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bby-deerling · 3 months

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against the kitchen floor (law x reader nsfw)

you push law to his breaking point. he bends for you.

18+, mdni, nsfw wc: 2.1k masterlist

cw: afab!reader, established relationship, toxic relationship dynamics, arguing, law is bad with feelings, ultimatums, angst with a happy ending (?), emotional roller coaster, make up sex, confessions, fingering, law has control issues, emotional manipulation, edging

tagging some law kissers: @eelnoise @ragethebunny @sanjisprincesswifey @willowhaze26 @risenwrites

Tension hangs low and thick in the air. The early, dreamlike glow that illuminates the sky shortly before the dawn breaks is far too weak to break beneath the waves, leaving the inside of the submarine quiet and dark—as murky and clouded as his demeanor as he pours himself a cup of coffee in silence. You eye him carefully, dancing gracefully along the line between staring intently and getting lost in the labyrinth of your own mind; the wheels were turning fast enough that Law could hear the cogs turning inside your head. He knows. He knows this conversation, the one that remains unspoken but hangs in the space between the two of you is imminent, though it doesn’t prevent him from attempting to avoid it. Feigning normalcy, he pours a splash of cream into his mug, and more than a splash into yours, sliding it across the counter towards you.

For a moment, there’s a respite from the painful tug on his heartstrings as a familiar sense of gratitude graces your features, though there’s a sad undertone in the smile you give him, as if this were the last time you’d be partaking in this daily ritual with him. He was far from a fool—he had seen your bags partially packed in your room, and though the gift of a cup of coffee was nothing out of the ordinary, something deep in his heart prayed that the simple gesture was enough to salvage things. Far from an ideal partner, Law was closed off, blunt, and stubborn, though he had thought you admired those qualities in him; however, here you were, on the verge of jumping ship into the cold depths of the unknown without so much as attempting to talk things out with him. As he sips from his mug, he watches you closely with his intense, molten stare; your lips part once, twice, three times without a single word escaping them. Vexed by your hesitation, he almost implores you to spit it out already, and bring your hidden woes out into the open so the two of you can fight about it, but he loses his nerve right as your voice breaks the silence.

“Do you love me?” you whisper numbly, all hint of emotion wiped from your face. The timbre of your voice betrays your pain as it wobbles and warbles, and almost fades into the stale air of the submarine.

Hitting his eardrums sharply, your words pierce straight through the thin membrane and send needles of pain into his head. He had attempted to prepare himself mentally for this conversation, but the reality crashing down on him like a violent, stormy wave is too much for him to handle, overwhelming him before his head even falls underneath the cool water.

“Of course I do. Have I given you the impression that I don’t?” he says; it’s curt, tense, and straddling the line between dismissive and disinterested as Law makes a last-ditch effort to shut the conversation down before it begins.

“Could have fooled me.” you rasp out, nearly choking on the short phrase. The tone that spills out of your throat says more than four simple words ever could, and Law knows full and well what you’re trying to tell him. You’ve never told me that you love me. You’ve been neglecting me. You never open up to me.

None of these sentiments were objectively untrue, but they anger Law nonetheless; his inner world was nearly entirely occupied by you, doubly so during long stretches underwater when a sense of stagnancy enveloped the Polar Tang, leaving the crew with nothing to do but float. As he wakes, his first action is to pull you closer to his chest and place a soft kiss to the back of your head. His time spent locked away in his office studying, drawing up plans, or organizing shifts for the crew is inefficient and takes far longer than it should on account of the visions of you dancing in his mind, distracting him from the dullness of necessary paperwork. Each tick of the clock in the evening is an incessant countdown to the time left until he can pull you close under the comforting confines of his sheets, drifting out of consciousness with you safely tucked into his side.

But how were you supposed to know? He never expresses those feelings, verbally or otherwise, and instead masks his affection for you with an unbreakable stony façade, concealing his feelings in an attempt to preserve his dignity.

He takes a while to speak, jaw clenching so hard he nearly hurts himself. “You’re not leaving.” he says lowly, with authority, and no room for argument, placing the venting of your frustrations on the backburner; Law could address those later, behind closed doors when his overwhelming fear and trembling dies down, but he can’t lose you—not without losing his own mind in the process.

“I didn’t say anything about—” you start, attempting to steer the conversation back to its original course with no avail.

“I saw your bags.” he spits out, unable to mask the pain in his voice. Your jaw snaps shut as your face burns red with the embarrassment of being found out as he continues. “Were you even planning on telling me? Or were you just going to slink off at the next port and disappear on me?” The sheer concept of abandonment has his dark eyes brimming with more pain than you’d ever seen in them, his stare holding a compounded sense of loss and agony.

“Law, I don’t want to go, but—” you whisper, whiny and almost verging into a desperate wail. His glare is dangerous and pins you in place, the edge of the counter digging into the flesh of your back.

“But what?” he hisses, venom and hurt coating his words as he cages you against the counter, arms on either side as he towers over you, puffing himself up in an attempt to plant your fleeing feet to the ground and make them stick.

“I can’t do this anymore if you keep me at arm’s length.” you say, voice wavering far more than you had intended it to; the words you had so carefully crafted in your head felt like daggers crawling up your throat, scratching the fleshy, mucus covered column to break skin along each stretch of their ascent. The last thing you wanted to do was leave him, but you couldn’t go on any longer giving pieces of yourself to a man who wouldn’t—or couldn’t—reciprocate the sentiment.

You needed his heart to spill, leaving pooling blood around your feet as proof that he was alive and beating.

As Law glares down at you, his grip on the counter causing his knuckles to turn a crisp white, he knows the time for bargaining for a lighter sentence had long since passed; it was either spew his guts for you to pick at like a vulture, or lose you to the soft roll of the tides. And so, with a deep breath, he’s forced to tell you why saying those three little words is so difficult for him, how the last time he heard them before you came along was from Corazón’s lips, and how he replays his death in his head every time he hears the phrase I love you, Law. He tells you, tears in his eyes, how he loved his parents, his sister, his neighbors and classmates, and that he fears that loving you—speaking it into existence—would condemn you to the same fate.

He tells you that he loves you, and that he has been loving you silently all this time.

It was the most emotion you had ever seen from Law in the many years you had known him, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and threatening to roll down the plane of his cheek. His confessions were more than enough to sate your need for trust and vulnerability from him, and seeing him so rattled left you with nothing in your chest but the intense need to soothe him. And so, your lips latch onto his, both of you murmuring a muffled I’m sorry into each other’s chapped and cracked mouths. Law had never pressed himself to your body harder as he threads a hand through your hair, digging his nails into your scalp to pull you closer. Coaxing your tongue to entwine with his by dragging gentle stripes along the wet muscle, he takes you, consuming your soul whole with each drag of his lips against yours. He’s messy—sloppy and messier than he’s ever been as he pours himself into you, each twitch of his tongue another confession too fragile to speak aloud.

“You’re not fucking leaving me.” he growls, placing his knee between your legs, “Not now, not ever.” Unable to temper his patience, his hand grasps harshly into your soft thigh, creeping upwards under your nightgown towards your core.

“I’m not—I love you, Law.” you whimper against him, allowing him turn the sounds dripping from your lips from devoted assurances to lewd mewls as he sinks a finger inside of you. His cold skin shocks the warmth of your insides, doubly so when he adds another digit and curls both upwards into your sweet spot.

“I love you too.” he whispers back; the sentiment still feels alien, and in a sense terrifying as it falls from his lips, though the discomfort is well worth its weight in platinum if it means keeping you wrapped around his fingers, his waist, and his heart. “Dripping wet for me—you needed this, didn’t you?” he murmurs, holding only the slightest bit of characteristic teasing in his voice, too mentally exhausted to do much besides act on instinct.

“Needed you. I always need you, Law.” you mumble between gasps as the press of his fingers inside of you brings heat pooling to your cheeks. Scissoring his fingers inside of you, he keeps you straddling the edge, a form of punishment for gaining control of him emotionally, enough to force him to divulge things he’d sworn to keep buried deep in his chest under heaps of cold, dense snow.

A heated whine settles in your throat as he slows down right before your precipice once more. "Lemme come…” you plead, your fingernails digging into the groove of his waist as you cling to him. Denying you the mercy you were expecting, he withdraws his fingers from you and pushes your shoulder down harshly, satisfied as he watches you sink to your knees, back dragging along the metal cupboards. He drops to your level unceremoniously, silently coaxing you to lay down, flush against the floor as he pins you below him like a lowly piece of prey. Latching his lips to yours again, he props himself up with one hand and lets the other roam, harshly grasping at your breasts, trailing down your sides and splaying out over your stomach, and finally settling between your legs, teasingly dragging along your slit, causing you to whine and grind against him. Giving into the sweet song of your begging, he circles his thumb along your aching bud, slowly working you up; tongue buried deep in your mouth, he intends on getting you close but not too close, wanting to keep you panting and writhing beneath you for his own benefit for a while longer. As you whine at the loss of contact against your clit, he undoes his zipper and lines himself up with you, slathering the head of his cock in the slick arousal that coats your folds and inner thighs.

The connection between you had been signed in consummating fluids and deep sighs hundreds of times over, but this is the first time that Law truly makes love to you. He slides into you, keeping his lips firmly on yours, his mind swirling with intimacy he thought himself incapable of. Full of newfound initiative to make you snap as soon as possible, his hand is quick to return to the needy, aching spot you need it most; his movements are practiced and hold precision honed over countless sessions tuning himself to your needs, but each touch is imbued with something novel, intoxicating, and foreign—as you turn red hot and flutter around him, Law is intent on showing you how much he loves you, sealing your promise to never leave him and using his flowing affections to keep you locked into that decision.

Law promises himself he’ll be better to you moving forward, that he will reassure you more, and take care of you in the same way you care for him, but in this moment, he places improvement on the backburner for a short while—all that mattered to him right now was you falling apart for him against the kitchen floor.

