious." you say, the man in front of you grinning in return, "We should've come here sooner, Sunoo."

"Right!? I told you this place is a banger." he proudly crosses his arms on his chest, a smirk on his bright face.

You sigh, finishing the drink and standing up from your seat, "Oh crap, it's time to go." you murmur, hastily walking away after cleaning up the table.

"Already?" Sunoo jumped up from his own seat, begrudgingly following you down the pavement.

"Slow down! Gosh, are you doing a marathon or something?" he rolls his eyes, finally catching up to you without breaking a sweat.

Naturally, he has longer legs than you, he was simply caught off guard by your sudden departure from the café.

"I really don't want to be late this time." you peered at your watch, clicking your tongue in dismay.

"You really should manage your time properly." Sunoo comments, looking at your annoyed face.

"Yeah," you muttered, turning around the corner and stopping in front of a flower shop, "I should really manage my time better."

You enter the establishment, greeting the florist and inspecting the fresh cuts of flowers.

"What should I get?" you put a hand under your chin, in a deep thought on what to buy for today's celebration.

Sunoo peeked from behind you, staring at the flowers as well, "Why not get sunflowers? Look! Aren't they especially pretty today?" he excitedly points at them and you nod your head.

"Sunflowers are a great choice." you smile, waving at the florist to tell him your pick.

The dimpled man walks over to you and begins to arrange the flowers into a bouquet, "What's the occasion for today, ma'am?" he asks, and you giggle a bit at his playful tone, making the man beside you pout in discontent.

You're not planning on flirting with that florist within his presence, right?

"A birthday, and these sunflowers are the perfect gift for him."

You smile lovingly at the flowers when the florist hands you the bouquet, and when you're about to pay for it, the male did not accept your money.

"Flowers on me for today, now go." he waves you off and you frown, thinking that if you did not pay, it'll be unfair for the worker.

"But-"

"No buts!" he puts his index finger on his lips, sending you a wink, "Consider that as a gift from me as well."

You beamed at the man, poking his dimples and proceeding to pinch the cheek of the florist that you have grown accustomed to after a few months of meeting him at the shop.

"Thank you so much, Jungwon!"

You bid him goodbye, exiting the store in a haste, missing the giddy and beaming expression of the boy, one that Sunoo noticed.

"Oh my god! He totally likes you!" he whispers aggressively, "Must you flirt with him too?!"

You bite your lower lip, shaking your head lightly, "No, no. Jungwon is a friend. Nothing more, nothing less."

Sunoo squinted his eyes at you, skeptical but he lets it go.. for now.

He continued following you throughout your journey somewhere, basking in the melodious silence and the beautiful weather.

You didn't say a word either, choosing to stay in the comforts of your own thoughts.

Skies so blue it reminded you of the sea. The sun illuminates the earth of its shine, casting a warm sensation to anyone who walks under it. The trees are also swaying with the winds, creating a silhouette of dancing leaves on the pavement while the breeze gently touches your skin.

Then your footsteps came to a halt in front of a rather gloomy place, a complete opposite of the outside world.

You took a deep breath, willing your hands not to shake and figuratively patting yourself on the back, urging yourself that you are a grown woman capable of handling your fears.

Sunoo's worried gaze is now fixated on you, "Y/N?" he calls your name, concern lacing his voice at your sorrowful mien.

"I can do it. Sunoo, watch me do it." you whisper, steels in your orbs and looking straight ahead as you begin trudging the dark road towards your final destination.

Sunoo nods in return, a proud smile on his face, "Go for it, Y/N. I'm rooting for you."

Finally, you have reached the goal.

Crouching on your knees and dropping the bouquet of sunflowers on the neatly trimmed bermuda grass near a sepulcher.

"Hello, Sunoo. I've come to visit you again. I'm sorry if I haven't been able to drop by for a while, college life has been keeping me busy." you laugh albeit without any trace of joy.

You then sit down, not minding if the dirt will stain your pants, hands going over the tomb, fingers tracing the name engraved across the marble.

"Here," you say, pulling out a small container in your bag, "I brought your favorite, mint choco ice cream. Bought it at the coffee shop that you have told me about before." you set it down beside the bouquet, and you couldn't help the small sob that you let out.

Immediately, the man who was beside you the whole time pulled you in a hug, one that your soul felt but physically cannot be perceived.

"Sunghoon said that he'll visit you later, he'll tag Riki along. They said that they will bring some coke and beer." you sniff, your arms wrapping themselves around you.

"They will?" Sunoo mumbles, his own tears forming in the corner of his lids, "What about the others?"

"Hee, Jay, and Jake will follow afterwards, after their finals. You know," you gulped, trying to compose yourself, "It's been another difficult year for us without you."

You can't hold it back anymore, your hands flying to your mouth so that you won't make any embarrassing sounds, continuing to ramble all your sentiments.

"We miss our sunshine, Sunoo. We miss your sassiness, your dolphin squealing, your smile. Sunoo I-I, I miss you so much."

Said man embraced you tighter when your cries got louder, murmuring words of affirmation that you will never ever hear again. Telling you how much he misses you too, but you will never know that.

"I still have these daydreams sometimes. Where you'll k-kiss me when I'm having a hard time. Where you'll give me random gifts because it reminded you of me. Oh gosh-" you wipe away your uncontrollable salty tears that are free falling from your eyes to your cheeks.

If there is one thing that Sunoo regrets the most, it'll be the fact that he wasn't strong enough to continue living. He wasn't brave enough back then to combat the illness that was eating away at his life force.

He succumbed to it when all of you were praying for him to recover.

He let himself sleep even when he promised you a life of eternal love with him.

Maybe that's why he still hasn't left your side, even if his transparent body is slowly disappearing. He has to see you be happy again. He has to watch over you until he knows that someone will be there for you until you're grey and old.

"I'm sorry for being sad Sunoo, god! Y/N, get a hold of yourself!" you snicker, slapping yourself lightly with both hands, plastering a trembling smile on your lips.

"No, Y/N, don't be. It should be me who's apologizing. I'm sorry for causing you so much pain." he says, pulling away from you and putting a hand on your shoulders, but it's no use, because a mere spectre of the past won't be able to send a message to the living, breathing present-day.

"I hope you're resting well there in heaven. Happiest birthday to you, my sunshine."

A longing gaze, yearning for intimacy, embroidered in a ring that was stashed away in his cabinet. One that would not see the day nor would it be placed on your finger.

For the heart is fickle and the brain is a mush of wilted petals, and maybe, in your next life, you will not lose the love of your life.

taglist:

@shakalakaboomboo @ramenoil @slutforjeno

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #kim sunoo imagines #kim sunoo fluff #sunoo imagines #sunoo angst #sunoo fluff #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #sunoo scenarios #sunoo fanfic #sunoo hard hours #sunoo hard thoughts #kim sunoo #sunoo #kim sunoo x reader #heeseung imagines #jay imagines #jake imagines #sunghoon imagines #jungwon imagines #niki imagines

[klance-dreams]

Okay but please imagine Keith’s reaction to seeing Lance after he’s finally spent some time at the beach again? In his natural element, bronzed like a literal god, burnished from the sun? freckles like constellations?? Lance with wavy, curly salt water-hair, eyes soft and relaxed.

+ Keith meeting back up with the paladins after too long away with the blade. 👀

He loves space of course, but even after his time in the quantum abyss, he’s still not used to the way all warmth & body heat was constantly leached away. Despite his memories of cursing his time in the relentless summer heat of the shack, he’s found himself beginning to miss the hot scorch of the desert sun against his skin.

The blade gave Keith a rare opportunity for downtime that somehow happenes to align with an impromptu holiday/break that Allura has planned for the paladins on a sunny, earth-like planet filled with tropical islands, flora & fauna.

To Keith’s surprise, Lance was the one to call and invite him to join them; sunshine already infused in his voice at the idea of seeing a beach again.

For Keith, the mere thought of getting to see Lance in his natural element? He wouldn’t miss it for anything.

He promises to Lance on the spot (he would promise Lance all the moons and stars if he could) to meet him there later in the day.

When he gets there, everyone has already been enjoying the sun & surf for hours. Pidge is sunburned and squinting at the glare against her datapad, glasses reflecting at a sleeping hunk whose legs have been covered by a crude sand castle. He’s spooning a large collection of fruits that look strangely similar to the ones Keith remembers from earth.

