#IT'S ABOUT THE CHOICES. AND THE WHAT-IFS.

[louisaskywalkerani]

Whispers in the Dark, forbidden embrace.

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker x f!Reader

synopsis : anakin reassures you about your forbidden relationship in more ways than one.

CW : 18+, smut! minors DNI. no movement but, p in v penetration, cock warming.

an : ok this is my first fanfic i've ever written, i'm completely petrified tbh, i tried to do my best, if u can give me some advice, it would be super nice. enjoy this ig.. the end is also inspired by @ohcaptains !!

The dim lighting in the temple corridor casts long shadows. Anakin's footsteps echo softly as he approaches you, a determined look in his eyes. You've been avoiding him, knowing the danger of your connection. Tonight, there's no escape.

"Anakin, we shouldn't be here," you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken emotions.

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. "We can’t keep pretending, not anymore," he replies, his voice husky. "The Council doesn’t understand what we feel."

You look into his eyes, seeing the conflict mirrored in your own. "What if we're caught? The Council—"

"Screw the Council," he interrupts, his hands gently cupping your face. "I need you. We both know this is more than a fleeting desire."

Your breath hitches as his thumb brushes over your lips. "Anakin, we're risking everything."

"Some things are worth the risk," he murmurs, leaning in. His lips capture yours in a kiss that speaks of months of longing and suppressed passion. The kiss deepens, and you feel the warmth of his body against yours, his heartbeat pounding in sync with your own.

Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours. "Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I'll walk away."

You close your eyes, the truth undeniable. "I can’t," you admit softly. "I’ve tried, but I can’t."

With a relieved sigh, Anakin wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "Then let’s not fight it anymore."

—

The night is serene, stars twinkling above as if to guard your secret. Anakin spreads his cloak on the ground, inviting you to sit beside him. “Remember when we first met?” he asks, his voice a soft murmur.

You smile, the memory clear in your mind. “You were so arrogant,” you tease. “I thought you’d never take anything seriously.”

Anakin chuckles, his hand finding yours. “And you were so serious. Always following the rules.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, the bond deepening with shared memories. You both lie down on the cloak, looking up at the stars. "I used to think the stars held our destiny," you say, your voice barely audible.

"They still do," Anakin replies, his fingers intertwining with yours. "But we can choose our path."

The quiet of the night is broken only by the soft sounds of the temple gardens. Anakin turns to you, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we didn't have to hide?" he asks, his voice tinged with sadness.

"All the time," you admit. "But the life we've chosen doesn't allow for what-ifs."

Anakin's grip tightens around your hand. "We could leave. Start a new life, far from here. No rules, no codes, just us."

You look at him, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart ache. "And what of our duties? Our responsibilities?"

"We've given enough," he says fiercely. "Isn't it time we lived for ourselves?"

The temptation is strong, the vision of a life with Anakin almost too beautiful to resist. But the weight of your commitments anchors you. "I don’t know if I can."

Anakin sighs, pulling you closer. "I can't lose you," he whispers. "Not now, not ever."

"You won't," you promise, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "We'll find a way to make this work."

The night stretches on, filled with whispered words and tender touches. As dawn approaches, you both lie entwined, the weight of your choices pressing down but the warmth of your connection offering solace. For now, in this moment, you are together, and that’s all that matters.

You lay there, enveloped in the warmth of each other’s embrace. The temple gardens, usually so serene and quiet, now seem to pulsate with the forbidden energy of your bond. The leaves rustle gently in the night breeze, almost as if they are whispering your secrets.

Anakin strokes your hair gently, his fingers tracing patterns that send shivers down your spine. “I’ve always admired your strength,” he says softly. “You’ve kept us hidden so well, even when it must have torn you apart.”

You sigh, nuzzling closer to him. “It hasn’t been easy,” you admit. “Every time I see you, I have to fight the urge to run into your arms. But I’ve never regretted it. Not for a moment.”

His grip tightens around you, as if he fears you might slip away. “I want to show you something,” he says suddenly, sitting up. “Come with me.”

Curious, you follow him through the winding paths of the garden until you reach a small, hidden alcove. The moonlight filters through the leaves, casting a mystical glow over everything. Anakin kneels and presses a hidden switch, revealing a small passageway.

“How did you find this?” you ask, amazed.

“I have my ways,” he replies with a wink. “Come on.”

The passage leads to a secluded chamber deep within the temple, one that even you, with all your knowledge of the place, had never discovered. It’s filled with ancient artifacts, relics of Jedi history, and texts that seem almost forgotten by time.

“I come here to think,” Anakin says, lighting a small lantern that casts a warm glow over the room. “It’s a place where I can be myself, away from the pressures of the Council and the weight of my duties.”

You walk around, marveling at the treasures surrounding you. “It’s incredible,” you whisper. “Like a sanctuary.”

Anakin smiles, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I wanted to share it with you. A place that’s ours alone.”

You turn in his embrace, your eyes meeting his. “Thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “It means more than you know.”

For a moment, you simply stand there, holding each other, surrounded by the silent witnesses of a bygone era. Then, with a gentle tug, Anakin leads you to a small nook filled with cushions. You sit down together, and he pulls you into his lap, his lips finding yours once more.

He breaks the kiss and smiles up at you, taking in every curve of your body, his hands brushing along your thighs as he drinks in the sight of you.

“You're so beautiful... even more so up close.” he whisper 

He reaches up, his hand cradling your cheek as he kisses you again. As the kiss deepens, he pulls you closer, his hand sliding lower along the curve of your waist. His touch is gentle at first, but as his passion grows, he holds you tighter against him.

Anakin's tongue explores your mouth as his hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your hips. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine as it ignites the fire burning within you.

You moan softly into his mouth as you feel his fingers brush across your skin, their touch leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Your hands explore his back, feeling every muscle as they clench and relax beneath your fingertips.

Anakin breaks away from you briefly, trailing kisses down your neck and collarbone. His teeth graze against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

“Ani... what are we doing...?” You breathe, biting your lip as his lips find a sensitive spot on your neck.

Anakin chuckles, his breath warm against your skin as he leaves a trail of kisses along your jaw.

"I think you know, love.." He murmurs, his hand slipping under your chin to tilt your head back and expose your neck to him.

“I want you,” he whispers in your ear, his voice low and husky.

His words send shivers down your spine, and you can't help but arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him. Your body aches for his touch, but you’re thankful that he can’t see the way you clench your eyes closed. 

Regardless, he can sense you tightening your grip on the back of his head. As you shift up against his thigh, the heat from your underwear burns against him.

He is aware that you are hesitant.

“It can be like i told you last time.” He stutters, licks his lips, and struggles to get the words out of his throat.

“Just- sit on it.” he managed to say. “If you don’t want to move it’s alright love, just wanna be inside you.” 

He buries his head into the crook of your neck and kiss it carefully to not leave any marks.

“Anakin..” You whisper softly as you struggle not to close your eyes to his touch.

He pulls away from your neck and looks up at you.

“What? Are you afraid?” 

Your eyes roll slightly “No i’m not afraid.”

A slight smile appears at the corner of his lips. “Then what is it?”

You squint at his attitude. “Nothing. I- I just won’t move.”

He nods and slowly kisses your neck, his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. “Alright, love.”

You shift back so he can pull his trousers down to his knees, and you take his cock in your hand, feeling him melting at your simple touch.

“Love,” he whispers, his voice deep and rough. “I want to be inside you. Now.” 

You feel a surge of heat between your legs, and you can't help but moan in response. You've never felt so aroused, so completely lost in the moment.

