#I love that she's trying to form a relationship with her son despite her own misgivings and fears

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 011 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. getting drunk. physical violence.

notes. @sunasbabie bullied me into updating so here it is. alsoo the start of suna’s downfall arc???

wc. 11.8k

series masterlist 

[ ELEVEN ] I care, I care, I care like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin’, hidden in plain sight. ooh I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life. I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear

Rintaro had known from a very young age he was different.

He had brothers, quite a number of them, and yet even when everyone had their own maids and butlers, Rintaro stuck out like a sore thumb. For one, they were strictly not allowed to call him by his name. He was never Rintaro – always His Highness or Crown Prince. He was never allowed to play with his brothers, either, despite being close in age to most of them. Instead, he stood watching from the windows of his study as they frolicked and lived like normal boys. They attended school, played sports, made friends – the normal way of living, even for Princes. But Rintaro wasn’t like that. Her Majesty had different expectations for him. That because he was the only son of the King and Queen, he simply had to be better than the rest.

No, he had to be the best, and he believed it at some point.

Until Her Majesty announced it was about time he learned some ‘proper socializing’ into society. She’d enrolled him in the same private academy as his brothers, got chauffeured to and fro, and was expected to give nothing but the best of grades when he returned. It sounded simple enough – study, excel, and prepare himself for the throne.

No one had warned him that high school came with other unexpected surprises, one that came in the form of a brown eyed beauty he’d been eyeing since his first day.

Her name was Iris – top of the class, all long, lean legs, and a mop of long, wavy hair. It was hard not to notice her. She was popular, in the way that everyone asked her for her notes, and you could trust her to whisper the correct answer when you’d been called to recite in the middle of the class. An academic overachiever, a teacher’s pet – they all had some sort of name for her. A stickler for the rules, too, always appropriately dressed and speaking in polite, clipped tones. She spoke in a manner elders would love, and Rintaro found that fact rather endearing. He wasn’t a great reader of people, but he could tell one thing: Iris was not her true self.

Her smile might be respectful, but something about the way her lips twitched when being told what to do gave him an idea that perhaps she wasn’t as obedient as she made herself to be. And she was always helping others, putting others before herself, but she never did it looking satisfied.

Rather, it seemed that her actions always stemmed from one thing: obligation.

Iris was not who she is because it was her, down to her nature, but because she felt she had to be. It was such a quality Rintaro resonated with. To deny oneself, and to put duty and order first. They both walked with stiffness in their shoulders, with the weight of the world on their heads. They were simply too young to be caring about such. And Rintaro found it unfair – how they’d been deprived of their right to normalcy and had a future they never even wanted shoved down their throats. He couldn’t speak entirely for her, of course.

They had entirely different backgrounds – with Iris as a foreign scholar, who had to work twice as hard to prove she was worthy as any local, and then there was Rintaro, who couldn’t really tell which parts of him were himself, or fabricated by the throne.

They were both young people who lied to themselves. And strangely enough, he found comfort in that. He found comfort in her. He felt less alone when she was around, and she’d definitely made her presence known. Whether it be slipping notes into his desk and walking away without a word, or sharing her milkbread with him during lunch – which he found hilarious, yet cute – or when she simply made the effort to get to know him.

Not the Crown Prince, but Rintaro.

She began to ask things about himself that he’d never thought of before. Like what his favorite food was – he blanked out, because he wasn’t supposed to be picky with food, so he just ate anything. Or what his favorite game was, and sometimes, she’d even asked him to teach her, even if bringing cell phones in class were prohibited.

She made him feel like a real person. She didn’t treat him specially; she didn’t swoon or fall to her feet when he entered a room. She spoke to him normally, treated him like a friend when no one would dare call him as such.

To her, he was just Rintaro. He could just be. And before he’d realized it, he began to look for her – in the hallways, watching her talk to her friends, or being curious on what snacks she brought so he could buy some for her next time, or intentionally trying to get partnered with her on any project.

But he hadn’t fallen for her.

Not until that day they’d rain poured over them unexpectedly, and they retreated under the nearest tree. Class had long been dismissed, and pretty much everyone had left – save for the two of them due to a late tutoring session. Rintaro struggled with English, but Iris was great at everything. And it was also a good excuse to spend more time together.

“You know, you’re different from what I expected,” Iris spoke, tilting her head up to catch some raindrops falling from the leaves with the tip of her finger. “When they said the Crown Prince was going to attend class, I figured you would be more… uptight. Strict. Or, you know, perhaps more arrogant than your brother.”

Rintaro fought the urge what she thought of him now. He’d become curious about it lately, unhealthily so. He wanted her to like him, to think positively of him – to be more than just ‘handsome’ or ‘charming’ or ‘regal.’ Because he most definitely wasn’t regal around her. He could be more himself, which is why he slouched, learned to smoke, longed for a tattoo, and even learned how to curse. Because he wasn’t Crown Prince Rintaro. He was just a normal high school student, Rin. Rin who stood under a tree while rain poured heavily against the pavement, next to a pretty girl who wore strawberry flavored chapstick and introduced him to a world he never imagined he could be part of.

If she had said he was regal, and well-mannered, he would’ve taken offense. But he didn’t ask, turning his gaze away from the way Iris leaned back against the damp tree and pulled out a cigarette. Even the way she smoked had him fascinated because it meant as a sign of trust to him.

The good, perfect student Iris was no longer perfect around him. She trusted him enough to let her guard down, and reveal her flaws. She had no need to impress him. In return, it made him want to impress her by mimicking her habits – even if he would’ve never dared doing them before.

“I have a lot of arrogant brothers. Which one are you talking about?”

“The ridiculously tall and talkative brunette in our year.”

“Tooru,” he said, gladly accepting when she offered him a stick. He didn’t light it though, because he was on his way home and didn’t want to reek of smoke. Well, if he was to be completely honest, he hated smoking. He didn’t like the way it burned his throat and made it itchy. But Iris smoked often, and she revealed more about herself each time she did, so he joined her. Everything he did was for her.

“Iris, why do you speak so casually to me?”

She shrugged and puffed out a smoky breath. “You just looked lonely. And everyone treats you like you’re fragile – always stumbling over their words or being excessively polite. I can tell it makes you uncomfortable, so… But if you truly mind, I can stick to the formalities. I just thought you might want someone to treat you like a normal person.”

“No, I-I don’t mind,” he reassured, “I like that you speak to me normally.”

“So, friends?”

He chuckled at that, and he didn’t stop her when she took out her lighter and lit her cigarette for him. He supposed one couldn’t hurt. “We have been friends for months now.”

“I know,” she beamed, “I’m just waiting to be invited over to your fancy Palace for tea parties.”

“I don’t even like tea.”

“Shame. I would’ve killed for some expensive drinks.”

And so their unexpected friendship began until they were practically attached to the hip. Wherever Iris went, Rintaro followed. She’d started calling him ‘Rin’ too, and Rin had to hide how much he liked it. He blushed madly each time he did, and it didn’t help that Iris had become more physically comfortable with him – locking arms together when they walked in the hallway, absentmindedly brushing his bangs back during their tutoring sessions, or laying on his lap when she had a book to read as they hid in the corner of the library. Each touch of her skin against his sent heat to his groin. It embarrassed him, because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his ‘friend’ like that, but could you blame him? He was a growing teenager. He wasn’t immune to a pretty girl’s subtle touches.

“You know, you can make it less obvious that you’re staring at the scholar.”

Glancing away from Iris playing volleyball with her friends, Rintaro glared at his brother. He shared classes with Tooru, but otherwise barely spoke to him. Tooru was too loud and confident; a little flashy for his liking. He also basked in the attention he received from the girls, shamelessly flirting with them and getting their hopes up.

Rintaro thought he was an ass.

“Shut up.”

“Well, well, can you believe that? I believe the Crown Prince just uttered a vulgar phrase that would surely displease Her Majesty. I wonder if she’ll ground you tonight for being such a naughty Prince.”

Rintaro glared at him, gesturing to Tooru’s childhood friend lurking in the corner. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like reject that poor girl showering you with gifts again?”

Tooru sighed, and upon seeing Maiko’s face light up when he looked her way, he bid his farewell. “Don’t remind me.”

His brother suddenly disappeared. He almost felt bad for Maiko, the heiress from the Rai Clan. She grew up having multiple play dates with Tooru, and they’d been close all the way to middle school when she grew a crush on him – a crush nearly bordering on obsession. When she invited him over to play with her new puppy around the ninth grade, Tooru was met with a ten feet portrait of him in her bedroom. Tooru hadn’t spoken to her ever since. But the poor girl was too innocent to understand his rejections, and she kept following him like a lost puppy.

Not that Rintaro was concerned. Neither was his brother concerned with him, anyway, so they stayed out of each other’s way until they graduated.

Sometimes, Rintaro still wished he never graduated at all. Maybe Iris wouldn’t have disappeared, then. She didn’t have a phone, so they couldn’t keep in contact, but even if she did have a phone, Rintaro wouldn’t be allowed to be casually conversing with ‘commoners.’ Her Majesty would hate it. And he wasn’t certain where she went. Perhaps university, but last he’d heard, Iris was occupied with dealing with some family matters, and Rintaro stopped prying. Her family was one of the things Iris never spoke of. But from what little he knew, she only had a loving mother who did her very best to raise her alone.

Rintaro would’ve never expected that when they saw each other again, they would run into one another at the Palace, of all places. “Iris?” he couldn’t believe his eyes. Had he missed her so much he was beginning to hallucinate? “I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

Iris looked like a deer caught in headlights.

He almost couldn’t recognize her. It’d been years since he last saw her and spoke with her, but she seemed entirely different now. She’d gone back to speaking in those forced, clipped tones, her posture perfect, and her smile a little stiff for it to be genuine. She’d been lying again to herself and to the world, but he couldn’t understand why. Rintaro still found it hard to believe that she stood in front of him, draped in lace dresses with the Royal emblem pinned to her right breast in the way royals did.

In the way he did.

“Your Highness,” she said, her tone sweet and airy, as she curtsied. Rintaro felt his stomach twist. This wasn’t the Iris he’d liked for so long. Iris didn’t speak sweetly, or said her words like she treaded on air and had that breathy, ridiculously feminine laugh. Iris’ voice was raspy from constant smoking, and when she spoke, it was always carefree. She never called him by his official title before, so why was she doing it now?

Rintaro couldn’t shake the feeling he was being betrayed.

“You mustn’t have been informed. I’m…”

“Do you serve the crown now?”

“No, no! Not quite in that way,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It was then he noticed the ring sitting on her finger. “I was married to your brother last night, my Prince.”

“Which brother?”

“Prince Kiyoomi.”

He felt like his world had been crushed.

He was never a hopeless romantic, but he was learning. She’d taught him what girls liked. And he… he thought she liked him, too. She must have, right? If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be staring at his lips when he talked. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t hold his hand and rub circles along his knuckles when they were alone together in the library. Or had he just fooled himself all this time? Was he really nothing but a friend to her?

Rintaro felt foolish all over again.

He felt like he was seven years old once more, holding back his tears while Her Majesty lashed at the backs of his thighs because he wasn’t able to memorize a clause from the Royal Acts and Commands. He heard the word ‘stupid, idiotic, slow,’ and ‘foolish’ resonating at the study room again, while his tutor shook his head in disappointment. Taking a step back, Rintaro released a shuddering breath. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Surely, she wouldn’t befriend him just to make a fool out of him, but if she did… she would pay. He was the Crown Prince. He would become King. He would punish her, humiliate her and put her in her place if she treated him cruelly – but nothing could have prepared him for Iris stepping forwards, eyes drooping with sultriness as her palms flattened against his chest.

Stepping on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.

“But I wish it had been you.”

When she kissed him for the first time, Rintaro knew one thing for certain – she had ruined him for anyone else.

Rintaro isn’t a man quick to anger, but he was getting there.

To leave him for a trip with another man was one thing, but to completely leave him on radio silence was another. A whole week you’ve been gone and not once had you texted. No calls, no voicemails, not even an e-mail. He felt like he had no wife, and quite frankly, your determination to pretend he didn’t exist was getting on his nerves. What had he done wrong, anyway? Hadn’t he been sweet to you before you left? He wasn’t going to deny he made mistakes, but he was putting effort into making it all better. He hadn’t spoken to Iris when you were around. He ignored her, and avoided her even when you weren’t in the same room. And he fucking hated it – because why did you make him feel like he was a cheater when he loved her first?

And now, you were messing with his head. He was certain you were.

Apart from some photographs the paparazzi took of you shopping with Kanami, or sharing lunch with her or having coffee dates, he hadn’t seen you with Kiyoomi. He hadn’t the smallest clue what you were doing. Were you sleeping well? Better without him, maybe? Did you miss him, too, or were you just glad to finally be away from him?

He was going insane with every passing second you didn’t speak to him.

“You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Iris’ voice flittering through the loud noise of the music snapped him back to the present. Right. He was at a party attended by celebrities and models, with liquor in red cups and suspicious leaves and powder being passed to one another – the type of parties a Crown Prince shouldn’t be seen at. But the twins had insisted, claiming he should enjoy himself and ‘do whatever the fuck he wants’ since he didn’t have a wife around to criticize him. He thought it was stupid. He didn’t want to do anything to upset you, but Iris wanted to come along out of boredom – Kiyoomi was away fulfilling their duties for them as mediator between two countries, so she had nothing better to do. Besides, Rintaro figured Iris had been itching for these environments. She’d played the docile and agreeable Princess role for several years now. She must be tired of it, and as soon as she saw the opportunity to let loose and be her true self, she wouldn’t dare let it pass.

And maybe his brothers were right. There was nothing wrong with just taking some time for himself. If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

However, he couldn’t convince himself he enjoyed this party he was in. People were making out at dark corners of the hall, and he was pretty sure there were illegal activities happening tonight. Iris didn’t bat an eye on it. The twins, too, seemed to be enjoying themselves as they flirted with a model he’d seen before, but couldn’t care enough to remember the name of.

“Sorry,” Rintaro said, “I just have a lot on my mind these days.”

“Is it her? You can’t stop looking at your phone.”

Grimacing, he offered her an apologetic smile. Iris didn’t look jealous, but then again, it was hard to tell under the dim lights, and not when she was hugging her fifth cup of whatever foul-smelling liquor she seemed to indulge in. But neither did he want to offend her by lying, so he slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and feigned disinterest. “She hasn’t texted or called since she left. I have no idea how she’s doing at all,” he glanced at her, “Has Kiyoomi texted you?”

“As if that would happen,” she chugged her drink and gestured to the doors. “Let’s go. I need some fresh air.”

They exited and walked all the way to the balcony. On their way there, Iris hugged his bicep and leant against him, causing the passing by hotel staff to eye them warily. But Iris couldn’t care less, and Rintaro leveled the staff with a warning glare. They should know better than to say anything. Tonight, the world was theirs. Iris was in his arms, as free as they could be, as free as he always hoped, and he swore he wasn’t going to think about you.

With the fresh air kissing his exposed skin, Rintaro immediately felt better. He wasn’t surrounded by the stench of alcohol anymore. He could breathe better here. Leaning against the railings, he and Iris overlooked the Kingdom of Inarizaki laying beneath their feet.

At one point in time, he promised to give all of this to the woman beside him. They’d talked about having children and raising them in the Palace. How they would make great monarchs, and they could finally be powerful while still being free. With them on top of the world, no one could tell them what to do. They could simply be themselves. But just a hundred times better, because Iris would be beside him and sharing the burden of the Crown.

At least, until Rintaro realized none of that felt right.

You were his wife. He didn’t want to share this Kingdom with anyone else but you, although there was a more worrisome voice whispering at the back of his head – Rintaro didn’t want to share you with this world. He wanted to hide you and keep you for himself. He didn’t want you anywhere Kiyoomi, or Tooru. You were his. He was yours. He’s your husband, and you his wife.

You should be the one here with him, and he should be there with you.

Did you feel the same way, too?

Iris lit up a cigarette. Before he could think better of it, he snatched one from her and she lit it up for him, just like she did when they were younger. Her brows rose at his sudden eagerness, “You haven’t smoked since you met her.”

“I didn’t want her to think I smelled.”

“What’s the change?” she teased, “No longer worried she’ll think you reek because you’re married?”

“I just need the distraction.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I’m just worried.” He gritted his teeth, not liking how all of this just felt… wrong. Iris smelled too much of the old perfume she wore when they were teenagers, and it made him nostalgic in the worst kind of possible. Like recalling a childhood memory you thought was great at the time, but growing up completely changes your perspective on it. Rintaro hated it – how he tasted bitterness at something he once craved so much. Worse, he couldn’t keep lying to himself. He didn’t know where his heart was at yet, but something was different.

He desperately wanted to see you.

“I feel like… I feel like she’s going to leave me, Iris. Something’s changed.”

“You’ve changed, Rin,” she snapped, throwing her cigarette on the ground and stomping at it. Rintaro frowned; he’d seen her do it before when they were kids, but seeing her still do it now confirmed his theory: Iris still had her mean temper. She could never hide it even under silk dresses and velvet gloves. “You haven’t been the same since the honeymoon. I feel like we left behind the old you, and the one that came back is someone I barely know.”