Shiro and Coran seem to be playing a complicated Altean beach game that Keith intends to avoid; Allura lays out on the sand, the mice resting in the shadow of her hair.

Keith thinks someone might have called out a greeting to him, but he can’t be sure, because the second he sees Lance? All thougts leave him, head empty.

It’s too soon to blame the redness in his cheeks on the sun, but he can feel how hot his face has gotten anyway.

Lance is sitting in the sand, waves lapping his ankles. His hair is wild & curling behind his ears from the salt water breeze.

The sight of him alone is enough to warm the cold ache Keith has been feeling.

Sand sticks to the bronzed slope of his back, glittering like flecks of gold, effervescent in the bright sun for Keith’s eyes to follow.

His shoulders are broad and already tanned and freckled where Keith knows his own would be red and sore.

His eyes sweep over the scar on Lances back, and the ones on his arms and sides that Keith wasn’t there to protect him from.

But here? With the blue of the ocean to rival his eyes? Lance looks untouchable.

Looks like a god, burning bright and warm and full of life, and when he turns around at the sound of Keith’s name being called out, Keith’s breath catches in his throat because this sight?

This is one he got to see in the quantum abyss. It was one of the visions into his future that he held onto like a lifeline, like a treasure.

The image of Lance’s smile, a true joyful smile, playing behind Keith’s eyelids and keeping him sane on the worst of those nights spent stranded in space.

Lance, eyes dancing bright and smile brighter as his wide mouth forms Keith’s name on a joyful laugh and he hops up to throw his arms around Keith in a hug that feels like /home/ in a way Keith hadn’t known before Lance.

For one delirious moment, the déjà vu is so strong that he’s afraid he and Krolia never made it back at all. That they were still stuck out there in the cold emptiness of the abyss. The way the vision blends with the Lance he has in front of him makes Keith want to hold on tight and never let go.

Especially when Lance leans back and their eyes meet and lock, electric.

Keith still hasn’t even said a word, but Lance only smiles brighter and knocks their foreheads together.

Says, “hey samurai, it’s been too long”

One traitorous hand drifts up against Keith’s will to trace the new freckles dotting Lance’s cheeks, which flush the lightest pink at the attention or maybe the intensity of Keith’s gaze as he floats into Lance’s orbit, pulled to him like the moon to the sun.

Lance’s leans into the hand Keith cups against his cheek, and finally, finally their lips meet; Keith’s cold and chapped and Lance’s, warm and soft, tasting of the ocean.

When he has to pull back to catch his breath, he finally murmurs back a warm and gravely, “hey sharp shooter,” lips pulled up into a crooked grin and eyes tracking the way Lance melts into him at the nickname like always.

They stay like that for a while, catching up on what they’ve both been up to when Lance says offhand, “hey where’s Kosmo?”

Before Keith can answer, they’re both knocked into the surf by 200 pounds of excited space wolf.

Keith wants to be mad, but the way Lance pops up from the water sputtering makes him grin through the hair plastered to his forehead.

Lance takes one look at Keith, waist deep and fully clothed down to the fingerless gloves, mullet drenched, and bursts out laughing at the sight

and Keith can’t even be mad. He pretends to be, crossing his arms and ‘sulking’. He tries to blow his bangs up and out of his eyes before he remembers it won’t work and that sends Lance into tears. Keith sits back watches Lance laugh for a minute, committing the sight to memory.

He’s gonna get revenge on Lance for laughing, but first he needs to level the playing field.

Lance’s laughter slowly winds down as he watches Kosmo run off to greet the other paladins, laughing again when the wolf shakes water all over Allura and Hunk.

While Lance was distracted, Keith had taken his shirt and gloves off, tossing them back onto dry sand and adding his soaked jeans to the pile for good measure.

Keith was slicking his hair back from his face when Lance turned back toward him and froze at the sight, suspiciously quiet.

// …tbc? transferring twitter treads. original thread here!

#klance #klance dreams #vld #lance mcclain #voltron #keith kogane #transferring my twitter threads #twitter threads #my writing #writing #just a drabble born from an all-nighter

[lovelytsunoda]

there's a honey // lance stroll ( mini fic )

summary: lance thinks that the image of y/n reading her scandalously smutty romance book is the image of sensuality. or, private library sex with lance <3

pairing: lance stroll x fiancée!reader

warnings: inappropriate use of a built in bookshelf, sex in a library, smut!! jokes are made because these two are unable to take anything seriously, and they're so hopelessly in love with each other that it needs to be said every five minutes or so : )

author's note: private library sex is literally as kinky as i get so . . . gotta give a shout out to @magnummagnussen for listening to me talk about this idea and putting up with me. all love <3

the room was quiet, her own peaceful hideaway from the rest of the world as y/n sat in her wicker egg chair, feet tucked up underneath her and glasses perched on her nose, a paperback book in her hands with an innocent front cover and a cryptic title.

the kind of romance book that was sixty percent porn and forty percent plot.

"babe?" lance's voice was quiet as he pushed open the door to the library.

he had built that library with his bare hands after they got engaged. well, not really. sebastian, mick and esteban had helped. the built in ikea shelves were lined with bright, worn spines.

she had a paper copy of every book she had read in the last fifteen years.

"hi." y/n grinned, slipping her bookmark in between the pages, the paperback nestled on her lap as she kissed her fiancé, the small white diamond on her ring finger glittering the daylight. "how was your workout?"

"terrible, like always." lance shrugged, sliding into the chair next to her. "how's your book?"

"it's a trip, let's put it that way." she laughed, passing lance the paperback. "it was getting really good when you walked in."

lance raised an eyebrow, opening 'twisted love' to the page that she had bookmarked. his eyes scanned the words on the page, widening with every word as he took it in, his jaw dropping as his cheeks began to run red.

"and you were reading this with a straight face?" he slammed the book shut, running his fingers through his hair. "god, i love you so much."

y/n laughed, tangling her fingers with his, bringing his knuckles to her lips to press a kiss to the back of his hand. "what are you going to do about it, lover boy?"

"watch me." lance grinned, pressing his lips to hers in a feverish kiss.

they stumbled out of the chair, pillows falling to the floor with the paperback as they giggled into the kiss, no space between their bodies as lance backed her up against one of the bookshelves, teeth nipping at the skin on her neck.

"mhm, maybe i should let you know when i'm reading romance books more often." she hummed, resting her head against the paperbacks behind her, one leg wrapping around her lover's.

"oh, what was that series you read about the f1 driver's that was factually inaccurate but had you in a literal chokehold?" lance wondered, mumbling against her skin as he peppered kisses under the collar of her sweater.

y/n giggled, fingers tangling in his hair as she answered. "it was only inaccurate to you because you actually drive. i didn't know jack shit about the sport when i read those. like, i think we had only just started dating. it was the dirty air series. god, the things i would let santiago alatorre do to me."

"hey!" lance pouted in fake discontent, his hands on her waist as she giggled sweetly and innocently. "bringing up your fictional characters when your very real future husband wants to fulfill your biggest sexual fantasy."

"maybe i'm feeling a little naughty today." she smiled sweetly, pulling him closer to her.

"oh, are you?" his lips curled up into a smile. he could never be mad at her. he was the moon, and she was all of his stars. lance grinned like an idiot as he kissed her again, not an inch of space between their bodies as he cupped her face in his hand. "and what do you propose that i do about it?"

he didn't let her answer, spinning her body around so that her ass was pressed against his raging hard-on, her fingers gripping the shelves as he slipped his cold hands up the front of her sweater.

"can you feel what you do to me, beautiful? you're so fucking sexy. and you're smart too." he mumbled, kissing her neck and grinning to himself when he found the sweet spot, a low moan leaving her mouth.

"oh, lance. . ." she gasped, reaching for the back of his head. "i need you, baby."

"i know, my love." he hummed, gently stepping away. "but the way i'm about to fuck you, you might pull out one of the shelves. i think we'd be far more comfortable on the couch."

and that's exactly where they ended up, clothes strewn across the library as snow started to fall outside, a hand knitted blanket wrapped around their bodies.

she was getting the full princess treatment today: lance had already made her come once on his mouth ("god, how worked up did you get just from that book?") before he started fingering her, his fingers curling to hit the most pleasurable places inside of her.

she let out a strangled moan as she reached for lance's free hand, lacing her fingers with his as he kissed her inner thigh, his fingers still working inside of her until he physically couldn't take it any more. until he needed to be inside of her.

he wiped off his fingers using the blanket before he leaned down to kiss her gently, the taste of her dripping core still on his tongue as he slipped his tongue in between her lips.