You push your underwear to the side, and you lift yourself to sink onto him as Anakin breathes “Take it easy love, don't want you to hurt yourself.”

You halt. To avoid pushing him inside of you all at once and hurting yourself, you grip his shoulder to steady yourself.

You push against him once more, and the tip of his cock nudges between your folds, forcing an ache to shoot through your clit and make you dizzy. You pause as a slow burn builds in your thighs, you clench down in an effort to relieve the pain.

“Fuck,” Anakin grunts as he wraps his arm around the back of your hips, “Lemme,” he mumbles, and he flexes gently his hips up, slowly feeding his cock into your soaked core and kiss your neck again to distract you from the potential pain.  

You're gasping for air, you moan softly in pleasure, the heat of his mouth on your skin igniting the fire within you. You've never felt anything like this before, and you never want it to end.

When you finally sink to the depths, the pair of you moan out loudly in unison.

Anakin buries his face in your neck, “Now, don’t move. Just don’t move.” He grunts once again.

You nod a little too vigorously, which creates a slight movement in your hips, and because of that you feel Anakin pulse from inside of you.

he manage laughs falsely and grips your hips more firmly “What did i say?”

“S- Sorry” You whisper as you feel his wet lips brush against your breasts which makes you throw your head back.

“If you move again,” Anakin begins to say, panting, “I'll leave the Jedi order and do what I should have done a long time ago.”

Anakin always wanted to fuck you properly and it drove him crazy not to be able to do it.

“D - Don’t try to tempt me, Anakin” You managed to say, saying in your head to yourself,  

Don’t even move.

But Anakin brings you out of your thoughts by licking gently your neck, making you clench around him, causing him to groan deep against your neck.

“I'm warning you, this is the last time.” He says, gritting his teeth and gripping your hips even more firmly, but not enough to hurt. 

“It’s all your fault this time” You whimper as you tighten your grip on his shoulders. 

“Just stay still,” He said firmly, concentrating on not moving and coming inside you.

[kimbapisnotsushi]

i LOVE the conversation that hinata, kindaichi, and kunimi have right before they all separate at the end of the training camp because that shit had to be soooo validating for kindaichi. like, it's obvious he spent a long fucking time wondering and aching and doubting his actions — even after he told kageyama not to apologize and he wouldn't either, even after he swore to win and to defeat him and move forward — and i get the feeling it was tearing kindaichi up on the inside more than he let on. had it been the right choice to make? had kageyama actually deserved it? was it something kindaichi was allowed to regret? couldn't there have been any other path than the one that hurt them both?

did they ever stand a chance at being something better?

(and i think, probably, that part of the problem lies in the not knowing. in the what-ifs of it all. in the "maybe this, maybe that". that's the biggest draw of kageyama's, kunimi's, and kindaichi's relationship: how far could they have gone if they had actually understood each other? what would they have looked like if kageyama had grown roots instead of taking to the sky?

anyways. let's keep going.)

the thing is, it isn't easy hurting someone you care for. even if it's just a little bit of hurt and a little bit of care. kindaichi might have claimed the opposite in the beginning, but he makes it so, so clear. he did care. he does care. he wouldn't have asked hinata about kageyama otherwise. but i think maybe he didn't know if he had the right to, not after what he did. he had his own burden to bear just as much as kageyama did.

but then kunimi tells him "you did the best you could at that time" and hinata tells him "it's normal to stand your ground and fight", and that's all kindaichi needs to hear to feel like a storm breaking apart — that he hadn't had a choice, that the odds were up against them, that he had some right and kageyama had some wrong and the only thing they could do now was face each other with their heads held high and be everything to each other they never were, and then, maybe someday, they'll get to play volleyball together again.

[michiganmerchant]

[carpedzem]

hi i have a twitter related question how high is a possibility that twt is glitching and makes people unfollow me bc i heard it happened before to other people. i recently noticed that someone i was rather friendly with is not following me any more and while it's totally fine it makes me just wonder why

[gnaga37]

thinking. what if. i joined another server instead of comfycraft back in 2022.. where would i be now?

[chaos-is-my-lifeblood]

Damn Steris and her anxiety are such a mood

[diejager]

Nooo but there is something about the monster au where there is a casual mention from her that she won't live as long as them (I assume monsters/hybrids are longer lived plus she is a lot more likely to die on mission), like she probably just jokes about it offhandedly and it sends all of them feral because... no? Absolutely not? Insulting. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Cue ultimate clinginess, all rushing to be more intimate because the thought of her not being around is abhorrent. Soap maybe losing it a bit going off on a line of thought about how he could mate her right? Would it be awful if there was a way for her to be a wolf shifter?

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Change cw: mention of turning, mention of death, joking about death, tell me if I missed any.

All options are on the table at this point, death had always been something that loomed over them like a shadow, the veil and sickle of death following you wherever you went. You’ve had more than one reminder of your short life, your vulnerability as a human, weak and tender skin, short lives and a delicate body. There were so many things in the world that could pose a possible danger to you and they hated that.

You lived shorter lives than most monsters or hybrids, you grew sick and frail whereas hybrids could fight any viral infections or diseases, you didn’t have thicker skin despite all the extra layers of protective gear and you were a target of many for your choice of career. They were reminded of you mortality whenever you get hurt, blood painting your skin with a strong, metallic odour.

And it didn’t help that you’d often joke about it, throwing offhanded comments that made their hackles raise, body tense and mind brewing with what ifs scenario that has them tearing their hair from the root. While some monsters were more solitary than others, all of them were possessive of what they deemed their family —pack.

Ghost and König stuck closer during training, a tall, imposing figure behind you that acted as a guard dog to ward away anyone they deemed a danger. Soap and Horangi hung around you in the rec room, either laying on you or clinging to you, putting a show of ownership over you. Rudy and Alejandro, the ever active couple, were always finding you around the base, striking up a conversation and wrapping their arms around you. Gaz would was the cuddliest of the group, finding time outside of his busy to snuggle up against you and cover you with his wings, pulling you to sleep on his shoulder. Price, the man with the most authority in the TF made sure that you were always with someone on every Op, having someone to back you up in the most dire situation.

Every visit to the medic made them wild, it brought them closer to desperate measures. Would it be so bad to turn you in one? Would it be so bad to let Soap bite you during the full moon, his bite infecting you with his power: thicker skin, sturdier build, longer lifespan and better sense? The only draw backs were the higher wildness, near feral during full moons and a competitive mindset over the possessiveness and brattiness of a young werewolf.

Would it be so bad to make you return as a wraith? While Ghost learned to control his powers alone, the pain and emotions building up in his body without any way of letting it out, you had him, you wouldn’t be alone with the resurrection. He didn’t want you to feel the terror and agony by yourself —he didn’t want you to know how it felt to die and come back.

Would it be so bad to have a vampire turn you into one without becoming a thrall? You couldn’t walk in the sun, something you told them you enjoyed, you’d be restrained to specific activities and you wouldn’t like that, being limited by the sun. Granted, there were solutions to that, but none very comfortable.

They knew you were aware of your mortality, made fun of it and laughed as it this was your last day, but you didn’t fear death, you only feared leaving them. You were open to their thoughts, listening to their ideas and options with a neutral expression, but you didn’t reject the idea of turning you. That was a good thing, a step forward in their mind.

Now all that needed to do was to let you decide which path you wanted to walk.

tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Old love never rusts. Shanks has to face that truth when he meets again the husband of the girl he almost had.]

Shanks's version | Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Shanks knows he has no right to ask this question. Not when he's the one that up and left in the middle of the night, without even a word of warning that could soothe your aching heart. Nevertheless, he can't help but indulge his yearning:

"How is she?"

