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onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which you are jungkook’s religion and he wants to be your passenger princess.

> fluff / wc: 3k

> warnings: there’s like a three second earthworm cameo lol, jk is living his best life in this bicycle date <3

note: i loved writing this + it reminded me of this drabble i suggest reading it too :( pls tell jk to stop being so cute my heart can’t handle it :( oh and imagine the current jungkook with his long hair and pretty bangs btw <3 reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated :]

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“hmm?” you hum in question when jungkook’s tattooed hand pushes up your elbow. the book you’ve been reading uncovers his head lying on your lap, acting as a paperweight for the pastel yellow summer dress adorning your figure.

“humor me, okay?”

in the midst of his pensive facade, his lips are curved into a lazy smile, almost undetectable if only you aren’t so close that you can vividly see the scar on his cheek and the texture of his honey skin. his face is a little puffy and his eyes are hazy, adorably so, courtesy of the nap he woke up from ten minutes ago.

there are scattered speckles of sunlight painted all over the two of you, in the shape of the gaps between the leaves of the tall tree supporting your back. the wind gently blows through his hair and the edges of the blue gingham picnic blanket spread out beneath you, as if the earth is sighing dreamily at the han riverside scenery.

“would you still love me if i became a worm?”

“what?”

you cover the lower half of your face with the book when a snort bluntly escapes you, and uncontrollable giggles racking your body follow soon after. they prompt the thin strap of your dress to fall off the curve of your right shoulder, and your boyfriend swiftly swoops in, slipping his index finger through it to put it back into position.

“would you still love me if i became a worm?!” he repeats the question louder in faux irritation, but he can’t conceal a toothy grin because your laughter is contagious, a melody that brings him unfathomable joy. an echo that will remind him he was once here, with you, a moment in time locked away in the palace of his most precious memories.

he grasps your wrists to his chest to confront you, and you completely lose your weakened grip on the book. unshed tears gather at the corners of your eyes as your laughter refuses to cease.

“listen- you’re cute, but i need to take the internet away from you.”

his doe eyes grow rounder, whiny voice with a lisp tugging at your heartstrings because you never not find every little thing about him painfully endearing. “baby, stop avoiding the topic. i demand honest answers!”

“of course i would! love doesn’t go away that easily!” you yield to his stubborn need to pry the answers from you. “but it depends on my mood that day, and maybe how you even became a worm in the first place? uh, i’d build you a garden and a little house. oh! and even crochet some cute little outfits for you according to the seasons, keep you warm and safe so you don’t have to hide in the soil . . .”

it’s true that you’ve been dipping your toes into crocheting nowadays, one of your works in progress being a sweater for bam in early preparation for this year’s winter. however, the stars in his eyes ignited by your sweet rambling transform into a dull glimmer of disappointment when he hears the horrifying continuation of your sentence.

“or if it’s a beauty and the beast situation and you got cursed for being bad, then i’d put you in a bucket and go fishing.”

he abruptly sits up, sending your book tumbling down on his lap and . . . you lose your page number just like that.

“fishing? fishing?! isn’t that too harsh? what happened to for better or for worse?” dumbfounded, he frantically shakes his head. “what are you going to say when bam goes looking for his daddy?!”

you tilt your head to the side, highly amused at the man who turned out to only want a sweet response from you despite spitting out the question in a joking manner.

you look at him with wide, innocent eyes. “that you went fishing?”

he pouts somberly, staring into the far distance, where the blue sky stretches endlessly. “bro, you’d expect to know somebody because you live with them and you raise a dog together.”

he heaves a dramatic sigh as he raises both arms to push his hair back, long fingers smoothly gliding across the dark locks. the sleeves of his oversized black t-shirt bunch around his shoulders to reveal more of the tattoos covering the entirety of his right arm, but then his bangs fall back into place like dominoes, and he does it all over again.

“oh, my baby. come on.” you inch closer to hug his waist, planting a kiss on his cheek before leaning your chin on his shoulder. “you’re really just going to ignore the garden and crochet part?”

he overtly ignores your words with a scoff, but he puts a hand over your interlocked ones so he won’t slip out of your embrace as he reaches out for a stick among the lush green grass. your loud gasp beside his ear makes him snicker as he scoops up the earthworm that has crawled dangerously close to his white and washed denim nike air jordans. aside from the cover of ‘the seven husbands of evelyn hugo’ hovering above his face, he was also greeted by this unwordly creature when he woke up from his nap. still sluggish as his body and brain gradually recovered to their full functions, he quietly watched it crawl around the spacious picnic blanket, half out of his mind. well, that was until he got bored.

“go- you need to go. get away from here and travel far where you won’t be found. you’re not safe in this place!” he cries out with his roleplay mode turned on, garnering a weird look from a passerby.

“that’s not far away. at all.” you remark teasingly as he gently sets it down behind the tree, less than two feet away.

“i only showed it a new direction. it can manage on its own. the lessons in life are sprinkled along the treacherous journey.” he scrunches his nose as he chuckles, placing back the stick exactly where he found it. “okay, i’m awake! let’s go ride a bike now!”

“i’m already on chapter 40, though.” you sadly mumble to yourself, having enjoyed the inner peace that enveloped you a while ago, when you finally overcame your month-long reading slump with the meditative aid of nature’s generous spring.

your arms automatically drop down to your sides when he energetically springs up in excitement. he picks up the handwoven picnic basket, opening one of the lids and pushing aside the emptied lunch boxes to safely tuck your book inside.

“baaabe, move.”

“huh?” he makes a noise of confusion when he feels the fabric get tugged underneath his feet. “oh- right, wait.”

he walks backwards at your command, allowing you to remove the rest of the picnic blanket off the grass. he patiently waits as you fold it into half, and half, and half, until it becomes small enough to fit in the basket he’s holding open.

he’s been unable to keep his eyes off you since this morning— glancing, looking, admiring your facial features and the way your eyebrows furrow in the slightest when you’re focused on a task (he doesn’t think you know this at all); down to your neck, and your chest exposed by the low square neckline of your dress. you were pouting in the car because you forgot to wear a necklace, exclaiming ‘i knew i forgot something!’ but he thinks your bare skin under the sunlight is priceless compared to gold. he loves your legs in shorts, dresses, skirts; hell, his boxers— loves how you carry yourself with grace and finesse wherever you go. past the walls he built around his heart, didn’t have to make them crumble because you are the key.

his lips have touched every inch of your body a couple million times that it has become more of a religion, putting mere familiarity into shame.

he puts down the basket on the grass after you slip the blanket inside, whispering a tender “baby, come here,” as he guides you towards the tree, pinning your back on it.

“why?” you gape at him in curiosity, hands grasping at his hips because you unconsciously trust jungkook to keep you steady more than a tree deeply rooted in the earth.

“the straps won’t stop falling off. i’ll fix it.” now that he’s speaking in a hushed tone, you can hear the roughness around the edges of his voice caused by sleep.

he deliberately towers over you to shield you from strangers’ eyes, pulling at the strings wrapped around your right shoulder to undo the ribbon sitting on top of it. he maintains a secure grip, wary of the neckline of your dress sliding further down as he makes a knot, and then another to finish off the ribbon.

you gaze at him lovingly, an affectionate smile lighting up your face. sometimes you forget how attentive your boyfriend is. you confess that you meant to tie the straps a little loosely, but you didn’t intend for them to fall off so often.

“thank you.”

he responds to your lively chirp with a kiss on the lips, your mixed berries flavored lip balm staining his. his tongue instantaneously darts out to give it a taste, the mole under his bottom lip making an appearance as he separates the straps of your tote bag from the second pair of strings.

the wind blows once more, three times stronger than the last, and jungkook tightly twists the strings around his two longest fingers as he waits for it to pass. you squeeze your eyes shut, forehead colliding with his chest to hide from the dust that could potentially blind you.

the wind eases, and he clicks his tongue as he continues fixing your dress, repeating the same steps with thoughtful precision. the back of his hands graze your skin every now and then, soft and smooth from the skincare products he smears on them to apply to his face.

“ah, this is insane. good thing we already had lunch before it got this windy.”

“i kind of love it. the earth feels so alive.”

your breath hitches when he ducks down to press a chaste kiss on where your neck and shoulder meet. the warmth of his lips contrasts the coldness of the ring pierced at the corner of his mouth. the intimate sound chimes in your ear, the sensation sending tingles to your lower abdomen.

“mhmm, know you do. you always see the good in things.” in me, the words he wants to add hang unbalanced on the tip of his tongue.

—

by the time you decide that you want to rent an electric scooter instead of a bicycle, jungkook is already paddling towards you while wheeling one by his side.

he enthusiastically shouts, “let me be the passenger princess today!”

and a wave of flashbacks from two years ago wash over you as he draws nearer— when he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into eight tortorous days of teaching you how to ride a bicycle because you forgot how to. you’d expect him to take that as a very telling sign not to ride one with you, but the man standing infront of you seems enraptured by the idea alone.

“sure, but give me a kiss first.” you bat your eyelashes coyly, and he doesn’t waste time in granting your request. he pulls your face closer by the back of your neck, lips crashing against yours for a kiss that robs the air from your lungs. and what a heavenly way to die.

“happy? or more?” he raises an eyebrow flirtatiously.

“greedy boy.” you scold him, lightly pushing his cheek to the opposite direction, and he dryly chuckles at your choice of words. fuck, you know him too well.

“you carry this, love.” you transfer the basket hanging on your forearm to his tattooed one, and your thumb briefly skims across the indents on your skin left by the pattern of the handles.

“i thought you wanted to ride one yourself, though?”

“changed my mind when i saw there’s a backseat.” he sticks out his tongue playfully, laying hold of your tote bag and putting it in the basket between the handles infront.

you roll your eyes as you climb on the seat, putting one foot on the pedal and anchoring the other on the asphalt road. you release a heavy sigh. “made myself all pretty today not knowing i’ll end up sweaty and gross.”

“aish! my butt! it hurts!” his moans and grunts of pain are accompanied by cackles as he shifts on the metal seat behind you. once he deems himself comfortable enough, he wraps his arms around your waist for . . . hopefully, obvious safety reasons. “damn, okay. there we go. i’m ready. sweep me off my feet, baby.”

you swat his hand lightly. “be careful what you wish for.”

“you’re cute when you try to be mean.” he squeezes your sides as an alternative for your cheeks.

“aren’t you scared that i might drive us off into the river? not even a little bit?!”

instead of pressuring you into not making an uncalculated mistake, he simply says “so what? i can swim.”

—

“shit, shit, shit! i feel like i’m falling! b-babe- are you doing this on purpose now?!” jungkook erupts into another fit of childlike giggles and high-pitched squeals as you glide across a curve and the bicycle tilts slightly to the side. your hips occassionally rises from the seat so you can push down at the pedals with more effort, spurring moments of him loosely clinging to you.

“maybe? you enjoy stuff like this!” you grin mischievously to yourself.

his long legs are starting to feel sore from having to keep them lifted off the ground, but this is infinitely better than putting them on either side of the bicycle and risking the possibility of getting his balls smushed. besides, he is enamored by the fact that he is face-to-face with the perfect view of the dancing trees, the babbling river, and the bustling city life on the opposite side.

he taps the circle button on his phone screen to end the panorama, swiping to the left to switch to a video. he allows the camera to capture the rest of the beautiful scenery before flipping it to the front.

“i’m having so much fun! i’m never sitting at the front of the bike again- never!” he yells at the reflection of himself, hair covering almost his entire face. the sight makes him laugh heartily. “ay, i look ridiculous with the wind slapping my face. fuck, what is this? my hair- it’s driving me crazy-”

he aggressively shakes his head to get them out of the way, regretting not tying up his hair before you took off.

“then what about me?! i’m fighting against it!” you yell back, squinted eyes persevering the ruthless gusts of wind. the only difference is that you can feel it sweeping through your hair, through your dress, as if you’re soaring and you’re free, not running away but heading somewhere.

“but you’re going to enjoy it when we go back and it’s behind you! trust me!”

this is the first time jungkook is the bicycle passenger since god knows when. he doesn’t remember it being this marvelous, thrilling in its most wholesome form. meanwhile, this is the first time you’re riding a bicycle with a passenger. perhaps you made the same mistake you kept on making two years ago: kicking your feet as if you’re in a race, thinking speed equals to balance. he had to remind you to calm down, slow down, stop looking down all over again. that was at the first minute. your anxieties have been long gone, quelled by your boyfriend’s sheer delight radiating for miles and miles. his happiness is a bubble expanding in size as the wind blows relentlessly.

his phone is returned to the confines of his deep pocket after he deems himself satisfied with the memories he recorded in the device. he properly hugs your waist again, resting his head on the expanse of your back, thin cotton against the apple of his cheek. his heavy eyelids flutter shut. he breathes in, chest rising and pushing against the tough handles of the basket hanging pretty on his forearm, and he breathes out. with his sense of sight idle, it almost feels like you’re flying him to outer space.

“jungkook, you better not fall asleep there. i’m serious.” you sternly remind him, panic meter going up when you notice more of his weight gradually limping against yours.

“yah! you- i love you; i won’t do that to you. don’t be scared.” he chuckles, heart swelling with fondness for the concern lacing your voice.

you melt at his charming reassurance. “i love you too.”

“nyam.”

“did you just bite me?” you whip your head to the back in suspicion when you feel a faint sting blossoming on your shoulder.

he innocently looks at the bite mark he left on your skin, and when he tilts up his chin to catch a glimpse of your face, your eyes have already refocused on the bicycle path. ”i did . . . you taste like what i imagine the sunshine would taste.”

“is that a good thing?”

“yeah, good. like honey.”

“thank my body wash for that.” you giggle, and jungkook yearns to see your face, but he shall marvel at the rows of pink and white flowers approaching ahead in the meantime.

“no, that’s not it.” a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he corrects you in a voice so soft it almost breaks. “it’s you. just you.”

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taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added or removed :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts reaction #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 1 month

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What do you think Katniss and Peeta’s unexpected turn ons are? Like a small innocent thing about the other that drives them wild just because they really love them so much? And makes the other one go “really? 😉”

This was way too much fun to answer and got out of hand. I could probably think up a thousand more of these if I had the time.

<3 kdnfb

Canonically, Peeta cannot lie to Katniss and look her in the eyes. When she figures out that he still can’t post-mj, she uses it to her advantage. She can always tell when he’s trying to fib his way out of accidentally revealing an innocuous secret or a surprise he’s planning, like what he’s getting her for her birthday. And it drives her a little insane. Like “either look me in the eyes when you try to lie to me or take me to bed right now, since you won’t give me my present right now.”

Katniss is a consummate caretaker, to an almost annoying degree. Fortunately for her, she husbanded someone with a caretaker kink. That boy was dying of blood poisoning, raging with fever in a deathmatch arena, and he was still laying down the lines and making her laugh. Every time she fusses over him or bosses him around when he’s got a minor injury or just a little sniffling cold, that man is in full on flirt mode and dragging her into bed with him. “I’ve got a surefire way you can make me feel better.” “If we have sex, will you stop whining and get up so I can wash the sheets afterwards?” she sighs in exasperation as she’s stripping off her clothes and crawling under the covers with him.

Meanwhile, Katniss goes feral whenever Peeta gets a little protective of her. Some whackadoo from the Capitol comes out to Twelve to check on the progress of the new medicine factory and brings a limousine with him on the train, but the roads in Twelve are not made for cars like that and the idiot almost runs people over. So of course, Peeta wraps his arm around his wife and bodily lifts her out of the path. One second she’s walking through town, reciting her shopping list, the next she’s pressed up against a storefront with Peeta’s body caging her in and some idiot driver is careening past, honking his horn. And if you think Katniss doesn’t almost climb him right there and he has to toss her over his shoulder to drag her home before she tears his clothes off, I cannot help you.

Both of them become unhinged morons whenever the other one is a complete mess.

By this I mean Katniss comes in from tending the garden, her shirt all sweaty and clinging to her. Her hair’s a mess and she’s got a little sunburn on her nose and cheeks and Peeta’s already naked, demanding she take him on the spot.

Similar response when she comes home a little disheveled from a hunt. “At least let me put the meat in the freezer first, Peeta.” Nope. She gets railed up against said freezer and can’t keep a straight face when they have to invite Haymitch over to eat all this meat because they had to cook it immediately after or it would’ve gone bad.

Peeta starts coming home from the bakery deliberately a little messy. Flour in his hair, sugar stuck to his neck. A random smear of frosting on his arm. Why? Because Katniss starts squirming the instant she sees him and honestly, he really likes it when she mounts him in the hallway because she couldn’t make it the five extra feet to the bedroom.

He’s lost count of how many times they’ve had sex because he didn’t get all the paint washed off his hands before a meal or before bed. And he almost never notices the smear of paint or pencil dust that winds up on his left temple because he brushed back his hair at some point while he was painting/drawing and why is that so hot? She has no clue, all she knows is that she wants to bathe in him. Usually, she manages to wait a little while for that one, mainly because she wants to see what he was painting before she jumps him. What he was painting often dictates the flavor of their sex.

He doesn’t paint the Games as much, after the first time she tells him “Real,” but when he does, the sex is tender and usually happens in the art studio itself, on a paint splattered sofa or on the floor, rolling around on his floor tarps so that both of them are smeared with paint afterwards.

If he’s painting her or other people that they love, they’ll make it up to the bedroom before clothes start flying, laughing and teasing each other the entire way. Katniss will be laughing so hard she snorts while she’s moaning and coming at the same time. Peeta lives to make her snort laughing while she’s coming, btw. Huge turn on, switch flipped to feral mode as soon as she's done coming, and Katniss feels like she won’t be able to walk straight for a day after he finishes inside her.

He uses her as a canvas? Well eventually he's gonna wind up covered in paint too. They go until the paint starts to dry and by then, they're sleepy and content and can barely move anymore.

Painting landscapes and nature scenes? Absolutely feral pig sex where the neighbors worry about them and ask each other if they should… knock? Make sure everyone is still alive in there? Katniss really can’t walk straight for a day after that, but she’s not complaining. Instead she’s demanding her husband carry her around, because he did that to her, after all.

Sadly for Katniss, Peeta carrying her around is something she absolutely loves for the tenderness and silliness of it, but also at times it turns her into a raving madwoman "take me to bed and throw me on it then fuck me this instant before I pull out all my hair, husband!"

And ho buddy, when the two of them come home all sweaty and gross from rebuilding the district? Round one on the floor in the entryway. Round two with skin squealing on shower walls and borderline screaming moans echoing off the bathroom walls. Hair pulling, biting, clawing sex. Let me inside your skin, ten minutes later we’re still actively sweating well damn it that shower was fucking pointless in terms of getting clean sex.

Katniss eats her pie backwards, crust first and Peeta doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he thinks it’s adorable and needs to have her instantly. Haymitch wonders why he no longer gets pie on nights when he eats dinner with them. There’s always dessert… but no pie. So Peeta starts baking Haymitch his own pies and dropping them off, because he’s not giving up his absolute need to toss Katniss on the table and eat her out like he’s a dying man whenever she eats her pie like that.

Peeta looks like he’s solving all of the world’s problems when he’s brushing his teeth. So serious. Sometimes, Katniss will throw small objects at his prosthetic until he notices and giggles when he does, looking at her like she’s an annoying brat. Sometimes, she sneaks up behind him and makes faces at him over his shoulder until he laughs and spits out the toothpaste. Other times, her hands on him are incredibly naughty and the next thing he knows, he looks like a rabid animal in the mirror while he’s bent over the sink, holding on for dear life with her hands on his dick, unraveling him one caress and stroke at a time. But whatever she does, it ends with their sheets an absolute wreck and both of them naked and sweaty and staring at the ceiling going “Wow. So that… happened…”

Katniss bites her nails when she’s nervous and Peeta fixes it by snatching her hand and kissing her from her fingertips up her arms to her neck… where he blows a raspberry until she’s laughing. Do smutty things happen after that? Depends on the setting.