Rintaro couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. She was right. He’d changed. He didn’t know why, or how, but maybe he was falling in love. Could he be? No… maybe he just missed you. Maybe he just hated the way you seemed so resigned and distant when you left.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could tell her, because Rintaro was too lost.

“Are you changing your mind about me?”

“No, no. Gods, I would never. I just – I’m confused, okay? She’s mad at me, and she just left. What if she never speaks to me again?”

“She will. She’s your wife.”

“You don’t even speak to your husband,” Rintaro argued, and Iris rolled her eyes. Once, he would’ve found her irritation appealing. But directed at him? He just felt like he was being looked down on.

“That’s different. You know, Rin, if you’ve changed your mind about me, it’s okay. I already knew before this most likely wouldn’t work out, and even if you did become King and legalized divorces, what would happen, then? I’ll be your concubine,” she sneered, as if the mere thought sickened her. “People would reduce me into nothing but a whore. I don’t want to be hated just because I wanted you.”

Rintaro pursed his lips. Sure, the title ‘concubine’ didn’t come with many good meanings. But it was all he could give her. He couldn’t imagine making her his wife. Iris had too much of a temper for that, and with all the pretending and acts she puts on, he didn’t trust her enough to treat his people right when she wielded enough power.

She wasn’t kind like you.

She wasn’t like you.

He knew all of this, had realized it just now, yet he couldn’t bring himself to just go back. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed in defeat. “I’ve already gone this far. It’s a little too late to tell me to change my mind, you know?”

“I’m just reminding you this was your choice, not mine. And don’t forget if you do legalize divorces, and Kiyoomi and I did separate, does that mean you’ll divorce her, too?”

He threw his hands up in the air, frustrated. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I’m not a whore, Rin. I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want to be just your sidepiece, your secret lover. I have been here with you before people even acknowledged your existence. I was here first. Don’t you think it’s unfair she gets to have you in all your glory and I can only have you in secret? Like what we feel for each other is something to be ashamed of,” tears pricked at her eyes, and Iris angrily wiped them away. Rintaro was frozen to his spot. He didn’t even feel like reaching to wipe them for her – his mind was just in a different place entirely. His exhaustion ran bone deep.

“If you want me to divorce Kiyoomi when you become King, you should divorce her too.”

“That wasn’t the plan. You said you were fine being a concubine–”

“It’s either me or her, Rin. Choose. Who will be your wife? Me or her?”

“You. It’s always going to be you.”

“Do you promise?”

“It’s just you!” he barked, surprising both himself and Iris. He’d never raised his tone with her before, yet there was no denying it – he was changing. Iris knew this, too, and Rintaro could tell by the wicked glint in her eye that she would use this against him.

Rintaro didn’t think twice before he slammed his lips to hers.

If she couldn’t be convinced with words, he would convince her with their bodies. It was how they communicated anyway – all arguments would always be resolved in the bedroom. They stumbled together back to his hotel room, lips only leaving one another’s for a brief moment to breathe, before they were clawing at each other’s clothes. She let out her rage on him by pushing him back to the bed, with her on top and ripping his shirt, uncaring of the remnants. When she kissed him, it was everything but sweet. He tasted nothing but hatred and pure anger as she shoved her tongue down his throat, and he choked, tightening his grip on her hips while she bounced.

They did not make love.

They simply shared their bodies for a lack of better things to say. He bruised her and fucked her hard enough the headboard slammed against the wall because he couldn’t say he missed you. She marked his skin with hickeys and claw marks down his back because she didn’t want to hear him say he missed you.

At talking, Rintaro and Iris lacked at.

But they spoke well enough with the violence of their bodies that by the end of the night, they both knew – Rintaro’s heart was no longer in the same room as them.

You took it with you from a thousand miles away.

Rintaro couldn’t sleep the entire night. Iris had passed out as soon as she’d satisfied herself, and after hogging the sheets all to herself, he’d given up on trying to sleep. It felt wrong to share the same bed with her, anyway. So he got up, showered, and scrolled on the latest news to look for you again. Still nothing – but apparently Itachiyama’s citizens were looking forward to you and Kiyoomi attending a movie’s premiere night.

He clutched his phone hard enough it shut off. Sighing, he leaned back against his seat on the couch, an arm draped around his arm. He’d gone past the borders of being pathetic. Now, he was just eager to see his wife again, but he had no way of communicating with you. So like the pathetic fool he was, he couldn’t stop himself from scrolling for hours when a rapid knocking banged down on his door. Frowning, he opened it, and was met with a shirtless Atsumu wrapped in nothing but a towel – his eyes bloodshot red, though he suspected, not from crying.

“‘Tsumu, what the fuck?” His brother reeked of alcohol and sex. Pinching his nose, he scanned the hallway for witnesses before opening his door wider. Atsumu scurried in without a word and plopped down on the seat, his knees bouncing repeatedly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I… I fucked up.”

“Yeah? What’s new about that?”

“No, I mean, I really fucked up,” he groaned, his head falling to his hands. Rintaro immediately felt bad about him, Walking forwards, he crossed his arm against his chest, encouraging his brother to continue. “Listen, the party was going great, and Yuki just looked even better in person. And she was fucking funny and so perfect, man.  I couldn’t help myself. But she was flirting with ‘Samu more and I got jealous so–”

“What did you do?”

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. He couldn’t look Rintaro in the eye, and the latter was growing more nervous by the second. “I may have made her drink more than she can handle… and pretended to be Osamu. So she’d sleep with me.”

“You are screwed.”

“I know, I know, but she’s going to wake up soon, and I don’t know what to do. I left the room, and–”

“Okay, calm down. Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Downstairs, eating breakfast.”

“You stay right here.”

Iris chose the wrong time to wake up. She must’ve heard Atsumu’s frantic ramblings and sat up from the bed, clutching the blanket to her naked chest. Upon seeing an equally nude Atsumu, she screeched, throwing the nearest pillow at him. “‘Tsumu, get out!” Atsumu fought back by throwing a smaller pillow her way. They began bickering like small children, and it was too early for any of this. He could feel a pounding at the back of his head already.

Tired. He was just tired.

“Iris, please, just – just stay here, the both of you, okay? I’ll be back.”

At least Rintaro had Atsumu’s mess to thank. He finally had a good enough excuse to not spend another moment in that suffocating room with her – or any of them. He’d wanted to leave hours before, but Iris wouldn’t have taken it well if she woke up without him. For now, though, Rintaro had to take on the role of a responsible older brother; something he’d never done before. Taking quick strides, he swung the door open when Atsumu called out for him.

“Wait. Rin!” Rintaro paused, raising a brow at his brother, whose face had been drained of color. “I’m sorry… I just… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”

Rintaro himself wasn’t convinced by his words. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of before that the Princes got their sexual needs satisfied without having been married. Save for a few like Wakatoshi, Keiji, Kita, and Tobio who all wanted to wait for marriage, he was a hundred percent certain his brothers had been with women before. This normally wasn’t a cause for concern. But Hiroda Yuki wasn’t just anyone. She was a model currently rising to fame, and not only was she inebriated during the act, but she’d been led to believe the man she took to bed with someone else. If she were to found out the truth, and decided to turn to the media to ruin his brothers, it’d be another issue for the throne. It didn’t affect Rintaro directly, but times were changing – people were growing restless the longer the crown sat without its King.

It was high time they chose a King, but a very few number of Princes hardly seemed eligible.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Ushijima was the best choice to be King. He was fair, disciplined, and followed the rules to a tee. He also had a happy, stable marriage with a respectable noble woman, and they already have a healthy son. There weren’t any arguments that Rintaro paled in comparison to him.

But that didn’t mean he would give up so easily.

He wanted the throne. He wanted everything.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he headed for the lobby in search of the darker haired twin. He’d think about the Crown another time. Ducking his head to hide his face, he nodded at any passing staff and hid behind corners. It was only a matter of time before Yuki woke up. That presented another problem – should they hide the truth from her and keep Atsumu safe, or tell her what had really happened and risk having Atsumu be kicked out of the Palace?

Fuck. Rintaro didn’t know what to do, but maybe Osamu would.

His brother sat at the hotel’s dining area, happily digging into his meal without a care in the world. Oh, how lucky he was to be so ignorant. Out of the twins, Osamu was the more mild-mannered one and got into less trouble, but it didn’t change the fact Osamu was often the instigator, and Atsumu the willing victim who played into his hands. The situation felt more complicated now because Rintaro was unsure. Had Osamu planned this all along? Had he known that Atsumu wanted to sleep with Yuki and left them to themselves just when the both were drunk out of their asses?

Too many questions, and he struggled to form a coherent thought. But if he were Kita, he’d have this resolved within a second.

If he were Kita, but he wasn’t. He was just plain Rintaro, who wasn’t particularly great at anything, yet had unfortunately been branded with an extravagant title he never deserved.

Pulling out a seat before him, he narrowed his eyes at his brother. It was still early in the morning, so they had enough privacy with only very few people having breakfast. No one paid them any attention as Rintaro leaned forward, his voice low and hushed.

“Where were you last night?”

“Good morning to you, too, dear brother,” quipped Osamu through a mouthful of waffles, “Lovely set of breakfast they serve here. You should try some.”

“‘Samu, I’m serious. Did you stay at the party last night?”

Osamu, the little ass, took his sweet time chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “No, I went home after ‘Tsumu went out with the model. I just came back to pick him up. I figured he’d be too drunk to drive home.”

Rintaro wanted to ask for more details. There had to be more to the story. The twins were both cunning when they wanted to be, although he doubted Osamu would do anything to intentionally harm his twin. It seemed possible, but he couldn’t be too careful. None of them could afford any defamation lest the people decided for themselves how uncontrollable and unruly the Princes are. Their father had already broken the people’s trust by having multiple sons with different women. They treaded on eggshells, even more so when Rintaro opened his mouth to speak, and was cut off by the crowd whispering around them.

He and Osamu froze. They could barely make out the words from their mumbling at this distance, but they were no fools. They could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on them. With their phones pulled out, they whispered amongst themselves and sent looks of disbelief towards the Princes. Rintaro’s heart raced as he made eye contact with his brother.

They both pulled out their phones and checked the latest news.

An article published just a few hours ago trended worldwide at number one. A photograph of Rin and Iris making love could be seen through a window, with the headline implying that they were secretly lovers all along. His heart dropped. He scrolled down to the comments, his fist turning white at the knuckles as he read them.

That’s disgusting! Wasn’t Prince Rintaro recently married? It seems like being a cheater runs in the blood, after all. He’s just like his daddy To think they did this while their spouses were away for official duty… unbelievable. Disappointed, but not surprised. Princess Iris always seemed like a skank. Never liked her. She came to give aid when there was a storm in our village once, and she kept complaining she was tired. Now she’s going around sleeping with other people’s husbands *laughing sticker* lol she sounds like a bitch Is this real?????????? This has to be fake. The Crown Prince loves his wife! Delete this post now! You’re in trouble once the Palace sees this!

Rintaro pocketed his phone. “We need to leave.”

He dragged Osamu by the arm, ignoring his brother’s complaints that he hadn’t eaten his berries yet. One glare shut him up. They had bigger things to worry about than some stupid fucking berries.

“Call Shinsuke. We need help.”

All four of them hid in Rintaro’s room until Kita arrived. It hadn’t been long, maybe less than an hour, but the wait was nerve-wracking. Thankfully, he’d brought a security team with them. The Princes were escorted out through the back doors and into their cars, although it was too late. Reporters and journalists were already swarming outside the hotel. Kita had stayed back to tell the hotel staff they were not allowed to speak of what they saw or heard during last night’s party under no circumstances. The Princes’ safety were their utmost priority. Everything would be dealt with accordingly. Just as they pulled out of the hotel’s parking, Atsumu informed Kita about Yuki, and the situation he left her in.

Shinsuke’s lips thinned. Already, he looked bone tired. Waving a hand, he dismissed his brothers and promised he’d take care of her once she woke up. For now, they had to stay low and keep out of the public’s eye until the situation died down.

“You all best behave when you get back,” Shinsuke warned, “Her Majesty is furious.”

Of that, he had no doubt. Her Majesty had been eerily quiet since everyone’s return from the honeymoon. But Suna knew his mother better than anyone; she wasn’t letting things pass by, she was only watching from the sidelines, waiting to see who would drop the ball first. And to no one’s surprise, it would be Rintaro.

Her Majesty was right. He couldn’t keep this secret affair with Iris forever.

One way or another, the truth would be revealed, and the truth itself would be his damnation.

None of them uttered a word as they sat next to each other in the car. Atsumu’s still bouncing his leg, causing the seat to shake, but Osamu could care less. He simply gazed out the window. Iris, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped crying, her shoulders shaking silently. Mascara ran down her face in streaks, her lipstick smudged and her torn dress doing very little to hide the love marks on her skin. Gods. Rintaro’s headache worsened. If they got out of the car and the paparazzi took even one photo of Iris in her post-sex state, they were done for.

Rintaro could kiss his precious Crown goodbye.

Walking back to the Palace was akin to walking to your own death.

The lobby was torn upside down. Calling it a mess would be an understatement. The Queen stood in the middle of the furniture she’d flipped and thrown, shards of broken glass all around them as she heaved. The pure image of rage – and he had been the cause. “Fools! Idiotic fools, all of you!” she screamed, stomping through the glass as she reached up to fist Iris’ hair.

“Ow, Your Majesty–”

Her Majesty scrunched her nose at the scent of smoke and alcohol coming off from her, further fuelling her anger. “And you! By the Gods, I knew marrying you into this family was a grave mistake, but you just keep making me regret I ever laid eyes on you, don’t you? You lowly, good-for-nothing whore.”

“Mother!”

“You do not get to speak!” she turned to him and harshly let go of Iris, causing her to stumble and fall onto the broken glass. Panicked, Rintaro reached out for her, but the Queen had caught his arm, reared hers back and landed a slap on his cheek. Rintaro was stunned – she’d been harsh and cruel, but she never laid a hand on him. “Do you have any idea what you did? The throne is all in shambles because of you! The Cabinet hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article came out, and I have all our lines busy with people demanding for answers! And you dare raise your voice at me? I told you, multiple times, that you need to stop with your trysts. How will you be King now that you’ve lost the people’s trust?”

“He will not become King,” announced a deep voice they knew all too-well. Like a demon that only showed up in your worst nightmares, Ushijima strutted inside the room, an air of authority and finality surrounding him. “I should be the King. Help me have the throne, and I will resolve all of this,” he studied them all – Atsumu with his guilt, Osamu who was too scared of the Queen to move a single muscle, Iris clutching her bloodied arm, and Suna with disappointment written all over his features. “Clearly, he is not fit to lead this country. He is still but a foolish, young man.”

Foolish.

Stupid.

Reckless.

He’s just like his father.

He’d be a failure as King – just. Like. His. Father.

So that was who he was then. A failure. He’d become the one thing he swore not to be. How would you look at him now? You always gazed upon him with stars in your eyes, like he was the best thing to ever happen in your life. No one had ever looked at him that way before – not his mother, not even Iris. In Iris’ eyes, he was simply… a boy. A boy with no knowledge and experience in this world, a boy who she felt she had to teach because he knew so little. Only you looked at him with adoration, and even that had been taken away. Or, no, he ruined it. Just as he was the reason you used to smile, he’d also become your greatest pain. And maybe, once you’d returned him and seen how the entire country and his whole family had hated him, you would see him for who he is too – nothing but a failure.

The good for nothing Prince.

He should have known. The Palace was no place for the likes of him. He should have just stopped trying so hard to be King. He should have never used Iris as an excuse to quell his insecurity. But was it truly a crime to want to feel like he was needed?

He didn’t know anymore. The only thing he knows now was that he needed to leave, and without another word, stepped out of the room.

“Rintaro! Where are you going?!”

He ignored his mother calling for him. Perhaps he should stop calling her that, too. She’d barely been a mother. She was more of a Queen, bending and breaking her back to His Majesty’s will. She loved the crown and the power it gave her more than anything, that she willingly sacrificed her dignity to keep her position. For many nights, Rintaro watched his mother leave their quarters crying, battered and bruised. It was confusing for a young boy like him. Weren’t mommies and daddies supposed to love one another? But the Queen would scold him for being awake past midnight, and rush him back to bed while she limped on her way. She never loved the King, and because he was his son, she never loved him, too.

Rintaro was nothing but another tool for Her Majesty to stay in power.

She could never become King and hold the Kingdom for herself, but he could. Wasn’t that why she kept him locked away for years and groomed him to take in his Father’s steps?

I kind of did, he thought sarcastically, I’m a horrible husband just like him.

When you arrived in Inarizaki, the country was in chaos. People flocked you from left and right when you and Kiyoomi left the plane, causing the older Prince to break his silence and scold the nosy reporters. Flabbergasted at his sudden outburst that seemed out of character; they lowered their cameras and gave you enough breathing space. The peace, however, did not last long. Her Majesty was furious beyond what one can imagine – akin to a dragon breathing fire down to anyone who dared come near her tower. The twins, who apparently started this fire and caused Rintaro to be the fuel, had been shut away in their rooms in fear of angering her. Iris, from what little you heard about her, was being ruthlessly flamed by the media. They’d called her all sorts of unkind things you would’ve never dared say out loud.