Mihawk raises his eyebrows barely noticeably. He seems surprised that after Shanks's disappearing act and a decade of dead silence, he's still interested in you, even if motivated by pure courtesy. But before Mihawk answers the question, he notices something strange in the red-haired captain's eyes, a sensation he's rarely seen in them before - sadness.

Interesting, how some things never quite change.

"Well," Mihawk answers laconically. Instead of indulging Shanks's lovesick longing, he wishes the man would finally accept his utter failure and move on. You're married to Dracule and this isn't going to change anytime soon. If ever.

"Wells tend to be cold and musty," Shanks jokes but his tone is far from lighthearted. In fact, his voice sounds strained like he's holding back tears. "I hope she fared better with you."

The Red-Hair pirates laugh at their captain's joke but quickly turn quiet again. Something about the tense confrontation makes their good humour virtually nonexistent. Especially when Mihawk gives them a curt, cold glare. He doesn't find his past rivalry with Shank to be funny in any way.

"She has everything she could ask for," he says with a sense of finality to his words. Mihawk feels himself growing irritated.

"Good, good..." Shanks nods, lost in thought for a moment. He clenches his hand, giving away the unpleasant tension inside his chest. The captain has promised himself to let go of you. Alas, here we are. "Is she happy?" he suddenly asks.

Mihawk furrows his thick eyebrows in an angry frown. It's almost insulting for Shanks to have any doubts regarding your well-being under the Warlord's care. "What sort of question is this?"

"A 'yes or no' sort."

"Then yes," he drones his words.

Shanks forces a wide, playful smile. There's agony hiding in his eyes and as though Mihawk is a blind man, he's trying to play it cool and appear unaffected. The truth is, the red-haired man is holding on by a thread.

"I bet she talks about me all the time," Shanks says in faux amusement. His voice almost doesn't shake. "We both know I've always been her favourite."

"And you'd lose." Mihawk begins to feel an insidious satisfaction from the distress of the other man. "In fact, I doubt she thinks about you at all."

"You keep telling yourself that, hawk-eyes."

"This misguided flattery is much unwarranted," Mihawk warns him. "No one bets on losing dogs."

But she would, Shanks thinks to himself. She always did.

Short fingernails leave bruising marks on the inside of Shanks's palm as he's clenching his fist. Once again he's reminded that when it mattered, he was a coward and fled from the overwhelming, crippling love he feels for you. Only know there's no hope, there's no ifs - you belong to another man.

Afternoon sunlight reflects off of Mihawk's gold ring. Shanks glares at it for a moment too long to pass off his intense stare as circumstantial. He can almost hear the mocking laughter of the universe as the consequence of the amalgamation of his bad choices is merely two meters away from him. There is nothing he wouldn't give up to turn back the time and make sure that things go differently, that he never became afraid of being too deep in love.

But time, like the seas, has no master.

_____

I was so torn about this one, I couldn't decide until the very end, so if you want to read a version where the scenario is flipped and Shanks is the 'lucky guy', just hit me up.

[lovelessrage]

This post goes out to unfeeling aros. To aros that choose to reject love and aros that don't see it as a part of their life. To aros that had no choice in what love they struggle to or can't feel at all. To aros with low or no empathy, to aros that can't fit the ideal of "still caring in a different way". To aros that very rarely or will never "love in other ways". To aros that can't, won't, or don't want to be defined by how much they love their friends or family instead.

Being aromantic is not something to "redeem".

Being aromantic should not be something you have to dress up in "buts" and "ifs" about feeling in other ways.

Being aromantic means supporting the aros around you, not punching down because you found a way to be accepted more broadly and don't mind who gets left behind. It's all of us or none of us, and that includes aros who can't love, can't care, and won't fit the image of a "good aro" who's perfectly platonic, familial, caring and loving. Even the most solitary aro you can think of is deserving of a judgement-free life.

[alexiethymia]

I’ve always thought it but Gyokuyou’s line, “If I said I was jealous of Concubine Fuyou, would I be a terrible woman?” seemed to point at two things, her jealousy of her being free to finally leave the inner palace, and secondly, the freedom to love and be loved in return.

I mean though she may be the Empress, and though she may be the most favored by the Emperor, I’m sure she’s clever and shrewd enough to think that she wouldn’t actually ever have his love. And that is what makes her so intriguing in that regardless of her own feelings, she can still be human and feel some sort of sadness about it, at the what-ifs.

Considering the latest chapters in the web novels, the parallels and contrasts between The Emperor (Yang) and Aduo, as well as Jinshi and Maomao being driven so hard just hurts so good.

That conversation between Jinshi and the Emperor revealing their chosen actions regarding their ‘one cherished flower’. The Emperor choosing to bind her to him, and cherishing her and protecting her vs Jinshi’s decision to let her go rather than trap her in the inner palace, such that it drives Aduo to tears because she sees in Jinshi and Maomao what could have been.

It’s so painful precisely because the Emperor and Aduo were where Jinshi and Maomao were ending up toward if not for the development they underwent. Contrast the Jinshi of earlier volumes who I think, in his desperation, would have chosen the same course of action the Emperor had in regard to Aduo and the Jinshi of now, who has matured.

But in the same vein that none of these characters are perfect, and are intriguing in their flaws, I think Aduo is the same as Maomao. Except that Maomao now finally was able to accept and let herself love, whereas Aduo used and still uses that ‘familial’ tie and even Yue as the reason why she still chooses to stay with Yang.

This just may be my own interpretation, but I think Aduo truly loved (loves?) the Emperor in her own way, as more than a ‘sibling’ or a ‘friend’ and that she is an unreliable narrator in her own right, same as Maomao. But alas, I don’t think Aduo and the Emperor managed to communicate properly on this part of their relationship, unlike other aspects where they can be free with one another. And now it’s too late, because the Emperor in his foolish youth made that irreversible choice and clipped Aduo’s wings.

That four way conference was perfect in that it was basically both pairs seeing mirrors of them in each other, of the past and the future, of what was and what could have been. And though the Emperor made mistakes, I can’t find it in myself to judge him too harshly because, as one analysis puts in, he didn’t have the same freedoms Jinshi has now, nor did he have the same people around him who could have guided him on the right path. Suiren and Gaoshun who were there to see what happened with the Emperor and Aduo, are probably doing their best to nudge Jinshi and Mamao in the right direction such that they wouldn’t repeat past mistakes.

It’s that one post you know? The love was there, it was always there. But perhaps, even then, it wasn’t enough.

[valyrfia]

The Sainz Effect on Media: What the Hell is Going On?

Last weekend, Carlos Sainz Jr. won the 2024 Australian GP, and subsequently, almost every single F1 media outlet has seemingly lost their minds. From the aramco power rankings giving him a perfect score (despite Max not getting one for a grand slam last weekend), to motorsport.com acting like a fan account, everyone is tripping over themselves to sing his praises.

F1 is a complex sport, it requires several different aspects to even get a car moving, even more to make it competitive, and even more to enable a championship fight. From driver line-up, to aero, from international politics, to tyre deg. There's no other sport like it. To truly be an expert in Formula 1, you have to have knowledge of how a track works, an understanding of combustion engines and aerodynamics, a grasp of interpersonal and sports psychologies, and a sense of international relations. This is why, even more so than any other sport, good journalism is vital to the sport's ecosystem. No one person can be expected to be an expert in all these areas, you need a team of people who are willing to pool their knowledge and resources before coming up with conclusions to disseminate to their audience.

