#ff has truly blessed me on this day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cocoalover1956 · 1 year

Text

Your Mother's Look

FF | AO3

Alicent nearly wept from the injustice to her sons and daughter. For Princess Rhaenyra's bastard - and she was certain Jacaerys was bastard, between his mother's loose virtue and her husband's unnatural inclinations - had been blessed with the silver-gold hair and amethyst eyes of the dragonlords, of which her own trueborn children had been denied.

Inspired by this post by @macrophawge

"The Princess Rhaenys, of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon," a midwife announced.

Rhaenyra looked toward the door, surprised by her goodmother's arrival but grateful for something to occupy her mind. "Goodmother, I am pleased that you have come."

"How could I not," Rhaenys greeted her with an affectionate clasp of the hand. "You will soon make me a grandmother."

Rhaenyra's answering smile was brittle. Her first child was due to be delivered within days, if that. As a girl, Rhaenyra watch her mother's belly swell and flatten over and over again, each time ending in blood and disappointment. Only a few short years ago, her mother died birthing her brother Baelon, who himself lived only hours; before her, Grandmother Daella and Grandmother Alyssa had perished in childbed. Rhaenyra felt that her line must be cursed, and that she too would met a similar end.

"It is unfortunate that your mother could not be here to share this moment with you," Rhaenys continued, "But if it pleases you, I would like to be there when the child comes."

Tears began to well in the crown princess's eyes. "Truly? It would please me, thank you."

"Birth is a difficult thing to endure alone," Rhaenys sat her down on a couch beneath the window. "My mother stood by me when Laena and Laenor were born, as I intend to be there for Laena when the time comes."

"I'm afraid," Rhaenyra blurted out.

"And you have every right to be," Rhaenys soothed her. "But what now from now is in the hands of the gods, and we must learn to accept that. Try to think of the good that motherhood can bring."

Though skeptical, Rhaenyra nodded.

Dusk soon fell, and hours later Rhaenyra awoke the breaking of her waters as she attempted to sleep. Two maidservants helped her to the birthing chamber, while a third alerted the grand maester, the king, Ser Laenor, and Princess Rhaenys. Rhaenyra labored and bled and wept for hours, clutching her goodmother's hand in agony as the sun crawled above the horizon. She was too addled by the pain to think of dying. After what felt like an eternity, the grand maester placed a tiny, pink body upon a breast and declared that she had been delivered of a son.

Rhaenyra could not take her eyes off her new babe. The little boy was large and hale, with a fine dusting of silver-gold hair on his scalp. He reminded her of her brother, Baelon, and it was all she could do not to weep.

"He's beautiful," Rhaenys cooed, already enamored with her first grandchild. "I believe he takes after you, gooddaughter."

When Rhaenyra's confinement ended seven days later, she and Laenor formally presented Jacaerys to the royal court. Corlys could not smiling once he saw his grandson, and Viserys proudly proclaimed, "One day, he shall sit upon the Iron Throne." The princess and her husband gracious received many words of congratulation from the courtiers, and all were edger to see the new princeling among them.

This joy did not extent to everyone at court. The birth of Prince Jacaerys had solidified the alliance between Rhaenyra and the Velaryons and strengthened her claim to the throne. Otto Hightower could not abide this new threat to his grandson's claim. For Ser Criston, it rankled him that the girl who had defiled herself and stolen his honor could marry, bear a child, and be celebrated as though she had done nothing wrong, her sins dismissed and unpunished.

Barely two months later, Alicent returned to the birthing bed for the fourth time, praying that she would see her husband's features in this child. By now the novelty of the queen giving birth had worn off, and her aunt did not see the necessity in traveling from Oldtown to attend her during the birth. Alicent told herself that she didn't need help, she was a woman grown and a mother three times over, and she could easily birth a child with just the grand maester and her midwives. Daeron came quickly and without much fuss, but once he was cleaned and placed into her arms, her face fell. He was as plain-featured as her other children, not a hint of Valyrian blood expressed in his appearance.

"You have done well," Otto praised. Though the king would not restore him to his position as Hand, Viserys had relented in permitted Otto to briefly visit his daughter and grandchildren. "It's a pity the king cannot see that. You've given him when all men crave, healthy trueborn sons, and yet he scorns you and your for his hoydenish daughter."

"Do not tell me you cannot see it, Father," Alicent said bitterly. "My children bear no resemblance to him, while Rhaenyra and her son are the very image of Targaryen royalty. That is why he treats us as though we are lesser."

Otto thought on the matter, "Has he expressed this to you?"

"No," Alicent admitted. "But I can tell. The way he glowed when he held Jacaerys for the first time..." Despite her best efforts, tears leaked from her eyes. "He was never so generous with affection toward our children. He always had this...this sadness about him, except when he held his grandchild. What makes Rhaenyra's son worthier than mine? Nothing, save his appearance."

"If you were to try again..."

"He cannot," Alicent blushed. "His illness has grown to severe for...that."

Otto signed in disappointment. "Regardless, Aegon is the king's eldest trueborn son, and his coloring does not change that. We will ensure the rightful succession is followed, and no matter how many blond heirs the princess pops out."

"Jacaerys is no one's heir," Alicent spat. "He's a bastard, just as all her future spawn will be."

"I know," Otto agreed. "If we only had proof, I would not be so worried, but Laenor is happy to cuckolded if it means he doesn't have to touch her, his parents are too greedy for the throne to care, and the king is blinded by his love for Rhaenyra, however little she deserves it. I must return to Oldtown before the moon turns, so it falls to you to defend your children's rights."

That was easier said that done, for Rhaenyra continued to enjoy every symbol of legitimacy. Jacaerys had been given a dragon egg in the cradle, per tradition. To Rhaenyra's delight and Alicent's displeasure, the egg had hatched into a lively little dragon named Vermax. Two years later, Rhaenyra's second son Lucerys, just as blond and purple-eyed as her first, had been born and hatched a white dragon named Arrax. Only half of Alicent's children had managed the same, Aegon with Sunfyre and Daeron with Tessarion while Helaena and Aemond remained dragonless. It was a small comfort to Alicent to see the pain in Rhaenyra's face when Sunfyre hatched from the egg that had once been Baelon's.

"My son is no lesser than yours," Alicent thought, but did not say. "He is as Targaryen... no he is more Targaryen than your bastards, despite his looks, and he shall one day sit the throne."

For her part, Rhaenyra paid little mind to her half-siblings. Their presence was burdened with the grief of her mother's death and the disappointment of losing her friendship with Alicent. In the beginning, she could almost pretend that they were not her father's children, but solely Alicent's, however she could not lie to herself for long. Especially not once Aegon bonded with the dragon that might have her brother's, had he lived.

Instead, Rhaenyra spent all her time and attention on Jace and Luke, her dear boys. As a girl, she doubted she could enjoy motherhood, with only her own mother's experiences of sorrow and suffering as reference, but being a mother herself brought her unexpected happiness. The flush of pride when Jace learned to walk, the bubble of happiness whenever Luke smiled at her, the sweet contentment of watching them nap silently in the afternoons. She hadn't know she could love another person so much.

Laenor loved the boys as much as she did, and the uncertainty of their blood was of less concern to him than the mud on his boot. Rhaenyra and Laenor performed their marital duties as best they could, despite the discomfort to the both, but per their agreement they did not begrudge each other love from outside their marriage; Rhaenyra had Harwin, Laenor had Qarl, and they were better off for it. Because Rhaenyra shared a bed with both her husband and lover, she could not say from whose seed her sons had sprouted. She knew she ought to hope they were Laenor's, but in the deepest part of her heart, she wanted them to be Harwin's, born from love rather than duty even if it meant they were illegitimate.

With two sons, an heir for the Iron Thrones and an heir from Driftmark, Rhaenyra and Laenor decided they had no need to continue sleeping together. Years later, when Rhaenyra fell pregnant again, she had no doubt this time that the child was Harwin's. She had been nervous while carrying her two eldest, but now she genuinely feared what would happen if her third child was born with his father's brown hair and brown eyes. Whatever might have happened did not, for Joffrey Velaryon entered the world with his mother's look.

A scant few minutes passed since his birth when the queen ordered that the newborn babe be brought to him. Rhaenyra refused to be parted from her son, so she made the agonizing trek up to the queen's chambers, supported by her husband. She felt bittersweet satisfaction at the sour look on Alicent's face when she realized that the babe did not have a trace of Harwin Strong on him.