But for some reason, seeing their downfall did not give you any satisfaction.

Because at the end of the day, they were the people you and Kiyoomi returned to. You may walk down the same hallways in the Palace, but he would always be in Belleview Manor to look for her. And you were well on your way to search for the Crown Prince who walked out on his mother.

The guards took some time to find his location, but once they did, they did not hesitate in informing you. Everyone believed you were the only person he’d want to speak to right now. So you drove up to the mountains, where it was barren and cold, and you had to use a truck to survive the rocky terrain. Seriously, out of all the places he could be, he chose to wallow in misery at the top of the world – in the pouring rain, no less.

Boots muddied from the storm, you hopped out of your truck and opened an umbrella, clutching your coat tighter as you watched your husband from afar.

This mountain served as a border between Inarizaki and Itachiyama. From where you stood, you could see the two countries – Itachiyama with its rich nature, and Inarizaki with its towering Castles and bustling cities. Once a united nation, now split into two – all because of love. A tragic story, yet a realistic one. It only goes to show how powerful, and dangerous, love could be. You knew better than anyone that whatever made you happiest could also be your greatest demise.

And there was the said demise – crouching as he picked up pebbles and threw it off the mountain wall. He wore the same shirt as from the photograph; wrinkled and stained with lipstick. Even from this distance, you could smell her on him, and you wanted to laugh. Perhaps Kiyoomi was right – maybe they never loved each other. Maybe they were just lonely.

Extending the umbrella until your husband was shielded from the rain, you softened. Rintaro visibly froze when the rain stopped pelting against him. His wet hair stuck to his face, his shirt plastered on his skin.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his devastatingly handsome face: relief, worry, surprise.

You broke the silence first and crouched down next to him. When Rintaro stiffened, you smiled, showing him you were not here to be his enemy. “My Prince. You are a difficult man to find.”

“Princess,” he breathed out, and you realized the poor Prince was shivering. His face broke into that of despair upon seeing you. “I didn’t know you would be home so early.”

“I had some matters to attend to.”

“You saw the article,” he guessed, and you nodded. Rintaro then stood to his full height, and you followed, causing his head to bump into the umbrella since he was taller. For a moment, he crouched to fit in under the small space. But it was uncomfortable, and soon, he was gently taking the umbrella and holding it for the both of you – more for you, though, since rain still trailed down his back. “I’m sorry.”

“It was bound to happen,” shrugging, you gestured for him to take a walk with you. It was far from being the most scenic place to have a peaceful walk in, but it would do.

You two were silent for a moment. Rintaro seemed to have a thousand thoughts running through his head when you finally spoke.

“How are you?”

“Tired. And you?”

“I’ve had better days.”

Rintaro stole a cautious glance. “Are you mad at me?”

You chuckled, and the sound of it stupefied him. His eyes widened as if afraid, but truly, there was no need to be. You weren’t in the mood to argue with him. “Not really. I feel like I was mad at you a long time ago, and now I’m just… Numb to it all, I suppose,” you said, absentmindedly spinning the wedding ring you both wore. Such a simple jewelry, yet it symbolized so much more. When you spoke again, the rain had calmed down a little bit, but the cold had already seeped into both of your bones. “Marriage is difficult. You have to stay true to your vows, even when the times are challenging. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse. ‘Till death do us part,” you glanced up at him, taking in those handsome features you fell in love with – his hazel eyes, his soft lips you loved to kiss, and his face you often cradled in your palms. Even right now, you wanted to kiss him, if only to give comfort, but you had to know first –

“Do you intend on keeping your marriage vows, Your Highness?”

He averted his gaze. “I doubt our marriage is valid anymore. The country thinks I am a horrible husband to you.”

“It’s not like I’ve been the best wife myself,” you admitted, your chest aching as you remembered the Second Prince – his gentle smiles directed only at you, the castle ruins, his large palms holding you tenderly, and the crestfallen look on his face when you told him you had to look for your husband. Such a great man, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And Gods, you couldn’t help it. You cried. You mourned the love you could have had.

You grieved for the life you could have had, the person you could’ve become.

If it had been Kiyoomi, it would be so much easier. He would love you in the way you wanted. He would you close to his arms all night long because he wouldn’t want to let go. He would chase away those stupid chickens for you. He would hide you away from the rest of the world and given you a life of solitude and peace – it would’ve been simple, and it would’ve been perfect.

But Kiyoomi was already married, and so were you.

And you felt horrible because he was great, but then you’d become a horrible wife. You would be exactly like Rintaro if you had given into your desire and kissed him. Kiyoomi wasn’t yours. But was Rintaro? Your heart was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Why couldn’t it all just work out?

Why couldn’t it be him?

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you forced the thoughts of the curly-haired prince out of your head. “I wish I hated you, Rintaro. I wish… I wish I never met you. I wish you never danced with me at your brother’s ball. I wish you never courted me. I wish you never came into my life and changed everything. It would have been better to never have been loved, than to have loved and been betrayed.”

Rintaro stepped forward, his arm extending to wipe your tears for you but even he could tell you were refused. So he kept his distance, clutching the umbrella tighter as his voice broke. “I’m sorry. I really am. It just… I didn’t want for it happen. You were all I thought about. When you were gone and you didn’t call or texted once, I thought I was losing you. I wanted you back.”

You shook your head. “You cannot have everything you want. You know that.”

His face dropped.

“Are you going to make me choose, too?”

“No. I already know who you would choose,” and you did, yet your heart still ached for him, for your husband, the one thing you couldn’t have. Only you didn’t feel like laughing, not when Rintaro looked at you with just as much confliction. “Is it foolish of me that I still love you even after everything you’ve done?”

His lips curled the slightest bit. “A little, but I am the last man to judge you if you were foolish, which you aren’t.”

You laughed sardonically. “I love you, do you know that?”

“I know,” he mumbled.

Who knew two words alone could puncture one’s heart so much?

Looking away, you both remained silent until Rintaro dropped the question. “What will happen to us now? Divorce is unlikely, but I might be stripped off my titles. I don’t know. But I have a feeling I certainly won’t become King anymore.”

“Do you want to be?”

Rintaro thought about it. “I do. It’s all I’ve ever known to pursue.”

“Then stand tall, my Prince. A future King doesn’t bow down to anyone, not even his Queen, and most especially not when the world is against him. We can fix this. I can fix this. I can restore your glory, but I need you to place your full trust on me.”

The plan you formed in your head would be considered insane. Her Majesty would certainly be furious, but if this was the only way to leave Rintaro, you would do it. You would protect him. You would give him back his power, and once he’s had it all, you’ll remove yourself from his life. He cannot have everything that he wants – but if you could not have love, then you want power. Even for just a brief moment, you were determined.

You were going to ruin her.

The drive back to the Palace was silent. He’d agreed to whatever plan you had, regardless of what the outcome might be. He didn’t even know what you truly had in mind. He just trusted you wholeheartedly like you asked, and told you to do as you pleased. Right now, the Crown Prince was weak. His mind was far too disturbed to process anything correctly. You would take advantage of it, simply because his compliance would be the only thing to ensure your success.

He just needed to remain silent.

Claiming he was exhausted, Rintaro went ahead first. It’d be another night where you’d sleep separately, and you would both definitely be awake the whole time. Just as you rounded the corner, you saw a hunched figure resting against the wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for you for a while. Upon hearing your footsteps, Kiyoomi raised his head – his dark eyes vulnerable, almost if hoping you would be the same as you were yesterday.

You wanted to. Truly, you did.

But the person he’d been with in Itachiyama was someone else entirely. She was someone happier, someone who didn’t have a broken marriage to worry about. She was someone who could have loved him.

Now, you were the same Princess he’d always known – the one who could never choose him.

Kiyoomi nodded to himself. He must have realized everything by now. What happened in Itachiyama stayed in Itachiyama. Pushing his weight off the wall, he strode to you with a blank expression. His eyes had gone cold again.

“We will never speak again, will we?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out, “He needs me right now.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi had never sounded so defeated broke, and it broke your heart. It made you want to run into his arms, to tell him it could’ve been him if you met him first. But that would sound wrong, wouldn’t it? He had been first. He’d been the last dance; the destined lover. The fated one. But man’s willpower could be so strong it battled even destiny itself, and you were both nothing but a fragment of the could’ve been’s.

“Good luck, Princess, in all your endeavors,” and then, just when you thought he would kiss you as he leaned forward, you closed your eyes. Waited with bated breath.

But he never did.

Kiyoomi only kissed your cheek, and then his scent and his warmth disappeared sooner than you would like. When he walked away, you saw all the what if’s you had to let go of.

The dream life with Kiyoomi vanished into thin air.

Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you forced yourself to turn and never look back. Kiyoomi was surely doing the same. He’d come to peace with it eventually, the love he could’ve had, the marriage he should’ve had. Itachiyama was nothing but a fantasy anyway. He wasn’t a real farmer just as you weren’t someone he could call his. It was a story doomed from the beginning.

Numbness spread all throughout your body. You’d been too drained to cry further, too exhausted to regret what you’d just done. The voice in your mind, the one who craved Kiyoomi like man needed air, had been eerily silent, too. It was if she, too, knew there was no point chasing after something that didn’t want to be chased in the first place.

All you could do was close your eyes and push the image of Kiyoomi’s smile out of your head.

He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

After what seemed like hours, you finally arrived at your shared quarters. The same room you left your husband in, and quite possibly the same room he slept with his mistress while you were gone.

You sighed. Opening the door, you were met by the sight of Rintaro pouring himself a drink. He’d already changed clothes – ones free of Iris’ lipstick and perfume. He looked fresh, much more composed than when he was a mess hours ago, yet he seemed… distant. Usually, he’d already perk up at you entering the room. But his face was devoid of any emotion as he poured wine into a second glass, deftly picking it up before downing it in one go. Your gaze fixated on the bobbing of his throat. How Iris’ lips kissed the column of his neck, how she’d whispered praises into his skin, how Rintaro allowed it all.

He slammed his empty glass down on the table. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the sides of it, his voice unnaturally low as he spoke. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“Why you weren’t mad after reading the article,” his knuckles turned white from when he tightened his grip. He took slow exhales as if to calm himself, his grip loosening before he snatched another glass.

Back straightened, Rintaro towered over you as he took slow, careful, deliberate steps – akin to a predator sneaking up on its prey. Your heart drummed in your chest, loud enough it could’ve echoed in the spacious chamber, but you stood your ground. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing his effect on you. Then, he stood in front of you – close enough you saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, the tipping of his head to the side as he narrowed his gaze at you. Inquisitively, suspiciously, like peeling away the layers of your skin to reveal your dirtiest secrets.

“Strange, don’t you think? Any sane wife who found out their husband was cheating on them would’ve screamed and kicked already. You didn’t do any of that.”

“I told you already. I’m too tired for any of that.”

“It could be that,” he raised his glass to your face, a portentous smirk dancing on his lips. “Or you could also be directing your affections to someone else.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise kept his gaze on you as he sipped his drink and taking his sweet sweet time. “I wouldn’t have slept with her if you didn’t leave. You know I despise Kiyoomi, yet you still went. You completely disregarded my feelings when I said I didn’t want you to go,” he grounded his teeth, jaw clenching from the effort of holding himself back. “Is it him, then? Are you choosing him over me?”

He sounded so serious in his accusations you almost believed it yourself. “Don’t be absurd, Rintaro.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I strike a chord?” he said in a sing-song manner, the smile dropping from his face when you kept your lips shut. “So the rumors were right. You went with him to get back at me.”

Your jaw dropped. Yes, you enjoyed the time with Kiyoomi. Yes, you wished you never left, and you were already regretting each minute you spent longer in this damned space with him. Yes, you thought about Kiyoomi in ways you shouldn’t have – and god forbid you nearly asked him to kiss you, but not once did you think about using his brother as a ploy.

You weren’t like him.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Rintaro fumed. He flung his empty glass across the room, the shattering sound muted by his yells. “Prove it to me, then!”

“Are you even hearing yourself? I’m not the one who cheated! Don’t you dare turn this around and make it seem like it was my fault.”

“But it was! If you didn’t go around fucking my brother behind my back, I would’ve stayed loyal to you! I would’ve waited until you returned! What, you thought I wouldn’t know what you were doing there with him? Doing fertility dances, sharing dinners with his mother like you’re his wife, lighting stupid fucking lanterns–” swinging your arm back, your palm connected with his cheek, a resounding slap rendering the Prince speechless. He stepped back, clutching his reddened cheeks as he stared at you in disbelief.

“That is enough. Utter one more word, and I will never speak to you again.”

“You aren’t even denying it,” he spat out, “Have you fallen for him?”

You were done. So done. You wouldn’t have any of this anymore. Sidestepping him, you walked past and away from your husband, heading for your bedroom where you planned on slamming the door in his face. You’d cry for hours there if you needed to – anything to have him leave you alone. But your husband was just as stubborn as he was determined, catching up to you with ease before catching your wrist. He spun you to face him, and you froze – he reeked of alcohol, his lips and cheeks painfully red, but his eyes.

You couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or keep you.

“Answer me!”

You fought against his grasp. He was stronger than you by all means; you struggled and kicked and pounded your fists on his chest, but Rintaro didn’t budge. He let you hit him however you pleased, demanding repeatedly to tell him he was wrong – how you wouldn’t choose his brother over him, how it’d be him – forever and always.

“I hate you!” you bellowed at his face, falling limp in his arms from all your fighting. “I wish I never married you – it should’ve been him! I should’ve married your brother!”

“That’s a lie!”

“Oh, don’t look so hurt now, Prince. You don’t even feel a sliver of what I do. Need I remind you that you constantly choose her over me, your wife? Why should I be loyal to you when you’re not even mine?”

“I am yours.”

“You’re hers, too,” you reminded him, your eyes glinting with mischief as you recalled Kiyoomi’s words. Just then, cruel laughter bubbled from your lips. Two could play this game, and you would be the winner. He wanted to hurt you? Fine. You could hurt him even more. “You know what’s laughable, Rin? The woman you’re fighting tooth and nail for doesn’t even want you.”

“Shut up!”

You laughed harder, practically shaking in his arms as you did. Taunting him, you nudged your nose with his, forcing him to look at you and feed on your wrath. “I’m right, aren’t I? She doesn’t like you. She’s merely using you for fame and pleasure because her husband isn’t attracted to her–” the breath was slammed out your throat. In mere seconds, Rintaro had shoved you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with such ferocity it burned you. Your eyes stung from your tears, the back of your skull beginning to throb. But Rintaro wasn’t done with you yet.

Pinning your wrists above your head, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like scotch and smelled faintly of her perfume. It made your stomach churn, and soon, you were groaning into his mouth, desperately trying to win in this battle of dominance. He was angry as you were frustrated, your lips molding against each other’s like swords clashing in a battle. He struck first, his kisses passionately bitter, but his taste addictingly sweet. You fought back against his hold, your breasts sliding down across his chest and you moaned – he groaned – tugging your bottom lip between his teeth until you couldn’t tell who the enemy was anymore. You shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t enjoy it, but his lips were as familiar as a sunny day and you were a woman in need of light in your life.

He’s repulsive, your mind argued.

But he’s mine, your heart decided. He was, and always will be, yours. He could have Iris for as long as he wanted, but it was you who’d taken his name. It was your ring on his finger, your face next to him in the royal portraits. You weren’t the shameful mistress – you were the rightful wife. You could have him as you pleased, ruin him to your delight. Break him into thousands of pieces only to pick him up again because he was yours, yours, yours.

Threading your fingers to his hair, you dragged him closer to you. Breathed him in, pawed at his shirt in a demand for him to take it off. He was more than willing to oblige, the two of you making quick work of his buttons in between messy, breathy kisses. Shirt discarded, he grabbed your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct – the next sequence of events like a movie you’d seen before.

Your clothes on the carpeted floor.

Rintaro on top of you, your fingers intertwined beside your head. His lips on your neck, bruises on your skin and the imprint of his hands on your hips. Your mewls right on his ear. The quivering of your thighs, the stain on the sheets – the day turning into night, from dusk until dawn. He thrusts deep, enough to have you inhaling sharply through your nose. And there it was – the unmistakable scent of a vanilla perfume you’ve never owned. It’s everywhere in the room now that your eyes opened, the hazy cloud of lust ebbing away. Iris’ perfume on your vanity area, a discarded pair of white lacy thongs that wasn’t yours peeking from under the closet, and her scent – her stupidly sweet, innocent scent – blanketing the silk of your sheets.

Slowly, your fingers detached from Suna as you turned to the sides, inhaling the sheets once more because it couldn’t be, right? Maybe you had it wrong. Rintaro wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t be so cruel. You never even shared this bed with him ever since you got married. You’ve never had him hold you close as you fall asleep, never had your head resting on his chest while you both waited for the next day. He was a cruel man, yes, but he wouldn’t dare do this to you. Not while you were gone, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t.

Yet there it was, the scent of a floral shampoo you couldn’t recognize on your pillows, and the faint smatters of vanilla and cinnamon lingered behind.