“I love you, lance.” she said softly, tracing his cheekbones with her thumb. “and I can’t wait to marry you.”

he smiled as he kissed her again, clutching her hand in his tightly. “and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, my love.”

"i've already made a shortlist of historic libraries to hold the ceremony at." she smiled sweetly, touching her nose to his with a soft hum of contentment. "you make me so goddamn happy."

after fluffing the blanket around their bodies and making sure that his fiancée was comfortable, lance gripped the shaft of his cock, guiding his length towards her entrance, teasing the tip up and down her folds.

she moaned, gripping his biceps tightly. "lance, stop teasing, god, i need you to fuck me."

"i bet i could fuck you far better than alex volkov or whatever his name was." lance said quietly, starting to slide his cock in.

"well, he's a fictional character, and you are very, very real.”

"oh yeah?" lance crooned, lifting one of his lover's legs and wrapping it around his lower half as he made his first thrust, eliciting a moan from the woman underneath him. "god, you feel so good." he hissed out, lips ghosting over her skin. "so good for me, pretty girl."

"mhm, i love your cock, baby." she whined

lance began to pick up the pace, moaning lowly as his lover moaned louder, her manicured nails scratching his skin.

"i love it when you moan for me, baby." lance groaned, whispering in her ear. "love making you feel good."

"yes, lance, fuck!" she moaned. "just like that baby. oh, you are so much better than alex v-volkov."

"i know." lance chuckled. "i just wanted to hear you say it."

she laughed, kissing her lover, attempting to speak in between pants and moans. "you're such a dork."

"but you love me for it."

"yeah, i do-oh."

her moan was downright pornographic as lance started to move his thumb in circles on her clit, her fingers digging further into his skin as her back arched

lance would definitely have scratches tomorrow. not that he cared- he'd walk around in muscle tank tops purely to show the marks off when he was at the gym.

"oh, lance, god, i think- i think i'm gonna-"

"i've got you, darling." lance said gently, biting his lip to stop from moaning as she clenched around him. "it's okay, pretty girl. come for me. i've got you, i've got you."

she came with a moan that shook her entire body, hiding her face in lance's chest as he gently fucked her through it, muttering sweet nothings to her as he approached his own peak. he pulled out, pumping his fist up and down his length before he came on her stomach, breathing heavy as he leaned down to kiss her.

"i love you, baby." he hummed, reaching for her hand.

"i love you too, handsome." she said sweetly. "as much as i would love to lay here with you, can you please run and get me a damp towel? you kind of made a mess of my stomach."

"right, sorry. shit, fuck, where are my sweatpants?" he groaned. "sorry, again. you just looked exhausted and i didn't want to push you too far-."

"lance," she said firmly, clasping her hand around his wrist. "it's fine, babe. i just don't think i could get up to get it myself right now."

he came back almost as quickly as he had vanished, patting her skin down with the warm cloth before settling on the couch next to her, pulling the blanket around their bodies as she rested her head against his chest, his fingers moving to play with her hair as she sighed contently under his touch.

and all he could think about was how he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life like this. with her.

Tags:

@libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @magnummagnussen @diorleclerc

#lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll smut #formula one x reader #formula one #formula 1 smut #mini fic

[aceofsages]

Heyy! Could you do something where Enid was being ignored by someone and she starts crying, but Wednesday comforts her? Thanksss!

find on ao3

When Enid lands in San Francisco for winter break, she has to give herself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror. Her hair is still dyed, her nails are chipped, her face is—well. She ruffles her hair, trying to make it fall in a way that would make the scratches less obvious.

Point is there are a hundred and one points Mom will probably immediately grab to nag her with.

So, all she has to do is make sure she doesn’t get a chance.

“Okay,” she says, staring herself down. “Okay, you can do this, it’s easy, it’s easy. All you have to do is—”

The door opens, a woman walks in and Enid immediately starts looking into her purse, waiting for her to leave. Enid takes her phone out, a message from her dad that reads, Here at the arrival gate!

The woman leaves, giving her a look. Enid smiles at her awkwardly. God, what a bitch.

She turns back to the mirror, her eyes immediately falling to the scratches and fuck, if she can’t look herself in the eye—

“All you have to do is tell her.” She makes a face and winces at the pain that lances up her cheek. “Yeah, just tell her. Fuck.”

She hugs Dad tight when she gets to the gate, who moves a hand through her hair fondly. He doesn’t comment on her wounds, though his eyes do burn silver for a moment. She doesn’t know if she’s relieved or angry at him for not asking.

(He’s never asked, never spoken up. Enid pretends every time it doesn’t hurt.)

Turns out, there is something worse than not wolfing out: wolfing out wrong.

At the end of it all, Mom spits out, “If you want to live you’ll be gone by morning.” Her eyes are golden and her claws are out. Her brothers are watching her with horror, Adam standing protectively in front of the twins. It hurts in a way Enid doesn’t think she’ll ever recover from. “No child of mine is a lycanthrope!”

Just before she flees, she sees her Dad’s fearful face. She thinks it’s one that’ll never leave her.

----

Legend has it that the very first infected were Blood-Wolves. Bitten by Lycanthropes, a type of shapeshifting hound demon, blood-wolves were a by-product of wolf blood mixing with demon venom. They are said to have been used in the war against Cattails by the Lycanthropes. After the war, when a truce had been reached, they were cast onto the Material Plane as part of the concession made by the hound demons.

They intermingled with humans, who welcomed them into their midst, unaware and unheeding of the danger they presented. They never shifted during a full moon. Most of their children, however, did. Those who didn’t—

Well. Their first transformation at blood moon was an eye-opener. They tore apart houses with their bare hands, sank their fangs into babies and feasted on the flesh of their own species. At the end of their spree of destruction, they were decried as made of witch blood and dead moon, to be hunted to their own extinction. The last known blood-wolf descendant died in 1709, killed by Manon Rose, who later went on to create the ritual that would prevent blood-wolves from ever evolving again. Not much more is known about them other than their origins and their actions.

Nevermore’s library feels a little too silent, all of a sudden. Enid closes the book. Yoko looks up from hers. “You found it?”

“Yeah.”

“Not good, huh?”

“Nope,” Enid says, and bursts into tears. Fuck, fuck, she needs to stop doing this. She presses her palms to her eyes. Fuck. She’s not—she’s not a blood-wolf. Distantly, she feels Yoko hug her. None of it makes any sense. She’s not suddenly having the urge to eat babies or whatever. In fact, if anything, she’s even more controlled of her senses now. She remembers her transformation vividly, remembers Wednesday vividly, remembers fighting the Hyde and worrying and worrying and worrying if she was okay, if she was safe, if she was alive. All that mattered then was to eliminate at least one threat to Wednesday, the biggest threat to all of them and not once did she feel like, oh, where are the babies?

Fuck.

She sniffs once, twice, and waves Yoko off, “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

Yoko raises her eyebrows and drawls, “And I’m a normie. Listen, let’s search for answers tomorrow, okay? You’ve been here two nights in a row.”

Enid starts to refuse but Yoko continues, “Do you really want Wednesday to search for you again?”

Enid rolls her eyes and gets up, as if the memory of it doesn’t send a shot of warmth through her. She always likes it when Wednesday shows that she cares. A little too much at times, bordering on not-platonic, but Enid’s not ready to look at what that means, yet.

When she enters her dorm, she’s greeted with the sight of Wednesday on her typewriter. She stops when Enid enters and turns to her to say, “Good, you’re here. I was just about to send Thing after you.”

“Let him rest, I just did his nails today.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “You shouldn’t encourage his vanity.”

“And you shouldn’t threaten him so much. It gives him wrinkles.”

Thing taps on the table. All my wrinkles are because of her. Wednesday rolls her eyes again but lets it go. “Did you find anything?” she asks instead.