"I find it curious, Stepdaughter, that your sons do not much take after the Velaryon," Alicent remarked in a honeyed tone.

"I fear I do not understand you," Rhaenyra replied innocently. "How odd can it be that they look like Targaryens when they have three Targaryen grandparents? Are you merely confused because your children don't resemble their father either? Of course, they only have two Targaryen grandparents, and perhaps that makes the difference."

Alicent flushed red, but did not respond. Following a moment's heavy silence, Viserys entered the room and lavished praise upon his daughter and newest grandson. Unable to bear it, Alicent excused herself and fled the room.

Later, as she listened to Helaena ramble about her insects, the household guards brought Aemond to her. He had tried to claim Dreamfyre, former mount of the old king's sister Rhaena. The she-dragon had rejected him as a rider, leaving him shamefaced and covered in ash.

"After how many times you've been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?" Alicent scolded.

"They made me do it!" Aemond cried.

"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding."

"They gave me a pig!"

"A what?"

"They said they found a dragon for me, but it was a pig."

Helaena was muttering something in the background, but Alicent only paid attention to her son. "You will have a dragon one day. I know it. "

"No, I won't," Aemond lamented, his eyes filling with tears. "Because I'm a bastard."

Alicent felt as though she had been stabbed. "Who told you that?! Name them and I will have their tongues."

"I...I overheard you speaking to Ser Criston, a few times, about how Rhaenyra's children must be bastards because they don't look like Ser Laenor...I don't look like and the king and...and my egg never hatched and I can't claim a dragon and that must mean I'm a bastard." He wept openly.

The queen sank to her knees in horror, for she had done the very thing she dreaded and made her own child feel inferior. For a moment she was too stunned to speak, she soon gathered herself to comfort her son. "No, my boy, you are not a bastard. I swear on my own life, you are the trueborn son of King Viserys, First of His Name. Do not ever doubt your place in the world."

"But, you said..."

"I know, but I was wrong, okay?" Alice impressed upon him, gently holding his teary face in her hands. "Forget what I told Ser Criston. I don't ever want to hear speak of yourself in such a manner, understand? You are so much worthier than you think."

Aemond wiped his tears and nodded shakily, "Yes Mother, I understand."

"Alright," Alicent sighed, "And let us never speak of it again. You are trueborn and you will have a dragon someday."

That evening as she supped with Larys Strong, Alicent vented to him about how she wished her father were to bent the council in her favor. A few weeks later, Lord Lyonel Strong and his heir Ser Harwin perished in a mysterious fire, leaving Larys as the new Lord of Harrenhal. Alicent was horrified, but she said not a word to anyone about what Larys had done for her sake. Necessity dictated that it be done to protect her children and their rights. Only, when Alicent went to her husband's chambers in homes of convincing him to reinstate her father, she found to her horror that he had already placed chain of office upon Rhaenyra's shoulders.

Once she became Hand of the King, Rhaenyra wasted no time making her will known. She removed Tyland Lannister and and Jasper Wylde from the small council, knowing they were Otto's creatures. She sent them off with gifts and praise for their hand work for the sake of appearances, but a dismissal was a dismissal, and she knew they left the capital with bitterness and resentment in their hearts. In their place, she give the position of Master of Ships back to her goodfather Corlys Velaryon and brought on Thaddeus Rower as Master of Laws. She retained Larys Strong as Master of Whispers. He was a quiet, unassuming man, and though Rhaenyra knew him little, she believed he might be of a similar disposition to his late father and brother.

Not long after Rhaenyra's ascension as Hand, Daemon returned from Pentos with his twin daughters and his wife's ashes. They held Lady Laena's funeral at Driftmark, an casket with her ashes launched into the sea so that what remained of her would rest beside her ancestors. Late into the night, when everyone thought he was asleep, Aemond slipped from the castle unnoticed and ran to the deceased woman's former mount, Vhagar, the oldest and largest dragon still living, the remaining being that had seen the Seven Kingdom before Aegon forged them into one realm. His mother had said he would have a dragon, and he would. The greatest dragon of them all.

When Vhagar accepted his command and took him into the sky, Aemond nearly went dizzy with joy. After all these years, the dragon blood in his veins had finally made itself known! He would remember this night all the rest of his days. When his first flight finally finally, he tried to sneak back into castle through the tunnels, giddy and triumphant. There he faced his nephews and cousins.

"It's him," Rhaena exclaimed.

"It's me."

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon," she proclaimed furiously.

"Your mother's dead," Aemond sneered. "And Vhagar has a new rider now."

"She was mine to claim."

"Then you should've claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride," he glared at Jace and Luke for moment, before turning his hard gaze back to Rhaena. "It would suit you."

She launched herself at him in a blind rage, and he knocked her back. Before he realized it, Aemond found himself fighting furiously with the four other children. But he was older and stronger than them and the exhilaration of claiming Vhagar bolstered him. He beat the twin girls into the dust, and bloodied both his nephews. He had Luke by the neck and a rock in one hand, as Jace stared in fear. It felt good to be feared; better than being pitied.

"Come at me again and I'll feed you to my dragon!" Aemond threatened. He shoved Luke into Jace with enough force to knock them both down and began to walk out of the cave. He could have called them bastards then, and proclaimed himself the trueborn son of the King Viserys, proven by Queen Visenya's dragon. He wanted to, but he had promised his mother he would never speak of it again. Not long after he left Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena bleeding in the tunnel, the Kingsguard came upon them.

Alicent fretted over her secondborn son. Rhaenyra and Daemon's children were clearly as savage as their parents, for they had left Aemond bruised all over, with blood coming out a split in his life and his brow dripping blood from a cut above his eyes.

"The wounds are minor, your Grace," the maester assured her. "Such scrapes between children are not uncommon."

"Where were you?" Alicent hissed to Aegon.

"Me?" He winced when his mother slapped him. "Ow! What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool."

The door opened, and Corlys, Rhaenys, and Rhaenyra run into the room one by one, coddling the other children and demanding to know what happened. All five of the children present were bruised and bloodied, and they argued loudly over each other when explaining what occurred in the tunnel.

"They attacked me!"

"He attacked Baela!"

"He broke Luke's nose!"

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"He was gonna kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Enough!" Viserys roared with what little strength that remained to him, causing the room to fall silent. "You will each get a turn to speak, and I want no interruptions. From anyone."

Aemond, then Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena spoke in turn, their voices each filled with anger and hurt. During Rhaena's testimony, she broke down in tears when she accused Aemond of stealing her mother's dragon, and Rhaenyra noticed the look of smug satisfaction on Aemond's face as he watched her cry. It disturbed her that he could be so unfeeling to his own cousin, a little girl had never hurt him before.

When at least they were done speaking, Viserys decided, "This has been a regrettable misadventure. In truth, I find no one child at fault."

"Your son is injured!" Alicent hissed.

"They're all injured," Rhaenyra shot back. She went over to her niece and held her close. "Rhaena, sweetling, I have the utmost compassion for you. I remember the sharp pain of losing my own mother as though it were yesterday, so I understand why you behaved as you did." Rhaena wept into her dress as Rhaenyra smoothed her hair. In the corner of her eyes, she noticed Daemon watching them with an unreadable expression. "But Aemond has the right of it; dragons are not heirlooms to inherited, or lost, or stolen. Vhagar chose him as her rider, and we must respect that choice."

"But he-"

"I know dear girl," Rhaenyra assured her, before turning to her brother. "Aemond, though I defend your right to claim Vhagar, I am disappointed by your conduct. You showed no respect for the Velaryons in their time of grief and abused their hospitality. For that, you have shamed us."

Alicent approached Rhaenyra, glowing with hospitality. "You have no right to cast judgement my son after what you've done!"

"What have I done, Alicent?" Rhaenyra challenged. "Tell us, what have I done?"

"Alicent, Rhaenyra, that's enough." Viserys interrupted. "I don't understand how we could have fallen to such infighting, but we must work out of our differences. The house of the dragon cannot stand strong if we are constantly at each other's throats."

"You are right, Father." Rhaenyra yielded. "It would be good for the children for spend time together away from the pressures of royal court. If they are willing, I would propose that Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys foster them here on Driftmark, where they may learn to love each as brothers and sisters."

"Your Grace, I do not believe that is necessary," Alicent faltered.

"Perhaps it is. Lord Corlys, what say you?"

"We would honored, your Grace, to help heal this rift in the family. And I believe it would help us as well, to have Driftmark filled with children again."