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #law smut #law x you #trafalgar law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law #x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece scenario

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sukunas-wife · 3 months

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I'm in desperate need of sukuna just catering to his pregnant wife. Like he's being too careful, caring and overall really really cautious around her. I just need some sweet stuff between the two. Idk how it'll happen but it must, and I think you'll be the perfect person for it♡♡♡ i love your work sm istg i could just smoosh u into a big hug, reading your posts just makes me all giddy and melt. thank you in advance!!!

Stop Ilysm 🥺🤍 imma do my best 🥹

In no way was Ryomen Sukuna a domestic man, much less a man who would show mercy or an ounce of emotion. Yet here he stood, both sets of arms crossed over his chest hard stare following your waddle around the garden, his face was void of emotions but internal something was ignited. Subconsciously, his body led him to find you almost always when he would wander about aimlessly in thought. Here he was, standing on the engawa. His eyes ran over your body, the small swell in your tummy was a pain in his ass but there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to ensure your safety and his child’s. He was lucky you hadn’t noticed him or you’d probably demand something from him and there he would have to go to please you.

The cold rush of air on his skin didn't bother him, but he saw how you shivered, tucking your hands into the sleeves of your robes resting them on your swollen belly. You were persistent and stubborn it didn't surprise when the second rush of wind came and you side eyed the empty air as if threatening a being. You sighed continuing your walk in the garden, fingers grazing the flowers of the garden. The garden you had begged him to make because it had been your dream to have a lavish royal garden of your own. He remembers the first time he allowed you out of his sight, he found you sitting on a stone bench under the shade of a blooming sakura tree, you must’ve felt like one of those silly little princesses with how you slowly lifted your hand to catch falling blooms.

You felt the shift in the air but weren’t bothered to turn around and greet him, you were busy on your little adventure. You were looking for the perfect place, you kept walking until you came to a decent open space, in the centre was a ring of bushes. Staring at the space you started to space out thinking only pulled back to reality by your husband when he draped his Haori over your shoulders. He stood behind you, a pair of arms around you carefully tying it closed. His scent and warmth lingered over your skin when he stepped away, you looked back over your shoulder and up at him. He was looking past you at the bushes you were staring at, one of his left hands rested on your left shoulder. He brought a right hand up to his face, squeezing his cheek bones and running his hand down his face like he was thinking, “what have you decided?” You hummed, “A plum tree right there, as our child grows so will the tree, when he’s old enough to eat fruit it’ll start to bloom.” Sukuna didn’t understand the sentiment behind having your child grow up with his or her own tree. In the end one of them would die and they would have to part ways. “Uraume” “Yes Lord Sukuna.” It was an unspoken command. It was one of many he’d be giving for the next few months.

——————-

“…su?” Your voice was lost in the dark before you tried to sit up whispering, “..sukuna.. kuna… suuuu.” You laid a hand on your husband's chest rubbing circles, he took a slow deep breath opening his eyes to look at you. “Yes y/n?” Your hand trailed to his lower shoulder trailing down his arm and taking his hand holding it in your lap between both of your smaller hands in comparison. “I..I’m hungry..” he was looking at you with soft lidded eyes. His lower set of eyes opened when he sat up the arm he had wrapped around you in his sleep and moved to rub your side, he did his best to whisper “What do you need?” He never asked what do you want like it was a bothersome request, but rather what do you need like it was something necessary for you to keep living. “I want the melon from that fruit stand in the village. The one they had at the top in a small crate…” his mouth opened slightly like he was going to say something. Because here’s the thing, he bought that melon when he saw your eyes linger on it a little too long. But at the moment Uraume wasn’t there and he didn’t wanna carry around a small crate while he had things to do so he told the Vendor he would be back for it, and if he tried to sell it or let anything happen to it, it would be his life for that melon. He closed his mouth, “I…” he moved so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, “I’ll be right back.” You sat there rubbing your belly when he left, it didn’t feel like long considering the King of Curses was inhumanely fast. What took him longer was rummaging through the fruit vendor's stand looking for that cursed crate and melon. Finally he found it tucked away with a note in beg red characters, “LORD SUKUNA DO NOT DAMAGE DO NOT SELL AT ANY EXPENSE THE EMPEROR'S PREGNANT WIFE CAN STARVE IF IT SPARES MY LIFE.” He laughed to himself, a smug smile on his face, “These fools do have brains, how refreshing.”

He made it home and had your ladies in waiting bring you to the table, there he cracked open the crate showing you the perfect honeydew melon that had a thin layer of condensation making it look like the night dew had blessed it. Your tummy growled and your eyes shined bright for everyone to see. It was funny to see the melon on a red cushion in the crate before Sukuna carefully pulled it out and placed it on a wooden slab asking how you wanted it. You told him to cut it into slices, you watched him turn down the knife a lady in waiting offered him only to use to dismantle. It was faster, cleaner and efficient, he chose the best piece shaking off the seeds and handing it to you. You bought into it and it was the best thing in the world, until you finished your third piece and decided you didn’t want it anymore you were full and it started to taste funny. Your ladies in waiting giggled and Sukuna sighed when they started to clean it up, they decided to save the rest for you if you started craving it for at least the next two days.

——————

It wasn't long after that night, you found yourself awake at another ungodly hour of the night. You felt queasy and quickly jumped out of bed, rushing to the large washroom Sukuna loved to bathe in. You grabbed one of the brand new chamber pots the ladies in waiting had bought at Sukuna’s command for when you'd get sick in the morning. You thought you were alone but there was your husband, one arm rubbing your back, the other stilling your chalky hands, the second pair braiding your hair back and out of the way. Following you immediately he snapped at one of the servants to bring water and something to settle your stomach if it was needed. For now he provided the best comfort he could. His warm hands on your cold back and shaky hands might not have stopped your nausea but it was comforting to know he was there with you even if he could’ve just rolled over and slept. You would’ve kissed him or at least his cheek if you didn’t feel so dirty and your tummy didn’t ache and feel empty in a weird way.

——————

Here stood the King of Curses, it was past midday. He was lucky your cravings were during daylight this time but what he didn't understand was why you wanted to top your dango with crumbled salted egg yolk and mochi with dried squid topping. It made him sick and he was more than willing to eat raw human flesh. He sat there making sure the waiter never let your cup empty or your plates void of food but he stopped when you tried to top fried squid with a chocolate and red bean paste.

“Enough y/n, you will make yourself nauseous before the morning nausea starts tomorrow.” His voice and look were stern and authoritative which caused you to pout, “…fine.”

Of course that didn’t stop you from packing your left over into a little wooden bento box to take home.

So when you were hungry after being carried over half of the trip home you decided to eat that sinful concoction you called a meal. Just to find your bento had been tampered with and only had red bean paste buns and chocolate mochi. Your puffed out cheeks match your belly perfectly when you went around looking for Sukuna. Only to barge in on him having a conversation with Kenjaku. “Where’s my squid!” Kenjaku was surprised someone had the gall to raise their voice and be so demanding with the king of curses, “Not now Y/n” Sukuna tried to give you a look to tell you now isn’t an appropriate time, that didn’t stop you from getting closer seeing Kanjaku’s look of surprise when he saw your stomach swollen and prominent. The King of Curses’s wife was indeed pregnant meaning it was entirely possible for a curse to impregnate a human… but could a human.. “I told YOU I wanted that squid!” Your teary eyes had Sukuna’s eye twitching his mind was Screaming ‘dammit woman out of all the times you could cry and make a scene and walk out like THAT it had to be in front of this deranged man-?” He cleared his throat “URAUME- Yes Lord Sukuna.”

Uraume was quick to fry up squid for you, fresh, hot and crispy. It was perfect. His jaw dropped when he saw how you squeezed a drop of red bean paste and chocolate mochi filling on the squid just to take a bite. He also didn’t hesitate in running at you with one of the brand new chamber pots when all of your lunch came back up with that cursed squid. Your husband walked in and sighed, he looked at you as you wiped your mouth, “What did I tell you.” You avoided eye contact, “To not..” he placed a hand on your back rubbing up and down your spine, Uraume was quick to bring water.

————-

Finally, here was Sukuna kneeling in front of you between your legs. You were close to birthing so this had become a very common position for you. Your robes were open and he was listening to your stomach. He could hear very clearly and distinct your heart beat from your child’s. That little heart beat was strong and present no doubt his child. You always ran your hand over his hair, your nails scratching his scalp and he’d humm before finally pulling back. Spreading oil over his hands. All those Japanese Camellia seeds he forced servants to gather and extract oil from because you’d become self conscious of your body and the marks in your skin where your skin was stretching. He’d kneel there between your legs, warm hands rubbing your belly, sides, breasts and thighs down with the oil that everyone had sworn would help you prevent and recover from stretch marks. As much as he’d like to have advanced on you in these situations, he would've been doing this for your last trimester daily. There was no doubt in his mind he would’ve induced early labour, so there he sat pent up but tending to your silly little self conscious needs. Honestly, how could you think yourself ugly when he thought you looked perfectly swollen with his child. If he chose you, why would you belittle yourself? He doesn’t choose and take things that don’t meet his ridiculously high standards. So he doesn’t understand why all of a sudden the change in your mindset. But he’s here with you muttering comforting words against your stomach and thighs if it help you truly understand how he feels about you.