Enid sucks in a breath and walks towards her, irrationally aware of when she crosses their duct tape line once was. She extends the book out to her, and Wednesday takes and cracks it open. Enid plops down on her bed with a sigh, her hair fanning out behind her. Wednesday’s sheets are so soft. Maybe she should ask for it as a Christmas present.

She blinks tears out of her eyes.

“Well, this just turned interesting.”

“What?” Enid says, sitting up. Wednesday hasn’t looked up from the book. Thing sits on her shoulder.

“If I remember correctly, she married Maximus Addams. It is said that most Addamses thought that she’d end up killing Maximus.”

“Did she?”

“Oh yes, but Maximus took her with him. They loved each other a lot.”

“If you love someone, why would you kill them?”

“You’ll find, Enid, that most Addams’ love follows a similar vein.”

Like you and Tyler, Enid thinks suddenly, and sits up. “I’m going to shower.”

Wednesday waves her off, engrossed in the book.

----

She hadn’t expected the behavior to continue—to spread like it has around the pseudo packs in Nevermore Stupid of her, really. She’s a gossip queen, she of all people should know how rumors were easy to spread and easier to believe.  They’ve taken to ignoring her, going out of their way to show her that they’re ignoring her. People she was good friends with, people she helped, now look at her with disdain or step away from her as if she’s a plague. Some outright bully her. In the following week she finds herself crying so much that she’s perpetually dehydrated, and hating herself so damn much for being such an easy crier.

It’s the middle of the week when the incident happens. Morgan Todd, a fucking jerk, turns up in the quad with boils all over his face and hacking up blood at an alarming rate. He’d sneered in Enid’s face on Monday, gone so far as to pull wolfsbane on her. It was a weaker strain, admittedly, but it served to make them all realise that Enid was really fucking sensitive to it. She’d had to spend the night in the Med Bay, and Enid now knows who’s responsible for this. She’d known as soon as it happened and she’s so fucking angry— 

She confronts Wednesday at night.

“Why did you do that?” she asks immediately.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do!” Her throat feels tight again. She runs a hand through her hair, pulls. A tear or two slip out. “I can’t—Wednesday, I really really can’t do this. I told you not to retaliate.”

“Enid,” Wednesday says, weirdly careful. She steps towards her, hands extended. “Enid, it’s alright.”

“It’s not! Don’t you understand what you’ve just done?! You’ve given them a reason now! They’ll think I did it, they’ll think that—”

“Enid, no one will think anything because Morgan knows exactly who did that to him.”

She stops short. “What?”

Wednesday takes her hands and holds them tight. Her hands are deathly cold. “I couldn’t not do it. He had to learn—they all had to.”

“Learn what?” Enid asks, dazed.

Wednesday blinks and the action throws Enid off-kilter. She suddenly looks hesitant, almost, but her grip on Enid’s hands is sure. “That they can’t get away with it. Not unharmed.”

There’s a sudden clarity that’s rising in Enid, a sudden surety that that was not what Wednesday had wanted to say.

“Because you’ll come for them.”

“Because I’d raise hell for you.”

Enid swallows. She feels like they’re on the brink of something. Falling, maybe. “Why?” she asks, hushed.

“I told you, didn’t I? The mark you’ve left on me is indelible, Enid Sinclair.”

Enid steps closer. Wednesday’s eyes don’t have pupils. She’s never been close enough to notice, before. “Why?” she asks again.

Wednesday closes her eyes. “Because I didn’t know I was cold until you warmed me.”

Enid kisses her.

It’s a short kiss, a simple press of their lips. Their hands are still linked. When they separate, Wednesday chases her back and kisses her again, barely letting her suck in a breath. It’s still simple; achingly sweet and tender in a way she’s never thought to associate with Wednesday. She likes it.

She likes it a lot.

She wants to do this forever.

“Come to the Manor with me,” Wednesday says. Enid doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing. “Let me help you figure it out.”

“Okay,” Enid says. “Yes.”

Wednesday kisses her again, like she can’t help herself. “Good.”

#wenclair fic #wenclair prompt #wenclair #prompt me to write #sage gets a q #wednesday x enid #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #hurt/comfort #cross posted on ao3 #my writing

[monstersandmaw]

A Star in the Dark - A retelling of the Minotaur of Crete story (m. minotaur x f. character, 3rd person, Chpt. 1, sfw)

Since there was some interest on Discord in seeing this WIP, here is chapter one in its entirety for Patreon supports of all tiers. 

Content: A young woman is given by her parents to be sacrificed to the monster in the labyrinth, and finds that maybe there's more to the Minotaur than she'd been led to believe. Passing mention of the death of a close friend in the past, and the practice of human sacrifice to the gods. 

Wordcount: 4161

Looking forward to your thoughts on this one! I'll probably put the whole story up on Tumblr at some point in the future, and so far I've got two and a half chapters, plus a few snippets, written. 

A salt-fresh wind swept in off the sea and set the flames of a hundred bronze braziers dancing across the flagstones in the fading light.

Those small fires guttered and roared in the gusting wind, and the young woman’s grim pretence at courage wavered. Ahead of her on a wide, half-moon platform that stretched like a stage devoid of all its players, seven shallow steps led down into the earth.

The walls of the narrowing staircase were faced in smooth, pale masonry, and the downward path seemingly ended at a sheer, vertical wall facing the steps, with no door or entryway onwards. Instead, the end of her journey would begin at the square of utter darkness that waited in the floor where an eighth step would have been, gaping and blank like the maw of a newly dug grave.

Barefoot, the grit beneath the soft soles of her feet dug into her skin, and the same wind that made the flames dance pulled at the folds of her undyed, linen peplos to send undulating ripples through the thin fabric. Goosebumps prickled along her arms and legs. The gold bracelets that adorned wrist and ankle did nothing to warm her and the wind snuck its fingers into the elaborate coils of her long, dark hair, unwinding them and freeing them from the golden net that had held them all in place.

She’d been made up to look like a bride, but instead of a wedding, she walked through the pageantry of her own funeral. She wished bitterly that those coils of hair atop her head would turn to snakes and strike at the two men walking three, silent paces behind her with their bronze spear tips levelled at the small of her spine.

Overhead, a line of ochre-red smeared across the sunset sky like a bloody finger painting, and the copper disc of the sun stained the sea a dark, murex purple as dusk gathered around the cliff-top palace, and her last moments in the light of Helios drew to a close.

The monumental limestone masonry of the royal palace shone out of the dusk like pale bone, and a woman with a kithara wailed shrilly to the insistent beat of seven great drums, their rhythm a second heartbeat in her ears.

Incense, thick and cloying, twisted through the air from the braziers and it burned her throat and lungs and made her eyes water as she passed them. She blinked away the tears that formed; they were not for these people, and she would not let them see her afraid. Behind the incense, the faint scent of jasmine and honeysuckle floated past her from a distant palace garden that she would never see.

Upon the top step of seven, she faltered to a halt, shaking despite her desire to be brave; to bear the humiliation with stoic dignity. Hurt and grief curdled inside her with the last of her sputtering courage, and on impulse, she turned sharply to look back over the gathered folds of material at her shoulder, dark eyes wide and glassy with terror. The searing lance of betrayal that had been broken off somewhere in her ribs was now lodged there forever.

There, among the onlookers, she could see her stoop-shouldered father, with his wildly curly hair blowing around his head, and his tanned skin like leather after so many years under the fierce Cretan sun, his hands rough and strong and always gentle. He’d shown her how to hold a chisel and a mallet, how to split seasoned timber with wedge, mallet, and axe, how to pull the draw-knife across its surface, how to use a lathe to turn wood, and how to cut the joints in a chair so they would fit together perfectly. He’d even shown her how to carve winged sirens into the prows of the new ships and how to tease the shape of a spoon out of a section of wood without slicing her own thumb off.

She’d played in the shipwrights’ yard since she’d been old enough to toddle away from her mother and bring her father his midday meal. She’d laughed and learned along with the apprentices, outshining some and learning from others, until the day she’d nearly lost her index finger to the careless stroke of a chisel, and her mother had called her back to the house to spin and weave instead. In the wavering light of the braziers that lined the short path to her own personal Tartarus, she glanced down at the pale scar in her sun-bronzed skin and ran the pad of her left thumb over the silver line at the knuckle of her index finger where sensation existed only in her memory.