"Daemon, are you amenable to this?" Viserys asked his brother. "Baela and Rhaena are your daughters, after all."

Rhaenyra watched his reaction closely. Earlier, they had made love on the beach. For her, it was the fulfilment of a decade of longing, but she wasn't sure what it meant for him. Alicent had nearly forgotten he was in the room, for he had remained in the back, watching silently as the scene unfolded.

"Who are I am to deny my girls their family?" he said simply.

"Then it's decided," Viserys proclaimed.

Alicent felt defeated. "Must Aegon and Helaena be punished though they had no part in it?"

"It's not a punishment," Rhaenyra insisted. "But if you so resistant to having all your children remain, perhaps Aegon can come back with us as my cupbearer."

The sound of his name shocked Aegon into alertness. "Me?"

"Certainly," Rhaenyra encouraged. "When I am queen, you will have a place a honor in my court, so it is prudent that you learn governance from me."

"Thank you," Aegon said, sounding both shocked and touched. Betrayed, Alicent glared at him.

"There, now we should all retire," Viserys said with finality. "The hour is late, and the children need to rest."

Alicent stormed off to her chambers, nearly in tears. All she had worked for was falling around her in tatters. Her chance to make her father Hand had failed miserably, and now Aemond and Helaena were to be taken from her, Harwin Strong's bastards were unpunished for their actions, and Aegon would be placed under the sway of his dissolute half-sister.

Lord Larys entered her chambered unannounced, "Your Grace, you seemed distressed. Have you need of me?"

Across the castle, Aegon stopped Rhaenyra from returning to her chambers and led her outside. "Did you mean it? That I would have a place in your court."

"Yes," Rhaenyra was surprised that he would even ask. "What else did you think I would do with you."

Aegon did not tell her, instead saying, "You never any interest in us before, me, Aemond, or Helaena."

Rhaenyra had the grace to look sheepish. "That is true, and it was unbecoming of me, as a sister, to have treated you all in that manner."

"Did you ever...did you doubt, we were really your father's children? Because we look like our mother?"

"I've known your mother since we were girls. The day she breaks a vow will be the day my goodfather gives up sailing."

"But some part of you must have wondered," Aegon insisted.

"No... did you?"

"Not since Sunfyre hatched for me." Aegon's voice wabbled. "I still remember how you looked at me, when you saw him perched on my shoulder. Like someone had slapped you. I thought perhaps, you had been hoping we weren't really your family and were disappointed to be proven wrong."

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, "That had nothing to do with you. Years earlier I chosen that egg for Baelon, our brother, and when he died I didn't expect it to hatch. I relived his death again in that moment, but it would hurt just as much if it had been one of my own children."

"It may not matter to you, then, but it matters to Father."

"You think Father will not make you heir merely because of your looks?"

"That, and because I'm a disappointment in every way."

"You're not a disappointment, Aegon, you're a child," Rhaenyra replied. "That too is more complicated than you know. Father will explain himself if you ask him. I will make him explain, if it pleases you."

"You would?"

"Yes. You have always been my brother, and now it's time for me to be your sister. Things will be different when I return home, I promise."

"I'll hold you to it," Aegon promised, before Rhaenyra sent him to bed.

Rhaenyra looked out to the oceans, her future weighing heavily on her. She knew Alicent and her Greens would not take kindly to her accumulation of power, but perhaps if she turned her half-siblings to her side, she could avert a disaster. For now though, she just wanted to rest.

#hotd #house of the dragon #asoiaf #grrm #au #my fanfics #i didn't write anything all year but cranked this out in less than 24 hours

8 notes · View notes

tommyspeakycap · 2 years

Text

rúben dias insta files - family life

just life with the dias’

i do not own any of the photos - all found on pinterest. credit to original owners :)

rubendias

liked by yourinstagram, sasha_rebecca and others

rubendias Happy Mother’s day to the most perfect mamai in the world ❤️ Me and our baby girl are so lucky to have you, I could not do what I do without you. You amaze me every day, my queen. Truly there are no words to convey how much we love you, simply, I love you more than life🤍

load all comments

yourinstagram i am so blessed to have you two 🤍 love you so so so so so much

↳ rubendias ❤️❤️

rubenandynfan OH MY DAYS THIS IS SO ADORABLE I WANT A RUBEN PLS

mancity Happy Mother’s Day Mrs Dias!!

yourinstagram

liked by rubendias, johnstonesofficial and others

yourinstagram mom and dad on holiday 😉

masonmount Baby #2 incoming…

↳ yourinstagram 🙄🙄🙄

sasha_rebecca Have the best time girlie!! Esme has been soooo good for aunty sash🤍

↳ yourinstagram i miss you and my baby!! home so soon x

rubenfan3 Gorgeous!!

yourinstagram with rubendias

liked by bernardocarvalhosilva, kunaguero and others

yourinstagram sooo…we’re having another 👶

load all comments

johnstonesofficial Congratulations you two!! Another perfect niece or nephew 👶💙💙

kunaguero Congratulations amigos! Beautiful family❤️

bernardocarvalhosilva Congratulations!! 🍼 Someone’s been busy rubendias !

↳ yourinstagram ofc have u seen him w the armband

masonmount What did I say about that holiday 🤣🤣

↳ yourinstagram u wld be pregnant too if u saw him in a pool 🤤

↳ masonmount Ffs😅 Congratulations x

sasha_rebecca So excited for you guys 💞💞💞

johnstonesofficial

liked by rubendias, kevindebruyne and others

johnstonesofficial On the way to maccies before picking up mum at the airport! Cool uncle-ing done right 👍🏻🤍#shesverycute

load all comments

yourinstagram oh my days😩😩 she’s so cute i’m dying

↳ johnstonesofficial Course she’s cute i dressed her😎

↳ livstones utter liar you can barely dress yourself

↳ rubendias Liv dressed her? johnstonesofficial

↳ yourinstagram course she did rúbe🤣

↳ livstones yes i did 💅

yourinstagram

liked by rubendias and others

yourinstagram back with my babyyyyy

load all comments

rubendias Miss my girls so much 😩❤️

↳ yourinstagram can’t wait for you to come home x

_fernhawkins 😭😭So so so adorable

sasha_rebecca oh my DAYS you guys are perfection

ynfan This is the cutest thing ever and i don’t even like kids

yourinstagram

liked by johnstonesofficial and others

yourinstagram daddies home 💞💞💞

load all comments

rubendias ❤️❤️

_megan_davidson Adorable 🤍

philfoden Best time of the day eh rubendias ?

↳ rubendias Course ❤️

#rúben dias #rúben dias insta files #rúben dias x reader #rúben dias imagine #rúben dias imagines #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias x reader #football fics #footballer fics #footie fics #football imagines #footballer imagines

247 notes · View notes

1ddiscourseoftheday · 3 years

Text

Wed 7 Apr ‘21

Louis left Tulum and went to Mexico City, and we got airport pics from both ends: the gathered fans were told by his bodyguard that they should keep their distance but that yes, pictures would be allowed. Thank you Louis! We got to see him a little for the first time in so long, in videos of him walking by (and getting ready to walk by) and blurry pics of him with his guitar, and Oli and Charlie- I’m excited to someday see the footage of whatever they’re working on. But for now, finally some proper pictures of the long long hair, or at least the below the hat part, all flippy and like...LONG! It’s on his SHOULDERS! Early pics had some interesting shadows around an elbow, prompting a flurry of NeW TaTtoO?? excitement, but when more pics were posted we could see that no, his elbow remains the same, false alarm. Once that tattoo kerfuffle died down the interest refocused on his shirt, which featured- a whole damn pile of skulls!

Louis went through a long phase of wearing skull shirts a while back, and the fact that it was during a period of a lot of very pointed t-shirt messages (and that he kept doing it more than ever despite knowing what we were reading into it) seemed to reinforce the theory that he did in fact mean things by it, and seeing him say yes to fan photos while wearing this shirt for the occasion… well! WELCOME BACK public Louis, we MISSED YOU! Yesterday’s shirt was for the band Obituary- is the band name a nod at the fact that Syco, generally considered to be the main target of previous skull shirts, is now dead and gone (rest in pieces assholes:))? Is Louis drawing attention to the livestream that band did a few days ago for their album ‘The End Complete’, and if so, is that also about Syco or about… something else? Inconclusive, but if we were meant to find their song “End It Now”, that can truly only be about one thing!! Am I to believe that SBB himself, Mr “I like to draw the fans’ attention to the lyrics of things” just, whoopsy, missed that! I mean, you would think every band on earth has lyrics about “ending it“ with the number of times he’s made that mistake, damn… he just never learns. Poor Louis, gosh how embarrassing! Lol. Anyway, I’ve seen people wondering lately what will happen when all the fans that have joined us in this time of lockdown and of no real contact with Louis will react when their version of Louis has to compete with the real one- and him barely being back at all but immediately reminding people that he is not a dad FFS feels like an excellent beginning, this should be good! BUCKLE IN friends! The real Louis is sooo much more fun than the boring made up one, just get ready to enjoy the chaotic energy and trying to keep up with him….