And when the damage is done, and your heart is more confused now than ever – Rintaro momentarily slumps before you, held up only by his arms, he realizes too late the tears stained on your cheeks.

“You brought her here.”

It wasn’t a question, not even an accusation. You spoke nothing but the truth, and Rintaro’s crestfallen face said it all. He’d brought her here, made love with her on your bed. Somehow, finding out that he’d fucked her in the one place you found solace in the Palace hurt more than knowing he fucked her everywhere else.

It was as if he’d stained you. Spat right at your face. Desecrated the one place you wished to hold him in, and rubbed it in your face that he couldn’t make love to you in your bed. But he could with her, because it was always going to be her, wasn’t it?

No matter how hard you tried, it was never going to be you.

Silence dawned on the room. There’s nothing but the rapid beating of your hearts, and the soft sniffles you muffle behind your first. He sees two things on your face that night: one of beauty, and one of regret. He dared himself to be brave, to wipe your tears with the pad of his thumb. The motion was oddly comforting, and for a moment – just a quick moment – you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. Leaning into the warmth of his palm, more tears dampened his skin. You were torn between asking him to stay, to hold you until it hurt less, and asking him to leave and give you a moment for yourself.

But Rintaro had already decided.

With a final kiss to your forehead, your husband crawled out of the bed. He glanced at you one last time before slipping his ring off, setting it on your bedside table, before quietly – and resolutely – leaving you behind.

[anika-ann]

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8k

Summary: 

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and lending a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body as water and snow and icy wind would, regret for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.  

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.  

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons.  With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to than one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as your uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including  slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head.  “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down? 

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien invasion he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

[sincerelyyycece]

i know every inch of your body and i know that scar wasn’t there before.

You understood the severity of Sirius's parents' mistreatment towards him. Despite Sirius never divulging details about his parental relationship and you refraining from pushing him, one evening, you reached a breaking point upon spotting a bruise on his hip.

note: protective reader, soft sirius, sirius and the reader living together, sirius trying to be a better big brother, mentions of abuse (read at your own risk)

sincerelyyycece © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

As soon as I stepped through the front door, the weariness of the day weighed heavily on my shoulders. The familiar comfort of our bed beckoned, and I found solace in its warmth and softness. A contented sigh escaped my lips, only to be met with the gentle laughter of Sirius, my boyfriend, resonating in the room. I called him Siri, a nickname reserved for moments like these.

Sirius's voice cut through the air. "That tired, huh, princess?" I responded with a nonchalant hum, reliving the torturous lecture with my irritable boss in my mind. My boyfriend's smile softened the edges of my fatigue, and he disappeared into our closet in search of his pyjamas.

As he sifted through his clothes, my attention was drawn to a dark mark on his left hip. My curiosity piqued, and I sat up to get a closer look. "What is that?" I inquired, my gaze fixed on the peculiar discolouration. He turned to face me, his eyes meeting mine, and a realization dawned on him. A flicker of panic crossed his features as he swiftly removed his pyjamas, and headed towards the bathroom. "Nothing!" he exclaimed.

Concern etched my face, and I rose to follow him. Holding his wrist gently to prevent his escape, I lifted his top, revealing a fresh bruise that seemed to darken as the room dimmed. "How did you get that?" My voice betrayed my growing worry. He avoided eye contact, offering a feeble explanation: "I just ran into something."

I couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something. "You're lying," I asserted, taking one of his hands in mine. "I know you. You don't make eye contact when you lie." He sighed in defeat, and I pressed for the truth. "Is there someone hurting you? Did you get into a fight? Are you being threatened?" The questions tumbled out, and he shook his head, his eyes dropping to the floor. "If I tell you, please promise me you will not be mad," he pleaded.

I sighed, conceding to his request. "I can't promise until I know," I replied. After a moment of hesitation, he confessed, "Mum." Anger surged through me, but I held back my rage for his sake. "Why in the hell would she do that?" I questioned, struggling to fathom a mother harming her own son.

"Don't worry, love," he reassured me. When he revealed that it had happened the day before, my concern deepened. "I went to see Regulus, and things got out of hand," he explained, his eyes reflecting the pain he had endured. My heart sank.

"Is that why you have a scar as well?" I asked gently. His eyes widened in surprise, and he hesitated before answering. "No." I studied him, determined to understand. "I know every inch of your body, and I know that scar wasn’t there before," I stated. He reluctantly nodded, confirming my suspicions. "Why would you keep it from me?" I asked, reaching out to reassure him.

"I didn't want to worry you," he confessed. "You’re my boyfriend; of course, I would be concerned if someone touched you, Siri," I replied, my worry transforming into a protective resolve. "I can handle it myself; she’s my mother, after all," he asserted, cupping my cheek. Shaking my head, I emphasized, "But no mother in her right mind would cast spells on her own son, much less give them bruises and scars."

I extended my pinky finger, a silent pact forming between us. "The next time this happens, tell me immediately," I demanded. He nodded, wrapping his pinky around mine. "Promise?" I pressed. "Thank you, baby," he whispered with a smile, sealing our pact with a soft kiss. "I love you," he uttered, and I reciprocated, "I love you as well," grateful for the trust he had placed in me.

[strawberryys-stuff]

FOOLED || Ao'nung x Sully!reader

part 2 | part 1

change of plans; i'll have to write yet another part for this request bcs i realized i can't write lmao 🥲 i forgot how to do it, so i apologize for this never-ending wait i'm putting u through

enjoy my poor try to write!

Ao'nung could tell the image of the breathtakingly stunning healer was clouding your mind and found your abrupt bursts of frustration whenever she waved at him with a toothy grin decorating her sparkling turquoise skin quite humorous, attractive even.

Mireya was certainly a beauty among the Metkayina tribe but she was fragile. Your sharp glares and silent growls damaged the unguarded shield around her gracious heart, which forced her feet to carry her sobbing frame inside Ao'nung's marui pod every evening. Despite his warnings and frequent eye rolls, Mireya continued to visit the boy who was clearly becoming irritated by her unannounced appearances outside his home.

He was desperately trying to peel her hands off his muscular arms everytime you were passing by with your sisters, allowing his thick tail to show his annoyance. He would gift you precisely wrapped presents almost every week to reveal his tiny attempts to court you - it started with shimmering seashells that eventually turned into luminescent bouquets - but it was never enough for Mireya as she continued to follow him around like a lost puppy.

Ao'nung wanted your undying love, not hers. He even mentioned it to you during your nightly strolls along the shore, stating that he would rather suffer in solitude than experience mating with Mireya, who basically owned his mother's blessing.

Ronal wished only the best for her firstborn and saw rich, successful future in the Metkayina girl. And the fact that you managed to build an unbreakable bond with Ao'nung in such a short period of time was something she just refused to accept. The idea of seeing Ao'nung with a hybrid, someone who had pure demon blood flowing through their veins, disgusted her.

She observed the way her son seemed to be left breathless everytime you walked away from his tall figure after a polite farewell, which often ended up with Ao'nung chuckling and firing some teasing words after your swiftly moving body. She even caught the way her son spoke highly of you during every dinner, lunch, breakfast - you name it.

She noticed how affectionate her eldest child was whenever he had you by his side, how protective he was over you - she noticed how you were able to handle his childish behavior with ease, no evident struggle present, and yet, she still refused to accept your relationship.

"I am not having this type of conversation, mother." Ao'nung pinched the bridge of his scrunched nose, silencing his growl in deepest part of his throat before it managed to roll off his obnoxiously bold tongue.

He was standing in front of you, shielding your defeated spirit from his stern mother with his lean body. His other hand was keeping you close alongside his tail that robbed you of any escape. Ronal was holding her chin high to display her disapproval once more, but all she received from her firstborn was a disappointed sigh.

Ao'nung brought your intertwined fingers up and proudly pulled you out from his cold shadow. Your drastically different form entered the afternoon sunbeams and blinded Ronal for a split second. Your thin tail was flickering nervously behind you as she inspected the position you were in.

It was awfully obvious what happened during the unusually uneventful eclipse last night, she could sense the abrupt change in the middle of her ribcage - you were officially sharing a neural connection with her son.

The woman began to circle the two of you with a creased forehead and allowed her fingers to wrap around the base of your tail. You hissed through clenched teeth when she left a painful tug behind before her hand moved to your tense shoulders. She spotted a bite mark in the crook of your neck, stifling a snarl.

"Not fully mated." She slapped your precisely knitted braid aside and received a warning growl from your lover. "Just marked," Ronal taunted with a huff, quickly placing one of her hands over her growing belly when your tail twitched her way. "Disappointing."

"That is enough." Ao'nung bared his fangs at the pregnant woman as his hand pushed you forward to create some space between you and his mother. You licked your chapped lips and let your ears fall, trying to ignore her harsh words about your mixed blood and the title people had been using to address you and your younger brother for several years. "She is not an outcast, mom! Quit listing her differences, for Eywa's sake! She is a fucking Metkayina now, accept it!"

"Her rites of passage are unfinished," Ronal reminded her son with a click of her tongue, ignoring his usage of the inappropriate language. "She is not one of us-"

"-yet." Ao'nung interrupted her upcoming remark with a growl and temporarily released your hand to point to his mother's rapidly beating heart. "As for now, I need you to respect my partner - whether you like it or not."

Before the spiritual leader could interject, your furious mate captured your hand once again and dragged you away from the cold-hearted woman, muttering an apology to his younger sister who had to witness the conflict. You bowed to Tsireya quickly and followed Ao'nung out of center of the lively village with flattened ears.

part 3 coming soon! i'm so sorry 😭

[unabashegirl]

Enticing 39 || Harry Styles

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

masterlist

word count: 1.4

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As Y/N rushed to her old apartment to get ready for work, her heart raced with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. She knew she had left Patrick in a state of anger and confusion the previous night, and the thought of facing him again made her uneasy.

Upon entering the apartment, Y/N was immediately greeted by the familiar sight of her belongings, which still occupied the space despite her recent absence. The room felt like a time capsule, a reminder of the life she had left behind.

Before she could even begin to sort through her things, Patrick's voice, laced with resentment and anger, cut through the air like a sharp knife. "Where the hell were you last night, Y/N? You disappeared without a word!"

Y/N froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn't anticipated Patrick being there, and the confrontation she had been trying to avoid was now unfolding right before her.

Patrick's eyes bore into her, demanding answers, but Y/N remained silent, her emotions too raw and tangled to form a coherent response. Instead, she began to move around the apartment, collecting the necessary items for work.

His frustration mounting, Patrick followed her around, his voice growing more intense. "You didn't even come home! Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

Y/N continued to focus on her preparations, avoiding eye contact with Patrick. She knew that any words she spoke would only lead to further conflict, and she didn't have the emotional bandwidth to engage in a heated argument.

Patrick's anger escalated, and he finally snapped, his voice raised in frustration. "You can't just run away from our problems, Y/N!"

With a deep breath, Y/N finally turned to face him, her voice firm but weary. "Patrick, I need to get ready for work. We'll talk about this later, okay?"

Patrick's eyes blazed with resentment, but he begrudgingly nodded. Y/N knew that this was far from the resolution they needed, but for now, she had to prioritize her responsibilities and give herself some distance to collect her thoughts.

As she hurriedly gathered her work essentials and tried to make sense of the tangled emotions within her, Y/N couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be a way to find a peaceful resolution to the complex web of relationships that had entangled her life.

Y/N's heart still raced as she rushed to get ready for work in her old apartment, the tense confrontation with Patrick fresh in her mind. The unresolved tension between them weighed heavily on her, but she knew she had to compartmentalize her emotions and focus on the task at hand.

Amidst the flurry of getting dressed and grabbing her work-related items, Y/N couldn't help but reflect on how much her life had changed in such a short time. The chaos and uncertainty that had become her daily reality left her longing for a sense of stability and peace.

As she prepared to leave, Patrick's resentful voice still echoed in her ears. She knew that their relationship had reached a breaking point, but the path forward remained unclear.

With a deep breath, Y/N left her old apartment, locking the door behind her, and made her way to work. The familiar routine provided a temporary escape from the turmoil of her personal life.

Arriving at the office, Y/N focused on her tasks, throwing herself into her work as a way to temporarily distract herself from the storm of emotions that raged within. It was during these moments of intense concentration that she could momentarily forget the complexities of her personal life.

Hours passed, and the distractions of work began to lose their effectiveness. Y/N's thoughts drifted back to the unresolved issues with Patrick and the impending paternity test results. She knew that she couldn't evade these challenges forever, but she needed time to gather her thoughts and consider the best course of action.

In the midst of her inner turmoil, Y/N's phone buzzed with a new email notification. It was the paternity test results, arriving earlier than expected. She hesitated for a moment, her hand trembling as she opened the email. The words on the screen held the potential to change everything.

With a deep breath and a sense of trepidation, Y/N began to read the contents of the email, knowing that whatever it revealed would determine the path forward for her and the people she cared about most.

As Y/N read the email containing the paternity test results, her heart pounded with anticipation. The words on the screen held the potential to change the course of her life. And then, the truth was revealed — Harry was the father of her unborn child.

A mix of emotions washed over Y/N — relief, gratitude, and a sense of validation. She had always believed in the strength of their connection, and now, the paternity test confirmed what she had felt in her heart.

Instead of immediately contacting Harry with the news, Y/N decided to surprise him in person. She felt that this was a moment worth celebrating face-to-face, and she wanted to see the joy on his face when he learned the truth.

With the lunch hour approaching, Y/N ordered sandwiches and soups from a nearby café and headed to Harry's office, which was only six blocks away from her own workplace. The short walk gave her time to gather her thoughts and savor the moment.

Arriving at Harry's office building, Y/N felt a sense of excitement and nervousness. She had spent so much time in uncertainty and chaos recently that this moment of clarity and happiness felt surreal.

Y/N entered the building and made her way to the elevator, riding it to the floor where Harry's office was located. As she approached his office door, her heart fluttered with anticipation.

With a deep breath, Y/N knocked softly and entered. Harry looked up from his desk, surprise registering on his face at the sight of her.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/N grinned, unable to contain her excitement any longer. “I have some great news," she announced.

Harry's curiosity deepened, and he gestured for her to sit down. Y/N placed the bags containing lunch on his desk and then reached into her bag to retrieve the email containing the paternity test results. She handed it to him, her eyes locked onto his.

Harry scanned the email, his expression transitioning from confusion to realization as he read the words. His gaze met Y/N's, and he looked utterly shocked.

"Harry," Y/N began, her voice filled with emotion, "the test results confirm that you're the father of our child."

For a moment, silence hung in the air, and then, a radiant smile broke across Harry's face. He stood up, crossed the room, and embraced Y/N tightly.

"Y/N, I..." Harry began, his voice filled with gratitude and joy, "I can't believe it. I'm going to be a father again"

Tears of happiness welled up in Y/N's eyes as she hugged him back, relieved that the uncertainty was finally over, and their journey as parents was about to begin.

In that moment, the pull of their shared journey, the trials they had faced, and the unspoken love that had always lingered between them became too powerful to ignore. Overwhelmed by the intensity of their emotions, Harry leaned in and kissed Y/N gently on the lips.

The kiss was a celebration of their newfound clarity and the prospect of becoming parents together. It was a testament to the deep connection that had always existed between them but had been overshadowed by the chaos of their lives.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other, and they shared a tender, wordless moment. Harry's hands cradled Y/N's face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that had escaped.

"Y/N," he whispered, "I miss you”.

Y/N's heart swelled with love and gratitude, her hand reaching up to cup Harry's cheek. "I do too”.

Their eyes locked, and they knew that, despite the challenges and uncertainties that still lay ahead, they had each other and the unwavering support of their families. The future, once shrouded in doubt, now held the promise of happiness and love as they embarked on this new chapter of their lives, united by the miracle of their child.

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TAGLIST: @0oolookitsme, @happycupcakeenthusiast, @kennedywxlsh, @hsfics, @stylesbrock, @cuddlingwithharry, @sucker4angstt, @bluemoonedwings, @cherriesrae, @vornilla, @mellamolayla, @harryscurls21, @stilesissaved, @be-with-me-so-happily, @harryssattelitestomper, @jerseygirlinca, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @lomlolivia, @stylesfever, @daphnesutton, @n0vaj3an, @breezykpop, @kathb59, @sassamanda77

[ironunderstands]

if you want to, please give your opinion on this I’m really curious on others thoughts

Me remembering @blood-orange-juice post on how Childe has the aggression of a prey animal made me think of how I feel he is a very feminine character despite not outwardly presenting as such. His aggression doesn’t stem from a masculine desire to feel stronger, it stems from his fear of being hunted down, overlooked, and overpowered, an aggression felt by a lot of femme and afab people, including myself. Like the scene in the golden house where everyone ignores what he has to say, or the scene in the courtroom where everyone dismisses what he has to say and blames him guilty for actions he couldn’t have possibly committed. The courtroom scene in particular reminds me of how often famous women (especially poc but that’s a can of worms that’s not my place to get into) are often demonized with people waiting for them to make one minor slip up (real or made up), so the public can justify their hatred towards them. Moreover, the attitude of “he’s a fatui so he probably did something wrong anyways” (which is true but doesn’t matter in this situation) mirrors the attitude a lot of famous women get of the “I never liked her anyways”, or “finally a reason to hate” or “I knew she was a mean girl” if the public gets a reason to turn on them.