She willed that numbness to bloom out across her body, but her pain burned too brightly and too hot to be doused, and she ground her teeth. Her father couldn’t meet his daughter’s dark eyes across the empty stretch of gritty ground between them, but her mother held her gaze, unflinching.

The music seemed to fade as mother and daughter stood locked in distant, grim, resentful silence.

King Minos and Queen Pasiphaë stood on a raised dais somewhere off to her right, wreathed in embroidered, purple silks and dripping with gold, but she had no eyes nor time for them. It was because of the conceit and hubris of King Minos that she was being sacrificed to the monster below the palace, and because her mother had refused to take a ship and sail away with her that she was standing there now.

Cold, hard eyes spoke only of the desire for her daughter not to shame her. To go with dignity to a death that was, after all, to honour Poseidon. Of course, her parents would be well compensated by the king for their ‘gift’, but as all the misty possibilities along the path of her life were snuffed out like so many tiny candles, she couldn’t muster anything but contempt for her parents.

“I’m your daughter!” she yelled at her mother, her voice cracking as she fought the urge to double over against the pain. The agony of their betrayal clutched and clawed at her insides, the imaginary blade twisting deeper. “How could you? I’m your daughter!”

She hardly recognised her mild-mannered father as he just lowered his gaze to stare at the stones beneath his sandals. Beside him, her mother just kept on staring, her face like a statue at a shrine to discipline.

“I’m your daughter,” she whispered, the words inaudible to all but the two guards who began to steer and poke her down the steps like a cow to slaughter. “That’s all I am to you people,” she said, the words lost. “I’m not even human.”

The men exchanged a look as they neared the end of the stairs, but she couldn’t read it; couldn’t think.

She was about to die, to be torn to bloody shreds by teeth and monstrous hands, perhaps impaled on the horns of the bull-headed monster that rampaged below the palace, foaming and furious in his own imprisonment, and all while they held their stately banquet above and congratulated themselves on their own cleverness for appeasing Poseidon with a little virgin’s blood. And all for an insult dealt to the god almost three decades ago.

Well, at least she wasn’t a virgin.

Would the monster know? Would Poseidon care? Would the god even notice when the thread of her life was cut?

At an impatient flick of the king’s fingers, the two guards stepped forward as one. Their glinting, bronze spear points finally made contact and jabbed through the fabric at her hips, pricking two bloody points in the skin that bloomed like red eyes in the pale linen. She felt nothing. Her heel missed the lip of the opening into the earth, and she toppled backwards with a wordless shriek. Her arms and limbs flailed, and the shadows of the labyrinth reached up and consumed her.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t scream.

When she’d sat in the painted chamber in the royal palace, its walls adorned with lurid frescoes of figures leaping bulls and topless women emptying black amphorae into channels in the earth that had made her think of the runnels of blood in a butcher’s shop; when her hair had been combed and oiled and placed in its glinting net; when she’d had perfumed oil dabbed at the hollow of her throat, the inside of her wrists, onto her nipples, and, especially repulsive to her racing imagination, down between her legs; when she’d been told it was an honour to be deemed a worthy sacrifice to the monster stalking in his unending paths of dark nightmare: she had made an oath to herself that she would not scream. She would shame them with her silence. One last act of defiance.

Yet as she plunged backwards through the rush of foetid black emptiness, she screamed long and loud.

The sound tore itself free from her throat, raw and ringing in her ears as she plummeted down and down and down through the darkness that filled the shaft. The sky became a square of distant starlight that diminished as she fell.

You can read the whole 4k word chapter on Patreon right now for just $3, or for $5 you can have access to everything pre-2020, plus an additional, exclusive monthly story and lifetime membership to our chill Discord server.

#minotaur #minotaur retelling #minotaur myth #minotaur romance #minotaur x human #male minotaur x female human #early release

[kckt88]

The Day Love Returned I.

Summary:

The Princess reawakens and longs to reunite with her love.

WHAT IF VAERA DIED INSTEAD OF AEMON?

AU of Dynasty!!

Warning(s): Sorrow, Grief, Anger, Dragon Battle, Death.

Word Count: 3600

Author Note: A companion piece to Courtship/Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye/The Fallen Queen/New Beginnings/Ravenous/Don't Leave Me/Another Plane of Existence/Gēlenka Zaldrīzes I/Gēlenka Zaldrīzes II & Gēlenka Zaldrīzes III.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Congratulations Princess, you are with child again” said Maester Orwyle.

Vaera smiled as she placed a hand on her stomach, it would please Aemond greatly to know that his seed had once again taken root and another child grew within her.

He’d been enamoured with the twins when she was pregnant with them, and she knew he would be just the same with this babe.

Mayhaps they would be blessed with a little girl. A sweet Princess, with silver curls.

Picturing Aemond with his long silver hair unbound, sitting in front of the fire with a tiny baby girl nestled against his bare chest, made Vaera’s heart burst with every ounce of love and joy she could muster.

Of course, she had wanted to tell him immediately, but he was busy in a council meeting with the King and landed Lords of the realm, so their happy news would have to wait until later.

So, Vaera decided that she would visit the nursery and spend time with the children, no doubt Helaena and Alicent would also be there.

It would be good to spend time as a family, there hadn’t much time for such things lately, the war for the Iron Throne was raging and times were dangerous.

Especially after the mysterious death of her younger brother Lucerys, it was driving Aemond to distraction, trying to prove his innocence and find the real culprit.

Perhaps the news of a child would be their beacon of light in the midst of a dark world.

Smiling to herself as she opened the door, nothing at could have prepared Vaera for the horror that was about to greet her.

Vaera felt a sudden sharp pain in her chest, she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath.

Suddenly she was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, she could hear screaming and shouting, but it was muffled.

Then Aemond was gathering her into his arms, and she felt safe.

Using the last ounce of strength she could muster, Vaera lifted her hand to Aemond’s scared cheek.

She wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t form the words as the blood slithered from her nostrils.

A moment later, the last of Vaera’s strength ebbed away and her hand slipped from Aemond’s cheek, falling down by her side.

“A-Ae-Aem-“ rasped Vaera.

Then everything went dark.

There was no sound. There was no pain. There was nothing.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaera as she lurched forward, her hands immediately going to her head as pain lanced through her entire body.

“Easy Princess”

“W-Who are you?” asked Vaera, her limbs shaking.

"I am a High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light, but you may call me Kinvara”

“W-What am I doing here?” gasped Vaera.

“Your dragon brought you here” replied Kinvara.

“W-Why?” exclaimed Vaera as she looked down and saw the raised and slightly pink moon shaped scar over her heart.

“You were murdered” replied Kinvara.

“M-Murdered?” asked Vaera.

"Your father made the arrangements" said Kinvara.

"D-Daemon he was-" gasped Vaera.

"The one who killed your brother" said Kinvara.

"W-Why would he do that?"

"The man seeks war and blood. He did what he thought necessary in order to facilitate his desire" muttered Kinvara solemnly.

Vaera stared at the Red Priestess, her father was responsible for Luke's death and in turn hers.

Suddenly it all came flooding back, the men who came through the wall, the terror, the screaming, the children, the flash of the dagger, the sting of pain as it penetrated her flesh.

Her sons. Her sweet boys. What had happened to them?

“Aemon, Rhaegar” said Vaera desperately.

“Relax Princess, your sons live” replied Kinvara softly.

“H-How am I alive?” asked Vaera.

“R'hllor, the Lord of Light saw fit to return your life, I am merely a servant of his will”.

“You brought me back? why?” gasped Vaera.

“Se bōsa bantis iksos māzis. Hen aōha ānogar māzigon se dārilaros bona istan kīvio, se zȳhon jāhor sagon se vāedar hen suvion se perzys” (The long night is coming. From your blood comes the princess that was promised, and hers will be the song of ice and fire).

“Dārilaros?” asked Vaera (Princess).

“Daenerys jelmāzmo hen targārio lentrot” (Daenerys stormborn of House Targaryen).

“When?”

“Many years from now, your fifth great granddaughter will ascend the Iron Throne and unite the realm against the enemy in the North” replied Kinvara.

Vaera wanted to laugh at the absurdity of what Kinvara was saying but how could she when she had taken a dagger to the heart, and now she was alive.

“I-If this Princess who was Promised comes from my blood, then what about Aemon or Rhaegar surely they would carry on my bloodline?” asked Vaera.