Oh also Louis liked a Snuts tweet about being underdogs as they fight to get the release week UK #1 for their new album, and a charity says they reached out to Louis AND LOTTIE to play in their celeb footie match PLEASE, HOW CUTE WOULD THAT BE? Come on Tomlinsons, say yes!

Liam has a big interview in Glamour to promote his BAFTAS performance! If *I* were doing the piece I would have really gone hard on the Two Liams angle of the performance (in which Liam will be accompanied by a hologram of himself) but alas they are boring and only interviewed one of him- maybe the part where he says “you're on stage, you're a certain type of person, and at home you're a certain type of person” sort of counts? The “that's always something I've really struggled with” makes it not so fun though, but that’s a Liam interview for ya; worrisome and makes you want to hug him a lot. “I didn't actually realize this for a long time, but I often give a little bit too much away,“ he says, and today is no exception. We catch up on the time since last we heard from him, when he told us he was going to take some well-earned time off and try to focus on writing new music; he continues to have difficulty with downtime unfortunately. Oh Liam, I do wish it were easier for you to take a break! He says, “I stopped working and I had a full, proper month off [and that was] really hard. And it was all a bit dark for me for a little bit... not being able to go anywhere, not being able to do anything. It really, really hit home. And I just found myself sat in the same place day in, day out. And I was like, okay, I really do not know what to do with myself” and “for me, learning to relax has always been quite a hard thing to do because I feel like if I'm not moving forward, then I must be going backwards.” He goes on to say “so, in a way it's kind of a blessing in disguise, as this has all kind of taught me to relax a little bit more. And to not be so worried about that, like the world is not going to fall over if I don't do something today,” and I wish I believed him, but that’s Liam’s way, to be like oh I need to add something upbeat and end on a cheerful note! So IDK. He also talks about drinking too much, at the beginning of lockdown especially, and how he’s dealt with it by getting back to working out and dieting. There’s nothing there that he hasn’t talked about before (he’s publicly addressed both his struggles with alcohol dependency and has talked a lot about his disordered eating though he hasn’t himself named it that) but after publication Glamour edited the piece to omit the part about his drinking-- I’m guessing the augmented reality app people didn’t feel it fit their ideal image (sigh). What that leaves is him saying how nice it was to be able to eat what he wanted during lockdown but that having the boundaries and rules in place of restricting his food again has made him feel better about himself, which if you ask me is still plenty distressing. Oh Liam :( <I’ve never wanted to hug someone so bad/ Spongebob meme> On a slightly more cheerful note, he tells us he feels supported and heard by a manager that he’s close to, and by Louis, and that those relationships are good for him (the interviewer does ask about Bear, but financee Maya is not mentioned even once in this article). The piece ends with a startling response to a comment about his upcoming performance: “I'll see you wherever you want me in your house, I guess.”

Niall posted about his Masters (golf) fantasy league and he was seen out and about! He was photographed in London driving a car the size of a house and on the street carrying one of his dozens of different reusable water bottles, with his hair floppy and down- is it a new haircut or just unstyled??- and shorts and little roundish shades. Hello Neil! There was a rumored sighting of Harry in London as well but no pics and like we know he’s there anyway so… shrug. And iHeart award nominations are up, and they’re pitting louies against harries, ouch. Will it be nasty (well when isn’t it even without this voted category, sigh), or will the louies simply steamroller everyone as per usual? Only time will tell, but if so harries can console themselves with their likely wins in the Male Artist of the Year, Best Lyrics (Adore You), and Song of the Year (WS) categories.

226 notes · View notes

turtle-steverogers · 2 years

Note

Mikey, I apologise in advance this is going to be so long, but I can’t help it, your blog is so good and I have so many thoughts !! 😫❤️

Ok so I (from other fics and stuff) have fully bought into the idea that Steve was in a short lived relationship with Peggy during the war and that she was just an awful partner, probably abusive (SHE SHOT HIM FFS!!!!!)

Anyway when you answered that other anon the other day about Steve being vocal with Bucky in bed I just kept thinking about how maybe when they first started sleeping together again, Bucky noticed that Steve would turn his face away a lot (in missionary) and like close his eyes and bite his lip and Bucky was so scared she cause he thought he was hurting him or something, or that Steve wasn’t enjoying it. But Steve kind of just breaks down and says that he’s ashamed because he’s enjoying it too much, like I’m convinced Peggy shamed him for expressing himself in bed. And obviously Bucky helps him works through this and reassures Steve that he loves it when he makes noises and stuff.

Anyway I hope this makes a tiny bit of sense it is truly just word vomit from my psyche, but did you like the idea I’d love if you wrote a little ficlet or something 😫💖

And yeah fuck Peggy! And ily you and your blog so so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

i really REALLY hate that scene with peggy shoots steve. like it's such an awful way to try and depict feminine strength and it also pains me to see people try to defend that moment... anyway fuck the mcu!!!!!!!!!

but back to the pOINT! something i really heavily headcanon is that steve has a lot of sexual shame (for a number of reasons, and i can totally see a relationship with peggy perpetuating that in some circumstances. personally, my opinion of peggy fluctuates, and it's also largely situational. idk, i'm figuring it out) and one of my FAVORITE things is bucky showing him that sex can be GOOD and his body can be GOOD and beyond his body, steve can be good

They're in France on leave-- a whole week in a little pocket of curated refuge-- and it's a fucking relief. Of course, a lot of time is spent on the town. Hitting bars and eating real fucking food and trying (and failing) to drink the hell out of their heads. Steve and Bucky have been keyed up, that much is clear. And it's a blessed relief when Bucky finally knocks on Steve's door that night-- because the little shit gets his own private quarters, the asshole.

They fall into each other seamlessly, like they always have. And it's smooth at first. An easy shift from sweet and soft to heated and rough. Bucky gets Steve on the bed, stripped down and laid out so prettily for him. He looks so beautiful, taking his fingers so well. Opening up just for him, like a puzzle piece waiting it's fitted parts. And when Bucky slides in, it feels like he's sliding home.

Except, something is different. Steve is too taut, too tense. His lip is caught between his teeth, and his eyes are shut. He won't look at Bucky, and that hurts. He always used to look at Bucky when he made love to him.

"Steve?"

"Move," Steve says, chest heaving. "Please, just-- move?"

And Bucky has never been able to resist him. He starts fucking him, slow and sweet. Eager to hear Steve come apart for him. Eager to hear him strip down to the very fibers of his soul that call out to Bucky so readily.

But the sounds never come. Steve is painfully quiet, moving in ways that make Bucky feel amazing, but can't be comfortable for him. The way he's clenching around Bucky's cock, abs tense as he tries to give and doesn't let himself feel. His teeth dig into his lower lip, and every time a sound starts to bubble out of his chest, he swallows it.

It doesn't feel right. Bucky stops.

Steve's eyes fly open at the absence of movement, and Bucky's stomach hurts to see that he almost looks scared. Eyes tight. He's on guard, and it's nothing like the boy he knew in Brooklyn. What the hell happened to him? Steve has never been scared looking at him.

"Bucky, what--"

"What's wrong?" Bucky cuts him off, gentle and firm all at once. He's hyper aware of his dick still in Steve's ass, but he pushes through the sensation. The strangeness of conversing like this. "You're scared, honey. What's going on? Why aren't you letting yourself go?"

Steve's gaze lowers then, and shame has him hunching inwards. Bucky reaches out and touches his chin. Keeps his attention, but he doesn't make him look. Eye contact has always been hard for Steve.

"Sweetheart?" he prompts.

Steve sucks in a breath, and Bucky is terrified to see tears welling in his eyes.

"I-- you don't think it's... too much?" Steve asks.

Bucky frowns harder. "What's too much?"