There is also Childe’s habit of for lack of a better term, larping as a normal person, especially as a normal brother and son to his family. This changing of his behavior, especially in front of family members as to not lose their approval is also a pretty common feminine experience (not for me though luckily) and I have a lot of people in my own life who I know act that way. Playing the “good, responsible, nurturing, and almost a third parent” older sibling is also a fairly common feminine experience, and Childe acts very similar to that archetype despite having completely different reasons as to why.

His important female relationships with characters like skirk, Tonia, his mother and the Tsaritsa also add to this. It’s made very clear that he loves his younger siblings a lot, with Tonia being no exception, and Childe likes experiencing Tonia’s girlhood with her, playing along with being the knight in shining armor to her princess. He buys dresses and other gifts for her in inazuma, and doesn’t posses the slightest bit of shame or care that others might judge him for going dress shopping on his own. Continually, Skirk and his mother both teamed up to give him mommy issues (although Skirk didn’t do it on purpose she didn’t try to abandon him like his mom did, he left the abyss of his own accord), although mommy issues tend to be pretty universal, his respect and desire for acknowledgment from female authority figures like Skirk, the Tsaritsa, and to some extent the traveler and Clorinde (he did really want a duel out of her and views her as a strong, worthy opponent) reads as a feminine desire to me. More specifically, the need to be liked and acknowledged by the women you look up to so one day you can feel as secure as they appear to be, I personally find to be a very feminine experience.

What I find most interesting about this situation is that most of Childe’s traits I find feminine are painful feminine experiences, besides the heels in foul legacy form, the garter around his legs, the exposed skin on his stomach and being canonically pretty, things viewed as traditionally feminine, the feminine aspects of Childe’s character deeply painful for both him and people who experience similar things in real life. It reminds me of a phrase I can’t quite remember where I heard from, but is something along the lines of “femininity is pain”.

[lauraneedstochill]

I've never liked to think that Aemond is evil, just someone who's been hurt too much time and time again and saw no justice for it; do you think he's evil? or that there's more to it than simply that? That he genuinely cares about people, his mother, his family?

I do not consider show!Aemond evil — I’d like to believe that, as the definition of the word suggests, you have to be more immoral and wicked, perhaps even a bit sadistic to be downright evil. I see him as calculating, emotionless, cold, and that paired with everything he’s done makes him a villain but not necessarily evil (…yet?).

his current feelings, though? I have no fcking clue because the show is doing a very poor job of explaining them properly. to me, Aemond from Season 1 and Aemond from Season 2 are two different people.

🔪 S1 Aemond, yes, he cared about his mother (she sought justice for him when no one else did, she offered him comfort even when she couldn’t fully understand his struggles), his family (he’d grow up thinking he had to step up and be the responsible one — to eventually take pride in becoming someone his family can rely on), and he knew what loyalty was, despite not being ecstatic about the order of things (Alicent did drill “in the world we must defend our own” into her kids' heads, and you bet, he was the fastest learner). the real tragedy of Aemond — to me — was about his deepest desires and his arrogance clashing with the picture-perfect image he’s grown into and didn’t mind portraying as it got him the love and trust of the ones he cared about, the approval and respect of everyone else. but his desires are too big and burning, and his arrogance is only fuel: of course, he deserves it all and he should take it — and he can take it BUT it will ruin the image he’s crafted and the bonds he’s formed. raised by the woman who put duty above all, can he betray everything she taught him to believe in? there are a few ways things can go from there but all the paths lead to his self-isolation and his downfall, although he keeps trying and trying to prove something till the very end, and it’s sad because it’s relatable — we are all trying, we all hate feeling that we are capable of more but simultaneously aren’t enough. if only he put all that effort somewhere else, maybe he could’ve been happier but we will never know. he dies young.

🔪 but S2 Aemond? they packed his character development in the tiniest bag and it’s never been opened once. the writers are so keen on blaming Aegon for everything, they don’t realize that making Aemond do a 180 because of one unfortunate joke is a disservice to the character. him deciding that regicide and fratricide aren’t a big deal is as wild as it is dumb: there’s no way he didn’t know it would damage his relationships with the very few people who loved him. how long can you milk “he was bullied as a child” before it bites you in the ass and makes your super-cool-much-wow character look like a thin-skinned boy who holds on to every offense instead of idk MOVING ON? because he did get his justice — he got the biggest dragon as a fuck you to the people who made fun of him for not having one, he only got stronger despite losing an eye, he got to be his mom’s most precious son and he DID get Luke killed (even if by mistake, the result is still the same — the bastard who maimed him won’t ever make fun of him again). how is that not enough? who and when decided that Aemond becoming a bully himself would be a great achievement? why holding him accountable for what he did isn’t fair but him being vengeful left and right is praised and cheered for? and he is not complex, I’m sorry, he just isn’t. he’s been robbed of proper reasoning and conflict, and I am getting tired of trying to peer into his one eye to get a hint of emotion while S1 Aemond could at least grant us little outbursts here and there to confirm that he is a human being and he can successfully keep his facade up while also having feelings.

S1 Aemond was many things, all of them fascinating. S2 Aemond makes me want to skip to the scenes of Daemon getting high and scared in some leaking castle (and I’m starting to wonder if maybe that’s the point?).

anyways, I hope Ryan Condal will be out of job when the show is over.

[stormdragon23]

My Top 10 Solo Leveling Characters

Inspired by this post

I'll keep the explanations short, but if you want a more in-depth explanation, feel free to ask for more (or look through my blog. It isn't that hard to find with how much I post about certain characters)

Choi Jong-In

Gee, what a surprise-

What I like the most about Choi Jong-In is how complex his character is when you actually analyze him. He comes off as a confident, sly person who does what he wants to get something for himself, but when you read between the lines, there is a lot about him that shows nearly the opposite

One example is how he exudes confidence, nearly borderline arrogance, yet when you observe his physical actions, he almost always doing something with his hands, as if he is nervous and holds back from fidgeting. He also cares a lot about other hunters yet does so very subtly, like during the double dungeon when he was giving orders to the other hunters to try to keep them safe. He reacted like how Baek Yoon-Ho did during the Red Gate incident when he learned about what happened with the high orcs A-Rank gate, showing that he does care about his hunters' safety

Okay, I need to stop

2. Baek Yoon-Ho

This should have been expected from just looking at my blog

Baek Yoon-Ho was actually my favorite character early in the story. I love how despite his intimidating appearance, he is actually very kind and a rather sensitive person. He is one of more fleshed-out side characters in terms of his relationships with other side characters and how his backstory before the gates appeared is talked about a lot in various forms of Solo Leveling

He also has a rather complex personality with how serious he appears in public and how it is clear he cares a great deal about the hunters in his guild, yet with people he is close to, such as his friends, he is very expressive and reacts quite a bit to being teased and such

3. Go Gun-Hee

He needs to show up in the game soon

I love how caring he is with the other hunters, specifically Woo Jin-Chul and the other S-Ranks. He makes teasing remarks towards them and is quite soft with them despite his powerful aura. He definitely has the energy of a grandfather, so I like to think he gets along with all the S-Ranks very well

He also seems very protective of them as he was furious about the Japanese Hunters Association's Chairman's plan to eliminate Korea's S-Ranks. He is like that one quote

“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”

4. Sung Il-Hwan

Why couldn't he have seen Kyung-Hye one last time-

I also love Sung Il-Hwan's caring nature even though it was only shown after he fought Hwang Dong-Soo and was helping people get out of destroyed buildings and fire. It was nice foreshadowing to him being a firefighter in the past

He's fairly similar to Go Gun-Hee in terms of his protectiveness of the people he cares about and his optimistic/teasing nature even though Sung Il-hwan's personality wasn't shown that much. I admire how he wanted to give up his memories of the previous timeline to properly take care of his son the way he wanted to though. It was very sweet

I want him to be the main character, not his son-

5. Park Kyung-Hye

She should have appeared more. She's so pretty

Not much of her was shown in the manhwa, but the moments of her that stood out to me the most were how she looked out for her family before her own well-being and how she was still waiting for her husband to return

Even when she had just awakened and found out how long she had been asleep for, the first thing she did after getting a grasp on her surroundings is comfort her son. All she knew was that her son had worked hard to take care of him and could see from his hands that he got hurt while doing so. She doesn't know what exactly Sung Jin-Woo did in the years she was asleep yet still thanked him

6. Woo Jin-Chul

Of course he's on the list. Why wouldn't he be on the list

There are many admirable traits that Woo Jin-Chul has, but I think the one that stands out to me the most is his sense of justice and desire to do everything he can to make the world a better place. It doesn't get to the point where it is all he thinks about or does, but it is enough to show that he is passionate about what he believes

His demeanor is also something I like. The way he is stoic and reacts accordingly based on the situation he is in. It makes me wonder about what his personality is actually like behind the mask and when he is not working. Some of it was shown in the side stories, which was very nice to see, though I wish the manhwa had included more moments of him from the novel

He would be higher on the list, but I'm a sucker for parental figures

7. Min Byung-Gyu

The reason I have a strong grudge against Sung Jin-Woo

Min Byung-Gyu is a much stronger person the more you analyze him (I'm working on an analysis of him, so I'll be going into more detail there). The way he is clearly traumatized by the third Jeju raid and had already told Baek Yoon-Ho that he would not be going on the next Jeju raid, yet he still showed up in the end

He likely couldn't bear the thought of the S-Ranks dying without him there more than the possibility of him not being able to save them. Compared to the other side characters, he was actually fleshed out quite a bit, and he was a very unique character compared to the S-Ranks in terms of his personality

He did NOT need to die

8. Son Ki-Hoon

Most underrated character right here

I don't think much about Son Ki-Hoon as he didn't have that much of a presence in the manhwa, but I really like how he was portrayed as a good leader. After all the other raids Sung Jin-Woo had been on prior to this raid, I was really worried that Son Ki-Hoon was going to be selfish like the others. But thankfully, he chose to go the route that would be the safest for the rest of the team (I think he, unfortunately, has bad luck though)

He was also very adamant about protecting his guild members despite it seeming certain that they would die. Not in a self-sacrificial way (which is a trait I personally dislike), but in a way that would the others the best chance of survival while still doing his best to stay alive

9. Park Hee-Jin

She's so pretty alsdkfjafda

Not much of Park Hee-Jin was seen other than the Red Gate, but the game went in depth about her backstory, which I enjoyed watching. To summarize, Park Hee-Jin had "hunches" whenever something is about to go wrong, and although she doesn't know if something will actually happen or not, her instincts are usually right

However, when she tells other people, they usually don't believe her, and when something does happen, they blame her for it. Yet despite the accusations against her, she doesn't let it bother her and just ignores them, focusing on keeping herself and those who do believe her safe. Similar to Park Kyung-Hye, she also has a caring nature with other hunters, especially those younger than her.

10. Eun-Seok

I know he was only in the anime for like. 3 minutes, but hear me out

Despite Eun-Seok not being on screen for long and barely being mentioned anywhere else, the effect he had on the surviving hunters was very impactful. It clearly affected his close friends, Baek Yoon-Ho and Min Byung-Gyu, the latter of whom retired after the raid. It's not clearly stated, but in the game, he also seems to be the reason why Lim Tae-Gyu seems rather jaded at times, so I assume the two must have been close

As for his personality, he seems like someone who looks out for his friends often yet has a playful side to him as well. I hope we get to see more of him later, whether it's in the game or in a flashback in the anime, but already in the anime, they gave him a lot of features, including a whole character design along with very unique powers

I'm very weak towards selfless people who are humble in case you couldn't tell

If you made it this far, congratulations. Have a cookie 🍪 I don't know what other foods to give. Maybe a fruit next time

[dustyfairywings]

So you know how Takayoshi gifted Akemi two songbirds in a cage together as a sincere apology for his mother?

I think those two birds are meant to symbolize both Akemi and Takayoshi. They are both marginalized in some way despite their privilege. Akemi as the daughter of a lord and Takayoshi as the disabled second son of the shogun are both denied agency in their roles despite their privilege. Takayoshi and Akemi both are song birds in a gilded cage. Two pawns to the political and social machinations of their parents. Akemi a victim to her father’s political aspirations and Takayoshi evidently a victim to his mother’s social manipulations.

(Aside: and possibly emotional abuse/neglect, with the way he was forbidden from speaking to women and who knows what actually happened to this first wife. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that it seems to me like this is all in service of maintaining a “respectable” image of the family, and cannot risk having people know he has a stutter. just spitballing here)

If I were to make a prediction for season 2, or a wish, it’s that I would like to see Akemi and Takayoshi form a genuine bond and alliance as two privileged-yet-marginalized individuals having to navigate a politically fraught and rigidly hierarchical society, and I think there’s at least some textual evidence to support this being a real possibility.

They demonstrate in the show Takayoshi is no fool and that he’s clearly an educated and well-read man. Take how he engages with Akemi’s poetry during sex compared to Taigen as an example. He simply has a disability and is somewhat submissive and subdued (likely due to being shamed or ridiculed for his stutter and getting little to no support as a child). They are capable of being intellectual equals. Any sort of power or control Akemi would gain over Takayoshi is by virtue of the kindness and empathy she is showing him, not because she’s outsmarting him. I believe Takayoshi is willingly surrendering himself to his wife and cognizant of this fact.

I think we may see a dynamic where Akemi will both advocate for her own political ends but also at times advocate for and try to protect her husband where she can where familial and interpersonal relationships are involved. I really really hope their union will be one that grows in political power through the healing power of love, compassion, and solidarity between two marginalized individuals.

They can acknowledge the humanity in each other and see each other as equals in their shared pain and victimization, and find empowerment through each other. If they cannot be their own masters at least they can be each other’s sole masters.

Takayoshi and Akemi may be two songbirds stuck in a gilded cage, stripped of their freedom and humanity. But they at least have each other and together they can harmonize.

[callsign-bunnie]

How do you feel about an actors au?

I've actually been thinking of one for a bit

--

First off, Price runs a security company in this AU which is how I think I would tie everything together

Alejandro has been an actor since he was a teenager. He and Rudy are still childhood friends and he's been in love with him for a while but Rodolfo doesn't want a life in the spotlight/doesn't think Alejandro is in love with him

Alejandro and Valeria had a fake relationship for publicity of a movie they had together and Alejandro wasn't allowed to tell Rodolfo it was fake because of a toxic manager

It ended really messy, too, even though both hated the fake relationship

Valeria is a child actress trying to break free from that squeaky clean innocent persona

She and Alejandro hire Price's company for their security

Eventually, Alejandro and Rodolfo do get together, but they have to keep their relationship secret for Rodolfo's safety since Alejandro has a couple of crazy fans

Rodolfo has a hard time with this, even if he understands it's important

This isn't relevant, but Rodolfo is a photographer and did Alejandro's headshots early in his career

Ghost, Soap, and Roach have been dating for a while. Roach and Soap are publically dating and Ghost is head of their security team because they're dealing with an active stalker

He doesn't completely work for Price, but Price is where he started and he goes through Price for the rest of the members of the security team and Price is the only other person with as high of authority over Soap and Roach's security

Soap got his start in soap operas, where Roach started out as a musician but retired when he was attacked by a crazy fan and lost his voice because of it

Neither are particularly careful with their own safety, despite Roach's rampant PTSD, and Ghost is this close to putting them in glass boxes on high shelves

STOP HUGGING RANDOM FANS

YOU HAVE A STALKER, CARE ABOUT YOUR SAFETY

Alex and Farah work for Price's security team, Farah is actually pretty high up in it

Gaz is an actor and he's known to have a father/son relationship with Price, so Price puts a lot of care into his safety

Alex is Gaz's closest security guard because Price trusts him, though he's threatened Alex not to sleep with Gaz before

(It has not worked, but hey, Price gets points for trying)

Alex and Price are kind of hardasses about Gaz's safety, which gets on his nerves, but he appreciates that they care

However, he doubts every fan with a hoodie is carrying a gun

Malika actually isn't an actress, she's being protected as a favor from Price after a crazy stalker kidnapped her for a few weeks when she was a kid and then won't leave her alone, now

Farah has been head of her security team since shortly after she joined the company, she and Ghost frequently bond over the stresses of being in love with the people whose security and safety are their highest priority

Farah is deeply protective over the members of her team and knows them all personally.