Peeta still flirts with her. Like blatantly, let's see how red I can get my wife’s face flirting with her over the bakery counter or in the town square, in front of literally everyone’s salad. And Katniss just melts like a loon but is secretly plotting how to get him naked asap. She’s not against throwing him against the nearest tree if only there weren’t so many people in the district. Oh but she’s absolutely savaged him against several trees in the woods because he was flirting.

Peeta whistles when he’s working in the bakery. Katniss thinks it’s adorable and sexy as hell. She sings in the shower and Peeta never misses the show, sitting on the toilet or just standing against the sink just to hear her sing. It’s the only time he manages to move silently.

Katniss cannot keep her hands out of Peeta’s hair. Girl is obsessed. And Peeta finds it at turns, adorable, adorably annoying, a mild turn on, or holy hell hot. Like “pull my hair again when I make you come” hot. Conversely, she absolutely loves it when Peeta brushes and braids her hair for her. He’s trying to have a tender, loving moment, and she’s often “are you done yet because as soon as that hair tie is on, i’m gonna be all over you.”

Both of them absolutely love it when the other one laughs. It’s not always a turn on, per se, but when it is… lord have mercy they broke a whole ass bed one time because Peeta laughed at something Katniss said.

Peeta wearing loose, soft pajama pants or the like. Katniss is all hot and bothered and “i’m not that big you can definitely fit me in there with you…” Peeta looks at her like she’s lost it, but they actually do try it once or twice. Numerous pairs of pants have been ripped and sewn back together in this pursuit, and not because she couldn’t fit in there with him.

He’s long since accepted that if they’re dressing up for some occasion, he has to get dressed two hours early. To give Katniss enough time to rip it all off and have her way with him and still have time for them to shower and get dressed again so they’re not late.

Anytime Katniss wears one of his shirts, sweaters, etc, he’s pretty sure he’s going to die unless he gets his mouth or hands on her and then his cock inside her because half the time, she’s not wearing a bra or pants with them, just panties, and he just… has to have her. NOW. While said garment is still on her body. Especially a particular red sweater he was wearing the day they had sex the first time and she wore it the morning after.

She absolutely has a sunset orange nightie that nearly gets removed (or not removed) every time she wears it, but removed or not… either way, Katniss can’t feel her toes after Peeta makes her come as many times as he can whenever she wears it.

#well aren't you a spicy anon #post mockingjay #everlark #anonymous #look at that ask

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lalachat · 6 months

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"And there you were..."

Author's note: WITERLLY WHAT THE HECK GUYS!!! You have made my heart so full! Almost 100 notes in under 24 hours😭❤️ yall gon make me cry! I am truly and utterly grateful that y'all are liking it so far! I'm a little insecure with my writing, but it's only because i'm so new. I am open to any kind of advice you can give me or constructive criticism that will help make this fic better for you readers. With practice comes improvement!! Also, look i'm evolving with my tumbler knowledge and added dividers, a tag list, and a masterlist that i hope works! Look at me go😭🤧 ANYWHOOOO... are y'all ready for this one?? I fully planned on posting this next week but i'm too freaking excited! Eheheheh writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet! Enjoy my loves<3

Summary: You and Lucien decided to leave Rita's after discovering your mates kissing each other. With no reason to stay, Lucien offers you the comfort of his home and a glass of your favorite wine to help decompress the stress of both your mates. How could you say no?

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: usage of profanity, sexual tension growing between Lucien and y/n, some fluff bc why not, sharing a bed, potential grammar and spelling issues

Word Count: around 3,350

Chapter 2: "Scream my name..."

As you and Lucien walked out of Rita’s, neither of you had noticed two pairs of eyes lingering watching you both leave after they heard Rhys’ commotion questioning Mor into oblivion about what the hell was going on. Mor had almost smirked at the fact that all it took was for you and Lucien to leave together to make Az and Elain both glance at y’alls receding figures. If it weren't for Rhysand in her face, she well would have. Even as Rhys is trying to get her to talk, she could not wait to tell you the plan had worked! Even if it was just a glance, it was still something! Small progress is still progress, right? Oh, she wishes she could have Feyre paint their reactions to you two leaving because it was priceless. Maybe Mor would and give it to you for solstice? But for now, she has a very upset cousin to deal with.

You and Lucien stopped at a local market to grab snacks and your favorite wine for your impromptu evening at his apartment. As you walk out of the market towards his place, Lucien can’t help but to ask about Azriel.

“So... The shadowsinger is your mate huh?” Lucien asks while tucking his hands in his front pockets glancing to your face as he asked you his question.

“Yeah... When I first met Az, it was when Rhys had offered me a room to stay in for a night. Rhys and I had quite literally run into each other a moment prior. I was traveling through the night court and was so distracted by the beauty that I ended up running right into Rhysand. I had knocked his freshly bought paint that he was planning to give Feyre all over us. I felt so bad that I kept offering to pay him for the cost of the paint along with his clothes, but he kindly refused. I had no mental shields back then, so he easily saw I was a nomadic traveler that had no place to stay or wash up. He offered me a room in his home for a night and a training over mental shields as payment, and I kindly accepted. I hadn't had a nice place to stay in such a long time. But, little did I know it would not be my peace and that my mate lived in the home I was about to stay at.” you said as you walked in tandem with Lucien down the streets towards his apartment.

“Always so generous that high lord. And, I assume you know who my mate is then?”

“That he is. And yes, I do. If you don’t mind me asking, why doesn’t she want the bond?”

“The same reason your mate doesn’t see yours... She’s too busy being enamored by him to try and pursue or explore things with me.” He finds a rock on the pavement to kick along as you two walk. Lucien kicks it towards you.

“At least she knows you’re her mate.” you shrug, kick the rock back, and Lucien chuckles.

“You have a point, and Azriel would know if you would just tell him.”

“Yeah, but would it change anything between us? Probably not. It would most likely end up like you and Elain if I told him...” Lucien stops and goes silent for a moment. “No offense of course!”

“None taken. How did we even end up in this mess? You and I both having mates who do not reciprocate any kind of feelings toward us because they like each other is almost ironic.” He laughs at this situation you are both in.

“You know now that you're saying it out loud, it is quite ridiculous.” You giggle. For a moment you had completely forgotten about Azriel and Elain. Lucien once again, being so alluring that you forgotten what you had just seen at Rita’s.

Lucien glances at you and finally takes in your appearance. Your cheeks start to turn rosy at the sight of his eyes trailing over your body. Your dress still leaving little imagination for Lucien. Your body grows hot from the sudden attention.

“He’s absolutely dumb as rocks for not looking at you tonight, because you look ravishing.” and gives you a playful wink.

“Lucien you're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Y/n I kid you not, I truly mean it. You are one of the most beautiful females I have ever seen!”

“Thank you Lucien, that means so much more to me than you will ever know,” as you look into his eyes and smile at him. He stares at you, smiles and dips his head to say you're welcome before continuing.

“Almost there, it is right around this corner.”

“Perfect, because I am freezing and in dire of more alcohol. I am too sober for all this emotional shit,” you say as Lucien laughs at your comment and you both turn the corner.

“And we're here! Home sweet home!”

You walk into his apartment and your senses are engulfed by the smell of cinnamon sticks, crisp apples, cedarwood, and roasted chestnuts. It felt like home. Everything in his apartment felt so warm and welcoming. You sat down the groceries you had gotten on the center table near the living room couch, and slowly took in his décor. You were surprised everything looked so coordinated. His apartment was filled with warm colors like reds, oranges, and yellows. It reminded you of your brief stay in the autumn court. You wondered if that’s why Lucien decorated it this way. Maybe he had found a sense of belonging in those colors. While you were taking in his apartment, you hadn’t noticed him grabbing you a change of clothes to wear along with a warm woolly blanket.

“Here, these are for you to change into, and this is for you when you get cold later because I know you,” Lucien handed you the clothes and sat the blanket down on the couch. “The bathroom is through the hall on your left! Let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay, thank you!”

You started walking to the bathroom, the floor creaking beneath your feet as you opened the door. You stepped inside and quietly shut the door. You could hear Lucien in the kitchen popping the bottle of wine and pouring you both glasses, but what you forgot to realize is how you were going to take this dress off. After Mor’s last minute dress change, you had to call Nuala and Cerridwen to help you into it. You had not thought about how you were going to get it off. You slightly began to panic. “It’s okay... you can do this. It’s just a dress, can't be that hard right?” You tried to maneuver your arms into reaching the back of your dress but to no avail, Mor had to pick the most complicated thing you have ever seen. She was right though, this dress did look hot as fuck on you. You struggled a few times more before huffing and giving up. So, you had to do what you had to do...

“LUCIEN, I NEED HELP!” You could practically hear him sprinting down the hall to get to you in the bathroom. Without thinking he pushes the door wide open.

“WHAT IS IT? Are you alright?” His face scans you for any kind of injuries but finds none. The only thing he finds is you still in that damn dress that drove him crazy. “Why are you not in the clothes I gave you?”

“First of all, I could have been indecent. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock! Secondly, you see, as a male you would not understand this predicament, but I cannot get my dress off by myself. I need help unfortunately... I swear this is all Mor’s fault!”

Cauldron boil him... “So, you mean to tell me, you screamed my name to help you with your dress because you cannot do it yourself?”

“Yes...” you can hear Lucien sigh.

“There are much better ways to scream my name y/n and you know that but for the sake that you are quite literally stuck in that dress, I’ll help you. Turn around.” Your face turns hot at his comment, and you swat at his arm.

“LUCIEN! This is not funny!” he can't help but chuckle at your flustered state.

“Okay, okay, you being stuck in a dress is not funny. Got it! Now stop being stubborn and turn around so I can help.”

“No, wait! You have to close your eyes!”

“Y/n, how am I supposed to help you with your dress if I cannot see? Besides you act like I haven't seen you naked.” Again, your face betrays you as your cheeks turn bright red at the thought. You huff.

“Fine, okay you can keep your eyes open but no funny business Mr. Vanserra. I am watching you!” Lucien chuckles at how flustered he had made you and he is living for it.

You slowly turn your back to him and lock eyes with him through the bathroom mirror. Lucien takes the back of his knuckles and traces them delicately down the skin of your spine, almost like if you were made of glass and that you'd break at the slightest touch. His hand radiates so much warmth you must stop yourself from letting out a couple of sighs. The entire time he does this his eyes do not leave from yours through the mirror. His hand finally reaches the back of your dress, and he looks away to start undoing the claps. Thank the mother because his stare was driving you crazy. Each clasp he undoes, he makes sure to take his sweet time on. He doesn't miss the way your skin crawls with goosebumps at the slightest touch of his hands against your back. Gods, you had missed his fiery touch. It had felt like forever since he last touched you.

You slowly felt the dress getting heavier with each clasp undone. You could tell Lucien was near the end when your dress had almost slipped off your chest threatening to expose your naked breasts to him. Luckily, Lucien was too preoccupied to have noticed you trying to regather it back up for coverage. You couldn’t help but to selfishly think about turning around to look at him as your dress falls to the floor. Heat slowly began to warm your lower abdomen. You had to clench your thighs together in hope of Lucien not catching your growing scent of arousal. What would Lucien do to you if you did that? Would he pin you against the sink and truly make you scream his name? Gods you wished. Just then you caught a whiff of your scent. Damn your mind and body for betraying you! You were so worried about Lucien this whole time, when you should've been worrying about yourself. However, you decide that this is probably not the time to be thinking about such lewd things after what happened with Az.

As he was on the last clasp, Lucien couldn’t help catching your lingering scent in the air. You were going to be the death of him. He kisses the newly exposed skin of your back as his scent starts to slightly change and mix in with yours. Your head fell back as your eyes closed in anticipation. His eyes had wandered back to the mirror to see your eyes shut reeling in his touch as he peppered kisses up and down your spine. He marveled at this moment for a brief second before unclasping the last clasp of your dress. Your eyes met his as the last clasp was undone, and you let your dress pool to the floor as a test of restraint. For you or him, you didn’t know which. He held you gaze for a moment, never looking away from your eyes, before ghosting his lips on the nape of your neck.

“All done...” he whispered as he slowly turned around, shut the door, and walked away back to the kitchen. Cruel wicked male.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to recompose yourself. Gods would drinking more wine be safe anymore after what just happened? You sighed and you picked your dress up off the floor and folded it as nicely as you could. You grabbed the clothes Lucien had given you to change into and started putting them on. Immediately you are swallowed by the musk of Lucien's clothes. It is almost overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that you loved the smell of the autumn court male.

You laughed at yourself in the mirror as you looked and saw his t hanging so loose on you, it was practically a dress. But let's be honest, you loved it. You slowly opened the bathroom door and made your way out with your former dress folded nicely in your hands. You sat your dress down on the table and turned towards Lucien with a smile.

“So... how do I look?” and give him a twirl. Lucien looks at you and smiles. Gods, you looked even better in his clothes than in that dress but he wasn’t about to give in that easily.

“Like a little boy.” Lucien said with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!” as you shake a finger at his face. He laughs.

“Fine... You look like a very cute little boy!” he says grinning from ear to ear loving the effects his teasing was having on you tonight. You instead stick out your tongue and give him that all too well known finger gesture. He is practically hurled over in laughter, but you just huff and plop yourself on his couch.

“Be useful and get this “cute little boy” more wine! I'm definitely too sober now.” He laughs again and it warms your chest. You cant help but to grin back.

“Are you sure you can drink wine? You look a little young to be drinking such adult drinks” as he grabs the wine glasses along with the bottle for refills later.

“LUCIEN, I WILL STRANGLE YOU IF I HEAR ONE MORE LITTLE BOY JOKE!”

“Okay, okay. Here’s your wine doll.” He hands you your glass with a smile, “You actually look even more beautiful now that you’re in my clothes.” As he sends you a wink before sipping some of his wine.

“Thank you...” you smile as you take a sip from your own glass.

“So, other than your mate being an enigma to you, what else has happened since I saw you last?” you both get comfy on the couch and sip on your wine.

You had failed to realize how long you and Lucien were apart. You told him about your travels through all the different courts, and he told you about his part in the war along with how he became a part of the night court. You both sat there and exchanged every story you could possibly think of, trying to catch up on every moment you missed together. Soon the stories turn into giggling. Neither of you could hold it together as one of you would say something slurred and the other could cry out in laughter. It was the wine-speaking now, but neither of you had minded. You both had forgotten what it was like to be in each other's presence. It was nice to rekindle old flames with your friend, but you had to be careful. Recatching old feelings would not be good for you with this whole Azriel situation. You looked out the corner of your eye to see Lucien trying to fight off a yawn.

“Oh, don't tell me my lil fox boy has grown tired of me?” as you slightly pinch his cheeks. He grins as he sees you also fighting off your own tiredness.

“Mmmm seems like my yawns are contagious then, because I could’ve sworn I saw you do one just now.” he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Okay, maybe I did. All this catching up and wine drinking has made me sleepy.” You decide to grab the blanket Lucien sat on the couch for you earlier this evening.

“I don’t blame you... Now if you excuse me, I am going to go change into something more comfortable, these clothes are killing me, and then we will call it a night.” he says as he sticks a finger in his collared shirt to loosen the neck and walks off still in the clothes he wore at Rita’s. You chuckle at his figure walking down the hallway to what you would assume to be his room. You don’t know how long he was in there, but you couldn’t wait any longer. Your eyes were too heavy, and you were too drunk to stop your movements down the hallway towards where Lucien disappeared. You find the door he dipped into and see it is cracked a smidge. You decide to knock, unlike Lucien earlier.

“Hey Lu? Can I come in?” No answer. “Lucien I’m really tired and I don’t know where you want me to sleep...” you slowly push the door open but put too much weight on it and tumble forward into his room. Unlike your knocking, Lucien heard you tumble and was at your side to catch you in a heartbeat. You let out a laugh. “Oh, I'm too drunk for this shit... I'm sorry, I only came here too-” you look up to see him in gray sweat pants, hair loose, and no shirt. Mother blessed this man too much! Oh fuck. Get me out of here.

“Y/n, you were saying something?” He looks down at you with mischief in his eyes knowing you couldn’t keep yours off his bare chest and gray sweatpants. Your eyes blink rapidly, and you shake your head trying to get that image out your mind but its seared its way in.

“Oh yes. I was just- um, why did I- OH! Where do you want me to sleep? I’m like minutes away from passing out on the damn floor!” Lucien laughs.

“You can sleep in here, and I can stay on the couch for tonight. Is that alright?”

“This is your bed and home Lucien. I can't let you sleep on the couch as I take your bed... it just feels wrong. I'll take the couch and you can keep your bed for tonight.” you say as you turn around to head back into the living room before you feel Lucien's hand around your waist stopping you.

“Y/n I swear to the mother, do not be stubborn and take the damn bed please. It’s too late for this, I promise you it’s okay! I insist.”

“I guess old habits never die. Always trying to get me in your bed Lu.” you smirk as you crawl in and wrap up in his silk auburn sheets. You thought his house and clothes smelled nice, but his sheets, his sheets were heavenly. You almost fell asleep then and there because it was so calming. Lucien walks over to you and kisses you on the forehead.

“Goodnight doll, I am truly sorry for your mates behavior tonight. Sleep well...” He turns around, turns out the lights, and is about to walk out the door but hesitates as he hears you say--

“Lucien wait-”

“Yes?”

“We’re both adults here, right?”

“Well one of us looks like a little boy, but yes. Why?” Lucien replied. You rolled your eyes at his playful remark from earlier.

“Adults can share a bed, and nothing has to happen.”

“Y/n are you saying you want me to sleep next to you?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” you sigh.

“Always so persuasive... scoot over.” You open the sheets and scoot over in the bed to make room for Lucien. You feel the bed dip down as he crawls in. You both lay there for a moment reeling in that you two are sharing a bed again. The only difference is now the lingering heartbreak you both feel from your mates. You turn around to face Lucien and ask-

“Can I lay on your chest?” He doesn’t verbally respond but wraps his hands around your waist and softly pulls you closer to him. You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, and look up at his face. You tuck a couple of stray hairs that had fallen in his face and tuck them behind his ears and say, “Thank you for tonight, Lucien. Elain is so lucky to have you, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Thank you doll, neither does Azriel. Now let's get some much needed rest. Goodnight,” said Lucien.

“Goodnight Lu,” as you rest your hand on his bare chest next to your head and you feel Lucien's arms tighten around you. You can't help but to feel so at peace in his presence, and neither can he, as you both fell asleep holding each other all night.