Steve shrugs, and shifts, breathing shakily when Bucky's cock move inside of him.

"Dunno. Everything. Me. I'm-- you know. Big and loud and stuff."

And fuck, what?

"Steve," Bucky breathes. "What-- where'd you get that idea?"

Steve shrugs again, still not looking at him.

"Never mind. It's stupid. It's fine, um-- what-- how do you-- what do you want me to do?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I don't want you to do anything but what you want to do, but I gotta say, I'm worried. You're not acting like yourself, pal."

Steve shifts again, and looks down between them. "Can you--"

"Sorry, yeah." Bucky pulls out, and it breaks his heart watching Steve scoot back, knees drawing up to his chest. He drapes a blanket over his lap. Hiding. "It really is dumb," Steve says, and he's shaking now. Just a little. "Just-- Carter and I--" And Bucky knows about this. Knows there was something between them, if only briefly. "--You know, we did stuff. And she-- she was just... very specific about what she liked and didn't like and-- and liked to let me know that I was, you know, a lot. And I guess I kinda see it, you know? I can be loud... and I don't know my body so good yet, so..." he shrugs, and Bucky has to take a deep breath so he doesn't see red. "Sweetheart," he murmurs, and Steve looks up at him, hugging his knees to his chest. "I-- look, I love when you're loud, okay? You could never be too much for me. Anything you do that lets me know you're feeling good is beautiful. I love seeing that side of you."

Steve peeks up at him, searching his face. Bucky waits; he knows that look. Knows that Steve is processing what he's saying and deciding if he can trust him. He always has trusted both too easily and not enough.

"Really?" he whispers.

Bucky nods, reaching for him. "Really."

Steve scoots towards him, and melts into his embrace, and Bucky holds him until he pulls back. Always let him pull back first.

"Kiss me?" Steve asks. Bucky does, and it grows heated again.

Steve seems to be battling with himself, sinking into it incrementally. When Bucky slides back in, slides back home, it feels right this time. Steve is still tense, but not nearly as tight, and he moans a little as Bucky starts to move.

"Good," Bucky soothes, fucking him a little harder just to hear a gasp punch out of him. "That's good. Just like that, let me hear you, doll. Good boy."

"Fuck..." Steve breathes, and he reaches up to wrap his arms around Bucky, holding him close. "Fuck, ohh god."

"Yeah," Bucky breathes as he starts to fuck Steve harder, aiming for his prostate. Bucky whines, trying to fuck himself down onto his cock. "Oh... that's it, fuck. That's right, honey. Make yourself feel good, that's just right."

And it isn't perfect-- not yet. But they aren't meant to be perfect. They're meant to figure it out together, tread any roads that try to weather them down as one.

#oof this got away from me #but anyway #boys!#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #anti steggy #anti peggy carter

40 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 3 years

Text

anniversary ff!

hi everyone! i missed my yearly milestone by a month because i was too busy with life to make note of it. i joined tumblr end of march/early april 2020 when the lockdowns became real and i was struggling with feeling lonely and isolated. i remember MOTS:7 had come out and i didnt feel like i had anyone to talk to about it and decided to hop back on tumblr to meet people who loved bts.

and here we are, one year later and almost 10k of you later. i’m so lucky and blessed to have gotten to know you all and be able to connect with you all. thank you for reading my fics, for your comments, reblogs, DMs, asks, discord messages, etc. you mean the world to me and i love our community here.

i’d like to shout out the people i love to follow and love to see on my dash, but please rest assured this is by no means an exhaustive list. i’d love to follow as many of you as i can and i’m always following more people who i can connect with.

so, without further ado--

(ps thanks to @hongism for this sexy sexy banner)

to my solid groups of friends who i talk to every single day-

the tiger wives- @untaemedqueen @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia - you three have been the OGs since day one. i don’t think i’d still be on tumblr if i didnt have you three in my life. i certainly wouldn’t have half the fics i’ve posted without your insight, support, hype and superior editing and brainstorming skills. i love our friendship and i hope everyone has friends as lovely and dedicated as you all.

my ratties - @hongism @nomseok @ughseoks - truly i would be lost without our chaos. i love talking to you three every day/every hour/every minute of my life. you all have been by my side through so much and i hope i give you back everything you give to me. i am so so lucky to have fallen into this chaotic little group and i love our weird, sometimes too close, sometimes scary friendship. i love youuuuu :lainey:

to my loml- @kimtaehyunq - my sweet mags. you’ve been such a solid friend for me and i am SO blessed to know you. we have our ups and downs and i love that we can always circle back to the true essence of our friendship. thank you for your love, your advice, your support, the laughter and the jokes we have together. i am so thankful for you and love you 3000.

to my niah- @agustdef i truly dont know where i’d be without you. you mean SO much to me and i know we joke about me simping for you 24/7 but its true. you’re so passionate and strong and cool and i love being your friend. you make me laugh even when i feel like shit and you’re always ready to fight me or fight for me. i truly love our friendship and the way we interact. i love you very very much.

to some new friends and cherished friends- @kithtaehyung @papillonsgf @thejooncrew @cremeandsuga @salvejoon @chimoona @sombreboy @carly-bean-blog @imyourhobiii @jinned @minloop @joonsrack @joontopia @introtae @k-hongjoong @gyukult @staywithmoon @ressjeon @lovetrivia @jimidol @r-m @bangtantaegi @taemaknae @seokjinniekim @trustingofwinds @honeyj00ns @hesperantha @wwilloww @hauntedlilies @missgeniality @ttaechwita @propinqxity @underthejoon @lamourche @blueversailledreams @cutechim @jinterlude @kkulmoon @ttttaehyungie @j-sope @astrojoong @ssnakehandss @pjmsdior @luffles424 @rkivemagic

i love you all so very much. im so grateful to know you all and talk to you all on whatever basis we do. i hope i didn’t forget anyone but i love love love so many people and often cant keep track LOL. i love you guys. thank you for being with me here on this blog and for the love you consistently show me.

thank you for a year of joy in an otherwise dreary year. i love you!

#follow forever #lindy's anniversary #a ha ha

118 notes · View notes

weirdoldmanhoho · 3 years

Note

do u have any fic recs?

Sorry it took me years to answer this! The truth was I really hadn't read many FMA fics (at least not since the FF days) and was waiting until I actually had some recs to give.

And now I have some! My list will surprise no one, I'm sure.

Soul Friends by KyberHearts

“They were not always, and simply, two minds in one body. Towards the latter part of their alliance, especially in the heat of battle and warmongering, their souls could not distinguish where the prince began and the sin ended.”

Ling Yao returns to Xing to seal his fate as the next Emperor and sets his plans for reunification and peace in motion.

Elsewhere, Alphonse Elric reconciles with the very Truth that stole his body.

I absolutely love the way this fic writes post-canon Alphonse and his relationship with Truth.

Damaged by xmypandabear

'"He's still in the hospital too, with the Lieutenant," Alphonse said dully. "Blood loss - someone slit her throat..." Ed stared up at the ceiling, remembered the scientist with the gold tooth, and shuddered at the image his brain conjured of the Lieutenant lying on the floor. "But Mei helped her! So, they're sharing a room - the Colonel and Hawkeye, I mean, not Mei, 'cause the Colonel can't use his hands yet, so she's helping him..."

"His hands?" Ed tried to remember.

"It's how they forced him to do it," Al whispered. "They pinned him down so he couldn't move."

Ed fought back nausea. The sense of wrong, wrong, wrong pervaded every sense of his being. How the fuck was any of that equivalent exchange?'

Love me a good post-promised day healing and processing fic. This one focuses a lot on how Al, Ed, Winry, and Roy are all doing immediately post-promised day and the relationships between all those characters.

Joining of Hands by ehmazing

If you're not breaking a couple of laws, is it really an Elric wedding?

Truly, the best thing about an AlMei wedding is all the hijinks and complications the come from foreign customs and marrying into royalty.

Legends by Elfpen

Alphonse Elric has been living and studying in Xing for a little more than a year and a half. Now, Ling has asked him - ordered him - to take on a new responsibility and fill the shoes vacated by Van Hohenheim four centuries ago. But what use are legends, really, when they're all frauds? The Son of Heaven and the Son of the Western Sage see it differently.