Laswell co-owns the security company and mostly does administrative parts of it, her wife is a retired actress

Nikolai is a private investigator that Price contracts (and fucks but that's irrelevant)

--

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

Ships: @the-pluto-828 @Humanmilkerr @vergilnelosparda @cathsolos @thegodofsleep @lieutenant-storm @roachboy @toasterduck23 @del79jji @thisisthedarknessofmymind @stardust-medic99 @spacedout-ace @wittymanatee@captainsimcoe @thatnerdnamedtj @snootlestheangel

AU Headcanons: @sinclairbrosbathmat @vergilnelosparda @lieutenant-storm @roachboy @del79jji @stardust-medic99 @thatnerdnamedtj

[lorelaiblair]

marauders headcanons

- james keeps hair ties on his wrist, it started with sirius but at this point everyone knows that if they need to pull their hair up james has got them covered

- james’ parents are stupid powerful, effie especially, but they prefer a quiet life and a peaceful little home. that’s why sirius’ parents let him leave. they aren’t necessarily afraid of effie, but they know trying to fight her would not end well

-the woman is insanely protective of her family, the second james set his eyes on sirius he was effie’s son, she would do anything to protect him

- james is also weirdly good at braiding hair, if regulus is seen walking around with intricate braids in his hair the group can assume that he and james were studying together

- james does not study, he just enjoys sitting with regulus, regulus has learned if he gives james a task he is more likely to keep quiet and therefore he lets james play with his hair

-they mostly all prefer red gummy bears so they just buy the red ones in bulk (pete likes the clear ones and marlene likes the green ones) (they have their own bags)

-sirius is not at all picky about music, one might assume that he listens to alt rock or anything similar, but he will truly appreciate anything

- sirius and regulus listen to a lot of classical french music and french rock, james listens to lots of spanish pop

- remus and lily swap books once they have finished reading them, fully annotated and marked up. it turns into somewhat of a book club within the entire group but pete is dyslexic and james, sirius, and dorcas have adhd so it takes them months to get through something. ( they just wanted to be included) (they all share an audible account) the larger book club reads one book every six months. lily and remus swap at least once a week.

- regulus and pandora have their own secret greenhouse where they grow flowers and fruits and vegetables, they use it as a art studio and a music studio. if regulus can’t be found he is in the greenhouse, despite being a ‘secret’ all of their friends know this. dorcas is not allowed in the greenhouse, neither are wormtail or prongs as their animagus forms

- sirius has a third nipple on his abdomen, he claims that it is a mole. Regulus was born with extra fingers that their parents had surgically removed. (inbreeding genetics)

- when sirius is stressed he goes for runs as padfoot, do not ask how many strays he has brought back with him (effie and fleamont have a dog, two cats, and a bird) (the rest of them are taken in by random families of friends or marlene’s grandparents who own a farm)

- peter hates cheese

- lily is a rock girlie, for absolutely not reason, but she will absolutely stop in the middle of a busy parking lot to pick up a random pebble because she liked it’s shape

- james and regulus have collections of rocks that she has gifted them

-they all wear remus’s jumpers, all of them. sirius steals one, james gets ahold of it, and from there it is untraceable. circulating throughout the friend group until remus or sirus forcefully take them back. james makes up for it by knitting him more.

- lily, remus, and james have “eat the rich” t-shirts (i am well aware that james is incredibly wealthy, so is he)

- regulus experiments a bit with eyeliner - james has a moment where his brain promptly shuts down as he considers if and how he might have died and gone to heaven

- regulus is COVERED in tattoos, barty bought himself a tattoo machine and he never got all that good at using it, regulus though is an artist. he has so many tattoos that he has lost count, and most of them he designed himself, pandora has drawn him a few and one is a doodle remus drew in the margins of a book

- sirius does not know where regulus gets his tattoos and has been begging for years for the name of his artist

-sirius is SO supportive of james and regulus’ relationship. he loves them both so much and he is glad that they make each other so happy, he is glad that regulus has found a home.

-this does not stop sirius from nagging about it, if the marauders have a group vote about something and james and sirius are on opposite sides sirius will say “you’re shagging my baby brother, you get no opinion” and james will usually relent

[dearestgojo]

Indifferent Love

Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo’s life gets turned around when you declare you’ve never held any feelings for him, and an arrangement is formed so that you may live the rest of your days in peace with each other. But upon your declaration, something stirs to life inside Satoru.

A/n: I tried to hurry to write this so I can't guarantee that the writing is that great, and there are probably more mistakes than usual.

Warnings: 18+. Fingering. Grinding. Wet dream. If I missed any please let me know I'm tired so something might have slipped past me.

Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Series Masterlist | Wc: 6.5k

Kenji Ono is a lot of things. A son and grandson to well-known doctors, a medical student doing his residency at his grandfather's hospital, and a future heir. He is the dream fantasy of most women; tall with dark hair and handsome, he has a boyish smile to top it off. Kenji is kind, protective, and observant. But there are also a lot of things Kenji Ono is not. He isn’t the great student his father and grandfather wanted. He was impatient and could have quite a temper when pushed to the end of his limit. Most importantly, Kenji is no longer your lover anymore.

And it kills him. 

The prominent knot that twisted in the pit of his stomach made him search you out, despite you already ignoring his efforts to fix things, and beg on his knees for your forgiveness. Beg for you to listen to him, so that he may explain that things weren't as they seemed. At least from what he could remember from the night.

Kenji would stop making his plea until he got you to listen, which is how he ended up here. In a restaurant, a few blocks from the hospital his grandfather owned with Shoko Ieiri. He'd never been particularly close to either of your friends, he was a few years older than the three of you and had only met you and Utahime when Shoko had dragged the two of you to a party a co-worker had planned. As soon as his eyes landed on you, and your gentle smile as you greeted strangers, he knew he had to figure out a way to know who you were.

From then he'd made an effort to get somewhat closer to Shoko, who had recently started working part-time at the hospital as a nurse, and be able to get a chance to meet you again. After several parties to which only Shoko and Utahime showed up, he'd grown a bit closer to the ladder by association, and he did his best to get from as much as he could about you discreetly. But both of them are smart, and after several long months of trying to lay his eyes on your delicate smile once again, they'd both dragged you out to a party he was attending. Taking it into their hands to introduce the two of you, and plan small gatherings where they would leave the two of you alone. 

And seating in front of Shoko right now, he can't help but wonder if she regrets ever introducing you.

Shoko brings her leg up to rest on the chair., and rests her chin on her knee while stirring the hot coffee in front of her. She doesn't think twice about informing Kenji of your wedding, "She's getting married at the end of the month."

Kenji feels the world tip on its axis. Everything he had ever dreamt of building with you crumbling between the fingers. Every discussion you had ever had about the future fades into nothingness as Shoko’s words repeat in his head. He wanted to be angry at how quickly you had moved on. How quickly you had tossed him aside for the man you had been engaged to for seven years. He wanted to yell at you for proving his biggest suspicions true. But he knew he had no right to. Kenji was nothing to you anymore. And though how he couldn't exactly remember how he had ended up in the situation that he did, he was the one who had sent your entire relationship to its downfall. 

He grips his hands, his nails digging into his skin, nausea settling in the pit of his stomach, "What?" 

"Don't act like you didn't hear me," Shoko answers, moving the food around on her plate, "I'm not telling you so you can win her over or anything like that, I just think you have the right to know. The two of you built something in the three years you were together. I think you deserve to at least know that she's moving on so that you can move on too. Y/n would probably skin me alive if she knew I was telling you this, so I'm warning you not to do anything stupid, she's already made up her mind about the wedding. And trust me when I say that Hime and I tried everything to get to not go through with it, but you know how stubborn y/n can be." 

"I thought she didn't want to marry him," it's a mumble, Shoko barely picks it up over the clatter of the restaurant, but she manages to hear him.

She shrugs, staring out at the street, her lips pressed together, "She'd rather be tied to him the rest of her life than have someone cheat on her again."

"I didn't cheat," Kenji grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Then what exactly happened? 'Cause from the photos y/n showed us it didn't look like you were just talking."

Kenji's eyes squeeze shut, pain forming in the front of his head as he tries to remember what happened that night. All of it blurring together into one large mess that he could make sense of. "I don't know. I don't remember, okay? All I know is that I didn't sleep with that girl...as far as I can remember at least." 

"As far as you can remember doesn't get y/n back," Shoko huffs out, setting her empty cup slowly and standing up from her chair, "so if you want to win her back you need to know for sure whether you did sleep with that girl or not." She looks Kenji over, swallowing loudly, and uttering, "Don't make me regret my choice of letting you close to her even more, Kenji."

Kenji remains seated long after Shoko's returned to the hospital. Turning her words over in his head as he tries to make sense of the glimpses of the night he supposedly cheated on you. All the frames bled into one another until he couldn't distinguish one event from another. The front of his head throbbed as he attempted to recall that night for the sake of your relationship. Kenji knew that if he tried hard enough he could make his case and save the relationship that had been ripped from between his fingers. 

Because if there was one thing he was certain about in this life, it was that he would never dare look at another woman when he had you. 

~

There are several things you never fathomed you would do before getting married, and on that list was having a proper date with the man you were to marry. Yet here you were somehow on the terrace of a famous local restaurant, sitting across from Satoru Gojo himself a week before your wedding. You had secretly hoped he'd reject the idea of doing such a thing, especially his last week as a single man, and were quite shocked when he agreed. 

"For appearances, right?" He had asked over the phone, "Sure, I don't see why not. Might as well get to know each other."

Maybe you shouldn't have underestimated Satoru's dedication to the faux relationship you would present in front of others, and kept your mouth shut to be saved from the glances of acquaintances who were glancing at you. Whispering behind their menus after every lingering peek. 

"They're staring," you mumble, raising your glass of wine.

Satoru skims around, waving at the onlookers who he catches looking, chuckling loud enough for them to hear, "Let them."

You glower, "It's your fault you know? If you hadn't built a reputation of being a lady's man they wouldn't be looking." 

"Says who? They could be staring cause of the rumors going around about you and a secret lover," he challenges.

You don't flinch when he brings up the tale of your escapades with an unknown man, giving him no emotional indication of whether the story was true or false. You simply lean back in your chair and raise your chairs, and riposte, "I highly doubt that when you're the one who's had several close calls."

"So you do have a secret lover."

"And if I did? What's it to you? Jealous?" you inquire, watching Satoru's adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

He leans back in his seat, grinning, "Not at all."

You return his smile, eyes closing so you appear to be sweet and loving for the people glancing at your table, "Good. This marriage will work better if neither of us have any sort of feelings."

"Don't go falling for me then."

"Never in a million years."

The table falls silent again, the sound of your silverware clicking against the porcelain of your plates the only sound that fills the space. Your meal get's interrupted a few times as people approach your table to congratulate the two of you on your wedding, a few of the women looking at you with sympathetic glances before walking away. It's almost as if you can hear their thoughts as they sadly smile at you, can hear them calling you a fool for marrying the man who had no intentions of ever being faithful to you. 

Lifting your glass of wine you smile against the curve, if they only knew that you were using Satoru for that exact reason. You had no desire, or intention, of forming any sort of emotional bond with him. You knew what you were getting by walking into this marriage. Marrying Satoru was a safe way of never risking getting heartbroken or having a hand laid on you again.

"I think we should look for our own place to live," He suddenly says, peering at you over the curve of his glass, interrupting your thoughts.

"What? Why?"

"Well, we'll be a married couple, so we can't keep living with our parents. It would also be hard to keep the help from talking when they notice we aren't acting like newlyweds," he explains.

"It's an arranged marriage, I don't think we're required to act like newlyweds in front of the help...I don't think anyone actually expects us to act like newlyweds when it's quite obvious you never wanted this," you state.

Satoru leans onto the table, his blue eyes staring into yours, white seafoam moving around in them, "Who said I never wanted this?"

For a moment, you feel your breath caught in your throat, your heart speeding while you lose yourself in his eyes. Composing yourself you clear your throat, leaning back into your chair "You've made it pretty clear, these past seven years, that you would rather be anywhere in the world than tied to me," you lean back across the table, fork dangling from your fingers, throwing his words back at him, "don't tell me you already fell for me."

Satoru leans back in his seat, his eyes scanning your face before he smirks. The light from outside hits your head at just the right angle casting a halo around you, and Satoru feels his heart beating against his ribcage, his mind running wild by how beautiful and angelic you look at the moment the words leave his curved lips. "Never in a million years."

The sun hides behind a cluster of clouds, the halo cast over you gone as you give him an apathetic, "Good. Then this marriage should go swimmingly."

You go back to eating your food, not letting the stares of the onlookers bother you anymore, but Satoru continues to study you. Examining the curve of your lashes, and the way your lips press together while you chew your food. He feels something inside of him cracking, something blossoming from out of the crevasse in his facade he had come to believe was the truth, a bloom he still stubbornly stomped on as he felt his chest fluttering. 

Deep down Satoru knew he would eat his words and choke on them. Every single word and sentence repeated over the days, months, and years.

~

Satoru can hear the pitter-patter of the summer rain outside of the car, his eyes closed as he leans back into the driver's seat. It's been hours since he dropped off on the front steps of your house, and he seems to be able to do is crave your nearness again. The scent of your sweet perfume lingers in the car, mixing in with the smell of rain, intoxicating him and bidding him stay seated inside the car while the rain pours down. 

He wonders how you've managed to captivate him, so quickly when he's been so sure that you are the last thing he wanted in this world. He could have any woman, and yet he's sitting here ready to jump off a cliff if you so desire him to. You must have put a hex on him to have him falling to his knees with just the simple sentence of you not wanting him as he had thought you did. 

Searching the depths of his brain he attempts to find the signs of you falling out of love with him. At want moment you had stopped looking up at him with wide eyes as if he held the entire world in the palms of his hands. As far as he knew you had been attached to him since the first time he met you when you were but a newborn baby and he was barely starting to walk. Attached to his hip until you both came of age and it was proposed you marry each other. 

All he can remember is you always stealing glances at him, your eyes fluttering whenever he'd catch you staring. He'd found them endearing at one point, he recalls. 

Though there had been that one time when he was visiting for Christmas when he noticed you acting differently. You had greeted him with the same warm smile but made no attempt to converse with him. Every time he'd look up, he'd find you looking down at your phone, a soft smile toying on your lips, instead of looking at him. Maybe it had been then when your feelings for him had started to change in you.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he revs the engine again, pulling out of the driveway of his parents' home. He drives through the wet roads toward one of his favorite bars, located in the center of town. It's easy to find an empty parking space near it with all the rain, he barely even gets wet when he runs inside the safety of its roof. 

It's mostly empty, save for a few men getting off work and seeking shelter from the rain and their nagging wives. He finds the empty bar stool, raising his fingers to order a drink, looking to his left he finds a man throwing his head back and downing his drink. 

His black hair is a mess, falling into his eyes, which Satoru notices are a hazed over and his cheeks flushed. He can smell the alcohol wafting off of him with every blow of air he puffs out. Satoru watches as the man stands stumbling on his feet, leaving a wad of cash on the counter, and heading into the pouring rain. 

Shrugging Satoru raises the glass placed in front of him, throwing his head back in a similar fashion that the man who left just did, the liquor burning the back of his throat. The bartender laughs, "Seems like you and that guy are having a tough night. Drowning out problems of the heart with strong liquor." 

Satoru taps a finger on the edge of his glass, the bartender pouring more alcohol into his cups, returning his laugh, "Not exactly, I wouldn't call mine problems of the heart," He takes a sip of the glass, "when neither of us feels anything for the other." He looks at the employee in front of him, "Though I thought she did at one point which is making me wonder at what point she stopped."

"That's tough man. At least your not in that guy's shoes," the bartender points towards the door, "his girl is getting married." 

Satoru chuckles raising his glass up, "At least." Satoru has a couple of more drinks before deciding it's time to go back home.

Satoru walks out into the street, the rain has stopped and there are a few people already hurrying home before the next shower comes. He stands there for a few minutes watching, breathing in the scent of the wet cement and ground. A few couples walk past him, and he watches as the girls cling to their boyfriends' arms, fluttering their long eyelashes, and their lips curving upwards when they lean towards them to whisper in their ears or tell a joke.

And he can't help but wonder if that could have been you and him. If that could be the two of you in the future. He doesn't dwell on the questions for too long and shakes his head, running off to his car. Choosing to ignore that he's even thinking of the possibility of a happy marriage at your side. 

~

The day of your wedding comes, and you can feel the house quake from the excitement. There is constant movement within the house; maids scurry in and out of the spare room. 

The room allows you to look out to the warm summer morning, and watch as birds fly to land on the small closed-off balcony while the hairdressers curl and pin your hair and adjust your make-up, their feathers catching the sunlight as they balance themselves on the leaves of the shrub outside. They stay perched on the leaves for a few moments, their little eyes peering through the window as their heads turn before they spread their wings and fly away. 

"And done," you hear the stylist behind you mumble, putting the last hair decoration onto your hair. 

Looking over your shoulder you give them a tight smile as they start gathering their things, "Thank you."

Your mother walks in as they walk out, her heels clicking on the white titles, and her red lips curving upwards, "You look, gorgeous dear," she says walking up to you, her hands coming up to cup your face. She pushes a few strands of hair out of your face, the stench of alcohol reaching your nose when she whines, "My little girl, my angel, is getting married." 

Your hands come up to hold onto her wrists, pulling her hands off your face, "Thank you, mom," you place your hands between your bodies, "A little early to be drinking, no? Especially today of all days."

She gives you a meek smile, wriggling her wrists from your hold and lacing her fingers with yours, "I know I'm sorry. I had a small...disagreement with your father and need to let off some steam." Her gaze meets yours, "I promise no more drinking for the rest of the day."