Squishy: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@cyder-puff @bofadeezs

Perm: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken🥺: @cyder-puff @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378

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herlondonboy · 3 months

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metaphor, clarisse la rue

summary: nudes is a metaphor for love, but surely there are other way to express your feelings?

warnings: ITS NOT SEXUAL!!! it's 100% pg-13. DIOR IS 17, that's weird. nudes is a metaphor for love but reader doesn't get it. just says nudes a bunch. again, NOT SEXUAL.

wc: 1.1k

a/n: please tell me if this makes sense...

you share nudes when you trust someone deeply. it’s considered a high form of showing your love. allowing someone so far away to see you at your most vulnerable. it was what you did when you were in love, right?

did you understand it?

do you understand why, in a world painted with vulnerability, the exchange of nudes becomes a delicate dance of trust? each pixel, a brushstroke revealing the canvas of intimacy between two souls. as you bare your essence through the lens, it's not just skin on display; it's a testament to the trust woven into the fabric of your connection.

the subtle play of light and shadow mirrors the nuanced layers of your emotions, creating a mosaic of intimacy that transcends the physical. each shared image is a whispered promise, an unspoken pact that echoes the trust built brick by brick in the architecture of your relationship.

the digital realm transforms into a sanctuary where openness thrives, and the exchange of nudes becomes a metaphorical bridge connecting hearts. in the vulnerability of exposure, trust finds its strongest anchor, fostering a bond that withstands the test of time.

as you navigate the terrain of shared moments, the pixels become vessels of sincerity, encapsulating the essence of trust in a world where transparency is often obscured. nudes, in this verse, transcend mere visuals, becoming the language of trust that binds two souls in a symphony of shared vulnerability.

in the quiet corridors of your mind, scepticism echoes louder than the gentle whispers of trust. the metaphorical dance of nudes as a symbol of profound love seems like a concept too fantastical to grasp. as you navigate the digital landscape, you can't help but question the validity of such an intimate metaphor.

the canvas of your doubts is painted with shades of scepticism, and you find yourself hesitating at the threshold of vulnerability. the notion that sharing nudes could encapsulate the depth of love feels like a poetic exaggeration, a narrative spun by the romantic minds that may have overlooked the intricacies of real-life connections.

in the glow of your screen, you ponder the fragility of trust and whether pixels can truly translate into a language of profound emotions. the scepticism is a shield, a defence mechanism honed through years of navigating a world where trust is often elusive and fragile.

as you scroll through messages and shared images, you can't shake the nagging belief that love, true and unfiltered, transcends the digital realm. it's a sentiment anchored in tangible actions, shared experiences, and the messy, imperfect reality of human connection. nudes, you argue within yourself, can't possibly encapsulate the complexity of emotions that define genuine love.

so, no. you don’t understand it.

yet, even in your disbelief, a subtle curiosity lingers. perhaps there's a kernel of truth in the metaphor, a flicker of understanding waiting to be unearthed. as you continue to grapple with these thoughts, you find yourself at the crossroads of scepticism and the potential for a deeper understanding of the intricate dance between trust and love.

in the quiet moments of introspection, you wonder if embracing vulnerability in the digital realm could indeed be a bridge to a more profound connection.

then came along clarisse la rue.

she emerges as an unexpected muse, but your scepticism remains steadfast. the fiery connection you share with clarisse doesn't completely dissolve the doubts that linger around the metaphor of expressing love through shared nudes.

in the soft glow of your screen, your affection for clarisse grows, but you continue to believe that love transcends the digital realm. the metaphor, in your eyes, simplifies a complex spectrum of emotions into a narrow perspective. you yearn to express your love for clarisse through diverse channels, beyond the confines of shared images.

for you, love is a multi-dimensional tapestry, woven with actions, shared experiences, and genuine moments of connection. clarisse becomes the recipient of your affection, and you express your love through handwritten letters, spontaneous gestures, and the timeless art of conversation. the pixels on a screen, while a part of your journey, don't encapsulate the entirety of your feelings.

despite the depth of your emotions for clarisse, you remain unconvinced that exposing the vulnerable aspects of yourself through shared nudes is the pinnacle of trust and intimacy. your belief in the richness of diverse expressions of love becomes a testament to the complexity inherent in human connections.

you can show your vulnerability through your words.

inside the area cabin, you and clarisse found yourselves wrapped in the embrace of each other's presence. the soft rustle of leaves overhead provided a natural symphony as you both sat together, the moon casting its gentle glow upon your shared solitude.

as you stared into the distance, clarisse's voice broke the tranquil silence. "what are you thinking about?" she asked, curiosity lacing her words. the night air held a subtle chill, but the warmth of your connection created an invisible cocoon around both of you.

a thoughtful smile played on your lips, contemplating how to articulate the intricate thoughts dancing through your mind. you ended up just settling on a short, “nothin’.”

clarisse nodded, her eyes, filled with a depth of emotion, met yours. in that moment, her voice softened, carrying a weight of sincerity, "i love you infinitely."

the simplicity of those words held a profound impact, resonating with the unspoken understanding that had grown between you. a rush of warmth surged within you as you locked eyes with clarisse. in the quiet embrace of the night, you knew words were unnecessary— your hearts spoke a language more profound than any conversation could convey. than any picture could convey.

with a reciprocal smile, you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers in a silent acknowledgement of the love that bound you together. the night seemed to stand still as the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the intimacy of the present moment.

"i love you too," you finally uttered, the words carrying a sense of completeness. with those three simple words, the unspoken thoughts and emotions found a voice, echoing through the stillness of the night. “i’ll love you for forever and a day.”

as the night continued its slow journey, you both lingered in each other's presence, finding solace in the depth of your connection. the world outside melted away, leaving only the shared heartbeat and the whispered promises of love exchanged beneath the celestial canopy. in the quietude of the night, you revelled in the beauty of a love that needed no explanation— it simply existed, profound and infinite.

in your own way.

#clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #elijah writes #does this make sense #please reblog

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oxygenbefore1775 · 3 months

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thinking about Zeke's blond lashes

➳wc: 0,6k

➳a/n: im not sure if other culture have this but where i grew up you can make a wish if you blow away one of your lashes that fell on your face (although normally you would have to guess on which side of the face the lash has landed and only if you guess right your wish will have a chance of coming true but i digress); this is my comfort written piece if you wish to have it (cuz everything is not daijobu at the moment and this is my coping mechanism)

“Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath when you noticed a cup of coffee in Zeke's hands — the very same one he chose to leave your embrace for not so long ago. “Do you not want to sleep tonight?”

The unamused tone contrasted sharply with your eagerness to welcome him back into the cradle of your touch as you wrapped your arms around him as soon as he settled back onto the couch. Fortunately, he spared you from teasing despite your inconsistent display of affection.

“You hush,” he shot back, a facade barely concealing the smile on his lips once again. “I’ve had so much of it on the missions that this small amount wouldn’t do anything to me. It takes much more than a single cup before it has any effect.”

The sound of his voice beckoned your reciprocation. The unspoken tension that once filled the air dissipated with the onset of the night, as if the last remnants of it had died. Why would that be, you mused to yourself, even though the answer didn't require much pondering.

He would leave come morning.

A dreadful thought — almost worry-inducing — you had to admit to yourself as your mind sought refuge in the relish of his fleeting proximity. Even more so as you lifted your head off his shoulder, your gaze finding its place on his features, solemn and bathed in the moonlight. How silly. To mourn the presence of someone not subject to change. He’d never return — return to you — with a wound forever marring his perfect form. Well, perhaps his eyes were the only thing worthy of languishing in your heart. That forever impermanent look to them was something that you wished to remember.

It was then that you noticed.

You hesitated but spoke nonetheless. “Stay still.”

He heeded, though a brief flinch betrayed his obedient front when he felt your finger brush under his eye. A frown etched into his glabella as he discovered the reason for your unbidden touch — an eyelash, as golden as his hair. Almost imperceptible against his fair skin. The only reason you noticed it, your morbid urge to revel in the sight of his face aside, was the way it caught the moonlight.

His eyes, evidently, remained oblivious to the unexplainable burst of joy this revelation caused you as he reached out his hand to brush the lash off your fingertip. Quickly, you withdrew your hand, determined to prevent this atrocity from taking place.

“No,” your voice barely above a whisper. “You have to make a wish then blow it away. Then it’ll come true.”

With that, you brought your hand to his lips. In the dimness of the room, you exchanged glances — yours full of anticipation, his devoid of the same sense of wonder that captivated you. It was a rare occurrence for you to closely observe the glimpses of emotion flashing behind his blue eyes. In less than a second, the ice in his gaze melted away as he relented, deciding to entertain your sentiment.

You felt his cool breath on your finger tip as he blew the lash away all the while not breaking off eye contact. And just like that, the golden glint was no more. It melted into the darkness of the room.

“So, what did you wish for?” you inquired with more curiosity than taunt, resting your chin on his shoulder once more.

His gaze returned to mindless observation of the interior. “Not telling you,” he took a sip, adding weight to his refusal. For the briefest of moments, you saw him purse his lips, as if readjusting, before he spoke again. “Or else it wouldn’t come true.”

#something something reiner also has blond lashes but shh #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #zeke #zeke yeager #zeke jeager #zeke x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jeager x reader #aot oneshot #zeke oneshot

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nomercymaster11 · 6 months

Text

Silent tides

Over the two years since you joined the Heart Pirates, you’ve been doing fine. It's dawned on you that you’re developing feelings for your captain, Trafalgar Law, despite his cold and stern demeanour. However, you’re hesitant to express your emotions, fearing it might alter his attitude toward you.

One day, Law catches sight of you on the submarine's deck, perched on the rail and gazing up at the sky. Law approaches with an air of authority, his stoic expression revealing little of his inner thoughts.

"What are you doing here, lost in thought? The sea requires constant vigilance," he remarks, a hint of concern in his deep voice.

A touch of surprise colours your response,

"Oh, Captain. I didn't notice you were there." There's a subtle sense of guilt, as if you've been caught off guard.

Law stands beside you, facing the sea. The vastness of the ocean seems to echo the uncharted territory of your emotions.

“Sorry for catching me lost in thought.”

You shift away from the rail, directing your gaze towards the serene sea. The air thickens with unspoken sentiments, a contemplative silence enveloping both of you as the waves continue their rhythmic dance. The moment hangs in the balance, a delicate interplay of emotions beneath Law's stoic exterior and your unexpressed feelings.

Law's stern gaze lingers, probing beneath the surface of your guarded response.

"Silence doesn't suit you. Speak your mind. We're not here for idle contemplation. If there's an issue or something on your mind, lay it out."

An uneasy tension settles in the air, and your heartbeat quickens its pace. The weight of unspoken emotions lingers, a palpable undercurrent in the conversation.