You ever find a fic that just feels completely catered to you and your interests? I love everything about this fic. Alphonse in Xing and the weird politics he has to maneuver as not only an incredibly skilled foreign alchemist but a close friend of the emperor's - all at a young age. His relationship with Hohenheim and the grief and confusion that comes from never really getting to KNOW Hohenheim and now having to come face to face with the lasting impact his father left on a foreign country. Ling scheming. It's all very, very good.

The Principle of Mentalism by The-Immortal-Moon (LunaKat)

There’s a woman with a wrench and a penchant for alcoholism, and what he doesn’t know is that she’s going to change everything.

Another fic that feels like it was written specifically for my interests. This one explores Pinako and Hohenheim's first meeting and how a rowdy mechanic from Resembool and a reserved guilt-written immortal from Xerxes ever became friends in the first place. Features Hohenheim and his one million soul friends and a young awkward Pinako who I want to give SUCH a big hug to. I love it so much.

We'll be Holding on Forever by zipadeea

"Hohenheim left them to save the world. But Dad loved them more than everything in the world."

AU where Alphonse gets his body back a little earlier on the Promised Day.

It changes nothing.

It changes everything.

Read this if you want to cry. It focuses on Ed and Hohenheim's relationship and it is full of pain but also healing and understanding. Great quick read.

ticket stubs and your diaries by nerdywriiterchild

Alphonse Elric is almost fifteen. He will never know Xerxes.

This one is short but packs a powerful emotional punch and a really interesting character study into only a few paragraphs. Explores the really interesting question: what is it like to mourn a culture you're a part of but will never really know?

Briding Her Time in Wait

The wedding date was set. Winry and Ling had screamed at one another for months during the preparation out of a mutual need for their childhood friend and half-sister to have the most incredible wedding in the history of either Amestris or Xing, and as a result the wedding canopy suffered from a unique blend of western and eastern traditions that left guests from both sides of the desert confused and requesting refills on drinks that didn’t exist. Still, the two wedding planners manipulated the day into running smoothly, Ling pulling his Emperor card when necessary, Winry pulling her, well, Winry card when necessary, while Ed and Lan Fan stood awkwardly around the food table making small talk that mostly consisted of complaints about automail. By the time the golden groom was ushered through a beautification process that left him requiring an escort to avoid the various women—and men—attempting to seduce him at the last minute, the guests were settled and the wedding was ready to roll.

Except no one knew where the hell the bride had gone.

I'm always a sucker for Scar and Mei's relationship.

One More Time, With Feeling

In the end the Elric brothers laughed over the irony: The traveller had settled to write books on alchemy while juggling two boisterous children blessed with Rockbell rockheadedness and Elric recklessness, and the settler had taken to travelling between Amestris and Xing for the remainder of his life. It came, really, with having two homes.

-------------------------------------------------------

A bird could love a fish, but where would they live?

This one explores Alphonse's relationship with Mei post-series and is VERY in line with how I picture it. Being in love with a foreign princess in line for the throne with a duty to her people and country would make for a very complicated and often strained relationship.

Magic and Mind by Preelikeswriting

Of all things Edward was prepared for as the day of reckoning grew near, being transported from one world on the edge of war to another was not one of them.

AKA: Edward gets accidentally summoned by Death Eaters, and neither party is happy.

(Pre-Promise Day, HP book 5)

Ok so preface: I rarely like crossover fics and I very rarely like HP crossover fics, but this one just works for me. I think what I like so much about it is that Edward doesn't just get thrown into the world of HP and join the golden trio / order and start fighting Voldemort. Oh no. He does not care about their fight at all. He just wants to get back home and will do anything he needs to to achieve that, even if it makes him look like he's working with Death Eaters or going against Harry and friends.

I think the fun of this fic is that it kind of plays around with the fact that the READER knows who the good guys are of each series and would expect them to join forces. Sure, Ed is the Good Guy of FMA and Harry and friends are the Good Guys of HP, but Ed's goals don't really align with Harry's goals and so they're not really working together, and Ed kind of comes off looking shady af to the HP characters despite the fact that the reader knows why he's doing what he's doing. It's a far more interesting take on Ed goes to HP world than "Ed immediately joins the fight against Voldemort."

The series has three works so far and I haven't finished it, but I really loved the first and what I've read of the second. It also eventually heads into Ed/Draco territory which is not a ship I would have initially read but.....kind of works for me here.

#fic rec #fanfic #van hohenheim #alphonse elric #ask

93 notes · View notes

larentsaloud · 2 years

Text

I FELL IN LOVE WITH KOREA FIRST

I’ve come to appreciate BTS in 2021. I mean I knew of their existence. I am not a barbaric creature. I think early spring after clocking them out and chatting to Wheatus on Twitter about their music I was quite taken aback by their talent. Didn’t really understand what the fuss what about at first. 😅

Oh in case you don’t know that band that composed the iconic Teenbage Dirtbag tune? Yeah. <IM JUST A TEENAGE DIRTBAG BAAAABYYYY> screaming in high pitch* also jumps* {Jimin joins. *pause* Jungkook joins* GUYS!! I’m in the middle of a story about yall.}

Cough.

We got into a polemic about shipping, because I was and still am someone who supports one direction. From my user name you can probably guess I am / was a Larry.

~~~~ let’s not fight about this ~~~~

I love one direction and support their solo careers, there’s something about them that made me feel things, I’ve not felt for a long time. Ultimately it’s why I and the rest of the planet consume art. To feel stuff. It’s kind of safer than having a broken heart. It’s why certain songs are so addictive. Like that’s the whole basis of POP music / culture. Create consumable goods we can all be addicted to. Capitalism. All that jazz. *Tae throws hands* <Yes, Tae I know. I shouldn’t have brought jazz into it.>

Back to business.

I think Zayn and Louis are my most played artists this year. Which is funny because I was a huge rock fan and wouldn’t go near boy bands. It’s kind of like I said I won’t touch the hot stove and here I am all over the fucking thing. Even running a blog. Lol. 😭😭😭

No surprises there! Anyhow.

Wheatus’s song has been covered by 1D and he engaged with me a little. We chatted about Ani Di Franco whom we both love and then he followed me. I was so 🥺🥺 because he’s such a cool dude. Sorry about this prelude, but I promise that it will be a point to this. <Jin stop asking us whats for dinner>

Anygays, he shared a BTS song and loads of army flooded his replies trying to gate keep BTS from a ‘Larry’ so I got freaked out. God bless Wheatus because he publicly defended me saying music was for everyone. <Jhope just hugged me guys!>

*leaves room for 5 minutes. Comes back confused. Where’s my flute? Can’t hear due to the sound of jikook playing it super out of tune. FFS guys. Lemme write this post.

I used to play flute back in the day. Not like Lizzo, it was a lot less sexy.

So after that I felt all sorts of feelings about BTS. I followed them on Twitter and checked out a few videos. Never thought much of it. Cute lads I said to myself.

WORLD WIDE HANDSOME 🌎🌍🌏🥰🥰 *cue in namjoon eye roll

In a recent bout of existential crisis I decided to pursue writing as a career and entered some competitions, wrote a novel or two that needs to be edited and finished off. LOL.

While in that space, one direction fandom saved me. Literally saved my life, because I wrote a fan fiction in which I discovered my love for the art of sentences! I took the FF down once I evaluated some hard truths.

This meant being honest with myself about breaking the fourth wall. Once I cleared my conscience I ached to create stories and longed to write until my eyes bleed just not about THEM.

Amidst the pandemic I was safe in my bubble where I found new friends and pals from all across the globe. We talk. We share dreams. We laugh. We cry. We watch Grammys together and scream. Internet is fucking powerful.

Of late I got attached to K-Drama. Initially I attributed this to the fact, that Korean dramas have original plot… and told everyone who was asking me about

#howisyourbook?

~~~regrets ever mentioning the thing ~~~

🔪🔪🔪💅🏻💅🏻💅🏻

So I called it

#research

But let’s be honest.

I needed a break from my book. I wanted romance. I want to cry on cue and laugh. I wanted to yell at yet another predictable story line when amnesia >>> arrived.

I live for that shit.

They do follow solid plot developments and I LOVED the cinematography in them, or their beauty, language, food, the intricate language and culture?! Maybe all of it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I just fell in love with Korea first.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once I crossed that path and starter messaging my mother in Korean when saying good night and telling her I love her, she confessed that she fell into the Korean loop hole, too. It was a truly beautiful moment for us both.

And from k-dramas it was only a matter of time before I started listening to BTS, watched their YT crack videos, in the soop, BTS run.