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Tags:

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izanazqueen · 1 year

Text

.manjiro sano fem x reader

a/n: was hit with insomnia mixed with a little manjiro brainrot last night after staring at too many images of him before bed that brought the inspo for this piece. mikey is so precious i just had to get this out of my mind when it came up.*⋆.✩

warn: NSFW 18+mentions- use of pet names // intercorse // smut // public sex //

.boyfriend manjiro that you can visually tell is obviously pleased by seeing you squirt and cum on his dick in the bathroom of his favorite ramen restaurant after one of his officers meetings. your head spinning, in a tizzy you felt elated as he purred, 'baby, wanna hear you moan for me.' your heart lept feverishly at his words, ' 'jiro, ..ssh, not here!' shocked at his sudden boldness you murmured softly as you could despite attempting to in that moment not make any one aware of the lewd, wet noises that were coming from the stall where mikey was railing you thoroughly.

it was late one evening when you and your boyfriend and the other captains from toman decided to go celebrate with a few drinks ever since they won the most recent battle they'd fought and you figured that you would invite them out after their meeting ended because they all had really deserved to unwind and have a fun night. pretty much every member was excited to go to their favorite local food destination that they got to visit sometimes, and your bf manjiro was no exception.

you however were ecstatic, seeing as it had been the first time in weeks since you could go out on a date together thanks to how occupied he always was with being the boss of the most elite biker gang around lately but he feels you honestly do understand him. he makes you aware of all the things that go on with them and you know all of what he does to maintain his position which over the time that you've spent together you really learned what it means to be in a relationship with the fearless leader of the tokyo manji gang.

they decided to challenge each other to a drinking competition based off a game played with a regular deck of cards that you had recognized and been somewhat familiar with from your childhood. while the evening progressed, you noticed how all around you everyone was laughing more and getting tipsy from the copious amount of booze they were taking in from playing the adult rendition of the kids game.

about 45 minutes in you began to feel a little buzz from your overly sweetened cocktail you were idly nursing that mikey happily picked out for you when you arrived and it left a tingling feeling in your mouth making your lips pucker whenever you took a sip of it. after almost getting to the bottom, the drink was really beginning to mess with your vision so glancing up after who knows how long you found your blonde haired partner positively beaming with the biggest smile painted on his face looking over at you and it felt as if your body would melt away. if you were being completely honest mikey had a strange kind of twisted spell over your mind and definitely your body. he was your muse and couldn't allow yourself to ever find doubt in him.

when both of you were first introduced he was always nervous and so shy. in the beginning, if you came around the group he would be so fussy with every little thing down to the last detail wanting it to be perfect when you were with him. he would always make the cutest faces when ever you would catch him sometimes from a distance admiring you when he thought you wouldn't notice him. the first time you showed up after a small afternoon gathering for toman, he didn't have any clue who you were just that you were one of chifuyu's classmates that he would bring up sometimes in conversations once in a while to hint at a possible hookup between you two (and later you couldn't have thanked him enough♡)

leaning in, he crashed lightly with his clumsy drunken lips against your earlobe and you could hear he was breathless. 'need you baby, right now..' he pulsed into you intently as he was fixated, deeply inhaling your scent. you could feel his heat rising in a place from where he had discreetly placed your hand over his member that was madly aching under you beneath the table. his stiff grasp against your thigh tightened every time he saw you smile at one of his friends jokes and when you noticed it, you turned and saw the rosy flush that had spred over his cheeks from the few drinks he had. you thought about how his face was so sexy, filled with adoration for you that you'd cum on the spot. though the moment when he started pawing up your skirt and eyeing you hopefully, you knew that would get what you desired.

after you gave him a subtle nod to confirm, nothing could prepare you for the way he basically flew towards the bathrooms with you in hand to 'use' the restroom when you caught sight of the other captains all looking subtly amused, some shaking their heads as they saw your noticeably aroused lover urgently lead you away from the table to some where he could be alone with you, unable to contain himself any longer as you tried to kindly excuse yourselves.

he was so needy and simply couldnt wait to fill you up, knowing how his unit fit so well inside you as he shoved your pretty skirt on the petal pink dress you were wearing to the side and forced apart your ever wanting thighs while you waited there, begging him to penetrate you. he entered and as he did his ebony irises watched quietly making sure that he got up in you without hurting you but still deeply inside enough for him to hear you hum knowing how much you loved when he forced himself all the way in.

the cold steel on your back from the metal divider of the bathroom stall felt jarring against your skin startling your body in sharp comparison to the pleasure he was sending flowing through you. you'd wished that you could both be at home right now in an actual bed, where you could really ride and fuck him with passion. also because of the fact that it's his favorite position to see you in, naked on top of him pleasing yourself with his dick as he pumps up into you while he eagerly watches your display, completely mesmerized.

he bit his teeth down, sucking on the small exposed part of your chest from the dress you had on, leaving his personal love notes that were so tender it made you mewl in his praise. he saw as you tried holding your hand over your mouth and giggled at the combination of how cute you looked in that moment and the feeling of your fluids running down his shaft that was pulsing, preparing him for what he was looking to achieve to you all along.

his thrusts he was putting up in your cervix had you on the edge of tears and when he noticed how you were in ecstacy, mumbling his name he quipped into your ear, 'mm, s' good baby.. cum for me.' while pumping his cock without remorse until you felt like you were going to break 'ah,m-manjiro!' your small plea escaped as natural as the air you breathe. there was no stopping yourself as you called out the name of your beloved who'd give you anything you desired especially the climax you were chasing that you so craved.

the two of you had lost control at around the same time when you heard both draken and baji's voices as they came in the bathroom to take a leak. they were mid conversation as you attempted to hold his body close to yours, in vain to silence the filthy sounds leaving your bodies in the stall that you both resigned, since mikey refused to listen to your desperate hushes and kept burying his dick inside of you, bouncing in and out of your folds that were so wet from how gratifying he was.

'i love you babe♥︎.' he hummed on your ear smugly as he stared up at you with a small satisfied grin before snuggling his face in your neck, leaving your heart in a frenzy from how his soft skin felt touching on yours. his bulging tip found your sweet spot and it took all of your power not to yelp out in relief as you started to spill your juices all over his cock again as you heard him exclaim ' just like that for me, ..m' gonna cum too bab- '

the hushed faint laughter quickly exited the wash room area and you heard the door close behind them. 'heh, shit think they heard us?' he smiled at you while still chasing his release. 'no, duh manjiro you are always so loud.' you quirked at him. '..mm sorry darling.' he proudly almost sang, pulling you closely as he brought his lips, pressing them against yours while pushing his tongue inside and swirling it around tempting you to play with his too. if there was one thing, he could care less about what his crew mates opinion of him was cause they knew at the end of the day that he was the one that they answered to. in that moment you could have cared less either, you were focused on only him.

lifting you up by your hips, manjiro felt his body getting closer to his limit and at the point he was at he felt when his knees started to shake slightly as he fucked up in you with devotion. you'd felt your third release start to come on and he left you in sheer bliss from how good he was using his unit to work your insides. you could feel the tight knot around your abdomen begin to unwind and with such intensity that you started to sob, 'm-manjiro fuck, i love you!' as you came crazily again with charisma.

his onyx eyes started to sparkle at the sincerity and fondness in your words and how truly he felt you meant them for him and he began whining your name as he started to release, quickly pulling out his cock soaked with your juices before any of his could spill up inside. 'fuc-' he breathlessly spoke after a moment, unable to manage finishing his thought let alone get a single other word out. your body slowly regaining what was some form of consciousness, hoisted yourself up with what little strength had came back to you, as you affectionately made out lazily while you both tried to recover your energy.

you knew in that moment, that you loved manjiro sano more than any one or thing else and you would do absolutely anything for him, cause we all know that mikey gets what mikey wants, no matter what or when he wants it.

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

Text

ㅤCatch me if you can, working on my tan, Salvatore.

The summer's wild and I've been waiting for you, all this time, I adore you, can't you see you’re meant for me?

∴pairing: Sugar Daddy!Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

∴warnings and notes: age gap, reader is 20+ but her age isn’t mencioned, smut. Inspired by Salvatore from Lana Del Rey.

The first time you saw him was at an exhibition at the Targaryen foundation, which depicted life in Old Valyria. He was magnetic, intense and almost too attractive. Truly inaccessible, you thought, however, life wanted to positively surprise you with the opposite of that. You weren't used to going to sophisticated places, although you were a girl with expensive and demanding tastes, so when your friend invited you to the event your heart almost jumped out of your mouth. It was so exciting to be among such a select few of New York's elite, you could almost relax for a moment. Almost.

Underneath the subtle makeup and cheap clothes — perfectly chosen for the occasion —you were scared. Not out of fear of discovering your humble nature, after all that never embarrassed you, but fear of rejection, of the superb and elitist look in your direction, fear of humiliation by unhappy and mean people. At the start of the exhibition your figure stood alongside your friend and her friend, Aegon Targaryen, a fully representative specimen of the rich fuckboy stereotype — at least he was funny. However, as the evening progressed and people became more relaxed, you assumed you could move around and mingle with less tension around people. You've talked to some of the Targaryen/Velaryon youths closer to your age. Two of them, Jacaerys and Daeron were genuinely adorable and even a little flirtatious, which made you slyly recoil upon realizing their interest.

In this way, finding yourself in a corridor away from the small crowd, you began to contemplate some paintings placed on the wall that didn’t belong to the exhibition. One of them caught your attention and captured you for a long time, it was a night city in a cyberpunk aesthetic in the shape of the upper part of a male silhouette. You've never seen anything like that.

"Do you like it?" A male voice asked very close to you, on your side actually.

And then he appeared. Tall, thin, short hair, with a discreet smile.

“Uh, I'm not a big art connoisseur, but I appreciate a beautiful painting,” you said.

“And what do you think of this one?”

You returned to contemplate the painting again, before replying: “I like the futuristic aesthetic. It's aggressive, rowdy and intimidating, it reminds me of works like Altered Carbon, it's chaotic and dark and I can't stop admiring it. I don't really know if it's futuristic at all, but it resembles me. I think it was my favorite so far.”

He didn't hide his satisfied expression upon hearing your opinion, looking away from his handsome face to the screen in question.

“The reference was a troubled phase of my youth, I spent nights awake in galleries in downtown New York, Chicago and Paris. It was more underground than it is today and I certainly have some scars, but nothing that time can put us back on track.”

His eyes sparkled in self-realization. That was not only the author of the painting, but he was also a Targaryen. How did you not notice before? The short gray hair and violet eyes were distinctive enough to give away a Valyrian for miles. Maybe it was some mechanism in your brain to avoid associating him with a descendant of the dragon and making you nervous again, but it didn't matter now, not when he was already beside you in that beige linen shirt with the long sleeves and collar and sophisticated posture.

“Daemon Targaryen,” he said, holding out his hand.

You introduced yourself with a shy smile, greeting him back. “Are these all yours? They are very good."

He didn't need to look at the other pictures in the hall to nod. “Only a few, most are in my gallery.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “How long have you been painting?”

“I like to say I was born with brushes for fingers,” he chuckled with a hint of smugness. “And as for you, what were you born to do?”

"I don't know. I never really knew. I like my field, although I haven't graduated yet, but I never had a big dream or talent for arts in general.”

The look he gave you was understanding, almost affectionate, nodding. You stayed the rest of the night together, and even though you hadn't lived a third of what he had told you, the oldest Targaryen didn't make light of your experiences and aspirations for the future, quite the contrary, he asked a lot about your tastes, your dreams, your preferences and desires. Even if you were apprehensive about being around the most charming man you'd ever seen, Daemon was good enough to break through your preoccupation and wrap you up in a spiral of seduction veiled in sophisticated words and good conversation. By the gods, how you longed for that night not to end and you had to return to your simple and unglamorous life, to your heavy routine of studies and tiredness with uninteresting boys unlike the handsome man at your side.

“You have a beautiful face, you know, I would love to have you in one of my paintings,” he said as he rested his glass of white wine on the shelf beside him, “and I can already imagine how.”

"How?" You smiled in ecstasy, especially when he moved a piece of your hair to your ear and caressed your face. Your heart froze a beat and your mouth parted, a part of the smile still visible. It seemed too unreal to be true, but you would never object to what was about to happen.

“I'd love to show you,” he said before cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that made you float. You grabbed the back of his neck to pull him closer and rose on tiptoe to reach him properly, only to find yourself deliciously pressed against the wall as he stole the breath from your lungs in the sexiest, most demanding way possible. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that your reality seemed fully magnified as he pulled back and stared into your face, still so close you could only get intoxicated on his expensive woody cologne. “Come to my apartment, I need you babygirl.”

Oh dear, an indecent sound nearly escaped your mouth at the nickname, your breathing turning into wheezes immediately. You've never been in a relationship with an older man, not for lack of interest, but there weren't any such attractive options close until tonight. It felt like a sensual dream, especially when he traced circular patterns on her neck with his thumb.

“Yes."

Daemon glared fiercely before pulling you gently around the waist and out of the room, opening the door for you to say goodbye to your friend and Aegon, hating the knowingly slutty look he directed at your figure. Your heart pounded with each traffic light the luxurious red convertible crossed, impressed by the ruby, blue and green lights that illuminated that part of town and even more by the large hand that was on your bare thigh. How you wished it would rise a little higher...

Luckily his dazzlingly modern apartment wasn't far away, with beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the sea of buildings and skyscrapers of the world's greatest metropolis. It was breathtaking. You couldn't help but walk to the center of the room, gently tapping the glass as a smile left your lips. "It's so beautiful."

“No more than you, I promise,” he whispered into your hair, next to your ear, sending shivers through the body. He curled one hand in front of your body, caging you between the glass as he brushed your hair away from your neck to sensually kiss your erogenous spot, making your eyes close and your hands rest on the glass. His vague hand ran over your waist and breasts, squeezing your flesh deliciously. “Have you been with a man before, babygirl? A real man, not these fuckers who don't know how to satisfy a girl properly.”

“No, I never have been,” you replied breathlessly, looking at him through the reflection.

“I will make sure you never forget this night.”

Daemon turned you around to kiss you, demanding to taste, lick, suck, and bite each of your mouths. He'd like to taste your sweet pussy right there, fucking your beautiful body against the glass, but he wanted more, so much more, he wanted to lay you on the bed while the blue light outside illuminated your body just like the painting he'd imagined. And so he did. He stripped you of your clothes before laying you on the white sheets, drinking in the masterful image before you. He leaned down to kiss and suck on your neck as he slid his hand down the length of your body to the wet spot between your legs, spreading your wetness with his fingers before massaging your clit incisively with the palm of his hand, making a long, breathy moan out of your throat as you held him from behind, desperate for more friction. He removed his hand from your legs to grab your breasts and bring them to his mouth, but was quick to repeatedly grind his clothed manhood against your needy, wet pussy. He smeared saliva on your breasts and continued to tread south, kissing and stroking your stomach with his big hands.

“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your shimmering femininity, so eager for his attention. “So fucking pretty,” he said before kissing the inside of your right thigh, holding your hips in place to dip like a bee on your flower, eating you like no other has. You moaned loudly and squeezed your eyes shut, holding onto his hair as your legs unconsciously tightened around his head. He never wavered, devouring your pearl like a starving man only to feel your body relax beneath him, your orgasm coming so hot and wet it had you moaning pathetically as he licked for another moment. A proud smile appeared on his features, which was met by a shy and satisfied smile before your hands struggled to remove the last physical obstacle that separated them.

“Ready for me, love?”

You nodded during the long look at his beautiful member. How he would love to thrust into you with no hindrance, but that would be asking too much for a first night, he knew that. So when he returned to the bed with the condom on and settled himself between your legs, his hand on your knees, there was nothing to look forward to but losing himself in your wet heat, so deliciously hot and tight. He let out a guttural growl as you let out a sly moan, sagging in glee as your pussy was filled in a steady rhythm.

“Daemon,” you cried breathlessly, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. He became deeper and faster in his movements. “Oh! Don’t stop!" Your whisper had him moaning in your ear and biting down on your bottom lip, fucking your sensual body hungrily.

“Fuckin' hells,” he growled as you squeezed him and milked him wet all over his cock, kissing the sensitive spot on your neck. He didn't last long after that, allowing himself to fully enjoy your heat to come hard over your body, rolling over to discard the condom and lying next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“That was amazing,” you said, smiling wide and tired, feeling your warm intimacy relax completely.

He just smiled and nodded silently, draping an arm over your shoulder. You didn't bother too much to stay awake, however, Daemon's low voice caught your attention.

“You said you never had great aspirations, but you also told me of dreams to be fulfilled, desires, everything you would like to have, see and live. Let me do it, babygirl, let me help you.”

Your eyes widened, looking up to meet his calm features. "Are you serious?" We don't even know each other well, this is a big step for both of us,” you said.

“We have enough time for that, I just need to know if you want it.”

This is definitely the best night of your life. Of course I do, holy shit I want it so bad. “Yes! I want it! I want it so much!” You kissed him sleepily, smiling against his lips. And that's how the dynamic between you began.

tag: my bestie @valeskafics cause she planted the idea of sugar daddy daemon in my head with this work here, check out her work! She's the queen of hotd content.

#daemon #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #modern daemon #sugar daddy!daemon #sugar daddy daemon #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x you #modern hotd #au #smut #daemon targaryen smut #matt smith

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theomnilegent · 3 months

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2024 Upcoming Sapphic Fiction I’m Excited For! 🏳️‍🌈

Here are the top nine sapphic books I'm looking forward to for 2024! This year I'm excited to see how much more diversity there is amongst sapphic fiction - racial diversity, physical diversity, gender and sexuality diversity! Every year we get more and more books featuring a wider range of characters, and it makes me delighted every time.

2024 seems to be the year of the butch and otherwise gender non-conforming sapphic characters! There is even, much to my joy, a book about drag kings! I've been wanting a book about drag kings since I first started reading sapphic fiction, so I'm so pleased that one finally exists!

Below you'll find Goodreads links and summaries to each book. As always, this list is only a starting point - if you want to find more sapphic fiction, there's plenty to find on Goodreads and StoryGraph!

Furious by Jamie Pacton

After years racing go-karts and looking up to her mother, a celebrity Nascar racer, Jojo Emerson-Boyd should be starting her own racing career. But when she loses her mom in a tragic crash, Jojo’s future comes to a screeching halt. Now her dad won’t let her get a license, much less race. Instead, she’s stuck working at her grandmother’s mechanic shop in the sleepy small town of Dell’s Hollow.

But Jojo’s heart quickens when Motorcycle Girl Eliana “El” Blum shows up at the shop. El grew up on the motocross circuit sidelines, watching her sister and idol Maxine compete. When El mysteriously loses all contact with Max, she’s determined to find her, with her first clue leading straight to the mechanic shop, and to Jojo.

United by fate, the two quickly bond over Mario Kart showdowns and the Fast & Furious films. As their friendship shifts into something more, they’ll have to confront both their growing romance and the grief woven into their complicated families if they hope to chase down their dreams and make it across the finish line.

How You Get the Girl by Anita Kelly When smart-mouthed Vanessa Lerner joins the high school basketball team Julie Parker coaches, Julie’s ready for the challenge. What she’s not ready for is Vanessa’s new foster parent, Elle Cochrane—former University of Tennessee basketball star. While star-struck at first, soon Julie persuades Elle to step into the unfilled position of assistant coach for the year. Even though Elle has stayed out of the basketball world since an injury ended her short-lived WNBA career, the gig might be a way to become closer to Vanessa—and to spend more time with Julie, who makes Elle laugh. As the coaches grow closer, Elle has a hard time understanding how Julie is single. When Julie reveals her lifelong insecurity about dating and how she wishes it was more like sports—being able to practice first—it sparks an intriguing idea. While Elle still doubts her abilities as a basketball coach, helping Julie figure out dating is definitely something she can do. But as the basketball season progresses, and lines grow increasingly blurred, Julie and Elle must decide to join the game—or retreat to the sidelines.

Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings

Winning the lottery has ruined Opal Devlin’s life. After quitting her dead-end job where she’d earned minimum wage and even less respect, she’s bombarded by people knocking at her door for a handout the second they found out her bank account was overflowing with cash. And Opal can’t seem to stop saying yes.

With her tender heart thoroughly abused, Opal decides to protect herself by any means necessary, which to her translates to putting almost all her new money to buying a failing flower farm in Asheville, North Carolina to let the flowers live out their plant destiny while she uses the cabin on the property to start her painting business.

But her plans for isolation and self-preservation go hopelessly awry when an angry (albeit gorgeous) Pepper Smith is waiting for her at her new farm. Pepper states she’s the rightful owner of Thistle and Bloom Farms, and isn’t moving out. The unlikely pair strike up an agreement of co-habitation, and butt-heads at every turn. Can these opposites both live out their dreams and plant roots? Or will their combustible arguing (and growing attraction) burn the whole place down?

A Banh Mi for Two by Trinity Nguyen

In Sài Gòn, Lan is always trying to be the perfect daughter, dependable and willing to care for her widowed mother and their bánh mì stall. Her secret passion, however, is A Bánh Mì for Two, the food blog she started with her father, but has stopped updating since his passing.

Meanwhile, Vietnamese American Vivi Huynh, has never been to Việt Nam. Her parents rarely even talk about the homeland that clearly haunts them. So Vivi secretly goes to Vietnam for a study abroad program her freshman year of college. She’s determined to figure out why her parents left, and to try everything she’s seen on her favorite food blog, A Bánh Mì for Two.

When Vivi and Lan meet in Sài Gòn, they strike a deal. Lan will show Vivi around the city, helping her piece together her mother’s story through crumbling photographs and old memories. Vivi will help Lan start writing again so she can enter a food blogging contest. And slowly, as they explore the city and their pasts, Vivi and Lan fall in love.