“Problem? Um, no. Everything's good.”

Your words sound hesitant, revealing a reluctance to unveil the complexities hidden within.

Unyielding in your resolve, you press on. “So, Captain, what's on your agenda? What's the plan now?”

Law’s response carries a sense of duty and purpose, a reminder of the relentless challenges that define life at sea.

"The plan is as always – navigate the Grand Line, face whatever challenges arise, and ensure the crew's survival."

There's a steadiness in his voice, a captain's assurance. Yet, his attention shifts, a keen perception honed over years of leadership.

"You, however, seem distracted. Focus on the present. The sea demands our attention."

The sea becomes a metaphor, demanding not just vigilance but also a reminder to confront the currents of emotion swirling beneath the surface.

Our eyes met, and in that brief connection, a sudden weight settled on your cheeks. There was an unspoken exchange, a subtle dance of emotions. You tried to dismiss the feeling, but your expression betrayed you. Unease lingered, casting a shadow over the moment. To conceal your vulnerability, you started to walk away from him.

"I'll whip up some snacks. Captain, any preferences?" You offered, seeking a distraction from the uncharted territories of emotion.

“Just make something edible. We're short on time and can't afford culinary experiments. Stay focused.” Law's response carried the familiar sternness.

His words left a subtle disappointment lingering in the air, a desire for something more than the practicality he often exuded. Yet, understanding that deciphering his thoughts isn't a simple task, you accepted the reality of his demeanour. There's a complexity to the captain's character, a puzzle of emotions beneath the stoic exterior.

After meticulously crafting tuna onigiri for Law and the crew, you returned to the deck, the scent of seawater and anticipation lingering in the air.

Law, ever inscrutable, takes a bite of the onigiri, his expression remaining stoic. “Decent enough. Don't let sentimentality interfere with your duties.”

A flicker of defiance sparks in your response, “Why advise against sentimentality when you're here with me on the deck, alone?”

“I have no interest in sentimentality, but I do have an interest in a functioning crew. The sea doesn't wait for personal reflections.”

The exchange carries a weight of unspoken expectations, the sea beneath you mirroring the depths of our uncharted understanding. Seeking reassurance, you press,

“Am I doing fine as your crewmate?”

“You're holding your own. Actions speak louder than words. Stay vigilant, adapt to the challenges, and you'll continue to prove your place among the Heart Pirates. The Grand Line is unforgiving, but so far, you're managing.”

"Nice to hear that from you."

The words hold a mix of relief and gratitude. In that moment, the captain's rare praise becomes a lifeline, a reassurance that you’re navigating the complexities of the Grand Line with a measure of success.

Relief enveloped you like a warm embrace. You stole another glance at Law, finding him gazing into the distance, lost in the flavors of his tuna onigiri. A subtle air of introspection surrounded him, and you hesitated to disturb the tranquility of his thoughts.

As Law finished his onigiri, a rare moment of satisfaction painted his face. "Focus on your duties. Again, sentimentality has no place in the Grand Line. We sail forward, not backward."

His words resonated, a reminder of the relentless nature of the sea and the challenges that awaits the crew. Yet, being in his company provided an unexpected sense of safety and security. Revitalized by the interaction, you returned to your customary, cheerful demeanour.

“CAPTAIN!!”

The sudden exclamation from Bepo sliced through the air, startling you from the contemplative moment with Law.

“All repairs are complete. We can set sail at any time now.”

The urgency in his voice drew your attention, and you turned to find Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin on the deck, their sudden appearance catching you off guard.

“Oh, <y/n> ! I didn't realize you were there,” Bepo continued, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Looks like we interrupted something,” Penguin teased, his words tinged with playful mischief.

Law's expression tightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.

“We don't have time for idle speculations! Finish your tasks and prepare to set sail!”

His command snapped through the air, dispelling any lingering distractions. The crew, momentarily diverted by the unexpected reunion, refocused on the impending journey.

As you inquired about potential ways to contribute, a sense of genuine interest and eagerness coloured your words.

"Is there anything specific I can help with?" you asked, hoping to bridge the gap in your communication.

Law, ever focused on efficiency, responded with a stern directive, setting the tone for your interaction.

"Check the supplies and ensure everything is secured for the journey. We don't need any surprises at sea. Once that's done, be ready to set sail at my command. The crew's efficiency is paramount."

Yearning for a more personal connection, you ventured into uncertain territory.

"Will we encounter the Straw Hats crew in the New World? I'm eager to meet them once more."

Law's response was a sobering reminder of the unpredictability of the sea.

"The sea is full of uncertainties, and desires won't always align with reality. If our paths cross with the Straw Hat Pirates, so be it. Until then, stay focused on the journey ahead. The Grand Line has much to offer, and we can't afford to be distracted by personal wishes."

Growing somewhat frustrated with the unyielding nature of your conversation, you sought a moment of connection.

"Could you, just this once, talk with me as if we're friends? I get that you're our Captain, but come on, loosen up a bit."

Law's response was laced with annoyance, his stoic exterior undisturbed.

"Friendship doesn't alter the reality of our circumstances. The sea demands vigilance, not relaxation. If you want camaraderie, find it among the crew. My role is to lead, not to befriend."

Feeling an impulsive urge, you playfully squeezed Law's cheeks, a brief attempt to break through the captain's formidable façade. Surprised by your own spontaneity, you quickly pulled away, catching a subtle softening in Law's gaze.

As he shot you a reproachful look, his stern demeanour momentarily wavered. "We're not here for games," he declared with a stern tone, yet a glimmer of vulnerability lingered in his eyes. "Focus on the tasks at hand, and remember, emotional indulgence won't serve us well on this journey."

"Got it! I'll concentrate on the tasks at hand," you declare, turning away and suppressing a small laugh at the memory of his earlier irritated expression.

Law watched you depart; he watches you with the faintest hint of a smile. The amusement glimmers in his eyes, a subtle acknowledgment of your frustration and boldness in challenging his stoic demeanor.

Turning his attention back to the ship's preparations, he stood ready to navigate the unpredictable waters of the New World. The unspoken complexities of your interaction lingered in the salty sea breeze.

#one piece #trafalgar law #one shot collection #heart pirates #law x y/n #bepo one piece #law one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece

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hitorinorin · 7 months

Text

The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the beach in a warm, golden hue. As gentle waves kissed the shore, you sat together on a cozy picnic blanket, while Rin strummed his acoustic guitar. Although you both stood on the precipice of adulthood, teenagers on the verge of assuming life's weighty responsibilities, in this moment, you and Rin were nothing more than carefree kids.

Building sandcastles, serenading each other with songs, laughing at the tiniest of things, and declaring your love every five minutes—this slice of time felt perfect and eternal.

Yet, the relentless march of adulthood loomed, reminding you of life's fleeting nature. You watched Rin, lost in thought as he stared at the sunset. Bathed in the sun's warm, golden glow, his silhouette etched against the fading light, he appeared almost otherworldly. The world itself seemed to pause, acknowledging the transient beauty of the scene—a poignant reminder that even the most enchanting moments must yield to the passage of time.

"What are you looking at, idiot?" the young Itoshi asked.

"Nothing, don't mind me. I'm just… savoring this moment while it lasts," you replied.

You anticipated Rin would shift his gaze and dismiss your sentiment. However, you were taken aback when you noticed glistening tears in your lover's eyes. He wasn't one to openly display emotion, but your words had stirred within him an awareness of the limited time you had left together.

Upon learning of your impending move to another country, Rin had initially reacted with anger, but beneath that anger simmered fear and sadness. It was as if something raged within his heart, and the storm clouds of uncertainty threatened to overshadow your profound love for each other. Unable to alter your decision, he bottled up these futile feelings until they became too much. He cried in front of you.

He wept in front of the person he loved and cherished deeply—a vulnerability he seldom revealed. In that moment, he allowed his true emotions to surface without restraint.

"Rin, I'm sorry," you said, tears streaming down your face.

"Don't be. It's too late. Just do me a favor, okay?" he responded.

"Chase your dreams for me, and I'll chase mine for you. This won't be the last time we meet, I promise. I'll find you, even if you've disappeared from the face of the Earth. My heart will always find its way back to you. So please, just be happy, even if it's without me."

"Rin, be happy for me too, please. I don't care if it's with another woman, as long as she makes you feel happy and free. I'm okay with that. Find a good woman for me; I love you."

"That's nonsense," he thought.

Why were you telling him to find someone else when that person was right in front of him? But the words remained unspoken, lost in a sea of unexpressed desires and unshed tears, as the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the end of a perfect yet bittersweet day.

Your summers together might have temporarily come to an end, but the magical hymn of your voice remains echoing inside his heart. You will come back to him, and his heart will come back to you. As the day comes to an end, he himself knows that his ultimate freedom will forever be found in your arms.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi x you #bllk x you #itoshi fluff #rin angst #bllk x f!reader #rin itoshi angst #bllk angst #blue lock angst #vyn's vinyls 📼

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biggerbetterbat · 3 months

Text

WITH YOU [42] TERMINUS

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: What came after the fall. It’s time for Charlie to find herself in a new situation.

Warnings: none?

Song:

Words: 1,085

Everything was over for good now.

There was no prison. There was no family. No Rick. No Carl. No Michonne. No Glenn. No Daryl.

Charlie's emotions were a tumultuous mix of relief and dread after the prison's fall in The Walking Dead. The shattered sense of security clashed with the freedom from constant threat, leaving Charlie grappling with a new and uncertain reality. The loss of familiar faces and the upheaval of the community intensified the weight of survival in a world where trust was as fragile as the decaying structures around them. And on top of that she was stuck with a baby she couldn't even look at, a crazy little girl and her scared sister.

A scream cut through the air.

"You leaving us?" asked Mika.

"Thay maybe from the prison," Tyreese answered.

"We need you!"