The thing about Jikook…

Kind of happened despite me trying. I fell in love with whatever they have.

💜💜

#jikook #BTS #how I found BTS #story time #minggukkie supremacy #bts #jimin #Jin #tae #RM #Jhope #JK #mingukkie #jungkook #minkook #minkookie #jk

10 notes · View notes

yoongsisbae · 3 years

Text

Content Tag Game

thank you @inkofyoongi for the tag and also bless you for the Poetica teaser I'm crying already!!! Yoongi and y/n kissing oh my heart.

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? Harry Potter and Attack on Titan

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? BTS

3. how long have you been writing? Writing online, I wrote HP ff when I was a preteen. Oh god it was horrible, it was a lot of silly meme worthy stuff, but that was half the fun in the HP fandom back in the day, then years later I tried to write one AOT ff and it did not do well lol, I think I maybe got two comments one of them being really mean lol and I gave up and left my story unfinished and moved on from ff (funnily enough I based a scene in one of my HOAL chapters off of it and no complaints so ha!...lol.) Then a friend bought me a dream journal, and I fell back in love with writing again after HOAL 🥰

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? I have a Wattpad and I just created an Ao3 to crosspost.

5. what is your favourite genre to write? Angst, I guess I am just a masochist.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? Well I am definitely not a planner, so I guess I'm a pantser lol. I rather just write the story instead of planning. I vaguely know the endings, the problem is most of my stories start out as dreams, and what usually happens in dreams??? That's right, you wake up BEFORE the ending. So then I have the arduous task of figuring out what else is supposed to happen lol, I feel like if I just write it out it will somehow magically come together in the end, planning is unnecessary stress I don't need lol.

7. one shot or multi-chapter? You know I really admire one shot writers, but I am just not built like that...

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? I would say as a writer and what I also prefer reading, between 6k and 10k is the sweet spot.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? Handshakes of a Lifetime is almost at 55k words 👀 and I would say it's half way done?

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most? I really love writing HOAL, some of the chapters were very therapeutic to write 🥲. During the beginning chapters I was going through a lot of chronic pain and there were long stretches where I was so engrossed I forgot about the pain which if you've ever suffered from chronic illness, is like finding a raft in the middle of the ocean. But also Run Run Run made me hysterically laugh for hours (the visuals in my head are something else man), I already know I am going to have so much fun finishing that story.

11. favourite request you’ve written and why? I don’t take requests, however there have been times when I requested myself to write lol. Instead of word vomiting all over my blog and oversharing to you guys who probably do not want to listen to my ugly problems, I said, hey, why not just take all that pain and channel it into a story instead? Because that's why people follow me after all and I'm a woman of the people lol, and that's how Blue and Grey was written. It's short and simple, and it's one of my favorite stories I've ever written.

12. are there reocurring themes in your stories? Hmmm pain lol, whether it be pleasurable pain or not lol. Again, my stories start out as dreams, so they are pretty random. I do notice there's a lot of “escaping”, that might just be a dream thing idk.

13. current number of wips? HOAL, C!HOC, RRR, BV:ITS, a cross over fandom story I am so excited for and will write before the year is up (I just somehow need to become a smarter writer before then), a cute theme story I want to release on Halloween, 6 angsty one shots for each member (Namjoon's is already written), and an unnamed invasion AU story that I hope will see the light of day, but I have so many questions as to what is going on and have to figure out those answers before I post it (also I don't know know if I should add another ongoing fic and do that to myself lol)

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? I love cliff hangers, they are just so much fun, I truly can't help myself. I also can't help putting a hopeful spin on my writing, even when I think I shouldn't, the story would be more meaningful if I didn't, but I am a hopeless romantic so sue me. And even if my stories are very fantasy driven, I try to be as realistic as possible, especially during smut scenes, I need realism, I don't like writing unrealistic sex, so sorry if it’s not that fantastical sometimes, I try to make it up in story pacing 🥲🥲.

15. a quote you like from a published story. Chapter 4 of HOAL is full of sentences I am proud of lol. "...a storm so final in its answer, it must be controlled by the Grim Reaper himself." and "...rain droplets clash against the ocean, open like umbrellas, and the sea throws back tiny gems of water." I really tried to portray that calm before the storm feeling throughout the chapter.

16. a quote from an unpublished story. Here is a part of the unnamed story, "Namjoon never came back. You take out your phone, pull up Namjoon’s number. You don’t have a pen or pencil, and you’ve never been good at memorization. But this time you have to, you must remember the ten numbers as if your life depended on it, because you’re starting to feel like it might."

17. a space for you to say something to your readers. My dreams had been haunting me for awhile until I finally said, "okay, let me just try, I'll just try to and see if this whole writing thing will work for me." Sometimes you have thoughts that you just need to scream out into the world before they consume you and the fact that people are hearing me, and being moved in even the littlest of ways by my stories lifts the pressure off my shoulders just a bit every day. A lot of my stories are anonymous love letters to people in my life, memories I want to preserve and transform into stories people can enjoy, happy and painful, for better or for worse. So to my readers, thank you for enjoying my stories, for hearing me. ❤️

I tag: @cloudteawrites @bangtangalicious @smasmashin @alpacaparkaseok @deepdarkdelights @btsaudge @koosbabygrl and any other writer who wants to share! 💕

#your question 14 I am taking as confirmation of Yoongi being utterly in love with Poetica y/n 😭😭😭😭😭#ask game #tag game

9 notes · View notes

snowbellewells · 2 years

Note

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MARTA!!!

For Christmas this year, I’m going into the askbox of my fandom family and sharing with them my favorite of their works. You are a dear friend and I am truly blessed to have you in my life! I hope this gift brings you just a portion of the joy your work brings me. I love you to the moon and back again!!!

My favorites of your fics, in no particular order are

A Private Revolution (totally surprised you with that one didn’t I? 😆), Moonlit Ghosts, The Case of the Heart In Armor, I’d Know You Anywhere, Start of the Dance, Here In Our Time, Run To Me (In the Dead of Night) and sequel Face to Face In the Broad Daylight, and A Year In the Court of Misthaven (probably guessed those last three, huh? 😁😆)

Merry Christmas!!! Love you!!

@kmomof4

Oh my goodness, Krystal!!! Yes, it has taken me nearly all day to answer this ask, but it has just made me smile all day. You support and encouragement of my writing means more than I can say, and I could never tahnk you enough for your enthusuasm, your flails, and your thoughts on my stories!!! Readers like you are part of what keeps me inspired and rejuvenated years after the show’s ending.

It still makes me laugh that you like “A Private Revolution” so much! It was a tiny drabble in response to a summer hiatus prompt that I honestly didn’t think anyone would even see or read, and because of you it’s a full four-part story now! And of course, “Run to Me...” and “Face to Face...” hold special places in my heart because those came from back when I was first getting to know you, and when the @cssns was just being formed. :) (Thank goodness for a shared love of werewolf ff!)

Lastly, can I just especially hug you for loving “Moonlit Ghosts”? It’s one of my personal favorites, and I’m always wanting it to get more love.

Just thank you beyond words for this whole ask and for being the kind fandom friend and encourager you are!!! I so appreciate you! <3

#lovely ask #wonderful fandom friend #the best #thank you krystal!!!#snowbellewells answers asks

2 notes · View notes

princessmadafu · 4 years

Text

That Book (excuse the long post)

I didn't want to jump into the fray without first thinking over the published extracts of FF and the various critiques and synopses in the press. I'd just like to send huge thanks to YankeeWallee and everyone that YW herself thanks for the collated screenshots of the excerpts and RoyahNikkah's review. I'll do what the rest of you do and state here that these are my personal opinions and anything quoted comes under "fair usage", etc. Long live free speech!

My over-riding reaction is, what an absolute pile of lies, lies and more lies. Starting with Scobie's sources, of which he says there are at least two per nugget of information. I believe most of the book has come directly or indirectly from MM herself, and that any "sources" have MM's blessing, sanction or outright order to disclose. FaceTiming in the bath? How would Scobie know? Unless he was in the bath with her, this can only have come from herself or the friend being FaceTimed. There is too much of a highly personal nature for it to be Scobie's own investigative work. So there's the first lie, straight from the weirdly-toothy Sussexy horse's mouth; of course she collaborated!

Some of us had our reservations right from the start of Harry and MM's relationship, but we were prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt and join in the welcome of a biracial, divorced American actress. Right-wing, left-wing, a-political or not-royally-bothered, we all thought, Let's give the pair a chance to see what they can do.