“Aemon has his part to play as do we all, but it is not just him. It is the babe in your womb”.

“S-Surely the babe did not survive my demise” muttered Vaera, her heart despairing at the thought of losing her unborn babe.

“No, she didn’t but as you now live so does she” replied Kinvara smiling as she placed a hand on Vaera’s stomach.

“S-She?” questioned Vaera.

“A girl with silver curls and the eyes of her father, the youngest Targaryen in history to ever claim a full-grown dragon”.

“T-This is a lot of information to take in” muttered Vaera.

“I understand Princess, but you must know of what’s to come” urged Kinvara.

“What else is there?” asked Vaera.

“A Targaryen must be seated upon the Iron Throne. You must ensure the survival of your house lest it fall to ruin” said Kinvara, her face grim.

“F-Fall to ruin?”

“The war for the Iron Throne rages many lives will be lost. The dragons will grow weak and die, Kings of the mighty house of the dragon will become just like everyone else. No wonder, no awe. Only pain and suffering until a dragon falls on the banks of the trident and a stag will rise” said Kinvara.

"A-A stag-House Baratheon will claim the Iron Throne?" gasped Vaera.

"The crowned stag will be devoured by the lion" replied Kinvara.

"The Lannisters?" said Vaera grimacing.

"Unfortunately so Princess, the lions will reign whilst the last Targaryen hides in the east” said Kinvara.

“H-How do we alter our fate?”

“We stand at the precipice of destiny, there needs to be death for others to live” said Kinvara.

“Who’s death?” asked Vaera, not entirely sure she actually wanted to know the answer.

“Do you really to know of such things Princess?”

“I thought you said I needed to know of what’s to come? asked Vaera.

“Learning of death will only cloud your judgement. You need to remain free of such constraints, but it may please you to know that your sons will live long fulfilling lives”.

“What about Aemond?” exclaimed Vaera.

“Your husband grieves for you” whispered Kinvara.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it” snapped Vaera.

“Silver stained with crimson, a sister of darkness piercing amethyst. A last remnant lost to the eye of the gods”.

“What?” questioned Vaera.

“Or many babes born from the seed of the gēlenka zaldrīzes” whispered Kinvara (Silver dragon).

‘gēlenka zaldrīzes’ Vaera closed her eyes, remembering when she called Aemond that for the first time.

“A sister of darkness piercing amethyst, a last remnant lost to the eye of gods what does -“ trailed off Vaera suddenly realising what Kinvara was trying to tell her.

The sister of darkness was Daemons Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister. The last remnant had to mean Vhagar, and eye of the gods was-

“Harrenhal. The Gods Eye. Aemonds going to die” cried Vaera.

“Possibly” replied Kinvara.

“I-I must go to him. He needs to know that I’m alive” said Vaera urgently as she tried to climb off the alter, but her legs gave way underneath her and she collapsed to the ground.

“You are not yet strong enough Princess. You must rest” said Kinvara.

“B-But my husband, he needs me” cried Vaera.

“You will return in time. But for now, you must remain here. With us” replied Kinvara.

It took some time before her strength had fully returned to her, and all Vaera could think about was Aemond and their sons.

Twice she had tried to mount her Cannibal, but her stubborn dragon had remained steadfast in his refusal to take her back.

Of course, through the bond she could feel that her Cannibal was elated that she was alive, but there was an undercurrent of sadness and despair.

She came to realise that her death had hit her dragon hard, she was the first person he’d ever bonded with, and their hearts were so entwined that she knew his refusal to return to Westeros was his way of keeping her safe.

But she would have to return eventually, and what she would return too she didn’t even want to think about.

It was selfish of her that much she knew, but all that mattered to her was Aemond and their children.

The babe that her husband didn’t even know she carried was healthy and hale, there were many midwives and Maesters in Volantis that would give her regular check ups and every kick her unborn daughter gave her was surely a blessing.

But her heart did not stop yearning for her husband and their sons.

To think of them grieving her death whilst she still lived made Vaera cry herself to sleep most nights.

Vaera imagined what she would feel if Aemond died, and it was like a huge hole had been punched through her chest. The devastation seeped into the very core of her soul, as she envisioned holding her husband’s lifeless body in her arms.

It must have been how Aemond had felt when she died in his arms, her mind conjured up a hundred possibilities of how he was dealing with his grief. Each as unlikely as the next, but she couldn’t help but consider Otto Hightower and his actions following her death, with everyone believing that she was gone, would the Hand of the King seek to find Aemond a new wife, to further solidify Aegon’s rule as the rightful King of the seven Kingdoms.

She knew the Lord Hand was as slippery as an eel, and he would need to make as many alliances as possible, and the only way to do that was via marriage.

The thought of Aemond being sold off made her blood boil, he was hers and hers alone.

Cannibal sensed her ire through their bond and let out a rumbling roar that shook the very foundations of the great Temple of the Lord of Light.

Vaera never ventured beyond the spot that Cannibal had claimed for his nest.

She was a stranger in this land, and she did not want any harm to befall her or the babe she carried.

Volantis was a large free hold, divided in two halves by the Rhoyne. The western side of the city is open to foreigners, traders, and merchants. The eastern side contains the inner city, which is protected by 200-foot-tall black walls.

It truly fascinated Vaera, as did the history of to Volentese people and their dealings with Aegon the conqueror.

Of course, she had read many books when she was a child, yet nothing could have truly prepared her for the wonder and grandeur of Volantis.

Aemond would love it here, soaking up every bit of history that he could. Perhaps one day they could come back for a visit.

As her mind once again drifted towards her husband, she hoped that he was coping, and the boys were ok. She missed them all so much.

It pained Vaera greatly to simply sit and wait for the right time to return to Westeros, but Kinvara was insistent she should not return before she was meant too.

Vaera suddenly felt movement in her rounded stomach, and she smiled, she had a piece of Aemond was with her and she would cherish it with every fibre of her being.

“Have no fear princess. Your husband will not seek another marriage” said Kinvara as she approached a lit brazier.

“You don’t know his grandsire; he moves people about the board as he sees fit. If he decides to gain favour with some of the more fickle Lords, the only way to achieve such a thing would be through marriage and Aemond is the only one free of such things at the moment”

“You have no need to fear Otto Hightower, the green snake is not long for this world” muttered Kinvara as she stared intently at the flames.

“He’s going to die?” asked Vaera curiously.

“It’s as I said Princess, there are those that need to die in order for others to live”.

The question of who else was going to die was on the tip of her tongue, but Vaera kept her mouth shut, the less she knew the better in that regard.

“Although, there is another who will desire your husband’s touch” whispered Kinvara.

“Who?” asked Vaera scowling.

“A bastard witch of the woods”.

“Aemond would never-“ said Vaera.

“-Not even for the promise of victory over his enemies?” asked Kinvara.

“No, he wouldn't. My husband is a man of loyalty and honour” replied Vaera sternly.

“She see’s much and more within the flames, the lady Alys. She will make your husband an offer, but the price of such a thing is far more than your gēlenka zaldrīzes will be willing to pay” muttered Kinvara her hand moving gently through the flames (Silver dragon).

“Price?” questioned Vaera.

“The seed of a dragon is a valuable thing, almost as valuable as blood” said Kinvara softly.

“S-She wants my husband to give her a babe?” exclaimed Vaera.

“A pointless endeavour. Your husband is as you claim. He will refuse the witch, his heart forever yours, even as it withers in grief” replied Kinvara.

Vaera let out a muffled sob, her hand on her chest. How much longer must she be separated from her love?

“As the sun rises and the moon turns, you shall return to the arms of your husband”.

Vaera sighed in relief and nodded, making a silent vow that when she was once again in the arms of her husband, she was never going to leave.

The sun had rose and the moon had turned, Vaera couldn’t contain her excitement as Kinvara confirmed that today was the day she was free to return to Westeros.

Expressing her gratitude to Kinvara for everything that she had done for her, Vaera promised that one day she would make a return visit with her husband.

Kinvara merely smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to Vaera’s forehead.

“Take care of yourself Princess”.

“I will and may the Lord of Light find my gratitude” replied Vaera as she eagerly mounted the Cannibal.

Vaera raised her hand towards Kinvara and after taking a deep breath, she gave her Cannibal the command to fly and for the first time in months, her dragon readily opened his huge black wings and propelled himself into the sky.