But media also likes narrative, and media likes an underdog, that is undeniable. And you can create an excellent underdog narrative with Carlos. From losing his seat despite his teammate keeping his, to him having to get his appendix out in Jeddah, the circumstances are there to set up an underdog narrative. But the crux of the issue is this: anyone with any sort of F1 wheel knowledge understands why Charles was kept over Carlos (a better driver even in a car built away from his driving style, who is revered almost as a messiah figure amongst the traditional fans of the team), why Sir Lewis Hamilton is a much more desirable asset to a top team than Carlos (7x world champion, who brings in a massive draw for talent that will far outlast his stint with Ferrari). So what do you do with these characters who don't match the narrative that you want to push?

Simple. You discredit them.

Make no mistake, this is what we're seeing across every major F1 news outlet in the past week. A plain journalistic choice to choose narrative over integrity. There's all sorts of rumours whizzing around as to why that could be: from possible covert payouts from Sainz Sr, to possible misogyny towards Leclerc fans to pundits simply not being bothered to do their research. But the why of it, although important, doesn't matter nearly as much as the fact that however you look at it, these journalists are failing the sport they claim to love. What's even worse, is that it takes a simple glance at numbers to tell us that these media outlets are digging themselves a hole, and are going to have to backtrack or try and excuse their belief in this narrative in the coming months.

Let's take a common line that Sky Sports like to use as an example, "Carlos Sainz is driving for himself. How incredible would it be if Carlos could compete for the championship this year." Max Verstappen will likely win the championship this year, there are no ifs and buts about it. Red Bull are still developmentally leaps ahead of their rivals, and even if Ferrari were to catch them, Max is still at the wheel. And if Ferrari were to catch them, why would Ferrari prioritise Carlos over Charles? The only driver who has been proven to be able to beat Max in his current form at Red Bull on pure pace is Charles Leclerc, which he achieved in Las Vegas last year, and would've gone on to take the win at that same race if not for the safety car. The most likely championship fight this year is Max Verstappen vs. Charles Leclerc, and that's hinging on Ferrari matching Red Bull development. This outcome is blindingly obvious to anyone who knows how this sport works, and yet the current media angle seems to not be to explain how the sport works to the general public, but rather to double down on narratives that are certainly going to be proven incorrect in a manner of months, if not weeks.

Let's look at another common angle the media seem to like to take, "You have to ask, did Ferrari make a mistake swapping out Carlos Sainz for Lewis Hamilton?". Now, if you've been even near a TV showing F1 in the past ten years, it's pretty obvious this answer is of course not. Lewis Hamilton is likely the greatest driver of all time, his name in a lot of cases outshines the sport itself. No other driver on this grid even comes close to his level of acclaim. This reason alone is enough for Ferrari to sign him. Ferrari has not won a championship in close to two decades, the best and brightest engineers want to be working where they know the results are going to come from, and right now, as a stellar engineer, Red Bull or Mercedes or even McLaren would be a choice over Ferrari, which has the added hurdle of moving to Maranello (considering nearly all the other teams are located in the Midlands in the United Kingdom). Acclaim aside, Lewis Hamilton is still a very impressive driver. P3 in the championship last year to a Red Bull 1-2 is not something to be taken lightly, considering his teammate finished in P8 in the same car with only one more retirement. It does make pure racing sense to sign him over Carlos, who finished in P7, especially since Ferrari have an up and coming talent in Ollie Bearman, and what they need is someone with experience to fill that gap until Ollie can make it to Ferrari, and will likely happily step aside when that time comes at some point in the next five years.

However, has there been a single major F1 news outlet calmly and rationally explaining this thought process for those who may enjoy the sport but are not experts? No. Instead, what we get is Sainz sensationalism, and bias so explicit it tips right over into unprofessional. From The Race saying that a Sainz/Leclerc civil war is Leclerc fan hysteria, despite their own outlet running an article just months ago about tensions in Ferrari, to motorsport.com creating a CV for Carlos, and then proceeding to harass fans who ask why they are so keen to ignore facts. Every single F1 outlet seems to have lost their minds.

The sad thing is this will only backfire massively on Carlos himself. Charles will outperform Carlos, every metric from the past year indicates so. Ferrari may be in the running for the WCC by the midpoint of the season, but Carlos's win will fade into distant memory long before we reach Spa, and the average enjoyer will look back on all this crazy media hype and go "hm, well he didn't live up to expectations did he? He was massively overrated." And this too, will be the fault of F1 media.

In conclusion, F1 media sensationalism has failed Charles, Lewis, and Max, it will fail Carlos in the coming months, but most of all, it has failed the fans of the sport, by choosing to focus on far-fetched narratives, rather than deliver proper journalism and build equally compelling narratives out of the data on the table. It highlights a lack of skill and awareness, which threatens the entire ecosystem of the sport that we all know and love.

[blackopals-world]

Malleus: Marry me!

Noble!Yuu: I will not.

Malleus: My love please. If it's not you then I'd love no one else.

Noble!Yuu: Tragic. How tragic. Don't you understand how impossible it is for us.

Malleus: I don't understand. You love me and I love you.

Noble!Yuu: I'm not naive my dear. I'm not some young sycophant who knows nothing of the world I would be walking into and more than that I have my own responsibilities. Do you think your people will accept a human as their ruler?

Malleus: I can make them. Given time they will accept you.

Noble!Yuu: You can not. You can't make them do anything just because you are king. No matter how powerful you are you can't control anyone. You'd be a tyrant thinking like that.

Malleus: I will protect you!

Noble!Yuu: And be a powerless consort who must rely on you to do everything for me. How humiliating would it be to be ignored and shut away in my own castle? How depressing to only have you to lean on and have no confidence in myself. I was raised better than that and educated for better.

Malleus: You'd be safe. Wouldn't you be happy with me?

Noble!Yuu: I would at first. I'd feel aflutter at the thought of always having you to make things better and not having to worry about petty trifles like money like some peasant. But then I'd be left alone as you govern your nation that I am foreign too. I'd grow to resent you as I feel impotent to change anything other than the decor of my room and even then the traditional fea lifestyle will likely prevent it. I'd never be your equal.

Malleus: You wouldn't be just my consort. My people will understand once we are married, they know how dragons are. They won't have a choice but to love you.

Noble!Yuu: Wishful thinking. Fea are slow to change and they have not moved on from their hate of humans. What can I expect but poison in my cup or protests against us? Not to mention the fate of any children we have. What will they think of a half-fea heir?

Malleus: ....

Noble: Sure a few half-fea here and there isn't much but as their ruler? A child of tainted blood who will only live as long as a human. A magicless human's child at that. In a world where power matters? Blasphemy. You don't think they wouldn't usurp you for that alone long before a child is born? Tell me my love do you think that we will have a fairy tale ending and happily ever after?

Malleus: I don't understand where this is coming from. Why can't we do what will make us happy? Forget about all these silly what-ifs and treasure each other.

Noble!Yuu: We are not at liberty to do such things. We were born in a position of power and trusted to use it for others, not ourselves. Of course, I want us to be happy and to be together. But I can't ignore our differences for the sake of love. Love today could be a tragedy tomorrow. I will not live for long, less than 10 years from your perspective. Can you stop time? Can you prevent death? Will you lose yourself to grief after I'm gone? Do you not think I will not suffer the older I get knowing how much I will hurt you when I pass? Do you think all of this only effects you?

Malleus: Yuu stop! Stop...I can't. Please don't ask anymore. You've clearly thought a lot about this, more than me. I've been short-sighted. But if I could find a way to fix these problems then you would be mine.

Noble!Yuu: Without hesitation.