There's a flutter of hope in your chest, but you knew better than to let the feeling last more than a few moments. It wasn't uncommon for your mother to have moments like these when she was sober, where she'd at you the tenderness of when you were young. You wonder at what point things had taken a turn. At what point in life did your father become a greedy heartless cheater and your mother a drunk? Or had life always been like this and you were just too young to remember it clearly

Exhaling softly you nod and return her cheerless smile, "Okay." You free your hand from hers, and smooth the front of your dress, feeling the rhinestones on the palms of your hands, ignoring her longing look.

"You do look beautiful. Satoru is extremely lucky to be marrying you," she compliments again, reaching up to adjust the heavy dangling earrings you're wearing, breathing under her breath, "I hope your married life is happier than mine." She suddenly lets go of your hands, clapping them loudly the noise resounding throughout the room, "I'm going to get the chauffeur to bring the car around, we need to head to the venue." She does a once over again, her fingers brushing the smooth fabric of the skirt of the dress before walking out. You watch her leave, the door closing behind her before you turn to look in the mirror. 

You stare at yourself in awe, taking in the beauty of the dress for the first time. If you hadn't been as tired the day you went dress shopping you would've seen just how breathtaking the dress you had begrudgingly picked. A wedding ballgown with a plunging neckline that accentuated your breasts, the lace straps resting at the ends of your shoulders. The skirt of the dress matches the top extending out. Decorating the skirt of your dress is a shining lace-like material in the pattern of flowers, that shine brightly when the light hits them when you move. But what really catches the eye is the long veil Utahime placed on your head and situated to rest on your shoulders over the straps of the dress. The lace that's sewn onto your wedding dress is stitched along the edges of the veil, which travels down your back and fades into the train of the dress. 

Tearing your eyes from the mirror you walk towards the loveseat in the room, becoming aware of how heavy the dress is. You struggle to find a way to sit down the train and veil, everytime you attempt to the veil ends up underneath you, pulling on your hair. After several tries, you give up and lean against one of the arms, sighing in defeat. 

The room is quiet, only the ticking of the grand clock in the room fills the space. The silence leaves you alone with your thoughts, the urge to walk out of the house crawling up your spine, and an uneasy twist in your stomach as you wait for your mother to return. Is that what getting cold feet feels like? Is this the felt feeling Satoru felt every time he'd run off overseas? Is he also thinking about running off? 

You bring your thumb up to your lips, chewing on the tip of the acrylic nails you had done yesterday, staring at the door. A few seconds pass and no one walks by or in. Pushing yourself up to stand and walk towards it, pausing right in front of it. Examining the door frame and the walls of the room around you, feeling jittery as you raise your hand up to the knob, hesitantly. 

If Satoru could run away from you, from this marriage, this unwanted bond, so can you, you think to yourself turning the knob, If you're going to do this, the time is now.

The door is pushed open unexpectedly, causing you to stumble back a few steps. Your mother stands on the other side, a small surprised gasp leaving her lips as the door almost slams into your face, "What are you doing there?" 

"I-i," you stumble over your words, feeling as if you've been doing something you shouldn't have been doing. And maybe you had, considering you were contemplating leaving Satoru at the altar and your father with empty pockets. 

"Doesn't matter, driver and your dad are out in the front waiting for us, so come on let's go," your mother reaches for your arm, pulling you through the threshold. She pushes the small of your back, gathering the tail of the dress in her arms, "The bride can't be late to her own wedding."

~

Like any man about to get married, Satoru spends the entire morning doing nothing. He doesn't fret with wedding jitters as he lays back on his bed, listening to Suguru speak on the phone, his wedding suit still hanging from the hanger inside of his closet. The television in front of him is on with the sound all the was turned all the way down. 

Satoru finds himself closing his eyes as Suguru continues to talk, letting his mind wander to what his wedding night with you would be like. His closed lids flicker as he drifts off into a nap. When he opens his eyes again, his still in his room, but Suguru is no longer there, and the lights have been dimmed down. He can hear clattering traveling from the restroom before you appear at the door. clad white lingerie. His eyes follow you as you silently walk up to the end of the bed, your fingers coming up to cup his face, your thumbs drawing circles into his cheeks. Satoru melts into your warm touch, his long fingers brushing over the tops of your thighs. 

"You look beautiful," he whispers, sliding his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"Do I?" you ask, your fingers finding his white hair. 

Satoru inhales, pulling you into his lap, "Mmh."

He can smell the scent of your perfume as you settle down on his lap, his hands immediately falling on your waist as you rest back on him. The inside of his mouth flooded with saliva at the sight of the white lingerie set with embroidered butterflies on the sheer material. Satoru can see your nipple peeking through, pebbled from the cool air. He swallows down hard as you gently grind down on him, your mouth falling open as you feel him getting hard through the material of your panties and his slacks.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," he respires, his fingers reaching to toy with your clit through your panties, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your chest. He lets out a groan when you grind into his fingers, your nose buried in the crown of his head. "Needy little thing aren't ya'. Don't worry I'll fuck you nice and good just as soon as I get you ready," he says pushing your panties to the side and gathering more of your slick in his fingers. He slowly pushes one in, moving it in and out, the heel of his hand hitting your clit. He relishes the way your walls clench around it. He curves it upwards, pushing a second in as he brushes your soft spot, listening to your small gasps for air and whines. 

He makes a come hither motion with both of his fingers, your thighs shaking around his hand, "'Toru too much."

He moans as he feels you cum around his fingers, your walls gripping his fingers. He doesn't stop moving his fingers, helping you ride out your orgasm, "That's it princess, cum all over my fingers." Satoru watches you pant as you cum in awe, your mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. "Fucking hell you're so freaking hot when you cum," He pulls his fingers out and tosses you on the bed, hurriedly reaching down to pull his pants and boxers down, "Think you can come for me one more time, angel. Think you can cum all over my big fat cock?"

He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving your face as you nod, huffing out a quiet, "Yes. Want to cum all over your cock." Your eyes are drooping, hazed over with lust, your head moving up and down.

Satoru lets out a strangled groan, pushing the head of his length just past your clenching hole before a loud noise interrupts him. You slowly start to vanish from his vision as three more continuous resounding sounds echo throughout the room.

The fifth loud clap near his ear jerks him wake, Suguru calling out his name. Satoru's eyes pop open, Suguru is already walking away from him while speaking. 

"Come on, man you have to get dressed. We have to head to the venue. Your wedding is in less than an hour," Suguru says, going into Satoru's closet to get his wedding suit.

Satoru stays seated in his spot, pants straining against his crotch. He clears his throat, "Give me a second." He reaches down to adjust his boxers, doing his best to hide the raging boner inside of them before he got up. 

~

Your pacing back and forth in a small room in the venue, waiting for the ceremony to start. The palms of your hands sweat as you wait. Your eyes eye the door, which you approach slowly it and turn the knob. No one is outside, the hall bare of all signs of life. Taking a deep breath you walk towards a glass door at the end of the hall, that gives you a glimpse of a garden just beyond it.

You don't hesitate in pushing the door open, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air before stepping out into it. You spend a few minutes walking around the enclosed space, eyeing the high walls of the gate. The sound of the door you came in through opening tears your attention away from them, your head turning to see if Shoko and Hime have come to get you. To your surprise, you find the last person you want to see standing there holding the door open with the tip of his toe.

"What are you doing here? I told you I didn't ever want to see you again last time." you hiss, raising the skirt of your dress to walk away. But the weight of your dress weighs you down, making it easy for him to catch your wrist. 

"Y/n, please listen to me. You're making a mistake. I need you to listen to me, so you can understand that I didn't mean to hurt you. That I didn't want to cause you any pain," Kenji begs, pulling you into his chest, stumbling over his words as he cups your cheek with his free hand. He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes while breathing in the same air you breathe out, your heart pounding in your chest as you feel his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, "I know you don't want to marry him, I know that you don't love him. That you love me, so please, just let me explain."

You consider giving in to him and giving him a chance to explain himself. To give in to whatever excuse he comes up with, so you forgive him for sleeping with someone else. You so badly want to close your eyes and let his lips brush against yours.

But you don't. Instead, you push against his chest, letting the anger from his betrayal remind you that Kenji was not the person who had dreamt of marrying one day. That he had let his own vexation with the status of your relationship and the uncertainty if you would ever be able to be together, lead him to bed someone else in the place you had called home with him.

"How would you know? You slept with someone else because you thought I would fall in love with him. That would toss you aside because I had to marry him. What if that's what's happened now? What if I told you that you had been right and that I'm marrying him because I love him?" 

Kenji reaches for you again, his grip tighter than before, "You don't mean that, y/n. I know you love me, what we felt doesn't go away over a few nights."

Your jerk your hand away from him, "Loved. I loved you, but not anymore," you snarl, fighting the sting of tears that threaten to spill. Take in slow breaths of air and steady your pounding heart. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get married."

Kenji follows you as you make your way back into the venue, his hands desperately trying to get a hold of you again before you disappear back inside. "Y/n look all I need is for you to listen and to give me some time. I promise on my life that I didn't cheat on you. You know how much I care about you. How much I love you." 

You reach the door and pull it open, catching a Shoko walking towards the room you had been secluded in, "Save it Kenji, I don't have time." You lift your heavy skirt and walk into the building, letting the door swing shut behind you. But before it fully closes behind you, Kenji calls out one last time. 

"I promise I'm going to prove how much I love you. Prove I didn't cheat. You'll be begging me to take you back, y/n."

His words fall heavy on your chest when you reach the room, Shoko walking out at the same time you reach it, "Where have you been?"

You wave your hand around, "Needed some fresh air."

Shoko quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't question you further as she gathers your dress to help you with it, "Okay, well we need to get you to the front, the wedding is about to start." She leads you down the hall, and to the front of the venue where most of the bridal party is along with you're father, who hooks his arm around yours as the first couple makes their way down the aisle.

He leans down towards your ear, whispering in it before he leads you down the aisle toward Satoru, "You look beautiful...I'm proud of you."

Most of the wedding ceremony is a blur to you, the officiate’s words barely reach you over the loud ringing in your ears. It's not until the person officiating your wedding asks Satoru to say his wedding vows that you come too. 

"Repeat after me."

"I, Satoru Gojo, take you, y/n l/n, to be my wife," his eyes flicker as he looks into yours, "to have and to hold from this day forward," you swear you feel his hand tighten around your hand as he slides the ring on your finger, "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until parted by death. This is my solemn vow." 

The officiate then looks at you, signaling for the ring bearer to hand you the wedding band, "Repeat after me."

 "I, y/n l/n, take you, Satoru Gojo, to be my husband," you repeat, "to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health," your eyes meet Satoru's, "to love and to cherish," the words feel heavy on your tongue as you loudly say them, knowing deep down that you could never actually give your heart to him, "until parted by death. This is my solemn vow." 

From the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Kenji standing near the entrance of the venue his head shaking back and forth, as the officiate's words bounce off the walls of the venue, "I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Your eyes never leave Kenji as Satoru presses a quick kiss to your lips, the crowd around you clapping. You watch as he leaves, and you silently hope that it's the last time you ever see him.

~

The sound of the door clicking shut behind you is deafening, bouncing off the walls of the unfamiliar room. You’re unsure of what to do with yourself you find yourself fiddling with the soft material of the dress and moving around the room. It’s the typical room you’d expect a bachelor such as Satoru to have, the walls are bare of decorations and painted a light gray. There’s a single bed, a futon, and a drawer resting between what you assume is the walk-in closet and bathroom. The bed frame is a few inches off the ground, covered by a gray duvet, a few shades darker than the light gray of the walls. Surprisingly there’s a wooden headboard, but you might attribute that to the fact that Satoru still lived with his parents. There are two nightstands on either side of the bed, each with its own lamp that turns on when the switch of the overhead lights does. The white and black curtains of the room are drawn closed. 

Stepping further in you see that the room is much cleaner than you expected it to be. The nightstands are bare save for the lamps, a pitcher of water with its empty glass, and Satoru’s phone charger. The drawer has a plant and a few picture frames of Satoru and Suguru the year they graduated high school and college, one of him and his mother that appears to have been taken recently, and another with both his parents when he graduated college. You walk closer and run your fingers through the edges of each picture as you look down at them. 

“If you’re looking for photos of us together those are in the bottom left drawer. I can put some out if that would make you more comfortable.” Satoru says from the bed, where he’s bending down to take off his shoes. 

Shaking your head you walk towards him, turning your back to him so that he can unzip the back of your dress, “There’s no need for that, you said we wouldn’t be here long so I don’t see a point.” The mattress shuffles behind you as he gets up, and your body jolts when you feel Satoru’s fingers touch your skin between your back shoulder blades, the sound of the zipper following. 

“Okay. There.” He says when he reaches the part of your back you can reach, “I had the maids put your bags in the closet if you want to change.”

“Thanks.”

"Hey," you turn to look at Satoru, quirking an eyebrow at him, "I-I...let's try to get along." 

You nod your head, "Okay." You walk into Satoru's restroom, noticing your bags near the entrance. You make quick work of changing out of the dress you had put on for the reception, letting it pull around your legs, and start on your daily nightly routine of showering and cleansing your face.

When you come back out Satoru is laying on one side of the bed, overhead lights and his lamp turned off, you assume his usual side, his back turned to the empty spot next to him. You approach the bed, grabbing a few of the pillows he had tossed aside, and putting them between you and him, before climbing next to him. 

"You don't have to go that far," Satoru mumbles as you turn off the light, "I'm not going to touch you when you don't want to." 

You stare at the unfamiliar ceiling, "That's what you say, but I don't trust you."

"Shouldn't you trust your hubby, wifey," you can hear the smile on his face when gives you the new nickname?

"Don't ever call me that again," you warn, turning to your side, "Now go to bed."

You feel the bed next to your shift, Satoru turning to his back, his elbow pushing the pillows further on your side, "Okay...Night, wifey."

© Copyright 2022. Dearestgojo. All rights reserved.

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[kerubimcrepin]

Analysis: Lance Dur Webtoon Episode 5, The Third Death

(aka, Ronik's "let's try reading too much into some comics, and the Lance Dur series" challenge)

TW: Discussion of Child Abuse (physical, emotional, psychological), Filicide, Patricide, Child Neglect. Just the usual things that come up when talking about Lysmee, Agard, Lance Dur, Kerubim, God Ecaflip, and Joris, and their character parallels.

When looked at from the lens of symbolism and motifs, this comic is one of the more important pieces of Kerubim lore we have. And I really, really mean it. I need to talk about it.

But to talk about it... I will have to do something bad. Something I really wanted to put off for as long as I could:

THIS POST WILL SPOIL THE ENTIRETY OF THE LANCE DUR CARTOON, THE LANCE DUR WEBCOMIC, AS WELL AS THE CIRE MOMORE WEBCOMIC.

For this reason, I will be placing this analysis under a read more.

The thing that really gets me about this comic, is that it explicitly makes Kerubim a character foil/parallel for Agard and Lysmee.

Once or twice, I might have said things like, "Joris parallels Yugo, Atcham parallels Joris," and so on, — because of similar troubles, or character beats, — but let it be clear when I say "parallel" here, I don't mean conjecture, or correlations. What is happening here, is a bit... different.

Through his inclusion in this comic, and the role he takes in it as a victim of the Cire Momore curse, — the same way Agard was, — an explicit parallel is drawn between Kerubim and Agard.

And, by that logic, between Kerubim and Lysmee as well, — for Agard is already her foil and parallel.

In a way, their being a trinity really enriches the way one can understand these characters, — they form a sliding scale, I think, — because for every mirror image they have, there is a small deviation.

From Lance Dur's genuine love for his son and failure at showing it for all those years, and Ephedre's hatred of everything, to Ecaflip's godly "love" being both cruel and transactional.

In a way, despite Cire Momore not actually picking victims in-universe, symbolically speaking, she is the unhealable, unbeatable wound of parental trauma, personified.

It's no wonder, her long-term targets, within canon, are Agard and Kerubim.

Something can have many different symbolic meanings in the same story. From the march of death, to the weight of parental trauma.

The past, with all the horrible things that happened in it, is as real as the future, and the ending it holds. And it's always coming for you.

Sometimes, they are actually two in the same. At least for Lysmee and Kerubim.

This is the level of parallels that Lysmee, Kerubim, and Agard operate on. Even though Kerubim being their parallel is only a minor thing, because Agard and Lysmee's stories are mostly intertwined between one another, it is still a good way to analyse things.

(I hope someone makes a similar post to mine, but mainly about Agard and Lysmee. I'm too much of a Kerubim fan to be talking about them...)

All three of them grew up with parents who weren't supportive of who they were as people. The onee person who was supposed to nurture them, treated them like an object at best (Agard, Kerubim), — or derived pleasure from their suffering at worst (Lysmee, Kerubim).

Between the two, Kerubim seems like the middle ground. Agard has a toxic, distant parent, Lysmee has a horrible, physically abusive mother, and Kerubim has a toxic, emotionally and psychologically abusive parent.

Their stories diverge, yet remain reflections of one another.

Lysmee dreams of breaking free, but is killed by her own mother in the end. Kerubim cannot die, or get rid of, his father. And Agard kills his father, — obtaining a tragic sort of freedom, an actual ending to their relationship.

Lysmee and Agard reflect one another with violence, with poison. They both plan their parents' death, but for different reasons, — a want to be free of abuse vs. a twisted way to show love.