Vaera shared one last look with Volantis before it disappeared into the distance, it felt good to be flying again, even more so now that she was headed home. But she couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving Kinvara.

The Red Priestess had facilitated not only her return from death but her unborn babe as well, and she had also supported her in her most vulnerable moments.

Sensing her sadness through their bond, Cannibal gave a concerned chirp as he pushed himself high above the clouds.

“Don’t worry about me my sweet” said Vaera loudly.

Cannibal in his attempt to cheer her up, began to dive through the clouds, roaring loudly as he disturbed a flock of birds, and for his sheer size, his speed was impressive.

Of course, Cannibal was not quite as large as Vhagar, but he was close.

In the hours that it took to fly back to Westeros, Vaera had Cannibal take rest breaks as she knew it wasn’t fair to try and make him fly the entire journey in one go.

Despite his previous reluctance to bring her home, Cannibal now seemed eager to return. She wondered if he was missing the other dragons, sure he’d mated with Dreamfyre, but he definitely had a soft spot for Aemond’s grumpy granny dragon.

At the thought of Vhagar being a grouchy granny, Vaera let out a small snigger, she definitely reminded her of those mean old ladies that would sometimes sit at court that would hit you with their walking sticks as you walked past.

Perhaps it was for the best that she kept that information to herself, as she didn’t think Aemond would appreciate her opinion of his old girl.

After many hours of flying, Westeros finally appeared on the horizon.

As she passed over the Gullet, Vaera half expected to be greeted by the dragon Meleys but neither the Red Queen or her grandmother appeared, then she spotted the charred ruins of the Velaryon fleet, the masses of wreckage moving back and forth with the waves.

What else had happened whilst she was away? Who else had met their end?

At that moment Vaera wanted so desperately to return to the Red Keep, but she couldn’t there was somewhere else she needed to go first.

So, with an air of determination, Vaera aimed Cannibal in the direction of Harrenhal.

As she’d been sequestered away in Volantis, Vaera wasn’t privy to any information on the war, unless Kinvara saw fit to inform her, but even then, it wasn’t significant details.

So, of course Vaera had no idea which dragons were still alive or where they would be located.

So Vaera made sure to avoid flying close to Dragonstone just in case.

As they flew over Duskendale and then Rosby, Cannibal suddenly gave a load roar and lurched forward, lashing his teeth in a fury like she had never seen.

Though the bond, Vaera could sense his agitation and anger, something was wrong.

Could he sense trouble ahead?

Eventually the ruins of Harrenhal came into view.

The sky was alight with the flames of two battling dragons.

Now Vaera understood her Cannibal’s urgency.

They were almost there.

“Hold on my love. I’m coming”

Caraxes was faster than Vhagar, and the deadly Blood Wyrm launched his first snapping attack at Vhagar’s hanging jowls, narrowly missing, and pulling back as she breathed a jet of blazing fire at him that missed Daemon by inches.

The Blood Wyrm rose high into the sky, hovering above Vhagar.

Vhagar with her experience in battle, managed to manoeuvre herself towards Caraxes, she bared her sharp fangs, snapping at the Wyrm and sunk her teeth into his neck, spilling the dragon’s boiling hot blood, putting herself directly in range of Caraxes’ claws.  

The Blood Wyrm raked his talons across Vhagar’s stomach, splitting her open.

Yet Vhagar was stubborn and despite being in pain she did not let go and in her fury, the ancient battle-hardened dragon sunk her fangs further into the neck of Caraxes.

Refusing to let go.

Aemond looked up in terror as Daemon stood in his saddle.

Suddenly a load roar echoed through the sky.

Aemond gasped in disbelief as the Cannibal descended from the clouds, almost like a ghost in the night.

His wife’s dragon, darted towards Caraxes, and collided with the two entwined dragons, using the bulk of his weight to free Vhagar from Caraxes claws.

From the sheer force of the attack, Daemon was flung from the back of Caraxes and fell towards the waters of the Gods Eye.

Vhagar tumbled through the sky, wriggling furiously as she tried to right herself.

Managing to free himself from his chains, Aemond threw himself from the saddle just as Vhagar crashed into the water with an immense splash.

Aemond was immediately sucked underneath the surface of the water.

Cannibal lashed his razor-sharp teeth deep into Caraxes neck and shook his head from side to side.

The Blood Wyrm shrieked and desperately tried to claw himself away from Cannibal, but he was no match.

With one final snap of his jaws, Cannibal ripped the Blood Wyrm’s head from his body.

Caraxes, now dead, dropped through the sky and plunged into the water.

The force of the dragons dead body hitting the water, had propelled Aemond towards the surface.

Using every ounce of strength he possessed, swam as fast as he could.

Coughing and spluttering as he finally broke the surface of the frigid water.

Vhagar, who had astonishingly survived, was now resting on its grassy edge, clearly dazed from the wounds she’d sustained and her collision with the water.

But at least she was alive.

In his exhaustion, Aemond collapsed when he made it to shore, his face pressed against the mud and silt.

Daemon had also survived his fall, as he crawled along the muddy banks of the God Eye before he finally freed himself.

His face covered in blood and his right arm hung painfully at an awkward angle.

The ground then shook as a dragon landed in front of him.

Daemon looked towards the Cannibal and smiled.

“Daughter. We believed you to be dead” rasped Daemon grimacing in pain.

“Yet here I am” replied Vaera firmly.

“Here you are” repeated Daemon.

“This is the end for you. Father” said Vaera.

A father’s eyes briefly met his daughters before the command was given and he was engulfed in flames.

Vaera watched silently as her father’s flailing ashen body slumped forward.

All that was left of the mighty Rogue Prince, was his charred bones. His sword Dark Sister laid in the grass, the Valyrian steel glinting in the sunlight.

Vaera descended down the Cannibals wing and took a deep shuddering breath.

She had made it in time, Daemon was now dead, and she just hoped that Aemond wasn’t too severely injured.

Cannibal trilled slightly as he hovered over her protectively.

Vaera turned around and came face to face with Aemond, who was stood stunned as he stared at her, his mouth hanging open.

“V-Vaera” exclaimed Aemond in disbelief.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x original female character #aemond one eye #prince aemond #hotd fic

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi can you write Hightower!Reader being married to someone else but seeing Daemon secretly?

Unsurprisingly, I took some inspo from some of Taylor’s songs. I mean, when do I not? Can you spot the references?

-

Although you were wedded to Jason Lannister and had been given a house of stone – a goddamn castle –, someone else’s ivy grew on the lands of Casterly Rock.

Had Rhaenyra taken Jason for betrothed when he viewed for her hand, you would not be in that situation. The princess wasn’t entirely to blame. Your father, Otto Hightower, was the mastermind behind this political union – or, according to you, the responsible for the doom of your future.

If you would’ve had a say, you would have never married Lord Lannister.

He wasn’t an horrible man, per se. He had everything to please you physically – he was good looking, extremely tall and built like a stallion –, but he was arrogant like no one and only cared about his own sexual pleasure and release. To some, the latter wasn’t very important, but you couldn’t live a life with an unrelieving sex life.

Had you been a man, you would’ve turned to a pleasure house, but for a woman, these places were bad etiquette and betrayal to the husband.

So you resorted to another solution. One that would send your husband in a fury were he to find out. One that would be gossiped about in the whole realms.

‘’Aren't you a sight for sore eyes.’’ Daemon looked at you with hunger, his calloused hand groping one of your breasts while his other was firmly on your thigh, caressing and worshiping your body as you bounced on his thick cock, riding the cock that wasn’t your husband’s like there was no tomorrow. ‘’Your Lord husband is a fool to be so selfish.’’

These clandestine meetings had begun after the Prince’s return from the Stepstones. His shorter hair and the pride of winning a war when he had stepped into the Throne room had made your core tighten. At night, you had knocked on his chamber and what happened behind the closed doors was not a story for small children.

At the time, you had only been betrothed to Lord Lannister, but your attraction for the Rogue Prince went back to the Heir’s Tournament.

You had been sitting front row in the royal box with the Princess and your sister, Alicent, watching the knights jousting. After his first victory, Daemon had rode up to the royal box and asked to receive your favor. As you had slid the flower crown on and down his lance, your eyes had crossed his, marking the commencement of a long series of stolen stares and small flirting the following years.