Malleus: Even if you would cease to be human?

Noble!Yuu: As long as I'm not a monster or four-legged beast then yes.

Malleus: Would you become as fea?

Noble!Yuu: ...yes. I wouldn't take it lightly but yes. Is there even such a thing that could happen?

Malleus: I'll make it possible. For you.

(I think as a Fandom we should acknowledge that being with Malleus would be no cakewalk. There are many problems with it but that doesn't mean we should forget about the bad parts. We all like to fantasize but we should realize that Malleus is complex and so is love. Hardships make stories good and trials make love stronger. I will never understand why some prefer ooc content where everything happens according to what they want with no conflict. How boring and unearned. I love you enough to hurt you so that you can be fulfilled.)

[somethingpersonarelated]

On simplifying Akechi

My brain was ridden with these ideas people have about Akechi that piss me off a little. Mostly ones that say he is "just crazy" or "just hates Joker." There's countless metaposts countering these arguments (and they are absolutely wonderful) but I often wonder WHY simplifying Akechi down is so appealing, even to people who are fans of his character. I can't say I've never been immune to simplifications of his character either, and I feel like that's important to admit. I don't even think it's necessarily a bad thing, but I was wondering about that why question.

TW: Discussions of mental health and child abuse

Source: A high schooler's holiday from the P5 Comic Anthology (read it here!)

I do think it's hard for all of the little things Akechi's character builds upon to be conveyed through a single playthrough. If you go in blind or don't finish his confidant, you may only get that surface level exploration of his character. Base Akechi is flashy and still gets the point across that it needs to: he's a foil to Joker and the PTs. However, by missing out on his social links and special events, you miss cultural, relationship, and personal context.

Many words have been said about the translation, particularly in the engine room, being faulty in areas. But some people still don't understand that Akechi's plan isn't to kill Shido, even when the text makes that clear. There's also this scene with Shido, which reads more as an exposition dump in a long section of the game most players will either tune out or skip. Not everything you see will always stick in your head, and Persona is a LONG game. I feel like it's easy to forget people just... forget canon sometimes. It's easier to put these details aside and say Akechi isn't affected by the system he's raised in. But the reality is, you miss what Lavenza says about Akechi's role, you miss that one exposition scene, and you miss the confidant: you believe Akechi had much more autonomy than was actually true. In conversations I've had with people IRL about Persona, 2/3 either skipped or did not finish Akechi's confidant. It isn't improbable, playtimes can range from 100-300 hours, most playthroughs take weeks. People will forget things. It isn't a maybe, it WILL happen.

When the game feeds you so much information, it's also easier to take what the characters say at face value. Doing this with Akechi will bite your ass. Those words in Rank 8 are directly expanded upon in No More What Ifs, the engine room, and 2/2. Maruki and Morgana confirm Akechi doesn't hate Joker, but you never hear Akechi say it himself. To me the game beats you over the head with this information (as the game has a tendency to do for certain situations), but I've also been in the rabbit hole for over a year now.

There's also this idea that recognizing that Akechi was set up by Yaldabaoth, his upbringing, and Shido means that all the venom is taken away from his actions. That isn't true, and Akechi holds to that in third semester. He doesn't give himself any grace for the situation he landed in, wanting to take accountability for it when it is undone without his consent. Akechi is by no means a perfect victim, and he doesn't believe that either. Recognizing that he had no choice, it was either homelessness and neglect or the plan he conjured himself only brings to light the tragedy of his situation, not whether his actions were morally incorrect. He wanted his father to be in his life, and he wanted his father to suffer. He wanted to have someone like Ren in his life, and he couldn't have someone like Ren because his plan would be jeopardized. It's a series of choices, some of which are forced upon him, some of which he chooses himself. That is an important distinction to make.

There's also this idea that Akechi is 'just crazy,' or never suffered from abuse or events that affected him long term. That he doesn't suffer from unspecified mental health conditions or trauma, and chose everything with a clear mind. When someone brings up this argument, it's usually in response to people talking about his life experiences. That somehow, the existence of trauma or a condition is an excuse for whatever he did. There's a double standard here: Akechi is someone who suffers from a condition that makes him 'plain crazy', simplifying his entire motivation and role in the story, while also removing him from the context of his mother, Shido, and his experience with the foster system. Actually interacting with these facets of his character brings to light the challenging things the story asks you to think about when it comes to Akechi: Is he a victim? Is he like the Phantom Thieves? What about his situation informed his choices? Interacting with this requires effort and an actual acknowledgement about what it means to be someone that suffers from trauma. Calling him 'plain crazy' not only is in disservice of textual analysis, but more importantly incorrect (and frankly, it falls straight into ableist tropes about mental health).

Sometimes internet debates/discourse lead to simplification, even just random headcanons may lead to simplification. That isn't always bad. There are many ways to say what I said here in fewer words. I, unfortunately, am not skilled enough to do that. But some of these simplifications lead to entirely incorrect judgements about a character, or even about mental health issues. When that happens, I wish people would learn to reflect about what that means when they interact with a piece of media. Or even with other people.

tldr: people should learn to say they just don't like things instead of coming up with excuses that make no sense. basically

[milliesdiary]

Imagine if the reader is friends with Jace and Luke but also betrothed to Aemond, so when he makes that offensive toast at dinner, reader gets mad and confronts him. She says that if he actually loves her, then he would stop doing those things, which leads to a confession <3

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; after a fight-provoking tribute at a family dinner, you ask aemond — your friend and betrothed — where his feelings lie.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; princess!reader from an unspecified house, fluff, a bit of spice ♡

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; thank you all for the support! also a big thank you for those who wanted to be tagged :) you keep me going! for anyone who reads this, please reblog and comment with your feedback. i fall in love with everyone who does and it means so much! i appreciate you & be sure to consider following to stay updated ✨

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬; @deeeeexx @cassianas @sweet-andromeda @thedeathofduty @evasgreentea @burningcoffeetimetravel

𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄.

It started off a bit rocky, to be fair. But then Viserys’ made a plea for peace, begged for the family to heal, and the tension melted like a slab of butter in a warm hand. Everything finally seemed to be falling into place.

Forgiveness was offered. The family was together. Your betrothed was complacent, despite being in the presence of his nephews. Alicent hid her laugh behind a hand, Rhaenyra’s pretty lips were curled into a smile that matched Daemon’s, Jace and Helaena were dancing — it was all perfect. 

You’re not even sure where it went wrong. It just did. 

You are laying in bed now, hours after the eventful gathering. The insomnia you're experiencing is a classic case; Aemond's tribute plays over and over in your head. You aren’t even remembering the crucial details, like what he said or what you ought to have said.

Instead, all you can recall are the expressions on Luke and Jace's faces, the way the lighthearted mood deteriorated, and the clang of your knife on your plate after dropping it in shock. 

You also remember storming out of the room. 

Truthfully, you are embarrassed at your future husband’s behavior. His smirk had been so arrogant that you wanted to meet it with a fist, and you probably would have if you could get away with it. 

You have been betrothed to Aemond for about a moon, and while you were aware of his distaste toward his nephews, you never thought he would disrupt his family as they attempt to repair the rift between them. 

Over a fucking pig. 

Maybe you should have expected it. 

You met Aemond when you were both children, as your father had established a peace treaty with the Targaryens at the beginning of his reign. You saw the boy get taller, watched his jaw sharpen, and stared on as his charm turned into the stern temperament of a man. He learned to ignore the things that do not serve him. 

You knew that Aemond became a person of duty, of justice; he would not let things go that easily. He held a grudge with the incident. Losing his eye. 