"There's Charlie," he said and look at the girl that was sitting under the tree. staring somewhere away. "Charlie," Tyreese walked up to her and held her shoulders, which made her look up at him. "I'm going to help someone. Do you hear me?"

She did. But profound sense of emptiness filled her whole body, a hollow ache that echoed through every corner of her being. It was as if something essential had been extracted, leaving a void that no amount of distraction could fill. The world seemed colorless, devoid of the vibrancy it once held, and even routine actions felt mechanical, lacking the emotional resonance they once carried. Each breath was a reminder of the emptiness within, a silent plea for something meaningful to restore the purpose that had slipped away.

"Mica, tuck your shirt behind your knife, it's easier to grab," said Lizzie. "We'll be okay."

Tyreese touched Charlie's cheek with affection but also with worry. He stood up and left them.

Shortly after the man was gone, Judith began crying loudly. Lizzie and Mika immediately tried to calm her, but nothing seemed to work. Second later, Lizzie was squeezing the baby's face, her hand muffling the noise Judith was making. Charlie knew what that meant, but at the same time couldn't bring herself to do anything, so she was just watching.

The thought "it would be better if Judith was dead" echoed through her mind torn between despair and a twisted sense of relief. It was a dark moment where the burden of pain seemed unbearable, and the idea of escape from the chaos of emotions momentarily felt like a solution. Yet, beneath the harshness of the sentiment, there lingered a profound sadness, fueling the internal struggle and the yearning for some form of resolution or solace.

"Girls?" asked a similar voice, appearing from behind the bushes. "Charlie?"

She looked up. "Carol?"

Immediately, Charlie was up on her legs and with hurry approached the woman. The reunion with Carol after the prison's fall was a bittersweet blend of emotions. The joy of finding a trusted ally tempered the grief of the shattered community. The unspoken understanding of shared hardships and survival struggles created an unbreakable bond, turning the reunion into a glimmer of hope in the bleak aftermath. Yet, beneath the surface, the scars of loss and the changed dynamics of their world cast a shadow on what once was, making the embrace a poignant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. They hugged each other and Charlie let out a sob - the first one she held in for a very long time. Carol caressed her back in mother like gesture and started rocking their bodies. "Sweet thing, what happened?" she asked

"I couldn't safe anyone," she choked out and shook her head. "The Governor came back. There were bullets everywhere, I lost them there. There's nothing left from the prison."

"Shhh," Carol shushed and placed hands on her cheeks. "It's okay now. You're safe. Breathe," Carol said looking into her eyes. Charlie took a breath in together with her and held it for a while, trying to calm herself down.

As the man that Tyreese saved said, they started following the tracks. They were supposed to find something at the end of it, however, each step forward carried a sense of uncertainty, hinting at the possibility of safety, community, or even a new threat. In a world altered by the fall of the prison, the tracks symbolized the journey into an unpredictable future, leaving the characters to navigate a path where survival and the pursuit of hope intertwined in an ever-changing landscape. But after a short walk in the sun, Carol stopped.

"I didn't see you get out," Tyreese said.

"I wasn't there," Carol furrowed her eyebrows. "Rick came back to the prison, while I...kept looking. But I saw the end," she said. "Then I saw you, but I lost you..."

"You found us," Mika smiled.

"I knew you would," Lizzie stepped closer to Carol before passing her.

"You said you had a car," Charlie said while matching her peace. There was an idea born in her head as soon as she heard about the vehicle. "Maybe we can circle back and..."

"The Walkers and the fire..." she shook her head. "I know what you want to do, but...you can't go back to a graveyard, sweet thing," Charlie saw her small smile that was supposed to support her.

"Look," Lizzie turned all their attention towards the board.

"Sanctuary for all. Community for all," read out loud Mika. "Those who arrive survive."

Charlie looked down at the map and saw bold letters forming a word: TERMINUS.

When the sun began to hide behind the horizon and the evening approached, they decided to stop their voyage and make a camp. It was risky, but they just stopped in the middle of the tracks just in case they would lost it in case of emergency.

"It's yours," said Mica approaching Charlie who was trying to make a fire. She was spreading her arms in front of her and she was holding something almost as big as she was - it was strange she hadn't seen it before. "We kept it for you."

She looked at the girls and back at the bow in confusion. She thought she lost it forever, but the last thing after Daryl was back in her hands. The memory she will never forget. "Where did you get this?"

"We took it from the prison."

"Thank you," smiled at them with a gratitude; however, as she was holding onto the cold steel, she realized that she lost something else in exchange.

previous masterlist next

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl x reader

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poop-diddy-scoop · 1 month

Note

this is so embarrassing but like JARETH WITH MOMMY ISSUES PLEEEASE💔 please I need 2 see him getting edged and having to ask “mommy” to cum😔

jareth x reader - mother's day

You stepped into the cosy living room, the warmth of the midday sun filtering through the curtains, casting gentle patterns on the walls. The scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, remnants of the brunch you had just returned from with your mother. It was Mother's Day, a day filled with appreciation and love for the woman who had shaped your life in countless ways.

You found Jareth reclining on the couch, his silver eyes scanning through an ancient tome. With an excited bounce in your step, you skipped over to him, eager to share the joy of the day.

"Jareth!" you exclaimed, "Do you know what today is?"

He glanced up, a faint furrow appearing between his brows. "Yes, it's Mother's Day, isn't it?"

You nodded enthusiastically, settling down beside him. "Exactly! It's such a special day, don't you think? A day to show our mothers just how much we appreciate them."

Jareth's lips curved into a subtle smirk as he closed the book, setting it aside. "Ah, yes. A day dedicated to reinforcing the norm of family dynamics."

You frowned, caught off guard by his response. "What do you mean?"

His expression turned thoughtful, his gaze distant as if delving into memories long buried. "Days like these, they're merely societal constructs. A way to perpetuate the idea of familial obligation and affection. But in reality, it's just another day."

You shook your head, unable to comprehend his cynicism. "But Jareth, it's about more than that. It's about celebrating the bond between a mother and her child, the sacrifices she makes, the love she gives."

He raised an eyebrow, his demeanor cool and detached. "Love? Sacrifices? Perhaps for some, but not for all. Not everyone has the privilege of experiencing such sentiments."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone. "What do you mean, Jareth?"

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "It's simple really. My upbringing was... unconventional, to say the least. I never had a conventional mother-child relationship."

Curiosity mingled with concern as you pressed further. "What do you mean by unconventional?"

Jareth's gaze flickered away, a shadow passing over his features. "It's not like I had a mother. She wasn't a mother to me in any way, that I remember."

Your breath caught in your throat, realization dawning upon you. "Oh... Jareth, I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

He shrugged, a ghost of bitterness tainting his words. "There's nothing to apologize for. It's just the way things were."

Silence enveloped the room, heavy with unspoken emotions. You reached out, tentatively placing a hand on his arm, offering silent comfort.

"I never knew..." you murmured softly, your heart aching for the pain he must have endured.

Jareth turned to you, his eyes softening with a vulnerability you had rarely seen. "It's in the past now. But thank you, for trying to understand."

As you busied yourself cleaning up the remnants of brunch, you caught a glimpse of Jareth out of the corner of your eye. He was seated at the dining table, his expression intense as he scribbled something onto a sheet of paper. His pen moved with fluidity, as if the words flowed effortlessly from his mind.

With a curious tilt of your head, you observed him for a moment before deciding to leave him to his thoughts. You had just finished wiping down the countertops when you heard the sound of water running from the bathroom.

Taking advantage of his absence, a mischievous impulse seized you, and you tiptoed over to the dining table. Your heart quickened with anticipation as you leaned over to get a closer look at what he had been writing.

The words sprawled across the page in elegant script, each line weaving a tale of passion and desire. Your eyes widened as you realized the nature of the poem before you. It was... erotic, to say the least, and unmistakably intimate.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you read aloud a snippet of the poem, unable to tear your eyes away from the provocative imagery.

"Her touch, firm yet gentle, sends shivers down my spine

A delicate balance of power, so intoxicatingly divine

She knows my needs before I even speak

A connection so profound, it leaves me feeling weak"

Heat flooded your cheeks as you hastily set the paper back down, feeling as though you had stumbled upon something incredibly private. But the words lingered in your mind, stirring something within you that you couldn't quite name.

Before you could dwell on it any further, the sound of the shower shutting off pulled you back to reality. You hurriedly returned to your task, your mind buzzing with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

Moments later, Jareth emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung lazily around his waist. His silver eyes met yours, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths as he took in your flushed cheeks.

"Is everything alright, my dear?" he inquired, his voice laced with amusement.

You cleared your throat, willing the embarrassment to fade from your cheeks. "Yes, everything's fine. Just finishing up in the kitchen."

He arched an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "I see. No sudden discoveries, I hope?"

You shook your head, determined to maintain your composure. "Of course not. Just the usual cleaning."

Jareth's smirk widened into a playful grin as he sauntered over to you, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks. "Well then, shall we retire to the living room? I believe a cup of tea is in order."

You nodded eagerly, grateful for the distraction. As you followed him out of the kitchen, you couldn't help but wonder about the secrets hidden within the pages of his poetry, and the complexities of the man you had come to love.

——— As you prepared the chai, the aroma of spices filled the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Meanwhile, Jareth emerged from the bedroom, clad in a simple t-shirt and comfy pants, the epitome of relaxed elegance.

You settled down beside him in the living room, handing him a steaming cup of chai. He accepted it with a gracious nod, taking a sip before fixing you with a knowing look.

"You've read the poem, haven't you?" he asked, his silver eyes sparkling with amusement.

You feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes playfully. "Whatever do you mean, Jareth? I wouldn't dream of snooping through your personal writings."

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by your attempt at evasion. "Really now? I find that hard to believe."

You sighed, conceding defeat. "Alright, fine. I may have taken a quick peek. I was just... curious, you know?"

Jareth chuckled softly, setting his cup of chai aside. "Curiosity killed the cat, my dear. But in this case, I suppose it's forgivable."

You grinned sheepishly, relieved that he wasn't upset. "So, what's the story behind the poem? Do you often write like that?"