The No-Girlfriend Rule by Christen Randall

Hollis Beckwith isn’t trying to get a girl—she’s just trying to get by. For a fat, broke girl with anxiety, the start of senior year brings enough to worry about. And besides, she already has a Chris. Their relationship isn’t particularly exciting, but it’s comfortable and familiar, and Hollis wants it to survive beyond senior year. To prove she’s a girlfriend worth keeping, Hollis decides to learn Chris’s favorite tabletop roleplaying game, Secrets & Sorcery—but his unfortunate “No Girlfriends at the Table” rule means she’ll need to find her own group if she wants in.

Gloria Castañeda and her all-girls game of S&S! Crowded at the table in Gloria’s cozy Ohio apartment, the six girls battle twisted magic in-game and become fast friends outside it. With her character as armor, Hollis starts to believe that maybe she can be more than just fat, anxious, and a little lost.

But then an in-game crush develops between Hollis’s character and the bard played by charismatic Aini Amin-Shaw, whose wide, cocky grin makes Hollis’s stomach flutter. As their gentle flirting sparks into something deeper, Hollis is no longer sure what she wants…or if she’s content to just play pretend.

We Got the Beat by Jenna Miller

Jordan Elliot is a fat, nerdy lesbian, and the first junior to be named editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. Okay, that last part hasn’t happened yet, but it will. It’s positive thinking that has gotten Jordan this far. Ever since Mackenzie West, her friend-turned-enemy, humiliated her at the start of freshman year, Jordan has thrown herself into journalism and kept her eyes trained on the future.

So it’s a total blow when Jordan discovers that she not only didn’t get the editor-in-chief spot, but she’s been assigned the volleyball beat instead. And who is the star and new captain of the volleyball team? Mackenzie West. But words are Jordan’s weapon, and she has some ideas about how to exact a long-awaited revenge on her nemesis.

Then things get murky when forced time together has Mack and Jordan falling back into their friendship, and into something more. And when Mack confesses the real reason she turned on Jordan freshman year, it has Jordan questioning everything—past, present, and future. If Jordan lets her guard down and Mack in, will she get everything she wants, or will she be humiliated all over again?

Playing for Keeps by Jennifer Dugan

June is the star pitcher of her elite club baseball team—with an ego to match—and she's a shoo-in to be recruited at the college level, like her parents have always envisioned. That is, if she can play through an overuse injury that has recently gone from bad to worse.

Ivy isn't just reffing to pay off her athletic fees or make some extra cash on the side. She wants to someday officiate at the professional level, even if her parents would rather she go to college instead.

The first time they cross paths, Ivy throws June out of a game for grandstanding. Still, they quickly grow from enemies to begrudging friends . . . and then something more. But the rules state that players and umpires are prohibited from dating.

As June's shoulder worsens, and a rival discovers the girls' secret and threatens to expose them, everything the two have worked so hard for is at risk. Now both must follow their dreams . . . or follow their hearts?

The Summer Love Strategy by Ray Stoeve

Hayley always has a crush. The problem is, her crushes never like her back. After her latest unrequited love—a girl from her basketball team—gets a boyfriend, she decides she’s done falling for girls who are unavailable. Her best friend, Talia, wants romance too, but rarely gets crushes on anyone, and she’s tired of watching Hayley get her heart stomped on over and over. So the two girls make a they’ll help each other find summer love by putting themselves in situations that always lead to romance in movies.

To help carry out their summer love strategy, they make a list of all the places they could find their real-life the beach, the Pride parade, the pool, a MUNA concert, and a party. But as they go to each place and try to find the one , it seems like they just can’t catch a break—they don’t know how to talk to cute strangers, someone mistakes Hayley as straight, and Hayley does a truly unfortunate DIY haircut (that she cannot be held responsible for––it was a crisis!). But when Talia and Hayley finally manage to score dates, will they be able to get out of their own way and really dive into the romances they deserve? Or is summer love not as far off as Hayley thought?

Don't Be a Drag by Skye Quinlan

When eighteen-year-old Briar Vincent's mental health takes a turn for the worst, her parents send her to spend the summer in New York City with her older brother, Beau, also known as the drag queen Bow Regard.

Backstage at the gay bar where Beau performs, Briar just wants to be a fly on the wall, but she can't stand by when the cute but conceited drag king Spencer Read tries to put down another up-and-coming performer. To prove to him that even a brand-new performer could knock him off his pedestal, Briar signs up for the annual drag king competition.

There's just one flaw in her plan: Briar has never done drag before.

With the help of her brother and a few new friends, Briar becomes Edgar Allan Foe, a drag king hellbent on taking Spencer down. But unless she can learn how to shake her anxiety and perform, she doesn't stand a chance of winning Drag King of the Year, overcoming her depression and inner demons, or avoiding falling for her enemy, who might not be so bad after all.

#wlw books #wlw literature #sapphic books #lesbian #queer fiction #lgbt #book recommendations

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voxofthevoid · 3 months

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Ch 248 is once again a mixed bag for me. On the bright side, it has a development I've been looking forward to the most since Sukuna left Yuuji's body—Sukuna acknowledging the effect Yuuji has on him. Until now, he's mocked and belittled Yuuji, deeming him weak and boring, except that the specific brand of vitriol Sukuna reserves for Yuuji has made it very clear that his beef with Yuuji is a lot more personal than his conflict with any other character. There's a pettiness there, a kind of irritation that's borderline childish, that wouldn't be present if Yuuji didn't well and truly get under his skin.

So to see Sukuna take a moment in the middle of battle, complete with arms on his hips and a goddamn pout, to reassess himself, his ideology, and his enemies and their goals, all to figure out why Yuuji irritates him and then to see him conclude that it's because Yuuji has indomitable will that he can't stomp down? It's sweet, sweet vindication. Sukuna's immediate resolution to tear that will down with, again, a kind of personal vendetta we rarely see from him marks the exact kind of fight I want out of Yuuji vs. Sukuna.

And Yuuji himself has been a sight to behold despite his relatively fewer scenes so far, from his final moments with Higuruma to the reveal that he can use RCT. His greatest strengths so far have been how quickly he grasps CE usage and now attuned he is to his body. The two combined is what's made him so lethal despite the lack of a CT or even advanced techniques like simple domain. RCT fits quite neatly with the kind of power progression he's shown so far, and combined with his natural durability and sheer resilience, it'll make him even more of a monster.

These are elements I'm very happy with. However, this chapter confirms Kenjaku's end and sets up Sukuna as the final villain, and that's... underwhelming at best. I'm not complaining that Sukuna isn't a particularly complicated villain; it's refreshing and suits how he's presented himself from the beginning. But part of what compensated for one villain being like that was the other being a mad scientist with a pretty cunning mind who kept plotting and planning with every tool in their arsenal. You could trust Kenjaku to keep things interesting while they sought the chaos they dearly wanted, and even the merger coming from them would've had certain meaningful implications because not only is it a dream they strived to fulfil for centuries, but it's also a way to see them finally "let go" of Tengen after exhibiting some fascinating attachment behaviors with her. That authority passing on to Sukuna is about as impactful as Yuuta killing Kenjaku—that is, not at all.

The Yuuta+Rika vs. Sukuna fight that's currently being teased makes me wary for similar reasons. It lacks the buildup Gojou vs. Sukuna had (battle of the strongest, i.e., clash of two immense fucking egos), and another contest of raw power sounds about as appealing as watching paint dry right now. Maybe it'll surprise me, but I'm not holding my breath.

To compare this to Shibuya, the emotional component that made its climax so compelling is almost entirely missing from this fight. It's there in Yuuji facing off against someone who took Megumi and Gojou from him, like how he fought the curse that took Nanami and Nobara from him, but overall, the deaths feel hollow and the stakes are so impossibly high that they start to feel like nothing at all.

I can't even fully capture what I'm feeling. It's not that I'm not looking forward to the upcoming chapters; I am. It's not even that I think the plot and climax are unsalvageable; they are, to an extent. But by this point, the plot fumblings and wasted potential have added up to a looming shadow I can't ignore even when there are parts I'm genuinely excited about.

#jjk 248 #jjk leaks #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuuji

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waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle · 10 months

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Over my head (Miguel ‘o’ Hara x Reader)

Chapter 4

Wc:1.9k

Tw: mentions of blood

Themes: ✎slow burn ( I think)

Mutual pining

✎office romance (¿)

Hidden romance

✎Smut available as story progresses.

Dom Miguel x sub/bratty reader

✎Stubborn, Ill tempered Miguel.

✎ Angelic reader .

It girl reader.

✎I try to be as accurate as possible.

English is not my first language so bare with me.

✎badass stoic x sweet empath.

Og spanish speaker so be prepared for steamy dialogue :3

Here’s the master list for previous or future chapters.

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

-"Miguel!"- Your body couldn't help but call out his name after seeing such a scene.

A crimson gaze met yours , his face froze as if he'd been caught red handed.

-"Greetings."-He replied as he could since blood was cascading over the corner of his mouth.-"If you excuse me i'll be on my way."- Miguel turned his back and tried to walk away before your voice interrupted him.

-"Are you crazy?! you're losing a stupid amount of blood, what even happened to you?

-"Well i've clearly been better"-He noted in a sarcastic tone.-"But if you must know ive just been flung around by some villains, i could've left less beaten up but i didn't want to interrupt the party they organized for you.”

-"Miguel that's ridiculous , just look at you.-You pressed an open gash on his neck to which he quickly winced to.-"If you needed assistance you should've just called."

In a moment lyla appeared and sat on his shoulder.

-"That's what i told him, we should let him suffer for being so hard headed.”-Lyla joked.

Miguel knotted his eyebrows and shooed her of his shoulders trying to maintain the last string sanity that allowed him to keep a cordial conversation while in extreme pain.

-"come with me, let me tend to your injuries"

-"Thanks for the offered but i can stand a punch, go back to the party now."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes incredulous of this mans priorities.

-"You're literally about to collapse and all you care about is a stupid party?!"-You groaned out at him in hopes that he gets the severity of the matter at hand.

-"Its not just a party."-He expressed with seriousness.-"I haven't seen my spider people that happy in a while, they're joyful to have you here and seem to trust you already. you wouldnt understand but they need that morale to withstand the burden of their responsibilities.So please go back and keep them company ; i can handle myself."

-"What about you?" You asked gleeful after hearing the first kind words Miguel has said to you.

-"What about me?"

-"How do you feel about having me here?"

Miguel looked back at lyla for any indication on how he should respond but she just raised her shoulders at him.

-"Well i certainly feel ... happy?"-He responded with awkwardness so you knew he was lying, catching up onto your disapproving gaze he finally answered with the truth.-With confidence i can say i'm relieved by having you here.

As you grinned in satisfaction with his answer you remembered he was on the brink of falling over, which by the way is very unprofessional on your behalf, you couldn't help it , you found yourself lost in conversation. To convince Miguel to allow to get himself treated you asked dad bod peter to send the spiders some beer and it was as if you never left.

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

With some struggle you managed to get Miguel to go to the infirmary, you indicated him to sit down on stool near your desk.

His big figure almost didn't fit on the stool, his eyes followed you around the room as you woke up your bots.

-“You've fixed this place up nicely.”-He commented lookin at the fresh tulips on the desk while the room lit up with painting prints and the floor gleamed with beautiful carpets.

-“Thank you, I never had the chance to decorate an infirmary so I wanted to put things that could make my patients feel happy or at ease.”-You said looking at your hologram table while viewing his medical chart to see any allergies or pre existing conditions. - Nino can you run a CT scan and an MRI , Kiko be a dear and takes his vitals and oxygen saturation levels while I go grab some tools to clean his face right up.

While you went to the back room for sanitizing materials lyla looked at him funny seeing him in his little stool waiting to be treated.

-“I should ask her to bring a tweezer to see if maybe she’ll do you a favor and clean up those bushy eyebrows of yours.”-Said the artificial intelligence while he sits up straight in his chair clearly wishing he wasn’t in such a vulnerable position.

-“If you don’t close that pixel sized mouth of yours I’m gonna ask spider byte to make you bald.”- He retorted with a straight face to which lyla just responded by sticking up her middle finger and vanishing in the air.

Soon you walked back into the room with your lab coat and your hair tied up in a bun while holding some materials.

-“Are you ready for this , big boy? It’s gonna sting a bit so tell me if you need me to slow down.”- You said as you put on your latex gloves.-“My bots are gonna take a while to take your tests so after I finish cleaning you up they’ll tell me what’s up with you.”

-“I already told you I’m fine Y/n.”- Miguel hasn’t stepped in an infirmary in a long time , so he feels very out of place.

-“We’ll see about that, I’d sit down to treat you but all id see is your chest.”-You giggled.-“Not that I’m complaining though!” -You watched as Miguel raised and eyebrow and you could swear you saw the corner of his mouth go up.-“Wow peter was right, you really don’t have a sense of humor.”

-“I Do have a sense of humor is just that -ow!”-Miguel jumped as he felt the sting of the cotton swab cleaning his cheek

-“I’m sorry , I’m sorry I’ll be more gentle.”- You brought your face closer to his while being more gentle with the swab.

Miguel suddenly felt heat rushing to his cheeks he didn’t know if it was because your face was just mere inches from his or because when you noticed you were hurting him you truly cared for his comfort and started to be more gentle.

All of a sudden one of your bots started ringing like and alarm.

-“WARNING HEART RATE ELEVATED TO 113 BPM.”- Said kiko while spinning ad flashing red lights.

- “That’s strange.” -You comment as you quickly bandage his face up so you can investigate the reason of his quick heart rate.

-“That machine must be broken.”- Said Miguel a little embarrassed while hunching up his shoulders ,you just gave him an unconvinced glare.

-“Nino can you give me the results of the scan please.”

-“CT and MRI indicate ribs number 6 and 7 are fractured, MRI reveals no damage done to blood vessels or lungs.”- Said Nino unconcerned.

Your jaw dropped to the floor while you looked over at the man that treating broken ribs like a stubbed toe.

-“Miguel why didn’t you tell me you had broken ribs!”- You yelled out in shock someone could sit still with broken ribs.

-“I didn’t know, why are you mad at me? I’m the one with broken ribs.”- He noted while arching a brow.

-“Are you dumb?! You can puncture your lungs and god forbid provoke some interior hemorrhage. Take your shirt off right now!”

Miguel was about to scold you for calling him dumb but was quickly fluttered by you requesting him to take his shirt off.

-“What?”- He replied dumbfounded

-“Take your shirt off so I can examine you , quickly.”

“Oh maybe you are dumb Miguel ” he thought to himself for thinking about other things when you asked him to take his shirt off , he quickly pressed some buttons on his watch and in a few seconds his bare torso was revealed to you. You couldn’t help but blush as you saw such a shredded torso with beautiful sculpted shoulders, you knew he was your boss but goddam this man never skips arm day. You quickly shake your head trying to get rid of those teenage girl like thoughts and start to press on the bruised skin on top of his ribs to examine the situation.

-“Does it hurt much?”

-“Nope.”

-“What about now?” You say as you apply some pressure on the affected area.

-“Auugh.”- He groaned as he winced.-“That trick of yours is getting old.”

Miguel glanced over at your direction noticing you had a quite worried face , as soon as you noticed his stare you quickly gave him a fake smile. -“I think it’s quite funny, wait here I’ll get some pain medication and a rib splint.”

You bolted to the storage room and back and started to load the syringe.

-“I can assure you this won’t hurt much , I have the gentlest hands in the business you know?”-You bragged while squatting while injecting the fluid into the tender spot in his ribs.- “If you feel any type of discomfort please let me know Miguel , you shouldn’t hide and injury like this I’m glad I caught you sneaking off. People depend on you , the spider society needs you in the best condition you can be. Even so regardless of who you are you should always take care of yourself.”

Miguel grinned taking advantage of the fact that your sight was straight on his ribs, he was truly moved by your words , they seemed sincere in his ears, he usually didn’t trust people this rapidly but to him you yelled out trustworthiness. He also didn’t want to admit that your proximity and care was making him feel some kind of way he quickly wanted to bury those thoughts in the back of his head. But there was a question pestering him so he gave into his desires and grabbed you by the wrist so he would get your attention.

You quickly looked up at him , your doe eyes looking up at him with innocent confusion made his his throat stiffen up.

-“Why do you care so much about me, after all we only met yesterday.” He questioned getting lost in your gaze.

-“You seem like a good person , you also seem like a dutiful man plus you really care about your workers . You seem to have the courage other people seem to lack. In summary for the moment you’re on my good side , let’s hope you stay that way buddy. But even if you weren’t a good person in my perception, you’re still a person who’s hurt and needs help , that’s enough for me to give my all in treating them.”- You smiled at him hoping your answer was good enough for him while returning to inject the fluid in various points of his ribs.

Miguel felt content with your answer which allowed him to be more relaxed in your presence after all he felt uncomfortable being seen so vulnerable , he was used to acting the part of the tough one.

-“Don’t call me buddy. I am your boss.”- He joked trying to switch the mood.

-“My bad Mr ‘o’ Hara. I’ll put on the brace splint now. ” You chimed as you stood between his right leg and leaned down to apply the splint trying to end this procedure as soon as possible so you could get out of this compromising position.

As you were almost done applying the splint you and Miguel heard a drunk voice come closer while the door handle moved , both of your eyes met in fear that someone would see you and misinterpret the situation.

-“y/n!!!! Are you here???? I’m coming innnnnnnn……”

A/n: I’m sorry for the delay I’ve been busy with work 😭 but I’m really happy with the way this chapter turned out.

#miguel o'hara #mutual pining #office romance #miguel x reader #hurt/comfort #smut available as story progresses #secret romance #pls read #spiderman #across the spiderverse #fanfic #pls like #comments are appreciated #hope you enjoy #atsv #atsv miguel #slowly but surely #SoundCloud

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nahmoon · 1 year

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IN YOUR EYES: XAVIER THORPE X YOU

*Hi this is my very first post on Tumblr, I hope you enjoy. Please comment on whatever you want me to write about I’ll be happy to do that. English is not my first language and this is my first writing piece so this may not be the best, but I’ve tried my hardest :)

⚠️TW: Stalker warning, possessiveness

You always fancied Xavier, but he occupied his time with Wednesday, Bianca and his artworks. He never really made time for you, and you had been seeing him less and less.

But recently, during your recent involvement in Wednesday’s investigation, Xavier had been making an effort to talk to you. Making almost direct statements that he had his eyes on you, at all times. He always knew about all your breakthroughs, progressions and alibis.

But it seemed like every time he made you aware that he knew what you were doing, something always went wrong. Your suspicions led you to believe that something was awfully wrong. Was Xavier’s interest in you because of his alignments with the recent killings? Time was running out, you needed to find out fast.

You make your way over to his shed

“Y/N!” He says, grinning at you as he opens the door for you. Your gaze softens as you see his face, but you didn’t let that misdirect you from your true objective. He closes the door behind you, whilst you head over to the table with art supplies, intently scanning them as you try to figure out how to confront this possible disaster.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while, what have you been up to?”

You want to scoff at this question, he didn’t really give you enough attention to make you feel like he wanted to ‘see you around’.

“Xavier… I know” you turn around to meet his eyes and immediately pause.

“You know what? That I’m a better painter then you?” He says playfully

You feel a small smile form on your lips. Shit. You were getting distracted.

“You came here for some painting lessons didn’t you? Or you just wanted an excuse to see me around hm?”

You frown, trying to not let his smugness distract you to the real reason as to why you were here.

“Xavier,” you pause, he turns around to pick up a few pieces of plain paper for the both of you, “I know you’ve been following me around, excessively.”

He turns to look at you, but his reaction was not what you had expected. Instead of denying it, his lips tugged into a small smirk, before it transforms into an unsettlingly warm smile. “So you're not oblivious are you? Finally figured my secret out?”