Taking that into consideration, this should not have been that big of a surprise.

And Gods, do you still want to marry him. When your father informed you about the betrothal, you were overjoyed, fit to burst, chest suddenly stuffed with the warmth of the sun and a billion ‘what ifs.’ 

Aemond has fascinated you throughout the years; he has always seemed so at ease and still. Unhurried and righteous. He can remain at the fireplace for a considerable amount of time, leaving you to constantly wonder what he might be thinking and how he is able to survive in such solitude.

You love him. Always have, though you are too scared to tell him. Part of you wonders if he shares the same affections. 

But there’s no chance of that, is there? Aemond does not allow himself to experience attraction or establish attachments. There is no changing that. He must have agreed to the proposal because it was the right political choice; there is no other reason why he would have accepted. 

Aemond loving you back? It’s impossible. 

You roll over onto your side and stare at the window that sits across the room, trying to focus on the moonlight drifting through. It takes about thirty seconds of dead silence for you to realize that you might just go insane. You’re literally about to grab an extra pillow and shove it over your face — with the plan of suffocating yourself to sleep — when you hear a knock on your chamber door.

The noise almost makes you jump. For a moment, you consider not answering it, but curiosity refuses to bid you farewell. You crawl out of the sheets and reach for a match on your dresser, flicking it against the wood to conjure a flame. You ignite the oil lamp that sits on your nightstand, the light basking the room in a warm, orange glow.

You are just making your way over to the door when the knock comes again. Straightening out your nightgown and taking a deep breath, you open it. 

Despite the darkness of the stone hallway, you recognize Aemond immediately. 

No, it‘s not just his chiseled face that gives him away, or the long silver hair that drapes over his shoulders. It isn’t the black leather tunic he wears, hugging his lean chest. It is the way he stands: the confident way he waits for you, chin high, strong and assertive. 

He’s too perfect, despite being one of the most imperfect people you know.

“Princess,” Aemond greets. His eye briefly looks you up and down before focusing on your face again. “Green suits you.” 

Your gaze flicks down to your nightgown — made from a beautiful silk and a deep emerald, decorated in golden floral designs. It was a gift from the Queen; even though you and Aemond had not married yet, she happily proposed that you start to wear the family’s house colors. You accepted, of course. 

Aemond’s compliment is so genuine that you don't know how to respond. You feel a sense of pride at his admiration. “I do not wear the color much,” you shrug, trying to sound unbothered. “But I will get used to it over time.” 

“You shall,” Aemond nods. He seems pleased. Pleased that you will become a Targaryen, that you will be dressed in the color of his house until the end of your days. It is a reminder that you’re his. All his. 

“My Prince,” you change the subject. “Might I ask what you are doing outside my chambers this late?”

“I have come to talk.”

You fix him with a blank stare. Talk? The last thing you want to do is talk. 

“Where did my guard go?” you ask slowly.

“I advised he take a walk.” 

You get a feeling that the conversation with your sworn knight did not play out that way, but this is your future husband; it probably would not be a good idea to go to sleep on a bitter note. Biting back a retort and a sigh, you open your chamber door and wave him in. Aemond struts in casually. 

He acts like he owns the place with how he stands directly in the center. You dawdle by the doorway, allowing him to observe the space: he takes in the fireplace, the golden decor, and then your bed, draped in silks and the pillows similar to the fluff of clouds. It’s a beautiful room, you must admit. You take pride in it. 

“You are upset about the tribute, I presume,” Aemond says finally, turning to face you. That eye of his is the perfect shade of violet; purple like a flowering bruise, unclouded and intense and determined.

“I am not upset anymore,” you lie. “I do not care.”

“You do care.”

“No.”

It is quiet for a second. Not a word uttered.

Then Aemond pries you right open. “You do.”

“Fine. I do.”

“And why is that, Princess?” He almost taunts.

You want to snap at Aemond — ask him what he means and how can he take something like this so simply. It is not a joke. A civil war is brewing among his family, yet he does not take it seriously at all. He even seems to take joy in participating. The idea has you seething.

Here Aemond is, continuing to pretend that he is harmless, that his touch is gentle, that his palms won't burn handprints into your skin. You would almost believe it if you didn’t know any better. 

“With all due respect, My Prince, Jace and Luke are my dearest friends. They are kind and loyal to me, as well as their family.” 

Aemond hums, uninterested. "A dog possesses the same traits.” 

An anger gathers within you. It screams right into your face: this is how it shall be and you will have to deal with it. 

“You are playing quite the jester today, My Prince,” you tell him. I would like to slap you across the face, is what you’re truly thinking.

Aemond lets out an amused huff at that. The light from the lamp in the corner of the room dances along his silhouette, illuminating every plane of his face. His hair is a white, jewel-drenched curtain — there’s the urge to run your hands through it. 

How can someone so gorgeous cause so much chaos? 

"I am exhausted," you finally sigh. You can feel how hardened your expression has become. “I am finished with miscommunications and arguments. I have tried to refrain from intense emotions and confrontations. The moment I entered King’s Landing, I told you that there was to be no drama. You promised me. And what you did at dinner? That is the trouble I stray from, yet you seem so content in dragging me back in.” 

Aemond’s mouth threatens to twitch into a scowl then. He’s trying to keep his face neutral, though annoyance peeks through the cracks in his façade. “You are acting as if jests are more harmful than stealing an eye.”

“I am not saying that. I am saying that if you are to be my husband, you should be shielding me from conflict. Not causing it.”

Aemond has nothing to say to that apparently. He just gazes at you piercingly, that one violet eye intently focused on you. You try to remain steadfast, although you do feel like shrinking under the chill of his stare. Somehow, you find the courage to continue. 

“If you truly respect me as your future wife — if you truly love me — then you would cease this petty game.” You steel yourself, begging yourself to be bold and ask the question. “Do you love me, Aemond?”

For a moment, you catch how Aemond’s face changes into one of surprise; he obviously was not expecting that question. It takes a couple of seconds before he fixes his jaw, training his expression into something more cool. Practiced. Poised. But then he looks at you; truly looks at you, stares you down from the inside out. “I should be asking you the same thing.” 

You freeze, almost shocked by the rebuttal. You can tell he is being serious: there is a sincerity with which he wants to know. 

Aemond may be wild and deranged like a dragon, thirsting for havoc, but he still aches for approval and acknowledgment. Always has. Perhaps that’s what he wants; he wants to hear that even though he fails at kindness and charity, you are still able to love him.

“Tell me,” Aemond demands. Before you can say anything, he strides forward until he’s standing right in front of you. He leans into your space, breath fluttering along your cheeks and voice almost threatening. “Do you love me? For my righteousness that drives you mad and for my lack in restraint that you so despise?” 

The fire inside Aemond could kill anyone in a five mile radius; he knows it. Yet he still wants you to love him, to bravely walk into the tempest. Locate him amongst each dancing flame.

“I will accept every piece of you,” is all you can choke out.

Aemond seems to mull the words over. His face is terrifyingly neutral as he observes you carefully; he must not know impatience. 

“You still never answered my question,” You blurt. “Do you love me?”

Tell me you love me, is what you really want to say.

Aemond’s face remains blank for a second.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s almost offended at the inquiry. After all the years you have spent together, all the conversations and the secrets shared and the plights experienced — how could you utter such a thing? He was the one who spoke to his mother about proposing to you. Do you really think he did it for political gain? To secure a higher seat in the ranks of royalty? 

Aemond almost sneers at your ignorance. “How much longer must we be together before you acknowledge that I am not doing this for power?”

“That does not comfort me, Aemond.”