His expression turned thoughtful, his gaze drifting off into the distance. "Yes, I suppose you could say I have a penchant for... expressive writing. Poetry has always been a means of catharsis for me, a way to explore the depths of my emotions."

You nodded, intrigued by his insight. "And this particular poem? It seemed... intimate, almost maternal in nature."

Jareth's lips quirked into a wry smile, a hint of self-awareness in his eyes. "Ah, yes. It's a recurring theme in my work, I'm afraid. A reflection of my... issues, if you will."

You leaned in closer, eager to delve deeper into his psyche. "It sounds like you want a maternal figure, like I mean—in the poem....this lover seems to be motherly."

He nodded, a hint of reluctance in his demeanor. "Yes, it's a complicated matter. But perhaps you're right. Perhaps I do long for that sense of nurturing, that unconditional love."

You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. "You don't have to be ashamed of your desires, Jareth. We all have our own struggles, our own vulnerabilities and embarrassing moments”.

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously at Jareth's knowing gaze, his silver eyes gleaming with mischief. As he stretched out on the couch, his shirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his toned abdomen. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension, you launched into a funny anecdote about one of your past relationships. "Oh, speaking of embarrassing moments," you began, "I once had a boyfriend who used to call me 'mommy' in public. Can you imagine?"

Jareth's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Mommy? That's... unexpected."

You laughed awkwardly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Tell me about it. It was so embarrassing! People would give us the weirdest looks, like they couldn't decide if we were a couple or a parent-child duo. Crazy, right?"

Jareth's smirk widened into a knowing grin as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Mommy, hmm? You like being called that, mommy?"

Your breath caught in your throat at his provocative question, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You could sense the playful challenge in his tone, the subtle invitation to explore uncharted territory.

Swallowing down a groan, you gathered your courage and inched closer to him, your heart racing with anticipation. "Well, Jareth," you replied with a hint of bravado, "I suppose it depends on who's doing the calling."

His silver eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is that so? Perhaps I'll have to indulge you sometime."

As Jareth hovered over you, his silver eyes ablaze with desire, you instinctively leaned back against the arm of the couch, feeling the soft fabric pressing against your skin. His proximity sent a thrill coursing through your veins, a heady mixture of anticipation and apprehension swirling in the air.

"What are you doing, Jareth?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a hint of nervousness.

He silenced you with a gentle hush, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Shh, my dear. Just indulge me for a moment," he murmured, his voice velvety smooth like satin against your skin.

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his gaze leaving you breathless. "Indulge you? What do you mean?"

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I mean, let me show you just how much I enjoy calling you those... names."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. "But Jareth, isn't that a bit... unconventional?"

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along the curve of your neck. "Ah, but my dear, since when have we ever been conventional?"

You couldn't argue with that logic, especially not when he looked at you with such intensity, his gaze stripping away all pretense and leaving you bare and vulnerable.

As Jareth's breath danced across your ear, his words dripped like honey, each syllable laced with a tantalizing promise. "Mama," he whispered, his voice low and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, Mommy."

The words hung in the air, heavy with desire and forbidden longing. You felt your cheeks flush with heat as a wave of arousal washed over you, the intensity of his gaze leaving you breathless.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, tracing the contours of his face with a gentle caress. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins.

As he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss, you surrendered to the overwhelming tide of passion that consumed you. The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, the boundaries between reality and fantasy blurring into a haze of ecstasy.

And as he settled into your lap, his body pressed intimately against yours, you knew.

"So, what now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jareth's smirk widened into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, my dear, we indulge in our shared desires. Together."

Tonight wouldn’t be your ordinary mother’s day celebration.

——— As the moments stretched into eternity, you found yourself fully in control, revelling in the power you held over the once-confident Goblin King. Jareth's whimpers and pleas filled the room, a stark contrast to the regal demeanour he usually exuded. It was a sight you never would have expected, but one you certainly weren't complaining about.

With each tug and twist of your hand around his slickened length, you could feel Jareth's resistance crumbling, his desperate cries of "Mommy, please—" echoing off the walls. His hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more friction, more of the sweet release you denied him time and time again.

But you were relentless, your grip firm as you denied him the satisfaction he so desperately craved. His arousal, fueled by your teasing touches, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment. With each whimper that escaped his lips, you felt a surge of power rush through you, knowing that you held him completely at your mercy.

"Are you gonna be a good boy?" you taunted, your voice dripping with condescension as you teased him mercilessly. Despite the mockery in your tone, Jareth's response was immediate and eager.

"Yes, oh yes I will," he panted, his gaze pleading as he looked up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, mama, let me cum. I really need this…I'll be so good for you…"

His words sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned with a fierce intensity. It was a side of Jareth you had never seen before, one that begged to be unleashed and explored. And as you continued to deny him, his desperation only fueled your own desire, pushing you both to the brink of ecstasy.

But still, you held back, savoring the delicious torture of denial as you toyed with him mercilessly. Each stroke of your hand sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body, driving him to the edge of madness with every tantalising touch.

You decide to speed up; stroking your hand faster at the base, pushing his legs back open as they threaten to close at the sheer sensitivity. “Gods, when will you—” he starts to complain but is abruptly cut off with the sensation of your lips wrapping around his dripping tip, suckling the head and squeezing him hard at the base.

With his eyes rolling into his skull and back arching, Jareth lets out a guttural sob. “M-Mama!”, he yelps, gripping onto the couch for dear life.

“Maybe I should let you cum. After all it’s been a while”, you think aloud, digging your nails into his thighs before wrapping both hands around him, pumping his cock with a newfound fervour.

Jareth nods frantically, eyes wide yet fighting to be kept open, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him “Oh, baby please…mommy ... let me cum….” he whimpers, his eyes sparkling with glassy unshed tears.

For now you give in, stroking him hard and fast until you hear his rising pitch and cries halt, a beat before your hand is utterly covered in his seed, a sob of exhaustion bettering him as he flops down, chest heaving.

“Mommy’s so proud of you baby”.

#jareth x reader #jareth fanfic #jareth smut

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haniwrites · 10 months

Text

♡ fuck it i love you

pairings : kei tsukishima/reader

genre : angst ; tw - mentions of blood, a lil gore

spoilers : none !

summary : slowly questioning the relationship you built with tsukishima on lies.

note : uhm uhm hi ?

"dream a little dream of me, make me into something sweet."

you wanted to keep a brave face because you were scared to fall apart so easily in his absence. he was gone but not really, not physically, just mentally. you could feel an invisible barrier grow slowly between you and tsukki. you held yourself together by replaying the bittersweet memories of him always being close to you and reminding you everyday how you were his forever to keep. that time felt so far gone but you revelled in those broken pieces of his previous self which reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. they were not perfect at all. tsukki was always closed off, quiet and maintained his civility in all matters. it was difficult for you to poke and prod around his heart and mind to understand him. your efforts were futile and he was scared to trust you.

you were patient though, unwavering and forthcoming in declaring your fondness for his antics. it was his quietness and determined nature which drew you towards him, like a moth to a flame. their relationship was built upon wistful gazes, those fleeting touches and occasional exchanges of speech. you observed every little thing about him, how the words spilled from the concave spaces between his strawberry soft lips. you had felt the urge to touch them and run your fingers across his warm skin. this game of push and pull went on for days until the day tsukki hurt his hand. you saw the beads of blood drip between his fingers, marring his pale skin, the contrast so bright and flowing across his arm. you had ran towards him, looking at him with worry etched across your face. he refused your help but eventually gave in, grimacing at your stubborn nature but loosening up as he saw you chuckle at his state. you took his palm, feeling the calloused skin against your soft ones. it bought you comfort and peace because this was the closest you will ever get to him. you wanted to burn every part of it inside your mind. his fingers were slender with lithe grace, aiding him in playing volleyball. they always called him thin and bony but you saw it differently. he was agile like a deer with nimble limbs that added to his confident posture. you were enamoured by how pretty this boy was.

so you were not surprised by the all too familiar sweet despondency you felt when you had the epiphany that he perhaps does not feel the same emotions you feel. that, in simple words, he was losing interest. you pondered upon the fast fading liveliness of your relationship with tsukishima, eliciting a grunt from you as you again sat alone for dinner. the rose-coloured romanticism which painted your bond with him was breaking apart, tying you to the shackles of reality. not everything was as flawless as you deemed it to be. your ever emerging need for reassurance and his aloofness towards human sentiments were constantly at war, leaving you two at each other's throats. the distance floated like an entity between you and him, unspoken but almost tangible.

yet it did not stop you from reminiscing the fond but melancholic memories of you and him. you wondered how he kept you pulled in, his magnetic field getting stronger as time passed by. even now, after that fateful revelation, you refused to let the truth swallow you, clinging onto the superficial affection which he sent your way. it was startling to see how his bitter words were contrasting to the softness of his lips. the same lips which kissed you and touched you in places of your ardent reverie. it was slipping through your fingers and you were desperately trying to hold it and keep it close to you. the same man which built your confidence, your belief in your thoughts and coaxing you to love yourself a little more was the one aiming for your heart, breaking down whatever was left and taking back what he had given to you. you couldn't lie anymore because it left an angry bruise on your psyche, infuriating you even more.

but deep down you were just sad. it was a shame how you kept delaying the truth that was handed out to you like a beautifully crafted meal on a glass plate that looked better than it tasted. your broken heart was equivalent to melted ice cream on an awfully hot and uncomfortable day. you had to take the final step instead of twisting and turning the same thoughts inside your head. his sweetness drew you in but his rages burnt your heart harder. you cannot leave, it seemed impossible to break the connection between you and tsukki. he was barely there and you had no way of getting through his heart.

the final blow happened when you caught tsukki eye fucking your bestfriend. how could you not see this coming? the missed dinner dates, coming home late, the distance, everything. you stared at yourself in the mirror so hard you could see your face distort and twist and turn. you felt like you were being dragged across uneven land, the rocks and stones stabbing at your back. you picked at your nails, the skin around them seeing little beads of blood pool around your cuticles. you still loved him didn't you? a monologue playing in your head as you dissected the situation. which side should you pick? if you weren't already so fucked up, this was just an added bonus. another episode, a relapse and you couldn't make another person stay in your life.

tsukki was your entire world. if you could, you would have burnt everyone down to get to him. you felt like you owed him your unconditional love and ask for nothing in return. your identity was lost, you did not speak, you quietly forgave him. this was a masquerade where both of you put on a facade. it seemed better to just let your love burn. it should've been colourful, soft cinders but instead you played a game under this grisly confetti of ashes.