He says, flashing a grin at you. Even though you felt the warmth from it, you could almost see the twisted thoughts fluttering through his mind and you read every single one. He slowly makes his way up to you, not losing eye contact with you for not even a second.

You furrow your eyebrows as your body stiffens. This was bizzare. Why was his response paired with sudden giddiness and happiness to the thought of you uncovering this ‘secret’ you think. Although as unsettled as you were, something overcame you slowly, a discreet feeling of satisfaction.

“Why do you think I was following you around?” He says softly. His eyes relax.

“Do you want me to be honest Xavier?” You say, he nods his head.

“Your attempt at following me was painstakingly obvious, it was so sloppy to a point where it was insane.”

He raises his eyebrows at the second sentence

“But the truth is, I don’t know why you're following me around. No, why your stalking me. Is Because you're interested in my life, what I’m doing in it, the investigation?,” you pause, “Your involvement with the Hyde?”

He frowns. “What are you implying?”

“I know your ‘secret’ Xavier, your involved with all the recent killings somehow, and your following me around trying to figure out how you can be a few steps ahead of me.”

He scoffs at you, deadpanning as he scanned your for a second before laughing at what you claimed. “This is fucking unbelievable.”

“No, it’s so fucking believable,” you say, starting to get agitated, “You haven’t denied anything and you haven’t taken any real interest me at all, until I started getting involved with Wednesday.”

He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off immediately.

“You want to know why I don’t come around anymore? Is because you're so hyper fixated on Wednesday and Bianca like it’s your second life. Then you fucking follow me around the moment I start getting involved with Wednesday. It’s like you don’t even care about me as a person?!”. It goes silent. You wondered if you were still talking about the stalking or something else entirely.

He looks a little shocked at your little monologue, but he steps towards you once more.

You swallow hardly, “Do you have anything to say for yourself.”

“What’s the point, you’ve already come to a conclusion?” He says gently.

“And what’s that exactly.”

He looks up and down, leaning down towards you. You could feel his hot breath on your skin. , “That I’m the villain in your fantasy.”

You watched as his eyes darkened when he said this. Like an eerie dark abyss had almost swallowed you both whole, engulfing any inch of light, plunging the world into silence. But it was only for a merse second, before he stood up straight and returned to normal.

“Look, I’ve only been following you around, because I’ve been getting visions in my dreams that something or someone is out to hurt you.” He says, “But whenever I get to the point where you get hurt, all I can see is red” (Mrs thornhill foreshadowing *wink wink*)

“Now whatever your mind dreamed up of me is not true, I wasn’t stalking you, I was just trying to keep you safe for your best interests.” He pauses before looking at you. “I just want to protect you.”

You wanted to say it felt like a facade, that he was lying to your face, but he wasn’t everything that he said seemed genuine. So why did it feel like something was missing? You scan Xavier once more, you notice that he’s hiding something from you.

“That’s not all is it, there’s something else you want to me isn’t there.” You say. You notice as Xavier’s demeanor darkens again, but it was little more overwhelming then before.

“I was only telling you that I had eyes for you because…” he pauses. He laughs and pushing back his hair through his fingers, “I guess I should stop trying to pretend now thats all I had done, you really aren’t as oblivious as I thought you were.”

Something snapped in him.

You feel fear in your body, the change had completely caught you off guard.

He advances towards you, blocking the space between you and the wall.

“The fact is, is that I’m crazy for you,” he says. “Couldn’t fucking control myself around you, I had to keep my distance.”

He’s towering over you, you feel your face grow hot the way he looks down on you.

“I’d do anything to keep you safe, and I mean anything, I’d even kill for you.”

“That’s not true” you stutter in disbelief, you couldn’t tell what was real from the fake.

“Not true?” He pouted to you, clearly in fake pity.

“What do you think happened to Rowan after he tried to hurt you?” He says, his pout turning into a grin. “Who do you think devised that plan with Principal Weems?”

You couldn’t believe this, “W- What?” You stutter.

He smiles, “Of course, every villain should have a motive, fantasised or not.”

“What’s yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fall in love with me.”

Your face was burning. It felt like you had been waiting for him to say something like that to you for so long. Before you could reply, he continues to chat.

“My father thinks my mental health is a PR problem that he needs to manage,” Xavier says, caressing your face. “Wanted to keep his troubled son out of the tabloids.” He smiles softly.

Even though he smiled, you could hear the pain behind that sentence.

“But I’ve learned that my problems are something that I should embrace” He moves even closer, now your fully pressed on the wall, and in front of you there is only centimetres of space between you and Xavier.

“If you want to go down in this rabbit hole with me, I want you to experience the true darkness residing in my soul with me.” He says, grabbing your chin “The strongest bonds form through people who experienced the darkest parts of you, becuase they have nothing that will scare them away.”

“I’d do anything for you…” he pauses, looking like he’s calculating what he’s about to say

“So, I don’t want you to fall in love with me” he inches towards your face. ““I need you to fall in love with me, and every fucked up part of me” there was a hint of insanity in the second part.

When he said that second part, something snapped inside of you. Your feelings of pity and fear were replaced with that small sense of satisfaction again. There was something so attractive about this level of obsession and fondness, true devotion. You look into his eyes longingly, you finally uncovered what that satisfaction was, the feeling of lust.

Your lost in his eyes in this moment, not thinking of anything else but him.

“Kiss me,” you say quietly.

You see a small smile form on his lips.

“Could you repeat that?” He says cockily, you knew he heard you the first time.

You rolled your eyes, he let out a small chuckle before pulling you in for a kiss.

It started off sensual and slow, savouring every second that you two had intertwined, as if time had slowed down itself. The kiss seeked union, closeness, harmony, your chests rose and fell together as you travelled deeper into the kiss. It felt like you could get lost forever in this moment. You both were getting carried away.

Xavier pulls away from the kiss, looking at you intently, his eyes glistened with a different type of darkness, did he seek the same sort of satisfaction you had?

“Fuck, I’m addicted to you”

His lips smashed into yours. Stunned. Lustful. Desperate. His hands snaked up and around your body. Groans erupted from his mouth as you hungrily kissed him back. You felt as his tongue pushed past your teeth, searching your mouth. You ran your hands through his head. Lightly tugging on his hair. Trying to get him closer to you. He wraps one hand around your neck. His hand gripped like a noose, so tight, you moaned into his mouth, you could feel a small smirk form on his lips as he continued. Everything was so fast, you gasped for air. You moaned into his mouth, you as he pulls away a string of saliva follows.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this”

He cranes his head to your neck and starts to nibble at it, setting your nerves on fire. His long hair tickles against your neck. He starts to suck at it, feeling as his teeth rub against his skin. His lips feel so plump and soft on your skin, paired with the stinging of his teeth sucking on your skin. You throw your head back at the sudden feeling. “So good for me,” he whispers. He fully pulls away, admiring the marks he's left on your neck.

He rubs his hands up and down against your skin, underneath the fabric of your shirt. “Would you let me treat you darling?”

The tension and lust is so unbearable, all you can do is nod your head.

He chuckles again, “No use your words…”

“Tell me you want me.”

Your self respect flew at the window, “I want you Xavier.”

Part 2 anyone?

#xavier smut #xavier thorpe #smut #wednsday addams #possessive #stalker #overprotective #xavier #slow burn #long reads #y/n #nahmoon #xavier x you #female reader

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lumine-no-hikari · 5 days

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #127

It's late where I live - almost midnight, and I'm very tired. J and I are on another road trip to PA. This time, he and I are going to fly the plane he got back home. After his shift at work, we drove for 4 hours to a place called Buffalo. We will drive the rest of the way to a place called Zelienople in the morning. Then we will fly back; J will be piloting the plane, of course. J is not yet used to flying this plane, but it's very similar to the one that he already knows well; he knows what he's doing, and I trust, without question or hesitation, that he will keep us safe. I'll be back in my house by this time tomorrow with LOTS of pictures to show you, so don't you worry about a thing, okay?

Br came over and I introduced her to the chocolate-cheddar cheese I got when we went to see the eclipse (it tastes like fudge; it's SO GOOD!), and that was pretty great! But I'm still pretty tired because I spent most of the day before the trip being emotional support for various folks. Some of the interactions challenged my boundary skills, but this is a good thing; we don't grow without some level of discomfort, and our boundary skills never improve if we don't get practice. I'm much better at it now than I used to be, and I'm looking forward to seeing where I'll be with this skill in another few years.

Since writing the letter to my inner child, I've had a lot more faith in my own ability to grow, change, and improve. It's kind of refreshing, actually. Self-loathing is kind of heavy, isn't it? I know I'll probably have days when I'll get a setback, but I've already grown enough in other ways to be very familiar with that phenomenon. One of the most important things one must remember when having a setback is that having a setback, in and of itself, means that there has been progress, and progress can be reproduced over and over and over again until it sticks. Human brains are learning machines, after all. I hope you'll put all the effort you can into learning how to genuinely love and care for yourself; it's one of the most important things you can do.

Oh! I made myself a strawberry rooibos tea today, too! Normally I like to drink black tea or green tea, but today I wanted to limit my caffeine consumption somewhat; caffeine dehydrates a body, and I've been struggling to keep hydrated lately for some reason; figured the thing to do, at least for today, is to try not to make my body use water to cleanse the caffeine from my system. Here's how today's turned out...

This one starts out orange-ish, and then resolves into a lovely shade of red:

I added some creamed honey; it settles to the bottom quite nicely:

And from there, I added heavy cream:

...I think you might like this flavor. It's like strawberries and cream; it's sweet and tart and very milky in flavor. Sometimes I think about combining this one with the vanilla-rose black tea (which is another one I think you'd absolutely love). I'll do that soon and tell you all about it, okay?

I don't have much else to say today; I'm pretty drained. But I do have a lot of pictures I took for you while we drove, simply because I know you like nature. I'll show you the ones that turned out best. It'll be mostly pictures of the sky, though; we didn't get moving until like 6pm-ish, so the lighting wasn't great for general scenery...

...Hey Sephiroth? Next time you're up in the sky, I hope you'll make it a point to dance merrily amongst the sun-drenched clouds - especially during dawn or during sunset, when they're painted in all sorts of vibrant colors; their kaleidoscopic brilliance would look amazing reflected off of you, I'm sure. And maybe you'd have fun, too.

That's all I've got for you today. Thanks for tagging along with me on this brief adventure. Please remember that there are folks here who like to imagine that the prismatic colors splashed upon the clouds by the morning and evening sun are the same as the ones that radiate from the deepest parts of your soul.

I love you. I'll write again soon. Please stay safe out there.

Your friend, Lumine

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3xen · 1 year

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breaking the codex; leomord even after being certain of his freedom, he finds no productivity in leaving.

n. leo mains have my heart <3 this work was supposed to be published alot sooner, but here we are.

c. queen!reader, knight!leomord, angst(?), unrequited love that’s actually requited

”my queen, you have requested me to your quarters?” leomord kneels at your feet, heeding to any orders that you may assign him. leomord bared the heart of a spirited warrior. he never strayed away from battle, and you admired that from afar.

in order to succeed, leomord disregarded any feelings of the past. he dismissed his own being to serve you.

“my knight, leomord, i would like to meet you at the horse stables during sunset. can i leave it up to you to accompany me?” how could leomord ever defy your orders? if leomord were to be appointed to any other ruler, his knowledge would be in vain. he would have never learned the way of the warrior codex.

may you never notice, but his intuition had grown stronger, along with his physical strength. whenever he mentioned of his progress, he mentioned you as well.

“i have become stronger, stronger than i ever have. i believe this is the result of you.” you never believed leomord. you were not one to ever believe in your powers, really. you had never seen a spark in your magic, of course, a few tweaks of magical power here and there. but it never had really progressed enough for your own eyes to see.

in the events of today, leomord was to accompany you down at the horse stables. you had no real reason of dragging him down there, but it created a great sense of scenery, apart from the heartbreaking news you have prolonged to tell him.

“he’ll leave, and once he does so, these feelings will leave as well.” you and leomord were on very formal terms. he treated you like the queen you were and went above and beyond to meet your criteria.

leomord never once conveyed or spoke about his feelings, you thought he buried them deep in his heart. which was no way a warrior should cope. but, then again, you had no say in asking what he felt or wanted.

it was a knight to a queen, a queen to a knight. that’s all it was.

“leomord has too much pride, he would not just leave.” faramis thinks differently. you felt guilty, having leomord serve you as a knight. you made him a weapon, without his consent, you trained him to serve you and you only.

“he knows better, he’ll leave. after all he’s been through, im certain he’ll leave.” you let your mouth run, babbling, until faramis calls you out on it.

“leomord is not going to leave. have you seen the way he’s looked at you?” you whip your head to look at him, shaking your head. faramis talked nonsense at times, but this time—you were invested.

“faramis, you sound absurd.”

“if leomord was ever given the chance, he’d come up to you with his proposal of love, but as a knight, he has self control over his desires. especially for his queen.” almost immediately, you are at a loss of words. you knew well, leomord had great control over his desires and much more. but you just can’t resist the urge to wonder if he’s ever thought about you in a way more than queen and knight.

“the sunset is almost here, excuse me.” the sun paints the room with warm colors, it’s rays of light brightening the lands below.

“don’t be so rash. leomord will always respect you and your choices, be honest with him.” faramis’ suggestion eases the tension in you and you thank him for the wise words.

sprinting down the spiral stairs in a quick action, you hold the ends of your flowy dress as you do so, averting the problem of ever toppling down the staircase.

you see a tall figure at the bottom of the lobby, but can’t clearly make out who it is, as you near closer, you can see it’s leomord. your mind automatically reverts to the conversation with faramis.

speak reasonably, be honest, he’ll respect your decision.

“leomord, im sorry to keep you waiting.” you come face to face with him, his broad build towering over yours.

“no worries, my queen. barbiel is waiting right outside.” he gingerly takes your hand in his, you smile at the action, eager to follow.

barbiel stands proudly, ears perking up and nickering playfully at the sight of you. leomord lets go of your hand, walking back into the castle. probably telling off the guards and informing the servants of your leave.

“barbiel!” you stroke his coat of fur, nuzzling your face into his neck and giving him a few scratches behind his ears. barbiel shows you his gratitude by giving you a nudge as leomord comes trudging over.

“please, ladies first.” a hand interlocks into yours once again, guiding you to the stirrup where you place your feet. while the other unoccupied hand hovers over your lower back, providing more support to mount the tall horse.

after you are successfully mounted atop barbiel, leomord gets on without issue—sitting behind you. the heat of his chest lingering on your back. leomord clutches the reins of the bridle, tugging on it gently caused barbiel to trot lightly, following the path down to the horse stables.

you both sit in silence for the most part, instead, relishing the company of each other. the restoration process of necrokeep was no simple task. there were sacrifices made, lives lost, and hardships met. but in the end you decided it was all worth it.

your father could rest easy, just as leomord could. he would be free of the necrokeep curse, enjoying a life without hardships. modern days were coming and you’d hoped to prepare him for that.

he would no longer serve you. no longer live in the castle. no barbiel. no more leomord. you would soon tell him that you had a proposal for him. one that would urge him to leave completely.

“princess, we’ve arrived.” leomord’s hoarse voice snaps you out your trance. scanning your surroundings and surely, you’ve made it to the stables.

leomord hops off barbiel, opening his arms for you to jump in. you become quite hesitant at first, but still, jumping into his arms with your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. he effortlessly holds you, finally letting you gain your composure by placing you on your feet.

as soon as you’ve hit ground level, leomord grabs the reins of barbiel, using it to tie a knot around a tree which restrains barbiel from going anywhere. you wave goodbye to barbiel, following the footsteps of leomord.

leomord keeps his pace slow as he walks—and with a soft voice asks in curiosity, “princess, enlighten me. i want to know your intentions here.” his voice is demanding in favor, though really, curious of your request.

he stops in a secluded area, where the sunset is mainly visible. it’s a perfect spot for the two of you. before sitting, leomord scans the area, looking for any hidden dangers. after being rest assured, he allows you to sit.

you two sit side by side—admiring the sunset. despite the pleasant dialogue being muttered to one another, there is a weighted tension. you’ve saved the response to his question for later. too afraid to spill your true motivation for bringing him here.

“leomord, did you have anything you’d like to change about necrokeep?” you suddenly queried, it startled him. he assumed you brought him here for business matters, but it seems now you’ve brought him here for a genuine conversation.

“princess.. im not entirely sure if i should be answering your question. i do not bare the ability to rule over a country.” he assured you—he was certainly not leader material.

“i want you to answer my question, truthfully, honestly, and calmly. it is no trick question.” you attempt to ease the conversation with a few statements of reassurance. leomord looks very conflicted while looking down at the grass.

“i suppose.. another ruler, aside from you of course.” the answer he gives you is bizarre. he didn’t mean a king, did he? you turn you focus on him as he does the same. it confuses you and causes you to think for a moment.

“another ruler?”

“yes, my queen.”

your father left this kingdom in your hands, bringing any another individual would completely shatter the kingdom, no? how would another ruler.. be trustworthy enough to rule necrokeep?

“i see.. other than that, i have one more request of you.” one more request of the day? leomord didn’t know what to think but he would always comply to any order you gave him. you were his only purpose, as he was the knight to his queen.

“i wish for you to leave necrokeep,” leomord was stunned. his heart ached in his chest, even if the only physical emotion he showed was blank.

“you are no longer needed here. necrokeep is safe,” you stood up as you announced, hands fisted at your sides. leomord remained completely calm, still looking at the grass below him.

“you are no longer a glorified knight. you are no longer under my order.” your eyes became glossier as you spoke. letting go of leomord was about the most inhumane thing you’ve ever done.

you hadn’t not learned of his true feelings towards you, yet you dismissed him as quickly as possible. it was a selfish act of love. you had grown fond over leomord, but not once had you seen an ounce of fondness come from him when he saw you.

you assumed leomord didn’t enjoy the time spent with you—that it was just a job. after the job was done, he would leave peacefully.

“that is my final order.” you didn’t speak in authority like you always did, this time you spoke in hurt and sorrow. leomord was quick to notice it, still keeping quiet under the fading sun.

you bit your lip in anticipation, awaiting any movement from him. your entire body was anxious. how would he respond?

“if that is what you wish. but now, your order means nothing to me.” he coldly states, getting up from his own sitting position. you watch him intently, searching for any signs of emotion.

“just because necrokeep does not seek out protection, that doesn’t determine whether my queen does or does not.” he stands with power—speaks with power.

“in spite of battle, you were my only purpose. it made me realize how much i was fighting, for you. i failed to show you how exactly much you meant to me. my eyes failed to see what love you reciprocated for me,”

“if i had noticed the feelings you had for me, i would have told you to discard me of my rank. that way, the queen and the knight would no longer just be a story, but our reality.” leomord discourse at a great length, your thoughts in a fuzz. leomord had so much on his plate, you hadn’t had a clue what situation he was in, as were you.

“banishing me from necrokeep was your way of pushing me away. but that was no civil way of feeding your dejection.” leomord knew more than he said. he knew just exactly how the cogs in your mind worked. perhaps, serving you for so long uncovered the most venerable parts of your mind.

he truly saw you for who you were. not just as a queen, but someone who had fully earned his heart. he followed your orders up until the end. he stayed by your side in the worst times. and it wasn’t because of his rank—but because he swore his heart to you.

“i wish to stay and be rid of my title.”

#𓂃ᰔ xen writes #mobile legends bang bang #mobile legends #mlbb #mobile legends bang bang x reader #mobile legends x reader #mlbb x reader #leomord #leomord x reader

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yiga-hellhole · 9 months

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TWILIGHT FOREST, TWILIGHT KING UPDATE: PART 5

another huge whammy of an update. this time we’re exploring more of the interactions with YUGA!!! things kick into gear, and then back out of gear, to have some well-deserved downtime before the campaign on the eldin province. and of course our favorite nasty men bond. 13k words under the cut

ao3 mirror HERE!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Ghirahim cocked a brow at the curious figure so busily admiring him, bewildered yet charmed by his immense enthusiasm. “And yet I must insist! I’m afraid the Master has not yet given me the gift of your introduction,” he said. “I would very much like to put a name to my admirer.”