Silence. Dead silence.

The lack of an answer from Aemond makes you worry: worry that you struck a chord within him, that you have irritated him enough for him to leave, that you have made him regret accepting you as his wife. 

But something changes. Slowly — agonizingly slow — Aemond takes both of your hands into his, like a silent vow without words. A white flag of surrender. His profile relaxes into something slightly softer, more reserved. 

At the end of the day, he is to be your husband. If you need comfort, he will give you comfort, even if it means he has to be vulnerable.

Just for you. Only for you.

“When we were children, you once accused me of not knowing the meaning of love," Aemond starts. "But you were wrong."

You begin to breathe faster, grateful he can only discern the the direction of your emotions and nothing more. Hearing those words makes you feel something; it flutters inside your lower belly and is comparable to hope. 

“I do not give a shit about anyone but you,” Aemond admits. His voice is low, deep, sincere. You almost cannot believe it. 

“Is that so?” You try to sound indifferent, but it’s not convincing. His face is so, so close: your noses are almost touching.

“I would not say it if it weren’t the truth,” Aemond hums. “I did not know how to deal with my affections before, nor did I accept them. You have tortured me into becoming someone I am not.”

Tortured?

“I don’t understand—“

“You are the sword I gut myself with; that, Princess, is love."

That’s it. That’s all you needed; that reassurance, that validation. Every single ache in your heart is extinguished in a single second, every wound healed, every internalized scar covered in gauze and bandages and the homeliness that accompanies love. 

More. You want him to say more. “…And you will continue to love me?”

“You are mine until death, my dear wife. I am your monster for the rest of time. I am your insanity. I am yours.”

“And me?” You whisper. You’re struggling to focus, trying to remember that you’re mad at him, but his lips are right in front of yours.

Your question nearly makes Aemond chuckle. He holds it back, a sharp exhale of air coming from his nose instead. “You are my refuge.” 

“Your refuge?”

“My refuge,” Aemond repeats, his expression more resolute. “I can envision no other peace beyond the one that exists when our bodies are bound.”

“And you prefer me?” You want to be showered in his love, again and again. “Over anyone else?”

“I would choose you over all,” Aemond purrs. His tone, his accent — you could crumple to your knees. "The world is cruel and it steals from everyone, so I shall do the same. I will take what I wish. I will take you every time you are offered.”

Goosebumps threaten to rise from your body. Aemond’s hand comes down to rest on your waist, causing your breath to come out as a stutter. You’re not sure how you haven't disintegrated into nothingness. “I have loved you forever, Aemond.”

A warmth akin to sunshine rises in his face and he almost looks humored. You need him. And he needs you, though he may not outwardly admit it; needs you like you’re oxygen and he's trying to catch a breath.

Suddenly, Aemond’s hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you in for a kiss. Your fingers fly up to grip his shoulders when your lips touch, opening your jaw for him on instinct. You grab a fistful of his leather tunic and kiss him as hard as possible, allowing his hands to conquer your body. He tastes of peppermint, smells musky like dragon. 

Everything seems to be on fire. The pit of your stomach, your blood, his mouth. All you feel is the strength of his silhouette against your own and you want to remember this forever. With how Aemond holds you so firmly — almost like you might disappear any second — you can tell he feels the same. You have the power to kiss away his suffering, his years of self-hatred, his doubts, and the crushed dreams of an irrelevant future that he always imagined.

Aemond’s hands roam to your lower back, thumbs digging into the silky fabric of your nightgown. You draw him closer, brushing your thigh against his crotch to get a reaction out of him. He lets out a ‘hmm’ into your mouth.

There is nothing you desire more than to examine Aemond in full view with all lamplights on and his clothing off, to have him slowly remove this gown from your body and take his time with touching every inch. You want to run your fingertips across the ridged skin of his scar and trace it all the way down. You want to feel the weight of him flush against you, wrapped around you. You want him. 

Finally, you draw away, only to whisper. 

“You said you would take me whenever I am offered. Take me then, Aemond.”

A fire alights in Aemond’s eye — he’s considering it — but the flames quickly freeze over with that sense of duty. Self-control. “Not like this,” he murmurs. “But I vow to treat you to obscenities when I bed you. I will leave such marks on your body that anyone you entertain afterwards will have to know me in order to know you.”

Aemond’s words have the ability to make you shiver. It only makes you more excited for your wedding day. Even then, you still want him in this moment. Need his presence.

“Stay with me tonight, at least,” you plead. “Just share the bed with me. Nothing else. I will bribe the guards tomorrow morning so we will not get caught.” 

Aemond considers you for a long while. Then, without a word, he smiles. It’s sly, yes, but oh-so beautiful.

“So you will stay?” You ask again. Aemond hums in agreement, cradling your cheek in a palm. It is a tenderness that you were not expecting, but one that you accept heartily. He nods his head before speaking.

“If you put your hand in mine, my dear wife, I will always hold it.” 

[railingsofsorrow]

old habits

a/n: in honour of cm:evolution new trailer that I saw emily holding a pack of cigarettes.

pairing: emily prentiss x f!bi!BAU!reader

warnings/content: exes with feelings trope; smoking; past relationships; discussion about marriage and family being overbearing; this is sad.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[part 2] [part 3]

━━━━━━━━━

“you're back at it?”

emily's head tilted to watch you approach from her peripheral vision.

you watched as her grey strands fell from her shoulder as she turned her neck.

one of the best things emily did was let her hair take on her natural colour, instead of dying it black continuously. she's beautiful regardless, especially with messy hair and her sleepy face as soon as she wakes up— and now you're spiraling.

your brain seemed to forget that she's no longer your girlfriend and kept on hunting you with memories you can't get back to.

she was playing with the pack of cigarettes as she admitted out loud, “mhm. trying not to, but—”

“you're stressed.”

her lips quirked up and she looked up at you, a hint of a smile. it wasn't a happy one. “that's one way to put it.”

you looked down at your shoes as you leaned to where she was sitting. eye contact was something you couldn't hold for long, it was hard and awkward. it didn't used to be like that. you could stare at emily the entire day and not look away for a second.

“what's stressing you out?” your voice was slightly muffled by the collar of your coat. it was cold, you find it absurd how emily never even flinched at the wind. she had always been warmer than you but had the coldest hands on earth.

“just needed some fresh air.”

you offered her a blank look.

she closed the lid of the pack, leaving it aside before she spoke again. if she did that out of respect for you or if she didn't felt like smoking anymore, you didn't care. both were good reasons.

“what's stressing you out?” she threw back.

“my mom called.” you eyed her hand for a moment, wondering if they were still as cold as you remembered them to be. clearing your throat and shaking your head to deviate your thoughts to a better and solid place, you said, “she wants to know when I'm going to visit because, you know, uh... she wants to introduce me to someone.”

a beat.

“oh.” emily let out a forced chuckle. “she wants to set you up with a guy.”

“precisely.” which is what your mother always did, even after you introduced emily as your long term girlfriend. her calls were always about finding someone good for you while you were in a relationship.

it was frustrating but you could handle it since you were never at her place anymore. you visited, yes, but five times a year, maybe. never more than that. you never told her you and emily had broke up.

“and do you want it? to meet him?”

a scoff left your lips, “no. it will probably be some religious prick who will want to control my life like my dad controlled hers.”

“she must be crazy about the idea of planning your wedding.”

you nodded, staring distractedly into the horizon.

“probably,” you said, “but it's never happening, so.”

“why would you say that?” you could see her frown through her tone of voice. “it can still happen.”

you leaned back slightly, inhaling with your eyes closed. your nose was definitely pink and you were starting you feel your numbers become numb, but the night sky and the quietness made you enjoy the moment.

and the company, of course.