While Daemon was fighting for the Stepstones, your father decided it was time for his other daughter to wed. You would have preferred to have a husband of your choosing, but plotting behind people’s backs was Otto Hightower’s favorite thing – next to his hunger for power. Why else would he have sent Alicent to the King’s chambers after Queen Aemma’s death? It was part of his plan to put her on the Throne.

You threw your head back in delight, moving your hips against his, feeling his pubic bone against your clit with every moment. ‘’Gods. Feels so good.’’ Your moans echoing through the stone walls of the private chamber at the pleasure house, yours only for the night.

A smug smile spread on the prince’s lips, another boost to his humongous ego. ‘’His cock doesn’t feel as good, does it? Only me fills you up this good.’’

You agreed wordlessly with a soft moan, Daemon’s words riling you up and making you go faster on his cock.

The last time you and Daemon had an intimate intercourse went back to Rhaenyra's wedding – moons ago. After a series of stolen stares, you and him had snuck away during the celebration and peeled the bare necessities in an empty chamber for a quick fuck, making up for all the bad sex your husband made you go through. Jason might be bodily built like a stallion, but Daemon was the stallion – your favorite stallion to ride.

His violet eyes trailed down, growling while watching himself disappearing inside you. ‘’Go on, darling. Ride my cock.’’

You kept going for a few more bounces, looking down upon his face through a bleary haze of your own pleasure. Gods, he was so beautiful from this angle, his silver hair falling messily on the mattress and sweat on his chiseled chest from the two previous rounds. His shoulders had scars from past battles, which you liked to kiss during moments of tenderness. Most men would’ve been spent by now, but Daemon had an everlasting stamina.

When you began slowing in pace, the Targaryen prince grabbed your ass with both his large hands, kneading the meaty flesh and giving it one hard smack before snapping his hips up, eliciting a series of mewls from you, showing you colors you couldn’t see with anyone else.

‘’Mmh, Daemon-’’

You felt a twisted feeling in your stomach, a sign of your oncoming orgasm.

If Jason were to know of your and Daemon’s secret arrangement, if he were to know who’s name you were moaning, he would take his head in a duel and, truthfully, you weren’t sure your husband would win.

Daemon felt you getting tighter around him, squeezing him and drowning his cock in your slick. “Are you gonna come?” He guided a finger to stroke your clit with expertise, making you throw your head back as your orgasm threatened to snap.

You came with a cry of your paramour’s name, wishing his violet eyes were the first thing you saw every mornings. 

-

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House of the Dragon/Game of Thrones taglist: @anastasiaxsworld @lollypopcrazylover @fin-never @dkathl @ayamenimthiriel @nerdy4itall @rraindrops @glors3 @beelanie @hc-geralt-23 @sweetybuzz25  @uniquenightsheep @kaywsworld @i-yam-awesome @caspianobsessed @kelssssxd @dilfsarebetterthanyou @missyviolet123 @leakycauldrns @brezzybfan @khaleesihavilliard @vexedvalerie @lollaa-puff @my-dark-prince @chevelledahuman @caspianobsessed @ayamenimthiriel @yor72 @mirandastuckinthe80s @newtsniffles @cleverzonkwombatsludge @justaproudslytherpuff @ren-ni @green-lxght @anginoguera @bubblebuttwade @comicsol1999 @rockerchick05 @baelavelaryonwp @tnu-ree @beccawinter @alexisabirdie @persage @hayleighloatx @kindaslightlyacidic @perdynerd @elsyyie @puffycreamcakes  @thirsty4nonlivingmen  @naty-1001 @xannybabyxx  @katiepie67 @kjones375 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl   @queenofshinigamis @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @Wehi02 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz   @cayleecook38 @yoyopolloobamadaddy @hayleighloatx @vane1999-blog @smptxx @fairyfolkloresposts @yassi-world

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x hightower!reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #i didn't reread myself so I'm sorry if it's bad

[marksbear]

How about dom famous athlete reader who is dating Steven/moon system. But then he gets asked by a interviewer if he has any good luck rituals to which he says he does but won't say to break the magic. But it really is that he gets his pre game jitters out by fucking the system before every game and since the first time he fucked them it has worked every since and won't stop changing habits now. It's kinda short compared to my other ones sorry about that.-🐻‍❄️

Don't be sorry about that. I don't mind that it is short a request. I'm just glad that you're even requesting anything from me.

Warnings! Famous reader, sportive boyfriends, nosy reporters, detailed SMUT, flashback sex, blowjob, throat fucking/ skull fucking, A bit short but still good.

MOON SYSTEM X FAMOUS ATHLETE MALE READER

It was a post game interview with some of the star players in the league today including Y/n L/n, Lance Reid, and Matt Evans. The big three that most fans of the sport would call them.

Y/n was the one who stood out from the trio. He was currently undefeated this season. He carried his team to victory. Winning world records, MVP of the year and month back to back. Y/n L/n quickly became the face of the sport. Honestly if anyone disliked him they wouldn't be normal.

So everyone had the same two questions in their mind. "What is this kid doing before games?" And "How is he this lucky?"

Currently Y/n is listening to his teammate Lance rant about "Being healthy." And all that when suddenly he gets cut off by an interviewer interrupting him. "Excuse me! Y/n. I have a important question that the entire world is wondering.

Y/n gives his teammate a quick look to make sure hes okay before leaning closer to the mic. "Well what is it?" Y/n responds back with a slight groan imaging it is another question about his love life.

"Do you have any good luck rituals? Your career so far is outstanding like talent we haven't seen before in the game. So what do you do before a game?"

Flashbacks hits Y/n remembering all the times he fucks his boyfriends before a game.

Y/n snaps his hips back and forth and he bruises Steven's waist holding him still. Steven lets out loud moans as hes bent over on some random table in the empty lockeroom as Y/n fucks him like theres no tomorrow. "Y/---n!~ oh fuu... harder plea-se HaRder!~ ngh!~" The table is shaking from the two lovers. Y/n throws his head back fucking Steven at a faster and a rougher pace. Moans and wet skin slapping against each other can be heard throughout the lockeroom. "Gonna cum Steven! Fuck I'm bout to cum!" Y/n lets go of Steven's waist slamming his hands down on both sides on the table trapping Steven under him. "Cum inside me! Please give it to me! I-I have been a good boy!~" Steven begs dropping his head down on the table with a loud moan as he shoots his own load. "I'm cumming! ohHh god I'm cummin~!" Y/n shouts letting out a few moans cumming deep inside Steven. "Thanks for the good luck wish." Y/n says pulling out of Steven giving him a quick kiss before hurriedly cleaning himself and Steven up before heading out to the game.

Y/n snaps out of the flashback with a light laugh and sorry. "Uhm yeah I have a few things." Some of the "few things" he does are with one of his other boyfriends Marc.

Marc holds onto Y/n's thighs bobbing his head back and forth deepthroating Y/n's cock looking up into his eyes as he does it. Y/n moves his hands through Marc's hair giving it a few light tugs and pulls it from time to time. Marc gags and choke on Y/n's cock as Yn thrust into his mouth drool coating his chin and the taste of precum inside of his mouth. Sometimes it was hard for Marc to breathe but he couldn't care. He wanted to please Y/n by all means necessary. Letting Y/n throat fuck him as if he was just some whore on the street. Marc pulls away from Y/n's throbbing wet cock gasping for air. After he caught all his breath back he doesn't waste a second pushing his head down to the base of Y/n's cock sucking his cock and gagging onto it. "Marc!~ Marc I-i'm gonna cum! I'm about to cum!" Y/n warns pushing Marc head down even lower as he snaps his hips deep inside Marc's throat cumming deeply inside of his throat painting it white. Y/n pulls his cock out of Marc's mouth watching him swallow all the cum that was inside his mouth with no problem. "Fuck Marc... We gotta keep doing this."

"I would tell you all but~ It would only break the magic." Y/n answers in a teasing tone. "I mean it wouldn't work any more if I told you anything." Y/n answers a bit more properly.

"But I can tell you this much. The ritual isn't going anywhere soon."

THE END

#moonknight x male reader #moon knight #steven grant x male reader #steven grant #marc spector #marc spector x male reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #x male reader #male reader #marvel x male reader #the bear club