Kerubim and Lysmee reflect one another in inability to die or move on, — cursed to live forever by their parent, out of hatred, or out of love. But it differs, — for Kerubim, an eternal life, marred by death, by disease, is a pleasure, because he has his loved ones. But Lysmee... isn't living. She is suffering, forever.

Agard and Kerubim reflect one another by loving their fathers despite how bad things were, but having a way to move on, just a little, and try to be better fathers themselves, — separate from their toxic parent. But Kerubim will always have to look behind his back, to police his speech, to try and please Ecaflip, — because he is always watching, and he can always take all of Kerubim's freedoms back, at the snap of the fingers.

The way Kerubim experiences his haunting by Cire Momore is emblematic of his relationship with Ecaflip — everpresent, clouding over his thoughts, yet, if he focuses on moving forward, he can ignore it, if just for a bit.

The way it ends, is also a reflection of their relationship: only Ecaflip can choose, when, exactly, Kerubim stops suffering, — and he will keep him in danger, until Kerubim gives him what he wants.

Kerubim tries to free himself of the pain that his relationship with Ecaflip brings him by using fatherhood, but only ends up mirroring the dynamics that caused him pain. Joris wishes he could help him, but he is literally seven, and he has no idea how, — besides staying by his side, together, for eternity. Suffering from a very similar pain to Kerubim, but because of Kerubim himself.

Forcing himself to parent his own parent, to try and lead him from his pain.

Lysmee tries to free herself from the pain of her mother's abuse with romance, but the circumstances against them are far too strong, — Gustav can't even begin to help her. No matter how much he wishes he could. The only thing he could do for her is to die and be cursed together for eternity.

The same way Ecaflip is the only one who can save Kerubim, and the only one who could have saved Lysmee was Ephedre, the only one who can save Agard is Lance Dur, — because, as I had pointed out, all of them are the reason of their pain.

But the difference is that Lance Dur truly loves Agard. He might not have been the best father, he might have hurt him, but he loves Agard, enough to make sacrifices.

And if it took her mother's hate to doom her, it's quite poetic that it took a parent's love and determination that can finally set Lysmee free.

[lil-oreo-crumbles]

can you discuss the relationship between Toffee and Seth

Absolutely!! I’d be happy to!!

Normally, I see Toffee and Seth being depicted with a relatively positive relationship. However, I don’t and have never really seen it that way.

The full story is under the cut, but the TL;DR is this: Toffee does not like Seth hardly at all. Seth sees Toffee as his own son and loves him to death, but Toffee cannot stand being “fathered” by him. As far as Toffee knows, he never had a father and Seth was DEFINITELY not his father, and gets so upset when Seth refers to him as “son”.

Despite Toffee not being able to stand him, he can and does acknowledge his great diplomacy skills and that he is the best leader for Septarsis. His beef is a lot more personal. He will admit with no hesitation that Seth would have made a great ruler for Monsterkind and is personally angered and offended just like everyone else about Crescenta’s smear campaign.

Toffee also unknowingly bought into a lot of his ideals over the course of his life, he just adjusted his angle and took different actions into trying to solve the same problem.

It’s a mix of frustration yet begrudging respect for him as the man who took him in after his mother’s death on Toffee’s end. On Seth’s end, it’s praise, adoration, and a very fatherly view he has on Toffee, despite how pissed he gets at a lot of Toffee’s actions over the course of his life (i.e., Comet and his whole embarrassing “Bad Boy” phase).

-

AU Story:

For some context, I may need to explain Seth and his relationship with Toffee’s mother in my AU, Mylanie Ambrose of Septarsis, because that’s where their rocky relationship really stems from.

When Seth took his rightful place as the Supreme Lord of Septarsis (he hates the term King), he completely tore apart the system the previous (very corrupt) ruler (who brought Septarsis into its dark age) had been using for the two-hundred or so years he was in charge, and replaced it with his own system. Part of that system involves a rotating legislation of representatives (a council of sorts) every fifty or so years (can vary and there are exceptions). The Septarians would get restless with the same person in power for the centuries they live, so Seth ensures that there are new faces and new voices. No matter how good of a Supreme Lord or beloved by the people be is, he will never put just himself or his sister Zarina in charge of decision making.

With that said, Mylanie, a dreamer who strongly believes in a future of peace and harmony with Mewmankind in the future, joins the council. She is incredibly passionate and a very loud advocate for peace, catching Seth’s attention. The two form a friendship outside of politics and get along, but they are fiercely on opposite sides when it pertains to the Mewman problem. Mylanie wants to make peace with a future queen while Seth thinks war is one of their only possibilities. Zarina is the awkward middleman trying to find a truce between their fiercely opposed sides.

Seth is decidedly a gay man, but because he’s so deep in denial and closeted he mistakes the thrill and passion he gets from debating her as… romantic feelings (whoops) and starts offering his hand to make her the Lady of Septarsis. She always refuses.

Then Mylanie has Toffee. (His real name is Torrence but I’m gonna call him Toffee for simplicity)

So, essentially, Toffee’s exposure to Seth for his entire early life is through the eyes of his mother and the debates she has with him. He kind of sits back and watches the two of them go at it.

Seth is a lot more of a brute who values a good soldier at this point so he (playfully) critiques Mylanie for not teaching her son any defense skills or anything to do with fighting and instead just lets him “read books and frolic all the time”. He also jokingly teases her for how “girly” Toffee looks/acts (the long hair with flowers/flower crowns and his general soft/shy demeanor). Toffee, despite his young age, is very aware of all of this, along with the courting issue Seth still brings up every once in a while. He can get really protective of her.

But Seth absolutely tried to bond with him… and he considers trying to teach him how to fight “bonding”. Toffee’s not really into the whole war (he IS raised by his mother after all) and doesn’t really reciprocate.

When the Solaria’s situation happens and Mylanie passes away, Toffee is taken in by Seth and Zarina permanently. Seth really steps up and makes an effort to form a bond with Toffee, but he’s grieving really bad and Seth trying to make nice really hits him the wrong way.

While Toffee is friends with Eclipsa, Seth eventually finds out and discourages him from spending anymore time with her, but Toffee refuses to listen to him and still spends time with the princess regardless. He sees Seth as trying to take away the one thing he still has in this world. Seth tries to insist that the Mewmans and the world they’ve created are dark, selfish, and cruel, and Eclipsa is no different. Toffee fights with him on this, but it isn’t until the two friends have their tragic fallout that Toffee admits that Seth was right about Eclipsa and he should have listened to him.

Regardless of Seth being “proven right”, this still doesn’t make Toffee like him. During his bad boy teenage years he’s blatantly disrespectful, haughty, and an overall pain for Seth and Zarina to deal with. However, this is actually when Toffee starts to buy into Seth’s ideals. Toffee is unaware of just how much he’s starting to agree with Seth about his stances on Mewmanity, but his specific issue is on the magic they use. (If you ask him at this stage about it he’ll tell you you’re insane for the suggestion alone.)

Despite his bad attitude, Toffee’s natural talent in leadership and combat causes Seth to favor him a lot. Toffee rises the ranks quickly and becomes increasingly popular amongst the troops and the army. Toffee actually (begrudgingly) accepts advice and one on one training from Seth, which adds to his skill set.

But what Toffee HATES is how much Seth starts “fathering” him. Seth refers to Toffee as his son, and Toffee has to keep reminding him that he is decidedly NOT his son and NEVER will be, no matter how much Seth wants to think so. This ties back to Toffee’s lingering frustration over the whole “courting” he used to attempt with his mother.

When Toffee takes a break from the army to focus on studying Mewmans, magic, and their history, (and calming down and getting out of his weird bad boy phase in the process) Seth begs him to rejoin all of the time. He knows Toffee as a great military leader but Toffee spends most of his time curled up in his room reading into the night (✨insomnia✨) or breaking into Butterfly Castle to borrow more books. They hardly interact during this time.

After his time as a historian, Toffee is compelled to rejoin the army/war effort and moves up the ranks to eventually become the general we know he as. When the invitation comes for Comet’s banquet, Seth decidedly doesn’t want to attend. Toffee overhears and volunteers to go in his place. Seth has one rule: No harm is to come to the queen.

This is where I get to the point where he blatantly disrespects Seth’s instructions: He kills Comet. While decidedly NOT a primary or even important reason why he did it, a small very tiny microscopic part of Toffee did it specifically because Seth told him not to, and Toffee thinks he can handle things on his own.

Well… when Toffee returns to Septarsis humiliated with a missing finger, Seth. Is. Pissed. He KNEW this would do nothing but blow up in their faces and refuses to hear any of Toffee’s rationale for doing it, no matter how valid. He scolds Toffee harsher than he ever has before and blows up at him for this. By the end of the argument, Toffee is sick of and through with Seth and right then and there vows to leave Septarsis and never come back. Toffee does just that.

And… yeah. To be very frank, the relationship very complicated. Toffee can hardly stand him, but also Seth is probably one of his biggest influences at the same time. Toffee respects him as a leader of their civilization and as a diplomat, but has been known to forge his own path and blatantly disrespect his orders if Toffee deems his own ideas better (not ALL of them, Comet is the one notable instance of this). They both want monsters to be vindicated for all of the suffering they’ve been put through, but Seth sees Mewmans as the problem while Toffee sees magic as the problem.

I don’t know if this post fully encapsulates the true dynamic. This is an example of me trying to explain a dynamic that would be much better when I eventually show it… not sure if any post could ever do the story justice… but oh well.

But yeah I suggest keeping in tune. This is the rundown of their dynamic but it’ll be better when they actually interact in the AU itself 🤞

[catominor]

my fictional romeguys introductory post to contextualise the posting!!!!!

this is my little guys from my novel project which is currently in its Infancy very much. the story is set... somewhere roundabout the 80s-70s bce probably. it's broadly about two guys who make a jointly beneficial political alliance (and also become friends in the process) their psychosexual joint consulship and its consequences

main guys:

lucius furius m. f. sp. n. camillus: 45 years old, semi down on his luck patrician. he spends most of his time when he isn't trying to enhance his dignitas in the political sphere being a weird shutin and not leaving the house if he can avoid it. was injured very badly when he was young during a brief military career, preventing him from doing war stuff again... for now. (he also had a hugely comical and deeply formative crush on his commanding officer during said military career). ambitious beyond both his physical and monetary means. has been in a sexless arranged failmarriage for like 25 or so years with his wife, caecilia, whom he was married to because his family desperately needed money (but he does love her in his own weird way i think). also loves gardening, stoic philosophy, being maybe slightly addicted to opium wine, books in general, and being inside and in his house reading his scrolls (despite being in politics, having to shake all those sticky plebs' hands makes him want to kill himself fr. the price he pays for his rightful place in society as he sees it...). he is a huuuge sullan also. to him sulla did nothing wrong ever in his life. most famous for being a bit eccentric and reclusive, but still quite respected by most of the senate for his modest lifestyle and his refined and learned tendencies.

gaius martinus: our biggest handsomest general... a couple years older than lucius furius, wealthy plebeian senator. he's a bit of a new man; his family has only been in the senate for a couple generations and never attained the consulship. he's a simple type of guy really; he's a squarely competent (though not really that astounding) military commander, not very book-smart, and has an impressive appetite for all of life's pleasures. most people who don't instinctively look down on him for these traits tend to like him tremendously; he's easy to talk to, friendly, generous, and cheerful. he has a wife, poppaea, who he loves very much, and 6 horribly behaved sons to whom he is a beautifully absent father. his favorite things to do are hang out at the baths or the gymnasium, throw big dinner parties or go out partying with his friends, and do his thang commanding his troops and chopping people up with his sword in The Wars. he doesn't have very strong political leanings, and mostly just wants to be paid attention to, adored, etc. most famous for accidentally unleashing a pack of tigers intended for his games into the streets of rome while he was plebeian aedile, and for throwing big knock your socks off parties (and not getting mad at the guests for taking a little of the food home)

heres a main guys image (coin of them i drew):

others:

caecilia: lucius furius' wife in their arranged failmarriage. for her this relationship is constituted of a mix of resentment and love; they get along very well mostly, and in another life they could have been good friends, maybe, but in this one they're married and he's wasted her life. she helped him tremendously with everything he's done in politics, both with her advice and with her money, and in return she's mostly just been taken for granted. she wanted kids. there never were any. she thought he might die from one of his many ailments (he is the worlds sickliest man) soon enough; he never did. who's to say you can't love someone while also wondering if you could get away with killing them every now and then? she mostly passes her time by weaving, and writing vulgar epigrams which she publishes under a pseudonym for funsies...

poppaea: gaius martinus' wife. there isn't too much to say about her; she really is gaius' other half. like him, she's cheerful, easygoing, and enjoys the finer things in life. she loves gaius dearly, despite the fact that he's far from faithful; poppaea isn't the jealous type, or else, knows she can't really afford to be. she is also a wonderfully absent mother to their children, mostly preferring to leave the child raising to the nannies and take pleasant strolls around the gardens and go shopping in the big markets with her friends. she has a close relationship with her father, and often visits him.

quintus poppaeus: gaius martinus' father in law. a thoroughly slay old man. businessman who was never involved in politics (made his money from the mines), loads of money and mostly spends it on building hanging baths in his baiae villa, installing the latest garden fountains to flex on the neighbors, ridiculously swagfully effeminate outfits, and so. so many beautiful pet fish. his only child is his daughter, poppaea, and he adores her. he also has a very friendly relationship with gaius.

furia: lucius furius' younger sister and only living sibling. she's a bit like him if he were more mentally stable and normal. she's in a barely tolerable marriage with another aristocrat. her and lucius furius don't speak very often; she resents him a bit for having power over her i think (their father died when they were young) and he probably made her marry whatever crappy guy shes married to now (have i mentioned this is a work in progress)

theres other of my own characters but these are like. the ones who will Matter the most and that i will post about tbh

none of the stuff mentioned in here are things which would like. spoil any Plot so i wont say any more... im not too precious about spoiling things cause its such early days (plus i think if i write well enough it will be interesting to read even if you know what happens hopefully?) but i just dont want to make the post any fucking longer lol...

[flowers-of-io]

Fic Rec Friday #1

Inspired by the fic rec reblog chain spurned by @a-driftamongopenstars and @synnthamonsugar last Friday, I thought it would be cool to do a weekly rec from my personal fic library! I’ll try sticking to Fridays, and the tag for it is izzy's bookshelf, should you wish to either follow or block.

What I want to present to you first is this absolute banger:

What Has She Found? What Has She Found?

by @synnthamonsugar

Read on Ao3

Eris Morn and Mara Sov grow close enough to suffocate on their mission to Outer Sol.

Rating: Gen | Relationships: Eris Morn & Mara Sov, Eris Morn & Oryx | Word count: 1,458

Warnings: none

"If you never want to see me again, I understand," Mara said.

"I won't leave you," Eris replied. She spoke from her heart, tired and aching though it was, but she wasn't sure they could separate themselves from each other even if they wanted.

I’m very biased in favour of this fic, because not only did I get it in early access as a beta reader, but also the title is taken from one of my favourite loretabs and it sounds so powerful and cool. I'm truly impressed by how the characters’ dynamic is navigated and dissected here. Mara has long been a focal point for Eris, her Queen, confidant and friend—and now there she is, cloaked in the form of her worst terror, and what Eris has to do is reach out and save her life, despite all the fear and revulsion she’s feeling. The visceral awareness that Mara is Oryx, just as Eris is part Crota’s kin, and that it will never cease to be so, that Mara will always bear that mark upon her… And that when they lock eyes, there is a whole different history taking place, in which they are only proxies, in which the devotion between them is a vestige of the love between the monsters they destroyed.

She and Mara had become terribly alike, two lost souls saved through the fearlessness to transform into that which sought to destroy them. So perhaps it should have been unsurprising to Eris that when she looked at her friend, cloaked in the form of a monster, that monster looked back and recognized in her the vesage of his dead Son's kin. The sense of familiarity froze the blood in her veins. The feeling of love, a parent's love for their child, powerful enough to rend apart the universe for a second chance, made her want to flee.

A PARENT’S LOVE FOR THEIR CHILD, POWERFUL ENOUGH TO REND APART THE UNIVERSE FOR A SECOND CHANCE……….

(She thought about being in the Hellmouth. The eyes of Crota's brood in her hands, no weight at all, but infinitely heavy, the knowledge of what had to be done making it no easier —)

I think I hauve covid

She had taken the extracted debris and, guided by compulsion whose source she could not name and technique she could not describe, etched memory into its surface. Sent it by ascendant manifold to Mare Imbrium, where Owl Sector rangers or patrolling Hidden would hopefully find it. If she was to die in the far reaches of Sol, she wanted Ikora to have an accurate account of her final moments. There had been enough uncertainty. Too many questions and too much left unsaid. Her parting gift would be closure.

This bit makes me absolutely insane. It combines Eris’ relationship with her own mortality, her relationship with Ikora, and her view of herself; the readiness to die on duty; the very Eris-like resourcefulness even in her next-to-final moments. Gosh. Being ready to die in the outer space, struck by debris, and the last thing she’s thinking about is ensuring Ikora gets closure after her death. 2d8 emotional damage.

Oh and also what this fic has is platonic bed-sharing! Which is like, so important.