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mvrtaiswriting · 2 years

Note

Luffy or Zoro for prompt 5?

Zoro x prompt 5: guys furrowing their brow when kissing passionately

thank you for requesting this! I decided to go with Zoro for this one cause the prompts just makes me think about someone who finally releases all the unspoken emotions through the kiss. I hope this meets your expectations, please do let me know what you think (anonymously of course!). enjoy!

gender neutral! usual one piece violence, mention of injuries and worries of death?

ffeel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.- from this event.

That night, a strange feeling insinuated in Zoro's heart. He has never felt like this before, his heart was the only muscle that he was able to move - and not even properly. His heart rate was slower than usual despite the adrenaline that previously rushed through his veins and pumped his muscles, breathing becoming unexpectedly complicated. A paralysing force was holding him to the ground, as his eyes scanned the scene looking for you. He heard Nami screaming Chopper's name, crying for help and saying something about your injury. And since then, time stopped for Zoro. He could not think straight anymore, he was unable to react, to continue fighting. This was by far the toughest battle you guys encountered, and although Zoro knew you were strong, he realised the enemies standing in front of you were definitely playing in a different league.

Fear. That was the unexplainable feeling that completely overwhelmed Zoro, who felt like a massive stone was now compressing his chest, making it ignore the lump in his throat, making it harder to fight. His thoughts were clouded as memories of the two of you just flash before his eyes, thinking about all the times he could have.. but didn't. The worst case scenarios start filling Zoro's head, thinking about how he lost the love of his life without even confessing, because he was such a coward when it came to sentiments - so much that he's now terrified he might have lost something he never had.

Just in time to save Zoro's from a critical hit that his opponent (who was being completely ignored by the swords man) was about to lend on him, you used your powers to protect Zoro, sending your enemy flying meters away from where you were standing.

"What the hell?!" you shout at Zoro, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him lightly; you never saw him so defenceless in a battle, so unresponsive.

Shaking his head, Zoro finally came back to his senses. It took him sometime to realise what had just happened - that you were real, you were there and you were safe, stronger then ever. His eyes quickly scanned your figure, noticing the bandage that Chopper put on your shoulder and the several cuts on your face. You were all covered in blood, a probably both yours and of your enemy's - but to Zoro, you never looked more beautiful.

Dropping his swords to the ground in an unusual, careless manner, Zoro quickly cupped your cheeks and pulled you in into a desperate, frantic kiss. He instinctively furrowed his brow as an unexpected outburst of different little emotions overwhelm him all at once; fear, relief, love, joy.

You slowly pulled away from the kiss, a soft smile forming on your lips. You took a second to admire his beauty, surprised by the way in which Zoro finally chose to make his move.

"I can't believe we shared our first kiss in a battle ground." you laughed, hearing a loud explosion happening just behind your back.

#one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece #zoro fluff #zoro fanart #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #straw hat zoro #straw hat pirates #pirate hunter zoro #zoro x y/n #zoro imagine #zoro roronoa #zoro headcanons #zoro fanfic #one piece fanart #one piece zoro

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1800titz · 10 months

Text

Really, really short teaser, but just a little something from the upcoming chapter of TDIAG

“I didn’t fuck you last week, and you’re already looking elsewhere, darling?” the statement is said as a jest — but it’s only half of that. His strawberry mouth is twitchy, and the pads of his digits are gentle on her thigh, and his tone is calm, and friendly, and traitorously sweet.

But Isla knows better.

Her mother had always said, behind every joke there’s some truth, sort of like a more wholesome version of drunk words are sober thoughts — far more kid friendly, but. The young woman couldn’t relate more to the wise piece of advice than she was, now, in this moment. Because her Eros is green, and obviously so. It radiates from his pores, the envy, no doubt a response to seeing Faunus’s palm pasted to her arm, and the tidbits of his vulnerability make something oddly twist in her. Something like — feelings, beyond the playroom. It pleases her, in a red-flag-on-her-part sort of way, knowing that he cares. But more than that, the sentiment leaves her brimming with arousal. A jealous man was never a kind man, and a mean Eros, tucked away with her in a reserved playroom at Indulge, always left her simmering in welcomed anticipation.

“Of course not,” she assuages, tracing the folds of fabric in his collar and fixing them up with a smoothing touch, her pupils fixed to her fingers as she tacks on, “I’d never look elsewhere when I’m contractually obligated to uphold monogamy.”

It’s a tease that’s blatantly meant to rile him — the corners of her mouth buckle like an afterthought, and beneath her touch, the dominant’s chest heaves with a sigh.

“Contractual obligation. S’that all my time is to you, then?”

His tone is lighthearted, but the words have that undercurrent of brooding, like her words have wounded him, and Isla thumbs over a button and pops it through a loop — just for a bit of skin.

“All my cock is to you?” the man shifts below her, his tone still playful, “A contractual obligation?”

“No,” she protests, her fingers twitchy before his chin dips to ogle her handiwork, and a palm clasps over her wrist to bring the fingertips to his mouth and nip.

“Hm?” he prods, teeth grazing over skin playfully, “Gonna go back to alternating having your shit rocked when my time is up?”

Okay. Little less playful. His cadence is still light and good-natured but. Oddly heavy question. That little, unspoken slice of reality peeks through the facade of joking, traces streaking like dawn through cracks of blinds, if only for a moment.

Isla swallows. Her pupils paste to his cushiony mouth, to the tips of her digits pressed lightly between his teeth. She settles for something safe, her breath held in her chest. Actually, maybe a little unsafe, given the trajectory of his emotions.

“If you want me to, Sir.”

Placate, placate, placate. The words are all that any dominant could want — submission in its ultimation. Whatever he wants of her. Despite this, the statement has something like …disappointment twisting in his chest. He doesn’t want that. He wants to elongate their contract, he wants to keep railing Isla over, and over, and over, he wants to spend the rest of timeless time with her as his, in the realm of Indulge, and only his. And he doesn’t want it to be up to him. Tell me no, Harry wants to say. Tell me you want me and only me. Show me you care, the way I do.

Instead, his mouth purses.

If there’s any inkling of protest to her words, the dominant doesn’t showcase it. She’s curious to hear his response, but he doesn’t give one. Instead, he intertwines their fingers and shoots her a glance. The topic of conversation pivots.

“Were you a good girl for me this week?”

Was she a good girl for him this week? Vague recollections of a very satisfying vibrator pressed between clammy thighs in messy sheets at late hours flit through her mind.

And her Eros on the other end of the line.

No. Isla certainly wasn’t.

#tdiag teaser

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solitaire-sol · 7 months

Text

Sunday Snippet

Thanks to @groundzero-v for the tag! This is a bit from one of two Victorian Prongsfoot AUs in my WIP folder (well, the other might end up Regency, we'll see). This WIP, unlike the other one, is also a Muggle AU.

Sirius paged idly through the letters, the once-pristine stationary yellowed by the passage of time; the flickering firelight hardly made for the clearest illumination, but no matter. He had read those lines often enough to know them by heart, memorizing each stroke of ink, charting the way that the letters began as a neat but childish scrawl and slowly straightened, loops and whorls coming to stand at attention like a line of soldiers. They had started out as nothing more than a child's ramblings, little stories about the woods and the fields around Welspryng Grange and crooked sketches of the view from James' windows, and over time the content of the letters had shifted, easing into open words of fondness and veiled words of love. The last few letters, postmarked after Sirius' departure from England, were pleading and furious and remorseful by turns, until the last letter of them all, which contained only a handful of lines and a final farewell. 'I should have burned them,' Sirius thought, knowing even as he thought it that he could never bring himself to do so. 'I should have let that be the end.' It had been his intention, at the time, overflowing as he'd been with heartache and the righteous outrage of betrayal; Sirius had enough money that he could permanently set up house on the Continent, if he cared to do so, and never set food on England's gloomy shores again. Yes, he should have burned the letters and he should have stayed away, and yet, he had done neither. Perhaps it was some lingering sentiment from the boy who had devoured those silly little stories about chasing rabbits and splashing in brooks, from the youth who had eagerly awaited the end of the holidays and the return to school and to James, from the young man who had pressed those lines to his lips and longed for the chance to bestow such kisses on the hand that had written them. Perhaps it was cruelty, a malice born of a soul-deep wound, that had driven Sirius' return to England and his violent intrusion into James' proper little life. If the latter, then the embers of that bitter fire now burned low, for Sirius could no longer find it within him to take pleasure in his manipulations, and James had changed as well. He no longer resisted Sirius' provocations, but that impossibly honest gaze was no longer clouded with conflicting emotions: The violence of their coupling had diminished, though the vigor had not, and there were times when those clear hazel eyes were laden with such unspoken tenderness that Sirius was forced to look away. Sirius could lie to anyone, except to himself, and Sirius knew that it had never been about revenge, about the petty amusements with which he could so offhandedly ruin other peoples' lives. It had always been about James, about James and Sirius and the innocence that they had lost when the world had intruded into their humble London apartments, when Sirius had believed that the return of the luxuries lost when his family disinherited him would ease their life together, not bring it to an end.

I once again have no idea who to tag it always makes me feel like I'd be bothering people??? so an open invitation, I guess!