“i don't want to.”

“get married?” she had a puzzled look while she studied you. and you let her profile you in that moment, even if you despised when she did that. “you used to want it.”

there are some things that are better left unsaid. in order for you to end a cycle, you have to do something to move on. so you say things that need to be said and leave out the ones that will come to the surface later. the what ifs.

you blamed the moon for your choice or words next.

“i used to want it, yes. when I was with you.”

you ignored the deafening silence that installed itself between the two of you, deciding to bask in the rare peaceful moment without seeing dead bodies and without hunting serial killers.

“i didn't know that.” she surprised you by breaking the silence. you thought she would've just pretended you didn't say anything and move on.

move on.

why is it so hard?

“you thought about marrying me?”

yes, please, torture me like that, emily prentiss. you're awfully good at that.

“emily, I thought about everything with you.”

“why?” she sounded genuinely confused.

“because I loved you.” you said matter-of-fact. “and I... you know what? I'm gonna head back inside. it's freezing out here.” you abruptly cut the conversation short. otherwise you'd say something you'd regret later and all the moving on you did in the last few years would go down the drain. a moment didn't change anything.

emily's icy fingers held you by the elbow and your breath failed for a second.

“i'm sorry.”

“no, don't do that.” you begged, pulling your arm back and out of her reach. you'd done that before, you remembered how you ended up. you're not going back there again.

she let you go, folding her arms across her chest as if she felt cold for the first time that night. she eyed the pack of cigarettes, taking a minute to remind herself of the progress she made for not smoking in the past months.

and your voice rang through her head as walked back inside the building.

“it's not good for you.” you said one night when she thought you were sleeping. your arm wrapped around her middle and you tucked your nose in the crack of her neck. she leaned back immediately, her body finding the comfort in seek in your warm touch.

she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth and stared at it. “i know.”

you kissed the back of her shoulder, rubbing softly the side of her waist. “why'd you wake up? nightmare?”

“yeah, I didn't want to wake you up too.” she grimaced, turning her head so your eyes could meet. you gave her an eye roll.

“you didn't but you should. I don't like you alone with your mind catastrophizing everything.”

and look how she ended up.

lonely. with her mind catastrophizing everything.

━━━━━━━━━

a/n: i need to write some emily fluff....

[sinsirellaxx]

Ok, I got an idea. So the slytherin boys left us cus we're pregnant then bla bla bla, a few years later lets say that we became famous & we are not ashamed that we have a kid out of wedlock so of course the kid also gets to bask in the fame so we get in newspapers, tvs, billboards, etc., so now the boys feel haunted & realize their mistake after seeing how well we've been since their abandonment. They also got sad at the thought not seeing their kid grow up & imagine our struggle raising them. (this can be for all or 1 character & its totally fine if you don't do this idea)

Slytherin Boys – Reacting to you getting pregnant pt. 2

Warning: Toxic boys alert! Not proofread. Mention of miscarriage/blood etc.

A/N: I got so many requests on this one – some entailing a more angsty approach and some similar to your request. I heard you and I combined the different approaches. Hope y’all enjoy!

BTW: My requests are closed because I'm drowning in asks and I cannot keep up. 🙈 I'll open them as soon as possible!

Mattheo …

… regretted being so cruel to you after having thought about the situation for a few days.

… hadn’t seen you since that day and grew worried – he must have really hurt you.

… went to look for you after a few days but he was met with an empty room.

… later found out that you had to be rushed to the hospital because you had refused to go to the hospital-wing. Your parents had to pick you up.

… immediately rushed to you when he saw you in the Great Hall after a whole month – you looked pale. Before Mattheo could say anything, you walked past him, your shoulders hunched and your eyes downcast. You looked devastated.

… realized that you must have lost the baby and guilt settled deep in his stomach. He had ruined you.

Theodore …

… was shocked to hear you had left the school for uncertain reasons. No one knew – except for him.

… was pissed that you had left – he just hoped that your mistake would not come back to bite him in his ass.

… regrets the way he acted towards you years after graduation, having finally grown up made him realize what he had lost.

… never stopped looking for you after graduation, he felt horrible for his past actions, and he hoped you had not gone through with his wish to abort his child.

… stumbles upon a little girl with beautiful green eyes one day, her light brown curls shimmering in the sunlight. The child was lost, looking for her mother with tears rolling down her chubby cheeks.

… tells the girl he will help her find her mother and picks her up, to help the child look over the crowd of people. His chest felt tight as he thought of all the what-ifs. Would it have been a girl was well?

… tenses up when he hears the worried wail of a woman, shouting for him to stop. Theodore whips around, the little girl in his arms crying out happily as she reached for her mother. And there you were, with your arms outstretched and your teary eyes focused on the little girl.

… stares at you with big eyes, his lips parted as he took in the sight in front of him. He finally found you.

Lorenzo …

…grows impatient when you hadn’t returned to him after a few days. You must have made your choice – a choice he didn’t like.

… missed you the moment you had walked out of his room, and he was scared you’d completely walk out of his life as well.

… can’t bear the thought of losing you, so he caved in and rushed to you – begging you to talk to him.

… immediately apologizes the moment you two were alone. Enzo tells you that he loves you and that he will support you no matter what – that he will be there for you and your child. He struggles to say the last part, stuttering slightly – stumbling over his words when realization hits him full force. He’s going to be a father.

Will you forgive him?

Draco …

… stares at the newspaper with wide eyes, his fingers tightening around the paper, crumpling it in the process.

…blinks a few times as he rereads the headline again and again. You were a famous best-selling author in the muggle-world. And you looked stunning. Draco’s eyes are drawn to the article about you … and your life as a single mom with your young son. His son. He had a son.

… feels horrible – he was glad you were doing well but he felt like the biggest dimwit for everything he has put you through.

… is scolded by his mother when she reads the newspaper. She wasn’t stupid – she had been able to put one and one together. She wanted him to man up and reach out to you.

… is nervous when he finally stands in front of your door. He felt stupid; with flowers in his hand and a present for his son under his arm – as if any gift would be enough to make everything right again. Taking in a deep breath he finally managed to ring the bell, nervously waiting for you to open the door.

Blaise …

… wants to scream and cry when he sees your – his – daughter in your arms. He is left speechless, lost in those dark innocent orbs. His fingers twitch at his side – desperate to reach out and hug his little girl. She was undoubtedly his.

… felt so stupid for everything he had said to you, and he was so grateful for your strong will.

… looks from your child to you, closing and opening his mouth as if wanting to say something – and he did but he just couldn’t.

… finally blurts out a please when you try to walk away, his hand reaching out for you and your daughter.

Tom …

… had not expected you to be so stubborn. You were refusing to abort the child, rushing out of his room when his temper got the best of him.

… rushed after you – he wasn’t done talking and he sure as hell wouldn’t let you act recklessly.

… grabbed your wrist at the top of the stairs, pulling you back as he tried to reason with you. You were so annoying.

… gripped your shoulders harshly, forcing you to look at him as he practically growled at you.

… shook you by your shoulders out of anger – you were truly testing his patience. You suddenly tried to free yourself from his grip, taking a step back to gain some distance until your foot was met by emptiness. Your eyes widened as you tried to cling onto your boyfriend, but your fingers slipped, and you tumbled down the stairs.

… stared at your unmoving body with wide eyes, your arm was twisted in a weird way.

… immediately rushed down the stairs, pulling out his wand to heal you only to stop in his steps when he noticed the blood dripping from between your thighs.