The strange man snapped out of his bout of fascination, and with a flourish, took a step back. “Where are my manners? Of course, Lord Ghirahim,” he curtsied, his arms, clutching his staff in one boney hand, spread to either side. “Yuga, High Sorcerer of the Kingdom of Lorule! I am very much looking forward to our cooperation. If the tales I’ve heard of your battling prowess are anywhere near as accurate as those of your stunning appearance, then we are firmly set on the path of glory, indeed.”

“You do so flatter me. I’m afraid I must disappoint you, though. As of late, I happen to be occupied,” Ghirahim laughed with a gesturing peek to Zant, fingers casually resting against his cheek in amusement.

Yuga scoffed, for a second looking almost disgusted. “Oh, please. Do not get ahead of yourself. My appreciation of your beauty is merely an aesthetic one. I have no intentions of pursuing anything so frivolous!”

Perturbed, he just grinned in return, shooting another quick glance at his still shut-away companion. Had that helmet not been blocking his view of his face, he might have caught a glimpse of the steam coming out of the Twilight King’s ears.

“I see! Well, then… What is it exactly you are pursuing, then?”

“Why, mere artistic intrigue! You have such delicate features, dear Lord,” Yuga dismissed his staff and clasped his hands together. “Have you ever considered having your portrait taken? I can see it now, you would be an absolute delight to paint.”

Now, Ghirahim’s impression of this man was skyrocketing. A portrait? Of him? Thinking about the past, he did remember how his likeness was portrayed by the people of the skies. Hideous, unflattering blotches of paint, making absolutely no attempt to depict him accurately. Meanwhile, such vanity was denied him by his own people, as, rightfully so, Master Demise was central in their so-abstract iconography. Naturally, the glory of such a powerful figure could do nothing but overshadow his measly importance in comparison! There had never been a need to deify him similarly, but…

This was different. He was now a commander of high standing, and Master Ganondorf seemed to grant him somewhat more of a spotlight in their conquest. Certainly, a portrait would not be too drastic to request..?

He blinked at the man again, looking him up and down. Certainly, he did strike him as a painter… Never had he met any artistic fellow that didn’t look horribly tacky and eccentric. If such correlations were to be believed, this harlequin-like figure must know what he was talking about.

“A delightful offer, certainly. My only problem is pinning down a proper moment for me to sit and pose… You must know, we are terribly busy.”

“Of course! I am well aware of my duties here, but surely we have some time here and there?”

Ghirahim’s eagerness to be flattered almost made him lose sight of his initial goal. Indeed, he did not come to find the man for small talk! “That we will, indeed, but today is not that day. Our Master has requested we walk you through the progress of our campaign thus far. If you would be so inclined, you ought to get yourself ready and head to the war room. Do you know where to find it?”

Yuga nodded. “Right off to work already? Ah, I adore such an efficient pace! Yes, I will gather my bearings, as you wish.” He awaited Ghirahim’s acknowledgement, before bowing his head as a polite gesture. “I expect to see you there, then,” he said with a smile, before trotting off toward the staircase.

The hall was cast in a deafening silence once their new associate left them to sort out his business, leaving Ghirahim and Zant to stand there thoroughly nonplussed. Well, if anything, Yuga had set a baseline of thorough friendliness, so he expected to find no more trouble in meshing with him throughout their mission. Zant, on the other hand…

Amused, Ghirahim brought a hand to his cheek, tapping a finger to his face in thought. “I daresay, Zant. When was the last time you complimented me like that? If I wasn’t so fond of you, you might have had competition.”

Zant’s head whipped around to him with such speed the metal of his helmet squeaked. “Unbelievable,” he exclaimed. “That is all you think of right now? This entire conversation, and he did not acknowledge me even once!”

Ghirahim laughed. “Oh, it’s terrible, I know. Forget about a third wheel, you weren’t even near the wagon,” he nudged him in the elbow playfully, but Zant did not share this amusement. “I suppose I do draw the eye.”

Zant grunted in annoyance, turning away from him at once. Silence befell the pair again, but Ghirahim did not relinquish his self-satisfied stare, boring holes in his co-lieutenants helmet. Whether he noticed this or not, Zant’s confidence whittled away nonetheless. “… Do you truly wish for me to praise you in such a way?”

A shriek of laughter burst out from him in response. This new ‘friend’ of theirs was truly making life so much more amusing, and it hadn’t even been ten minutes since they had met! Just this encounter alone had the menacing King of Shadows feeling jealous and insecure in his courtship. It was a delight. “Please, Zant. Can we discuss this later? You’ll kill me before we can teach our rookie the ropes!”

He was met with silence until Zant set off down the hall again. “Very well,” said Zant, the sharp snap of his metal soles against the tiles betraying an irritable mood.

“Oh, you’re mad at me, now?” Ghirahim tittered, unable to resist the opportunity to bully him, and fully embraced the snappy fit of bickering that came to follow…

Despite the pair’s now thoroughly acquired taste for shenanigans, they were still bound to their duty, especially in such a pressing situation. Master Ganondorf had given them the time window of tomorrow to introduce Yuga to their campaign, but they both knew that that was more the window he gave them until swift punishment was to come. By all means, it meant they should be ready by tonight. And if there was any place in Hyrule fit to orient any fledgling commander, it was the war room of Gerudo Palace. Ghirahim stepped nostalgically inside, squinting to adjust his eyes to the contrast of the torchlight and cavernlike darkness that blanketed the room. The place was made to be nigh impenetrable, which meant that it had been situated in the basement, not a speck of natural light entering it. Such a setup was preferable to their night-dwelling soldiers first of all, but also ensured such high security, not even a fly could enter unauthorized when the meetings were ongoing. The room was certainly imposing, and every time he stood in it he felt as much of an invigorating sense of devotion as he did when he first stepped inside. Banners and mosaics, depicting scenes from ages of Demon Kings long past and alternate adorned the walls, emblematic of Ganon’s forces. They had mostly been gifts from the sorceress, Cia, in an attempt to appease Ganondorf’s boundless fury and lust for power, but as things stood, his Master of course had simply pocketed them and chose to betray her either way. The real showstoppers, enshrined above an auxiliary throne to the north of the room, were depictions of Ganon during his time of victory, the once humanoid-appearing Demon King then twisted into a mighty, giant-tusked wild boar. The other mosaics were equally grand, and though they all depicted battles ultimately lost, they were not to be understood as attempts to sugarcoat his Master’s losses. Instead, they symbolized his unwavering tenacity, his endurance, and the inevitability of his return, no matter how many times his soul was sealed or ripped from the mortal realm. Ganondorf’s pride as a Gerudo was similarly celebrated through the antiquary of traditional weapons and armor displayed near the walls, showcasing his people’s mastery of smithing and fast-paced, efficient warfare. All golden helmets placed in the corners of the room gazed at the centerpiece of the room; the strategy table, a dark wooden surface that now stood empty, waiting to be covered in maps and pawns.

Zant passed into the room before him and walked straight past the central table, instead browsing the shelves across the entrance. With astounding clarity, as though he had already figured out their exact steps, he began scooping map scrolls and various boxes of navigational pegs and tools into his lanky arms. Soon, he had spread the biggest essentials neatly across the table, and under Ghirahim’s watchful eye began dividing the first pegs to denote the advance of their skirmish thus far. Right as they were about to devise a way to summarize the past efforts of war, Yuga, indeed, found his way to the room and stood idly turning his flaming staff in his hands.

“You will have to forgive the delay, gentlemen. Those bokoblins of yours simply couldn’t figure out how I wanted my room!”

“Tell me about it,” Ghirahim groaned, before idly beckoning Yuga to approach the table. He quietly noted Zant’s mood dropping the instant their new coworker made himself known. How adorably juvenile!

Yuga strutted his way on over, gait floaty and rhythmic as he bounded across the carpet, and came to a halt at Zant’s side of the table. Half-lidded eyes brought out his rainbow-layered eyeshadow immensely as his eyes scanned over the table, perusing the various maps and registers of stocks. “Oh, yes. You lot are certainly more organized than my previous team. I reckon we will take over the Valley in no time flat.”

Ghirahim but smiled at him, while Zant gave him not more acknowledgment than a brisk nod, and a short “indeed.” To prevent himself from getting annoyed, instead of endeared, by Zant’s indignant grumpiness, he quickly changed topics. With Zant’s assistance, they completed marking the keeps that they had captured on the maps and gave Yuga an overall run-down on their available troops and provisions. The summary was welcome to Ghirahim, as well, as, to be frank, other than the delightful memories he’d made of thrilling victories and near losses, he himself was losing track and had Zant do most of the talking during briefings. Invigorated by their talk, he assembled another stack of documents and was about to reach the next stage of their meeting. Alas, his enthusiasm was struck down quickly enough, because Yuga interjected.

“Ah, if I might be so bold. Before we are to discuss any future plans, I do have some of my own intel that will be most crucial to our advance,” he offered, hovering with the narrow end of his staff above the map, using it as a pointer.

Zant hummed. “By all means, continue.”

“Now, it is still in the works, but on my way here from the northeast, I heard tell of an ambush from the Zora preparing to take our flanks during our next advance,” Yuga daintily tapped the end of his staff on the map. “They will surface from the water somewhere north of the lake, and skirt the river to strike right at the edge of Death Mountain. They will be led by Princess Ruto, and some rumor General Impa will assist. Though, personally, I find it very unlikely she will leave the Hylian Princess’ side for even a minute.”

Ghirahim leaned on the table, peering down at the trail Yuga had laid out. “This is valuable information. You ought to have led with that, I’d say!” He laughed, only to be met with a contemplative purse of the new lieutenant’s lips.

“I thought it wise to gauge our resources first, is all! That way we can get right to the planning.”

Zant had not responded yet. He simply loomed over the table, staring at the map. “That will not be a problem,” he suddenly said, with the same grave clarity he had every meeting. “I propose the following,” he gestured with his own designated pointer at the map, drawing a trail from their pinnacle keep in Eldin to the north. “You join us in our trek through Eldin, but split off to intercept their ambush. There is another entrance to the Eldin cave system that leads near Lake Hylia; I trust you are familiar with it?”

Yuga nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s how I got here.”

“Excellent. You split off with your troops to intercept them at the edge of Hyrule Field, where I suspect they will surface to organize their formation. It will be wisest to allot you a sizable company of Lizalfos, who will be able to chase the Zora even as they retreat into the water.”

Yuga, who hadn’t given Zant as much as a glance before, was now paying great attention to him, eyes increasingly gaining a spark of captivation. Ghirahim, too, found himself once again swept away by the vividness of Zant’s plotting.

“While you are there, I request you dedicate several platoons to the capturing of King Dodongos.”

Yuga cocked his head, turning his gaze from the map to Zant’s helmet. “Dodongos? As far as I know, those linger on Death Mountain, no?”

“In this world, there is a pseudo-aquatic variant. For the time being, two will suffice. We will need as many beasts as we can throw at them,” Zant said with candid eagerness. As cold and calculating as he might be, Ghirahim came to know that such brutish assaults remained one of his guilty pleasures.

“I see! Very well, that all sounds feasible.”

They continued plotting the specifics for about an hour or so. Ghirahim was once again out of his element, somewhat, but to his comfort, Yuga appeared similarly overwhelmed. Much like him, he was used to bossing around smaller groups, while any further strategy was limited to simply letting loose a random number of monsters on unsuspecting Hylians. This comforting level of peerage at least soothed his biting feeling of incompetence a little bit. Still, one thing bugged him. Their last advance, they were thwarted by the sudden appearance of one of the Hyruleans' higher commanders. With the injuries they inflicted upon Midna, she would likely be out of commission for some time. Yuga’s arrival may have given them an advantage in that regard, but even then, it was three against… At least eleven, at this point. Cia may have been whittling away at them at another front, but in her exacerbating madness, she was no longer reliable. Not to mention, while Zant admitted to having acted carelessly at the time, it took both of them to take down just one of the enemy’s higher commanders. As good-natured as they might claim to be, the Hyruleans may have caught on to the weakness that emotional turmoil brought upon Zant, arguably their most terrifying commander, and sought to exploit it. Ghirahim worried, idly, what they would throw at them next, and if perhaps he would be targeted this time around. Nevertheless, chipping away at team morale was the last thing he wanted to do, especially in front of their rookie. Such worries would have to be left for another time.

With their negotiations wrapping up, each lieutenant retreated to their individual duties for the day. For Ghirahim, this meant another afternoon spent in the training fields. As the resident master swordsman (though quite a few ranks below his Master, still), it was his duty to perfect the form and technique among their troops. This proved to be somewhat difficult, as by far not all their troops actually wielded blades. Furthermore, the sheer differences in anatomical proportions between all their rich types of troops proved to be quite a challenge. Still, he had many a trick up his sleeve, as there was a clever method of striking available to all, no matter how stubby their legs or the count of their fingers. By far his favorites to train were the twilit Darknuts, not to speak of the elegant and disciplined desert warriors of the Gerudo. Frankly, he hardly had to teach them a thing, but their eagerness to learn new techniques and to spar with him caused his pride to swell and soar. Where other people might prefer to wind down for the day with an idle evening tide hobby, Ghirahim found the best way to ease his frustrations to be a good tussle out in the dust. It was bullying, frankly. Unless they played dirty, none of their troops stood a chance against him; and of course, everyone held him in too high esteem to try taking potshots at their commander. The battlefield was his dancefloor, one he glided through in ferocious choreography. His feet rhythmically striding across the beaten dirt, he used nothing but his hands to deflect the flurry of swords advancing on him. Blades screeched to a halt between his fingertips and chipped when bouncing off against his metal body; he needed only flick his wrist to disarm even the most frothing beasts from their weapons. He was in peak form once again, now that the ache of cursed magic no longer ailed him. No weapon could harm him, slicing through his false skin as they may, littering his body with a hatching pattern of facsimile injuries. The glittering black and white of his true form were slowly unveiled to the world around him, dazzling the nearest troops with the scorching sunlight refracting off of him. Straps of his clothing tore off of him in the scuffle. Any other time he would be angry, but oh, he had just so much fun like this, and it could all be made right with swift jabs of his elbows to the teeth of the offenders, stomps on their toes, or kicks in their groins. Others may leave this battlefield battered and bruised, but he was looking forward to leaving it a new man. Gradually, those brave enough to try and face him grew fewer and fewer, intimidated by the sheer number of monsters backing away from him, limping or not. He panted, a smile stretched across his face as he retracted his excitably lolling tongue back into his mouth.

“It was a decent effort you all have put in today,” he spoke, straightening his posture as he referred to the crowd around him. “But next time, I expect far more of a challenge out of you! Look at yourselves, and I haven’t even broken a sweat!” Hundreds of beady eyes looked back down at him, sheepishly nodding berated yet determined, and the lot of them turned back to the barracks to nurse their injuries. These brutes knew only the rule of the strongest, and lithe as he might be, he once again firmly seated himself at the top of their hierarchy. Perhaps one of these days, he ought to invite Zant or Yuga to come spar with him, and see where they landed in the pecking order… For the time being, he ought to change into his more presentable threads, before the dinner bell could summon them back to the halls.

The sun was slowly setting as he entered the mess hall, clad in his open-backed body suit and a shawl lazily draped over his arms. He only ever hung around here as an excuse to socialize; he did not need to eat, but the distant sounds of merrymaking tended to make him furious was he not involved in them. As usual, he entered it alone, though he quickly heard an unfamiliar footfall coming up behind him as he stood waiting at the doorway. Behind him, of course, was his admirer — the one he wasn’t romantically involved with, that is. He turned to see Yuga, too, had changed into more leisurely clothing. Though he was as gaudily caked in cosmetics as before, his layering was far less obnoxious. This time, he simply wore a flowing dark robe, adorned with subtly shimmering tyrian purple patterns. Small beads glittered on the outlines of the inverted triforce emblems on the fabric, almost delightfully tasteful compared to his previous attempts at dressing himself. Hands daintily clasped in front of him, he addressed Ghirahim with a smile.

“Lord Ghirahim! What a joy it is to see you again, not to speak of getting a glimpse of your extended wardrobe!”

At least someone gave him his well-deserved attention. “The sentiment is quite mutual, Lord Yuga. I take it you have settled well?”

Yuga nodded pleasantly, his massive curls bouncing under the motion. “Oh, yes. All is in perfect order,” he purred, before his eye contact was, with visible struggle, broken, his eyes instead wandering around the mess hall. “Shall we be seated? I reckon it will be much easier to converse over a warm meal.”

Ghirahim hummed in thought, peeking for a moment back into the hallway. Unfortunately, he did not find what he expected — no one else appeared to be coming. “Ah, well,” he started, “it appears Zant hasn’t quite arrived yet. It would be best if we sit at the darker end of the table, so that he may join us later.”

Yuga’s smile cracked just a bit at the mention of the Twilight King’s name. “Right, Zant.”

It was evident Yuga did not care much for the Twili’s company. From their very first encounter, he seemed to ignore him completely, only giving him the slightest bit of recognition during their strategy briefing. Disliking Zant was terrifically easy, but Ghirahim was deathly curious how he could have immediately developed a disdain for him before having spoken to him even once. Perhaps he could tease it out over dinner? “Oh? Do you dislike him?” he queried, bringing a hand to his cheek as he made his way over to the grand table reserved for their commanders.

Yuga followed him obediently but let out a conflicted sigh. “Oh, I shan’t gossip on my first day! For now, I have… Some respect for him as a commander, nothing more, nothing less.”

So there was something that awakened his ire! What a delicious development. They approached the table, bowing in respect for their Master who sat at the center overlooking the mess hall, and quickly took their seat after receiving his greeting. In the few minutes they sat there chatting, Ghirahim would learn an awful lot about their new co-lieutenant. Nothing he explicitly told him, per se, but rather the quirks that his rambunctious attitude completely failed to hide. Yuga was horrifically vain, even more so than himself, and extended this obsession with aesthetic perfection to every bit of his surroundings. He carried himself precisely so, from the way he consistently brushed the wrinkles out his clothing, to the careful and sweeping gestures he moved his hands with to avoid damaging his manicure. Really, he was starting to wonder if a creature so keen on his own appearance could survive even a second on the battlefield, but he made his way all the way over to Gerudo Desert from his respective Gate of Time, so perhaps he could set his gargantuan pride aside for such moments.

Soon, a demonstration of ‘such a moment’ arrived. All decorum went out the window when Yuga suddenly appeared distracted, his eyes widening and his jaw falling slack as his fingers tightly gripped the edge of the table. If it were not for the bustle of hundreds of men gathering in this hall, Ghirahim could have heard the wood creak under his knuckle-whitening squeeze. Yuga exclaimed a high-pitched noise of shock at whatever he was looking at and hastily began beckoning a certain someone to take their seat near them.

Zant had arrived.

The royalty-obsessed Twili had failed to change garbs as they had, but he was notably lacking the armor usually perched on his shoulder. Much more interesting was the completely befuddled look that pulled at the four corners of his split lips, and hesitantly, he made his way over to their corner of the table via the proper procedure.

Yuga had sat quivering in his seat, looking as if about to explode all throughout Zant’s advance towards them, and whatever pent-up energy burst out from him as soon as he stood at the seat they had reserved for him. “Zant! I thought that abominable helmet was your face all this time,” he hissed and screeched. “Good Lord! You are… Beautiful! Perfection!”

Ghirahim reacted to this statement almost as severely as Zant himself. He sat there with his brows knit, eyes wide, as Yuga began to wax poetic at his boyfriend. Zant, similarly, had not the slightest idea of how to react to such treatment, standing stiff and powerless as a bright red blush coated his cheeks. The poor man could do nothing but stutter out a ‘pardon?’ before being assailed with further compliments and carefully manicured hands snatching him by the chin to observe his face from various angles.

“Oh, forgive me for being so awfully forward! I simply… Agh! You, too! I must paint you! Never in all my years of living have I seen faces like yours,” Yuga clasped his hands together in a fawning gesture, continuing to ramble. “Coming here has truly been a fantastic decision! Had I known you two were hiding here, I never would have lingered in that shadow image of my home.”