#snippet share sunday #prongsfoot #bambibelle #starbucks #is this too long to be a snippet? idk #fics by sol

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girl-next-door-writes · 4 months

Photo

@kjs-s made a little cute gif to help me and I love it, so let’s see what I can come up with here…

The office buzzed with Halloween excitement, and Reid couldn't help but smile as he watched JJ's son, Henry, walk in dressed as a mini version of him. The tiny brown vest, the perfectly knotted tie, and even the mop of messy hair replicated Spencer's signature look. The resemblance was uncanny in an adorably sweet way. As Reid bent down to compliment Henry's costume, a hush fell over the room.

Glancing up from your paperwork, you found yourself silently observing the scene unfolding before you. The sight of Henry dressed as a mini Spencer was undeniably adorable, but it was the way Reid effortlessly connected with the child that caught you off guard. His eyes sparkled with genuine warmth, and a soft smile graced his lips, revealing a side of him you hadn't seen in the midst of profiling and crime-solving.

A warm and fuzzy feeling wrapped itself around you, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched the interaction. Spencer's effortless connection with Henry painted a heart warming scene, and in that moment, you couldn't help but imagine a future beyond the BAU cases and paperwork, one which your handsome colleague featured heavily..

The thought surprised you. It wasn't that Spencer wouldn't make a good father – quite the opposite. It was the realization that you were envisioning him as the father of your children. The idea sparked a gentle warmth within, and you found yourself lost in a daydream of a family, of shared laughter and bedtime stories.

Shaking off the surprising yet oddly comforting thought, you returned to your paperwork, but the image of Spencer with Henry lingered in your mind, leaving you with a subtle awareness of a newfound sentiment that had quietly woven its way into your heart.

“You okay?” Spencer’s soft voice caught your attention, and as your eyes met his, you suddenly felt guilty, as if he somehow knew what you had been thinking about.

Caught off guard, you blinked and nodded, attempting to brush off the momentary lapse in concentration. "Yeah, just got lost in thought," you replied, offering a small smile. But his piercing gaze held an understanding that sent a subtle shiver down your spine.

Spencer's brow furrowed ever so slightly, as if he could sense the unspoken shift in your emotions. "If there's anything on your mind, you know you can talk to me, right?" he said, his concern genuine.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded again, appreciating his sincerity. "Thanks, Spencer. It's nothing, just a busy day."

He gave a small nod before returning to sit at his desk, leaving you to steal fond glances at him whenever you thought you wouldn’t be caught.

#submission #Spencer Reid #Tuesday drabble #gif drabble #gndw gif drabble

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fujinstorm · 4 months

Text

⚠️: Very light mention of death.

Us. [Q. Lucibello x Morgan]

The restaurant is full of life, patrons laughing and the sound of clicking dinnerware travell around the atmosphere, a shy twilight dancing with the first stars of the evening.

The detective wanted to ease the tension after almost not making it again. But that's not the only thing troubling their mind. A vampire who now took a piece of their heart is now claiming their thoughts.

On the quaint terrace, under the dim light of the lamps, Morgan, leaning in the doorway, lits a cigarette, the ember briefly illuminating her enigmatic expression.

"Hey, Lucibello", she says, the smoke curling around her almost whispering voice as she feels the obvious tension emanating from the detective crushing her nerves.

Lucibello turn, a melancholic smile tracing their lips. "Hey", they reply deflating a little.

Morgan finally steps outside, the faint flicker of the night dancing across her eyes as she approach the person who ignites a flame that she can't escape. Standing beside the detective, she looks at them, a coy concerned expression across the vampire's face.

"You okay?" she asks, a surprising soft tone that feels like a melody of inaudible thoughts.

Lucibello manage to chuckle nervously and nod, averting their eyes to the sky, as if the stars could ease their aching emotions. But Morgan can't be fooled, no one could be as the supernatural powers aren't needed to see that something is wrong.

"That's not convincing," Morgan presses, discarding the cigarette and stepping closer to the detective, the charged silence being a challenging task.

"I suppose not," Lucibello admit, their unsaid feelings making their shoulders drop. "I'm scared," they utter, the voice almost lost in the cool evening air.

A solemn silent takes place, a moment where Morgan finds the courage to let herself free of insecurities.

"I was too," Morgan confesses, her words carrying the weight of unspoken feelings.

An incredulous look cross Lucibello's features.

"What made you change your mind?" Lucibello ask, a whispered plea to understand what could be the reason of such feat.

Morgan pauses, sighs and then, she laughs—a sound like a honeyed harmony in the cool breeze of the bashful moonlight. "It was you, Lucibello," she declares, her eyes full of confidence, a sentiment she conveys with a deep breath. "I've realized that sometimes, being scared is just a sign that what we have is worth fighting for."

Those words seem to strike a bolt of amazed disbelief to Lucibello, their eyes widening in incredulity.

"What?" they gasp, astonishment wrapping around their voice, feeling their heart in a frenzied beat.

The question hangs in the air, as if the time just stopped, echoing through the now silent night, and leaving a path of sentiments entwined in silence. Lucibello's breath catch in their throat, unable to comprehend the depth of Morgan's confession.

The vampire takes a deep breath and meets their eyes, a resolve etched in her face. "I'm going to be fast, so listen carefully."

Lucibello's eyes widen, their expression a vast wave of emotion as large as the universe

"Wait, Morgan—"

"Just—Let me finish." Morgan interjects. "Don't make me say it twice," she teases, but with an edge of seriousness. “I protect people. It’s what I do. But you made everything different. Protecting you wasn't enough. You were on my dreams, my thoughts and when I almost lost you... I realized that is not about just saving you, it's about saving us.

"And what are you saying?" Lucibello ask with a trembling voice.

"I'm just saying—All that fear, all that pain you're holding onto? You don't have to carry it alone. Not anymore. Healing is a terrifying hell of a journey, but that's why we are not leaving you. We are here—I'm here. Not just as a memory, but as your present and all the tomorrows we have left."

As the words hangs in the air, Lucibello steps to Morgan's arms, each holding the other as if to say, here, is where I belong. Laughter bubbles from Morgan, a pleasant symphony that fills the night, and as director, a sonet of two hearts finding their rhythm in a world that sometimes forgets how to dance.

They stay there, tasting the cloying embrace for what if feels like an eternity. After stepping back with a smile plastered in both of their faces, and now, with hearts intertwined, and whispers of a promising future filling the air, they walk back inside, where their friends meet them with cheerful laughter and warm smiles.

••••

Trust. [Suzume Jiang x Nate Sewell]

Finally, a day to renovate the soul after all the tumultuous week. She is thankful that the guys could help her feel better, but the exhausting missions drained her energy.

The feeling of not having to face any other heartbreaking new, at least for this day, almost feels like it's not real. The weight of lost smiles and emotional wounds carried by her shoulders, make her tear a bit, but the gasp from the vampire brings her back from her aching thoughts.

"Oh my goodness!" Nate blurts amazed, the fragrance of oils and turpentines dancing with the intimate energy of shared secrets and silent understandings.

"Take a seat." Suzume says, the reaction sending a wave of confidence to her.

The pair sit in their respective seats, the melody of the morning avians greeting the sunrise. The room is full of paint buckets and brushes with stains of recent life, echoes of the scent of chaotic creativity curling around every nerve of the vampire.

At the center of the room, a little platform faced by an easel, a stunning landscape enriching the surface of the canvas.

"This is beautiful, Suzume," Nate says almost whispering, admiring the beautiful artwork, his breath beholding the reverence at the art before him, his hands carefully withdrawn, not daring to touch the fabric as if the pristine work could disappear. "But where are we?"

"This is where I come when I'm stressed," Suzume utters, her hand caressing the easel, a gently touch with unspoken emotions, and affection clearly wrapping around her fingers. "But it's been a long time..."

The confession hangs in the air, dancing with the scented trails of oil paints that lingered like the most tender perfume.

The vampire scans the walls with curiosity, frames of the mind of the detective, landscapes of her emotions and stunning portraits, covering each corner of the area. "I'm grateful for the trust you've placed in my hands, and for revealing to me your safe space." Nate confesses, his eyes meeting the detective's with a warm smile, a honeyed scent of fresh paint roaming the air.

Suzume chuckles and sighs, a strand of her hair falling to her face. "I want you to know me as I am," she says, a bolt of emotions sending a pleasant warmth through her chest. "This is my sanctuary."

"Your trust is my sanctuary," the vampire speaks, a swirl of emotions dancing in the depths of his gaze. "I would love to paint something with you—not just an artwork, but a masterpiece that expresses our moments shared together."

A pleasant silence settles, the faint strains of the radio from the shop next to the workshop waving at the quietness with some pop-rock tunes.

"Let me paint you." Suzume finally says, a blush spreading through her cheeks, the voice almost lost in the beat of the distant music.

Nate smirks, and approachs the platform, his eyes darkening with desire, a sentiment conveyed by a teasing smile. "That's the path you want to take?" he asks with mischief in his tone.

The detective laughs, her face almost resembling the redness of a tomato. "It's not that type of painting!"

"I don't have to take my clothes off?" he inquires a bit disappointed.

Suzume advances, her hands holding a brush like a sword hidden in her back. When she's finally close enough that she has to stretch her neck, and he's almost on top of her, she paints his face, marking it with color, a declaration of playful war. "Just stay still."

Nate bursts in laughter and nods, ready for this paint war that she just declared. "My new mission is to drench you in yellow and blue."

"What? Wait—" the detective tries to interjects, but laughter bubbles from her, echoing around the room, filling the space with whispers of happiness.

With the speed of the light, Nate takes two brushes, his lips tracing a lively smile, and takes a mocking fighting stance. "You're on!"

And so in the refuge of the soul, they painted, not just on canvas, but in the vast universe, covering the image with colors of trust, laughter and future promises.

••••

At first I just wrote about Lucibello, but I saw Suzume doesn't have any content, so even if it's not much, I wrote a tiny one shot where your detective Suzume likes to paint to destress. Hope you like it and happy new year!!!

@bitchyybabyy400

@wayhavensecretsanta

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #agent m #wayhavensecretsanta #twc detective

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