Much of that evening was spent being mercilessly praised and ogled by Yuga, which Ghirahim was far more capable of taking in stride than his fellow sufferer. Zant only managed to fend off his delirious admirer with the feeble request to have his meal in relative peace, after which Yuga, too, remembered his mortal needs, and agreed to join him for dinner. The matter of Zant’s eating habits, Ghirahim suspected with some smug amusement, was very likely to put a damper on Yuga’s enthusiasm and redirect the praise he had for that bumbling fool of a Twili and back toward himself. Which, frankly, would be a favorable outcome for both of them. At first glance, the shadow-veiled King’s table manners might appear impeccable, with how patiently and delicately he handled his utensils. Ghirahim knew better, though. He looked on with a smirk as a dangling strip of meat was lifted to Zant’s mouth, and promptly, the end of it disappeared into the sharp-toothed maw. He chewed but a few times per overly-gluttonous bite before leaning his head back to swallow the entire slab whole, a visible lump slowly sliding down his undulating throat. Even past his gorget, the detail of his neck’s bulging anatomy was unpleasantly visceral to look at, though Ghirahim had grown used to it. He expectantly looked at their newest co-lieutenant, hoping to find him unnerved, but instead, read nothing but morbid fascination on his face as he continued to eat.

Oh.

Well.

Perhaps Ghirahim was not the only one with an iron stomach at this table.

Now that the bustle of the day was dying down, their conversation turned to more leisurely matters. Yuga once again inquired about their portraiture and was shocked to find neither of the men had their likenesses depicted in quite some time. The time to pinpoint a date for their posing was drawing ever closer and more inevitable, it seemed, which seemed like such an inane prospect in the midst of war. Even now, miles and miles away, troops were dying in battle for their glory, and here they were, discussing paintings and looking on in amusement at their fellow commander’s oddly lizardlike gorging. It struck him then, what a different life he was leading under Ganondorf’s leadership. In his efforts to resurrect Demise, he could not even dream of a moment to himself, spending every waking second scouring the lands for iconographical hints and monsters to beat into submission. And here he was, leisurely sitting at a dining table, finding the time to mingle with his fellow men. Taken aback by this realization, his eyes wandered to his Master, who was engaged in pleasant conversation with one of the previously reigning Gerudo governesses. Equipped with an acute perception of when he was being gawked at, Ganondorf soon met his gaze and, upon noticing he was occupied with neither dinner nor conversation, he beckoned him over with a sweep of his hand. Nigh instantly, and without looking back to his companions, he stood up and marched towards him with great enthusiasm. Though Ganondorf was seated upon his throne-like wooden chair, Ghirahim found himself in no need to bend down to meet his gaze and simply took his place beside his throne. To be at eye level with him was infinitely jarring, but there simply was no space for him to kneel, and the Demon King showed no sign of malcontentedness at his presence.

“Ghirahim,” Ganondorf rumbled, voice resonating through his metal interior. “I trust that your negotiations with Yuga have concluded successfully.”

He closed his eyes with a nod in response. “Indeed, Master. All is in order for our briefing come the morrow.”

Ganondorf hummed contentedly, leaning his chin on his rugged fist as he overlooked the rich chaos in their mess hall. “And what of your cooperation?”

That made Ghirahim pause. Less than an hour ago, the matter stood that Yuga and Zant had a remarkable distaste for one another, that only just now seemed to be mending itself. He glanced at the end of the table where the two engaged in idle conversation, their earlier unease with each other beginning to fade. Though their bickering was far less snappy and furious than his own early days with Zant, he found himself at a loss for an answer. “Ah, well,” he started, hoping to find confidence in his words as he went along. “I myself am getting along quite swimmingly with our new recruit,” he gestured to himself with newfound pleasantness, “and I expect Zant to follow quite soon.”

To his barely disguised horror, Ganondorf let out a chuckle, idly shaking his head. “You should know better than to come to me with such trivial matters, though I suppose the morale of my most loyal men is not entirely irrelevant…” The massive man shifted in his seat, wood creaking under his weight. “Your synergy. How fares your compatibility in battle?”

Long he had feared this question. Yuga was not even the biggest thorn in his side over the matter. Truth be told, even after the past few months of battling together, he and Zant still had not the slightest bit of synergy. Though they were adept at assisting one another in fending off threats, their styles of battle completely clashed. Ghirahim found himself better off standing at the sidelines while Zant went off on his many rampages than attempting to squeeze himself into the front and risk his hide. To face his Master with this knowledge fresh in his mind felt like an affront to everything he stood for, and he feared that he could read the inner conflict from his expression. “I must confess, Master. I have not yet been able to gauge the new lieutenant’s skills. We were quite occupied with his settling, and our plans for the next campaign,” he finally stammered, less secure than he would prefer to appear before the Demon King.

Ganondorf averted his gaze from him, idly rubbing at his beard. To Ghirahim’s anxiety, his warm amusement from earlier faded with the wind. “Then see to it. I entrust the assessment of Yuga’s fighting prowess to you, Ghirahim, and with it, his place on the battlefield.” Sternly, he looked at him again. “I realize I may have spoiled you, but I cannot afford you shirking your efforts when not on my watch. You all are irreplaceable. Even one of you falls, and so does our formation. Do not give me any more reason for concern. Understood?”

Ghirahim could do nothing but respond with a nod, before as quickly as he had summoned him, Ganondorf dismissed him again with a wave of his hand, and he sheepishly returned to his seat after a brief bow. Rejoining his companions then felt like crossing a threshold, the worry caused by the scowl of his Master forcibly setting itself aside to avoid showing weakness in front of his peers. Said peers greeted him again pleasantly with a hint of curiosity, but both knew better than to pry into the private matters of the King of the Gerudo. Instead, they dawdled for a moment, wondering whether to pick up their conversation from where they left it, before Ghirahim folded his hands together and leaned forward with great felicity.

“So! What did I miss?”

Night fell, and the pair retreated to their usual spot in Zant's chambers. His quarters in Gerudo Palace were significantly larger and furnished as Ghirahim would expect of the Twilight King. After dismissing a gaggle of gruff-looking Gerudo from fussing with his room, they finally seated inside to collapse after a long day of negotiations. This room, unlike the one at Eldin, had an actual seating area, and to his mild chagrin, that's where they had sat down. It seemed that Zant's earlier tolerance for his presence on his bed was primarily motivated by the lack of other seating before, and now that they could be sat politely, he decided to park the both of them straight there. Well, whatever. For the time being, he was happy to simply sit and gawk. He noted that some of the furniture had been freshly painted with details of some sort of phosphorescent dye, mimicking the teal glowing markings so typical of Twilit artifacts. Particularly receiving an upgrade was Zant's desk area, which was fitted with multi-compartment storage, and two sizeable bookcases on either side. Save for perhaps a dozen books, the text on all of the covers was illegible, meaning these were likely all smuggled from the Twilight Palace. Naturally, him being the only person capable of reading the text, these volumes were better off in his personal collection than the palatial library. His eye then fell on the bed, that big, pillowy thing, with its large mass of pillows and the sheer, sparkling shroud that encircled it. He would pout about his lacking presence on top of it, but amid their idle chatting, Zant had found something to giggle about and thoroughly distracted him. His eye was drawn to his face, only to spot one peculiarity. Sitting across him, rather than every night at his side in entanglement, allowed him to idly notice more things than usual. Right now, it occurred to him that Zant's hair was getting long enough to obscure the mark on his forehead.

Ghirahim sighed, gesturing nonchalantly at his balaclava. "Say, Zant. Isn't your hair growing awfully long?"

Zant hummed curiously, running a finger through his front bangs. "I suppose so."

Suddenly struck by an idea, Ghirahim shifted to sit on his knees. "May I?" he asked, reaching over to his balaclava. Zant gave him a brief nod, curiously eyeing his hands, squinting his eyes shut as Ghirahim's fingers slipped under the garment framing his face. Gradually, he pushed the tough, leathery fabric back, fingers running through his hair as he went along. As he thought, it was getting long. That messy mop upon his head was in even more disarray now that the haphazardly chopped locks were starting to tangle and overlap.

His eye returned to Zant's face, back at those big, bug-like eyes that stared so expectantly, and mildly flustered, up at him. "You're due for a haircut, I'd say. If you are to have your portrait taken, you want to look your best, wouldn't you think?"

A mischievous glint sparkled in Zant's eye. "You mean, the way you do every day?"

To Zant's amusement, the hand that was still plucking through his hair quickly stiffened as Ghirahim let out a scandalized squeak, and promptly delivered a light smack to his cheek. "Oh! You and I both know you wouldn't have said that if it weren't for Yuga riling you up earlier."

Zant squinted his eyes in a daring smile. "You'll never know for sure," he sneered.

Rolling his eyes, Ghirahim sat back down, his hand trailing to rest on Zant's shoulder instead, and he turned to the triptych vanity near the easternmost window. The idea of a man like Zant, constantly covered by his helmet, and overall frumpish as he was, possessing, much less using such a thing was perplexing to him. He wondered the last time the elegant granite surface must have last had elbows resting upon it, at the mercy of whoever was dolling themselves up. Peeking back at Zant through the slight gaps in his bangs, he promptly stood up, starting to pull him off of the couch and towards the vanity. Zant yelped slightly in response, the sudden manhandling likely rousing his scabbed-over injuries, while Ghirahim dragged him over and shoved him down into the seat before the mirrors of his dressing table. Fingers ran through his hair again while Ghirahim loomed behind him, meeting his restlessly darting eyes with a flirtatious gaze. He bent over to hover with his face next to his, fiddling with the locks of his hair — stretching out his bangs to measure their length to his chin, ruffling the back to see how it puffs out. Much of it was now shoulder length, unexpected from a man who’d always kept it fussily cropped short. Perhaps it had gotten away from him, with how occupied his evenings had been. Well, thank Demise for it!

“At least I have plenty to work with,” Ghirahim chuckled, fluffing his hair as he stood back upright.

Zant scoffed. “You? You’ve taken enough possession of me to start cutting my hair?”

“I only mean some offense by this, but every time I’ve seen that hair of yours, it’s messier than the last time. What you need, is someone with a steadier hand.”

Zant folded his arms poutily but was unable to think of a retort that did not incriminate him. Ghirahim continued his stylistic brainstorming instead. “You know, now that I look at it… Don’t you think you would look quite regal with longer hair? I could trim the ends, so it all grows out evenly—“

Zant quickly raised a hand, stopping his line of reasoning. “Ghirahim, I have tolerated your musings until now, but this I must decline,” he hissed, before his next words left his mouth with more of a mutter. “I do not see myself in my own reflection, when it is long.”

Ghirahim paused, then chuckled. “Surely it is not so drastic!”

But Zant’s expression did not change. “I am serious.”

He stood there blinking, caught off guard by his grave tone. Such an abstract concept was nigh incomprehensible to him, but if anyone was familiar with being picky about one’s appearance, it would be him. So, he did the next best thing: play right into his hand. “Right. Then, I’d like to suggest we stick to your usual length, but try to make it look less like a herd of goats went and ravaged it. Does that sound agreeable?”

Still in a bit of a sore mood, Zant’s earlier sternness lingered, but Ghirahim’s incessant taste for bugging him chipped at his composure. Soon, he sighed, meeting his eye again through their reflections. “If you absolutely must.”

Ghirahim chuckled victoriously, finally relinquishing his toying with his hair. And how good it was that he did, as that sweaty, greasy mess was starting to make him cringe to touch. “I’d reckon we ought to find an opportunity to wash it before I do, though.”

A sudden spot of genius struck him. “Why! I have the perfect idea. Before we get back to Eldin, we ought to make good use of the bathhouse here. Surely you’ve seen it!”

Zant, by now fed up with being treated as a dressing doll, refused to speak to him through their reflections any longer, and instead turned in his seat to look up at him. Their meager height difference as he sat was a little grating. He nodded. “I have been to it, on occasion.”

Speaking to him today was just one surprise after the other. Someone as modest as he? Sneaking off to bathe in a public place? Voluntarily, without him to goad him into it? Ghirahim was learning many new things about him, and he hardly even had to prod for the candor to come dripping out. “That spares me the effort of showing you around, then,” he nodded, resting a hand on Zant’s shoulder again. The Twili did not even as much as acknowledge the gesture. “Perhaps it’s an idea to invite Yuga along?”

This startled Zant out of his monotony. “Yuga?” He stammered. “We have only just met! You want our second encounter of diplomacy to be spent in… Well! In the nude?”

Ghirahim jeered, retracting his hand from Zant’s shoulder to wave him off with it. “Oh, he wouldn’t make a fuss! Most he’d show is an enthusiasm for sculpting us, or something like it,” he drawled on, reminiscing their earlier encounters with that eccentric figure. Indeed, most Yuga had done was ogling at them, but in a distinctly… Platonic way. The man viewed the two of them with deep aesthetic admiration, but in the same way one would a picturesque landscape or a particularly pleasing assemblage of still life knickknacks. In short, Yuga beheld the both of them as though they were living, breathing pieces of art already, itching to immortalize them. Needless to say, Ghirahim wanted to make fast friends with him.

Zant frowned at him for a moment, before his long, pointy ears drooped with a sigh. “Oh, I truly do detest how right you are. Very well; though I wish to gauge his reaction, personally, when you do offer, otherwise I will take to the baths some other opportunity!”

Ghirahim smiled, again sidling up behind him, laying one hand on either of his shoulders. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Your Majesty.”

Unable to resist the charms brought on by his enthusiasm, Zant exhaled a single squeak of amusement, leaning back to rest against him. Ghirahim’s hands slid their way up his neck, gliding past its taut muscles, and rested instead upon his jaw, stroking thumbs across his cheeks. His lips puckered in endeared enthusiasm as Ghirahim looked down to him so fondly, the heat from his face spreading to the darkened metal of the sword spirit’s hands. Oh, if only kissing him wouldn’t wobble the two of them off balance.

Amidst their sickeningly saccharine display of affection, Zant broke their fond silence. “If this is your attempt at seducing me into letting you crawl into my bed again, it is working,” Zant purred, cracking open one eye to peer up at him.

Offended as he was, Ghirahim couldn’t help but laugh, his face wrinkling in a mischievous grimace. “You think me a harlot!”

Zant giggled in response. “Throughout at least half of our conversation earlier, you were eyeing the sheets without even so much as a shred of subtlety.”

Ghirahim narrowed his eyes sharply and dug his fingers in to squeeze his cheeks as punishment. “Well, then. Aren’t you going to invite me?”

“Do I need to? You tend to simply go wherever you please.”

That was enough! Ghirahim promptly smacked his hands back on his shoulders, shrouding the both of them in yet another explosion of monochromatic diamonds. They arrived at the other end of his spatial warp wrestling for the better spot, somewhat in mid-air before they dropped with near-synchronized ‘oof’s into the mattress of Zant’s aptly king-sized bed. It had been a few days since their last night together, but from the previous handful of times, he remembered he must savor his time wisely. The Shadow King was a surprisingly kind lover, preferring his affections to be light and feathery over the carnal crashing of mouths Ghirahim was so used to, and tonight was no different. Still, they never did stay entangled for long. The passionate creature had a way of caressing him like a poem had its arcs, which meant that no matter how swept away they may get during its central stanzas, an end truly meant an end, and he would always request his leave after. There was something he was hiding, certainly, but he found this form of courtship oddly intriguing. Perhaps it was a Twili custom, or simply Zant’s overall way of being, that made him treat their budding romance as a dance, guiding Ghirahim through its various steps and twirls all the way through. His curiosity for whatever came next bested his impatience in this regard, but eventually, his urge to turn the tables would burst free from its chains, and show Zant just how fiery a lover he could be. For now, he was content to lay in his arms, those strange, split lips leaving their marks on his own, before bidding it all farewell for the night.

——

Another day went by in their usual routine. This time, it was Zant who approached Ghirahim’s quarters come daybreak. The man arrived at his doorway somewhat dispirited, dark circles set under his eyes, though he greeted him with a smile as always. He was mellow that morning, to Ghirahim’s great surprise, and simply seemed to want to poke around his room now that it was furnished. In comparison to Zant’s scholarly clutter, his own abode was disturbingly minimalist, save for what he could only refer to as his sewing corner. Currently lacking any projects, all there stood was simply a mannequin and a shelf with rolls of fabric, which Zant took to with great interest. Much of that morning was spent with light-hearted chatting, with the Twili leaning on him, seeking comfort from an ailment he would not share. Ghirahim found himself trying to brush it off. Certainly, if it was important to their mission, he would have poured his heart out to him as the impulsive creature was expected to do. Despite this sound logic that usually would sway him, an odd worry continued to eat at him. His Master’s words echoed in his mind; if even one of them were to fall, it would spell doom for their entire mission. Zant’s well-being was crucial to them all, as dubious as his mental state usually was. Still, Ghirahim found it was not merely his sense of duty that agonized at his inability to gain his trust…

Odd mood or not, the war continued. Their briefing with Ganondorf and the lower-ranking commanders went by as smoothly as it could. The Demon King seemed most pleased with their negotiations, and, as though reading Ghirahim’s mind, had only the possibility of the higher Hyrulean commanders swooping in as a concern. That very noon, scouts would be sent ahead on either route, hoping to spy on camps and keep an eye on any noteworthy occupants. Despite his disappointment from the night before, to Ghirahim’s great joy the Master actually seemed pleased. Still, he could not grow complacent just yet. That very afternoon, he was set to spar with Yuga. As expected from a mage, the man was far from an expert in melee, but this did not take away from his overall versatility. His choice of weaponry was most confusing, as other than the beams from his staff and a frequently summoned trident, his primary way of fighting was carried out… Using a picture frame.

“Oh, those are portals!” Yuga cheerfully proclaimed, swinging his staff wildly to force Ghirahim back out of melee range. “They summon various elemental magicks, weapons, and, well,” he ranted on, assailing his opponent with narrowly-dodged bolts of lightning and arrows pelting out of thin air, “They also pack quite a punch!”

Ghirahim grunted as out of the corner of his eye, he noticed far too late a teal smudge hurtling toward him at breakneck speeds. He reeled as it smashed into the back of his head, cracking the false skin upon impact. Thankful then for his constitution, he only needed to shake his head to rid himself of the worst dizziness. Yuga covered his lips with the tips of his fingers, a little bashful under the burning glare he shot at him. “Oh! I do beg your pardon, I expected you to dodge that.”

Indeed, it was his mistake. After this morning, he had been distracted, and in his attempts to tease out Yuga’s abilities, he overestimated his reflexes to the point of carelessness. How unbecoming of him! “Quite the nasty tricks you have. If anything, it made for a fine demonstration…” he trailed off, his attempts at saving face interrupted by a familiar giggle coming from the shadows of the nearby storage rooms. It appeared they had an audience. Zant apparently found the time to sneak off and watch their practice and took great amusement in his fumbling.

Ghirahim responded to this mockery with a scowl. “Don’t you have some bugs you need to be looking at?”

Zant’s earlier amusement all but faded, but he did put his hands in his sides, squinting at his snide comments. “I am simply here as your fellow commander, sating my curiosity about our new lieutenant’s skill in battle. If you so desire to make a fool out of me, I will be more than happy to join Yuga in beating you into ingots!”

Ghirahim grimaced at him with a sarcastic laugh, before lunging back at Yuga, rapier extended. Not expecting the sudden onslaught, Yuga shrieked, just barely deflecting the tip of his sword with another flying frame. This time, he had the upper hand, driving the man back by continuing to push against his shields. He stabbed and kicked at the translucent frames that appeared before him, pushing the sorcerer backward with each strike, before finally deciding to sidestep past. With one decisive thrust, the tip of his rapier was now under Yuga’s chin.

“Your skills are terribly interesting, I do say, though your defenses could use some work,” Ghirahim said with a smile and a tilt of his head. “Sturdy as those frames may be, they’re quite easy to slip past.”

Yuga swallowed, the bob of his adam’s apple briefly pushing the blade further into his skin. “I see! Well, ah, thank you for your insights!”

“You are most welcome. Oh, by the way,” he intoned cheerfully, removing the blade from the poor man’s throat. “Now that Zant is here, I have a proposition…”

It went without saying, but Yuga was incredibly enthusiastic about the matter of there being a bathhouse, even more so about joining the pair for an afternoon of socializing. Zant, on the other hand, was more difficult to persuade. He seemed to be having a severe case of ‘cold feet’. It was nothing a bit of well-timed prodding couldn‘t help, though. Before he knew it, he had the lanky thing stripped down to his robes and padding, and shuffling obediently, yet uneasily, down to the north of the building after him. Yuga had gone on ahead, apparently in more need of preparation than the both of them… Whatever that meant. Walking past the colonnades and into the bathhouse itself, the two men quickly went to the dressing rooms, the sound of gently running water just behind the wall. They had the place to themselves, Ghirahim had seen to that — they’d be meeting nobody but the occasional attendant.

“Ghirahim, I must attend you to one thing,” Zant stated with slight apprehension in the hitch of his voice. “When I have undressed, you may find my anatomy… Not as you expect it.”

Now he was even more curious than before. He had promised Zant to keep his back turned until they were both more or less bared, but the temptation to look over his shoulder was starting to get nigh unbearable. “Not to worry, I’ve long since made myself comfortable with your otherworldly appearance. I’m certain it will be nothing shocking,” he intoned, trying foolhardy to mask his burning curiosity with a nonchalant tone. Oh, but what if it was shocking? The possibilities were endless! He had felt his body pressed against his, but only ever through the padding of countless robes! Whichever way it went, he was terribly intrigued, and could only imagine what was hidden on the lanky form beneath.

Zant was silent a moment, before humming in mildly conflicted affirmation. He heard nothing more but the gentle slaps of shuffling straw slippers on the tiles and the rustling of thick clothing for a while, until they had both well and enough prepared themselves for their little afternoon of relaxation. By now Ghirahim decided he’d waited enough, and he promptly turned around.

The Twili stood before him, a woven towel held loosely at his waist. Against all odds, the humble creature had indeed undressed to nothing but his footwear, allowing him his first-ever glimpse of whatever mystery he hid behind his eternal mass of robes.

Various features could have caught his eye. It could have been the weak glow of the elaborate markings adorning his body, or the black-and-white patterns swirling around his limbs and torso like shadows, or even the way the deep black on his upper arms slowly faded into a sickly grey the further down his arms he looked. Instead, his eyes were promptly glued to one particular trait.

Were those..?

Those were definitely..!

A small clear of the throat snapped him out of whatever wild goose chase his mind was sending him off on. “I must beg your pardon,” said the voice diagonally in front of him, “I realize this may be somewhat difficult for a man of your stature, but I truly would prefer for you to look me in the eye when we speak.”

Embarrassed, Ghirahim quickly craned his head back to meet Zant’s gaze. He feared having insulted him, but instead, he was greeted with a smile, clad in subtle, eye-squinting smugness. That bastard was toying with him!

“Of course,” Ghirahim found himself stammering, shamefully, yet futilely, fighting against the blush creeping up on his cheeks. “Oh, I do apologize… How unbecoming of me,” he muttered, clutching his towel to his chest during a struggle to find an appropriate pose for his arms.

Zant’s smile broadened, baring the first glimpses of his teeth. “Very forward of you, indeed,” he crooned, “but such curiosities and inquiries will have to wait until some other time.”

As Ghirahim still stood there, perplexed by the strange up-and-down in the gravity of this situation, Zant was already turning to leave. “I believe we have a guest to tend to, and it would be even more unbecoming if we left him waiting, no?”

Turning to look over his shoulder, Zant curiously gauged his next course of action or perhaps hoped to spot him sneaking in more opportunities to ogle. Against both their expectations, Ghirahim found himself, shockingly, too shy to do so, and instead stood staring at the face so gingerly obscured by the choppy locks of his plum-colored hair. Him, shy? Embarrassed!? It was unheard of! He had to save face quickly.

“You are most right, my dear,” he purred, briskly taking off to keep up pace with him. “Let us hope our new comrade hasn’t gotten himself lost a second time!”

Soon enough, they encountered Yuga standing in the middle of the hallway leading to the baths, hair wrapped in a towel. Without his gaudy clothing and flashy hair, he could only recognize him from his boney, yet delicate build, facing away from them to gaze out the window to the courtyard oasis. The sound of their sandals slapping against the tiles alerted him, though, and he turned with a smile. It seemed that his horridly pale skin and long lashes were natural, for he was lacking his trademark jester-like makeup.

“Ah, gentlemen! Not to worry, I wasn’t waiting long,” he said, casually looking the both of them up and down.

Ghirahim, fully aware of this, cocked his hip, a hand resting on his waist. “Good to hear. Lovely place, isn’t it?”

“Oh, indeed! I only hope the water isn’t all too heated. It is sweltering in this desert!” Yuga responded, fanning himself with his hand with a sigh.

For once, Zant cut in. “You will find it to your liking, then. Come along. I hear that I’ve a need to wash up.”

Trying his very hardest to crane his head up to look at him, Ghirahim watched the Twili leave rather quickly, making his way straight for the washing rooms. Zant’s sudden change of demeanor was puzzling to him, but he supposed he preferred it over having to drag him kicking and screaming. In fact, his favorite part was coming up next. He trailed after him, Yuga in tow, to reach the lineup of square plaster tubs that lined the entrance of the bathhouse proper. Casting his towels aside, Zant lowered that towering body somehow down to the shoulders into the very first bath he came across. Ghirahim saw his moment and shot his shot. Before Zant even noticed him coming up, he already sat on the edge of the bath directly behind him and locked him in place with his legs over his shoulders.

Zant yelped. “What foolishness are you up to this time?”

Ghirahim chuckled, reaching over to the edge of the tub to fetch a handful of bottles of soap. “Hush, you. Some people would pay for this kind of treatment!”

Zant groaned as well-manicured fingers found their way to his hair. “I can wash my own hair perfectly well, thank you!”

“Oh, I know. But I can do it better.”

“You-“ he sputtered as water was promptly poured over his head, running into his eyes and nostrils. A frustrated whine sounded from him, struggling in vain against the legs that so firmly held him in place. His stubbornness would not hold, though. A cold trickle of soap cascaded upon his head, and soon, hands rubbed across his scalp, pulling apart the strands that were once held together with sweat and grease. If anything could successfully pacify even the most aggressive and nasty-mannered of people, it was having one’s hair played with. Zant, who now grew slack under his touch, was evidently no exception.

“You might want to pick another bath, Yuga,” Ghirahim remarked bluntly. “Lord knows what I’m about to scrub off of him.”

“Oh, say less,” Yuga responded blandly, before so luxuriously claiming an entire tub for himself next to them.

A good scrub-down later, it was just about time for the primary goal of their outing. They sat Zant across the window, close enough to the light to allow them to work accurately, but far away enough for him to not get scorched within seconds. Zant nervously eyed the two men who hovered around him like vultures, fiddling with the asymmetrical locks that now limply hung wet from his head. Ghirahim frowned at what he saw, once again, before taking hold of the long strands of his side bangs.

“Now, whatever is the point in these?” he inquired, twirling one of the locks in his fingers. Zant, never one for fashion, simply shrugged in return. Ah, so they were pointless. But before he could approach with the scissors, Yuga halted him.

“Ah-ah! Not so fast,” he said, taking the strand into his hand. “Now, hear me out. What if we were to braid this, and then…”

As they continued bickering, it was clear that Zant had absolutely no say in what was to happen to his own hair, aside from the length. Ghirahim was the one holding the scissors, after all, and he made sure Zant knew better than to even attempt to take them from him. Yuga, in the meantime, was proving to be a fine assistant, using his many years of experience in portraiture to pick out just what would look flattering on a royal. A King Zant was no longer, but getting to play the part still seemed to bring him some delusional fulfillment. Who was he to deny him such a pleasure? Damp, purple locks gathered on the floor around him, but mostly on Zant’s shoulders and lap, as his face was slowly being framed with an unprecedented, actually decent-looking haircut. Seemingly zoning out to someplace else, the Twili wide-eyed and obediently followed their every command in the angling of his head and the squinting of his eyes, and he hadn’t uttered a word of protest since they’d trimmed the hair away from his forehead marking. Perhaps the undivided attention of two people vastly exceeding him in levels of stylishness finally shattered his poise.

A good ruffle with a towel later, Zant was sitting stiffly upright, eyes darting between them as they styled him back to perfection.

Yuga stood back upright, adjusting the knot of the towel he had wrapped around his chest to cover himself. “Why,” he exclaimed delightedly, “how lovely this looks! Zant, if it weren’t for your one-in-a-million face, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

Indeed, Zant was quite the looker when he actually put effort into his appearance. Or, well, if others put the effort in for him, Ghirahim casually observed, dissipating the scissors into thin air. “We ought to find you a mirror… But first, you might want to wash all those little hairs off. Careful not to get your head wet, we worked hard over here!”

Idly, but with utmost carefulness, Zant began to feel at the silhouette of his hair. “I appreciate your efforts, ah,” he contemplated, “but I will refrain from thanking you until I’ve seen it.”

Yuga rolled his eyes with a laugh. “You’re worried? Please! Our tastes are hardly any more flashy than yours.”

Zant narrowed his eyes with a hum, shivering under a sudden chill. Ghirahim had taken the liberty of giving him somewhat of an undercut, which those twiggy fingers were now curiously rubbing at, fascinated by the texture.

As Ghirahim expected, though admittedly, he was also a little relieved, Zant was most pleased with their work. Less pleased he was by the otherworld sorcerer now constantly buzzing around him, who was far more interested in him now that his appearance was a bit more groomed. A brief wash-up later, Yuga signaled them to go on ahead, as his own hair care routine could get rather lengthy, and he wouldn’t want to keep them standing around in the dry heat of the desert that wafted in through the windows.

Little did he know, this was the exact window Ghirahim had been hoping to get. For what was a trip to the bathhouse without a bit of skinship? A short walk down the next hallway later, he took Zant by the wrist to halt him in his step and quickly slid in front of him.

“Bend down, you nasty creature, and give me a kiss,” Ghirahim murmured, shimmying up to stand closer to the object of his affection. “We’ve been wandering about nude for nearly an hour, and you expect me to keep my composure?”

And yet, Zant stood perfectly upright still, unmoved by his advances. “I do! We have a guest!” He cheerfully chimed in, before giving him but the mildest peck on the nose, and promptly wandering off again. The nerve! To reject him was one thing, but to belittle him was just plain unnecessary!

Huffing grumpily all the way, he trotted after him. “Whatever’s wrong with, ‘no thank you, Ghirahim, some other time, Ghirahim’,” he inquired, caricaturing Zant’s voice. “Why must you make a mockery of me?”

Zant snickered in response. “You spend every breathing second trying to get a rise out of me, so forgive me for retaliating!”

“You bumbling fool! I ought to drown you,” he growled, clawing hands about to dig into the Twili’s ludicrously long waist, but he promptly warped out of his grip. Amused by the thrill of teasing him, he reappeared quite a few paces ahead of him, gait floaty and arms swaying. Zant looked back at him just once from across the hall, a smirk stretching across his face, before he disappeared around the corner. One way or the other, he had to figure out a way to get his hands on that man…

They made their way over to their reserved bathing space, away from the burning sun, and into a cooler apex of the building. Such a space was preferable, not only for the overall comfort of all three of them, but also because Zant would last perhaps five minutes if exposed to any more of the deadly rays of daylight. They had an entire pool to themselves, not exactly large but certainly clean and heated, which they casually reclined around, dipping their feet in the lukewarm water. Yuga had not arrived yet, which gave them a few precious minutes to sit shoulder to shoulder, doing… Whatever nonsense Ghirahim could tempt him into. He swayed his feet in the water, watching the little waves lap lazily at the Twili’s ankles next to him. His gaze trailed up his body; he found himself captivated, then, by how the refracting light from the cyan water danced across his pale skin, making the dull glow from his markings appear that much brighter. Against the cool blue hue the water cast the room in, his orange eyes were once again quick to draw and trap his gaze. Zant caught him staring and cocked his head playfully.

“Peeping at me again?”

Not a problem. He could segue into favorable territory with ease. “You truly do look far more handsome with your hair like this, you know. You ought to let me do this more often.”

“Perhaps I will,” Zant chuckled, turning to face him with an almost serpentine motion of his neck. “You, too, are looking quite a few shades brighter after your wash-up, Sword.”

It seemed that Yuga’s incessant flattering still kept him on edge and at a need to overperform. Either that, or Zant’s amorous mood began to match his own. He leaned in, unsubtly pressing his shoulder to his arm. “You’re quite certain you don’t want to sneak in a peck or two?”

Zant smiled at him again, slinking away from him. “Quite certain indeed,” he said, before unceremoniously dropping himself into the water. Thankfully for the both of them, his sheer height made sure not even a droplet of water landed on his freshly-groomed haircut.

Ghirahim laughed purely out of reflex at his tremendously quick escape. His chin rested upon his palm and his elbow on his knee, he leaned forward to look down at him. “Of course, I’ve no intent to force myself upon you, but you’ll have to forgive me for wondering about your sudden insistent prudishness.”

His inquiry was met with a sniff. “In roughly twenty seconds, you’ll see,” Zant smirked, before swimming off to the other side of the pool in a surprisingly swift motion. Long, lanky arms flowed like octorok tendrils, jetting him forward in bursts. Perhaps his earlier mental comparisons of him being a lizard were unfair, he pondered. The man was really much more like a frog. Zant continued to amuse himself in the water, twisting his body back to face him as he continued to paddle himself backward. He really wasn’t going to let any more words slip, was he?

Oh, this cryptic creature! He blew his bangs out of his face with a single puff and crossed his arms in a miffed gesture. Truly, he wished he would just tell it to him straight sometimes, but with the way he was always sending him back and forth with his own teasing, he supposed he had it coming. The meaning of the Twili’s words soon became apparent, as indeed, a few seconds later, Yuga came around the corner, holding a sizable fabric fan, and his hair hanging loose and wet over his shoulders.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for too long! I managed to hail a servant, she’ll be down here with a jug of wine in a little while,” he said cheerfully, dapping the water out from his ear.

Zant crooned approvingly, while Ghirahim’s eye was moreso drawn to his new accessory. “And where did you get that thing?”

With a smirk, Yuga unfolded the fan, and daintily fluttered it before his face. “I borrowed it,” he giggled, before joining the two of them to sit across the pool.

Much of that afternoon was spent with varying degrees of productivity. Ghirahim knew that between lieutenants, even outings such as these were meant for diplomacy. He recalled it so during his time under Cia, where any alliance was wobbly, and his compatriots could be expected to be swayed by their own selfish needs any minute. Not that he particularly enjoyed spending time with either Volga or Wizzro; the former was a bore, and the latter… He preferred not to dwell on the thought too long. But as he sat there, watching his Twili dipping in the water and Yuga reclining close by, giggling under the enjoyment of a cup of wine, he couldn’t help but consider the two as friends. Yes, they were all united under Ganondorf, unwavering in their loyalty to the Demon King. They had a cause and a promise, with incredibly little need for worry of subterfuge. But perhaps he was naïve in assuming that. Still, today was not about gathering intel or picking apart every little word to hope to wring out any and all secrets that would come dripping out. It was about… Companionship. Boosting their morale. Finding another moment of cheer before those goody-two-shoes could swoop in and beat the tar out of them, and vice versa. As the day of their campaign through Eldin crept ever closer, Ghirahim could not think of a wiser way to spend their time.

The day flew by. They had dried off and had their supper, and after the last meetings were tended to, the bustle of the castle died down, the troops inside retreating to their chambers under the setting sun.

All but two.

Ghirahim and his co-lieutenant sauntered through the hallway to their chambers, having joined each other wordlessly in their stroll. Yet as the doors that would come to separate them grew ever closer, Ghirahim broke the silence and looked up to the King of Shadows, who had long since shed his helmet.

“Are you feeling better after this morning? I hesitated to bring it up, but you seemed somewhat… Downtrodden, when you first came to see me today.”

Zant perked up, his ear twitching slightly at the sound of his voice, as he looked down at him with a smile. “Your care for me flatters me, Ghirahim. Yes, it has been quite a productive day. I find myself quite fulfilled, indeed.”

Humming in response, he once again found himself lost in thought. So childishly they stood before the door to Zant’s sleeping quarters, not knowing what to say yet not wanting to bid goodbye just yet, toeing at the ground and hesitant words sucking back into their throats. He was a weapon, a tool for bloodshed and destruction, yet here he was, at the mercy of the thumping in his chest. Truthfully, Zant frequently angered him, dragged the proverbial blood out from under his nails with his foolishness and incompetence. But when alone with him like this in the shades of evening, he found himself longing for nothing but his company. A man so strange, so opposite from him, threatened to be the one to understand him most intimately.

This, too, ticked him off. Was he going to let a lanky imbecile like him play him like a fiddle? He had to suck up this timid reluctance and assert himself once again. Zant perked up as he stepped closer to him, and gingerly reached over to him, taking hold of his forearm. “We needn’t say goodbye here, Zant,” he whispered, craning his head up to look at him. “Won’t you let me stick around?”

Zant swallowed, yet in his shyness, did not break eye contact. “If you’re so inclined,” he responded with a sigh, “but we have a long day of preparations yet ahead of us, you oughtn’t to stay long.”

Again with this! His hand slid from his arm down to his wrist, and despite his apprehension, Zant clasped their hands together before Ghirahim could think to do so. He needed to hear it, he wasn’t putting up with getting pushed out any longer. “Why must you always dismiss me? Have I not earned your trust?”

For once, it was Zant that broke his own hypnotic gaze, darting his eyes away from him as inner conflict furrowed his brow. “It is not just a matter of trust, Ghirahim,” he muttered.

Oh, this man was going to be the death of him. Once again, the alien creature had managed to slip past his defenses and rid him of any desire to snap at him. “Then whatever could be the matter?” he insisted, “Tell me.”

The Twili visibly hesitated in his arms, his spindly fingers squeezing his hand once, before retreating from his grip. Yet, Ghirahim did not let him relent, and stepped in closer to him, stroking his gloved hands up his forearms as his eyes pleaded with him for an answer. Finally, Zant sighed and met his eyes again. “Restless dreams plague me, and unbothered sleep does not come easy. You, as a being without need for sleep, must know how terribly long such nights feel.”

The warmth of his body radiated off him, the beat of his pulse thrumming through his sinewy arms. Ghirahim slid his fingers down that barren grey skin, only to end up hand-to-hand, lacing his fingers with Zant’s. “Then why not seek out my company?”

“You do not know what you might find,” he responded gravely, trying to shy out from his grip.

Such struggles were only met with another step closer, and a tip of Ghirahim’s head, looking up to draw their faces parallel. “Do you think me afraid?”

“No. Perhaps I am.”

“Then let me soothe those fears, Zant, creature of the night you are,” he whispered, lips now agonizingly close to his, enough to feel the Mortal’s breath on his skin. His voice buckled under the weight of his words. “Please don’t send me away again.”

Hesitation. The Usurper looked down at him, eyes glazed over with a film of early tears. A tremble coursed through his body, holding back the crashing waves of an insurmountable feeling, one so strong Ghirahim could feel it through his skin. Raw, arcane, and violent. Yearning deep enough to infect him, surging from his lips to his core.

Attunement.

Suddenly, silk-clad, lanky arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and pulled him through the threshold of his chambers. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them and sheltered them from the outside world with a click. Pale lips met his own, and all faded around him when his back hit the cushioning of the mattress, losing himself to a living dream when the shadows of the Twilight King enveloped him.

For just that night, Zant would lift the weight of such a betrayal of loyalty. He was his, and they were one.

#beararts #doodlies #bearwrites #ghirahim #zant #hyrule warriors #tp zant #legend of zelda #yuga #yuga albw #ganondorf #ghirazant #tftk

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