How about this article from Spiked on the engagement of Harry & MM from 2017:

Meghan Markle: Generation Woke's Princess Diana - spiked

"...look no further than the fawning response to the engagement of Prince Harry and American actress Meghan Markle – one of those rare occasions in which both the Telegraph editorial team and the identity-politics set erupted in simultaneous celebration."

How quickly the celebration wore off as the pair of them squandered our goodwill. Another article from Spiked from July 2019, less than two years later, is harsher, when we've all been insulted, preached at and condemned as racists by PH&MM:

Meghan Markle is the worst kind of snob - spiked

"With the possible exception of a few sad social outcasts, no one has a problem with the fact that Meghan’s mum just happens to be black. No, Meghan is criticised for being snobby, elitist, hopelessly out of touch and possessing all the self-awareness of a flea. It’s not Meghan’s skin colour that annoys people, but the fact that she thinks nothing of donning an outfit that costs more than most people in the UK earn in a year and then getting her minders to order the public not to take photos of her. [...] There are heaps of reasons for people not just to criticise Meghan and Harry, but to ridicule their hypocrisy and puncture their pomposity. And not one involves the colour of Meghan’s skin. Meghan comes in for criticism because she is the worst kind of snob who condescends to tell others not just what to do, but also what to think. The fact that she is biracial is completely irrelevant. Of course, there is an obvious solution for Harry and Meghan if they do not like the public attention and criticism. Harry could denounce his claim to the throne. They could give up the titles, move out of the palaces and fund their own lifestyle. I can’t for the life of me imagine why they don’t."

Prescient, no? Six months later and they announce they're off. She played him like a fiddle. The raptures she went into over Botswana and wanting the spend the summer? Did she feed his fantasies of moving to Africa permanently? How strange that Africa became Canada, which then became Los Angeles? Strange my perky little bottom! She had this planned all along. I don't know if PH is with her over there, but she certainly seems to be feeding the illusion that she is now Hollywood Royalty. If she couldn't cut real Royalty, she definitely won't cut the LaLaLand version which is a lot less restrained in voicing its opinions of jumped-up wannabes. Especially the Markly ones who cut, dump, run and show no loyalty or staying power.

The following points, in no particular order, are mostly from an assortment of DM writers and comments from members of the public.

"The book claims the so-called ‘old guard’ tried to undermine the couple and ‘were concerned that the global interest in and popularity of the Sussexes needed to be reined in’." A little self-aggrandisement here, possibly? Global interest, maybe, of the rubber-necking car crash variety, but global popularity? When was that, exactly? Royal staff are all well aware that the purpose of the Royals is to support HMTQ; that is their job. If the Sussexes needed reining in at all, it was because they weren't doing their job properly.

"Harry and Meghan believed ‘few inside the palace were looking out for their interests’ and felt that most courtiers could not be trusted with their sensitive information." Ditto, the courtiers' job is to look out for the interests of HMTQ; PH&MM's job was to look out for the interests of HMTQ, not themselves.

"They believed that these ‘men in grey suits’ were stifling their attempts to launch their initiatives, and when they tried to air these frustrations ‘the conversations didn’t lead anywhere’." I mean, come on! PH is 6th in line. He knows that. There is no "they" involved here - it's all MM again, isn't it, thinking she's more important because she's more popular and she famously gets what she wants... She thought she could snap her fingers and make whatever she wanted happen. She ignored the hierarchy and the protocols, and probably (I suspect) got dimwit Harry believing that she knew best, and that together they could change the world.

"One source said Harry felt that some of the old guard at the palace ‘simply didn’t like Meghan and would stop at nothing to make her life difficult’." I can well believe that staff at the palace didn't like her - she showed her true colours quite early on - but deliberately making her life difficult? I suspect this is what MM told Harry. Twisted the truth, naturally. I'm guessing she made a few ridiculous OTT demands, or wanted some unworkable project, and the staff, knowing their jobs as they do, tried to point out the flaws in her ideas, prevent her making a fool of herself, or otherwise politely protect her from herself. Goodness knows, she made a fool of herself often enough, barging in front and all that...

"The book concludes that Meghan was ‘totally foreign’ to this group of advisers, who ‘could sometimes be even more conservative than the institution they guarded’." They were guarding an institution with over a thousand years of history from someone with neither understanding of nor respect for British history, the Monarchy, or the duties of the RF; and she made no effort to learn.

"Another insider said: ‘The fact is that Meghan was welcomed with open arms and everyone did their best to offer their help about how to navigate such a tricky public role – advice she would often choose to ignore." The arrogance of the woman! And she was welcomed. She just believed that she knew best.

"Omid Scobie said Meghan’s high-profile career as an actress and the fact that she was a divorcee left her ‘ripe for exploitation’." High-profile career, mwah! Actress, mwah! Divorcee, so what? Charles and Camilla are both divorce/es, Anne is a divorcee, so is Andrew, and a whole bunch of other lesser royals. As for being ripe for exploitation, I think we all know how this panned out and MM wasn't the one being exploited! Far from it. She milked every opportunity and opening her new title and her new husband could bring her.

"During one of their final engagements as senior royals, Meghan was ‘purposefully snubbed’ by Kate in front of a global TV audience, the authors claim." Well now, where to start on this one? MM threw a hissy fit because she wasn't allowed to walk in the procession with HMTQ, C&C and DDoC. The DDoC decided to appease MM by pulling out of the procession and taking their seats. Now I don't know what DDoC thought about that but I can just imagine them comparing MM's behaviour with that of their own beautifully behaved kids. I can just imagine them thinking thank God she'll be gone soon! I doubt there was any purposeful snubbing at the service but MM has no manners and no idea how to behave, not even in church. The DDoC are too well brought-up to "carry on" in a place of worship, nor would they lean across seats for a happy little chat, just a quick turn round for a friendly word with Edward and Sophie immediately behind them before the arrival of C&C and HMTQ. Churches are not places to be gossiping and grinning inanely, and you definitely don't push your way through the chairs when the service is over! She is so rude and ill-mannered.

"The book claims Meghan and Kate’s ‘cordial but distant rapport’ was apparent when the pair appeared alongside each other at the King Power Royal Charity Polo Day last summer." I don't remember the dates exactly, but I should think by this time DoC was well and truly fed up with MM's shenanigans; the doe-eyes she'd been pulling at PW, the rumours she and the SS had been fanning about PW and une petite liaison with a long-time friend... Cordial but distant was probably the best MM could hope for at this stage; DoC was hardly about to play Happy Families with the troublemaker.

"The couple were dismayed when no photograph of them and their son Archie was displayed during the Queen’s Christmas speech last year." It was quite clear that the photos on display represented the direct line of succession, from HMTQ's father through to her great-grandson - five generations of the Monarchy. I truly believe that MM wanted to "modernise" the RF to such an extent that PH would be elected King! With MM at his side, dripping in all the jewels she could get her greedy mitts on! I realise it must be hard for PH to get to grips with his status as "Pretty Much Relegated Former Spare", but she must have been really feeding his insecurities if she got him upset about the absence of a photograph.

"Prince Harry was the first to say 'I love you' in his relationship with Meghan Markle, with friends revealing the couple were 'immediately obsessed' with each other, according to the latest extract of a bombshell biography." Oooh, how would Scobie know something as intimate as this? Immediately obsessed with each other, I can well believe; MM with his status, title, money, the palaces, the jewels... and she reeled him into her fantasy world with lies and perfectly posed KamaSutra yoga until he was obsessed with this chameleon woman, at the same time both mother-figure and hot, sexy, adoring, sophisticated, intelligent, humanitarian animal lover. Oh the lies, the lies; "Will you walk into my parlour, said the Spider to the Fly."

"They enjoyed a romantic dinner, with staff taking great pains to ensure their privacy, whisking them in through a staff entrance usually used to bring in fish discreetly." This is their second date at SoHo House, and again, how would Scobie know little details unless MM had told him herself? I like the hint of shade by the writer noting that the entrance was used to bring in fish discreetly - there's definitely something fishy about MM!

How about some comments from DM readers?

"Every single shameless self-serving tabloid "leak" and publicity stunt she has orchestrated has backfired specularly. Hence why Harry has gone from beloved military man and active working Royal to a national embarrassment within two short years! Her efforts at aggressive self-promotion are no match for her lack of talent or perspective in that area. She could have heeded advice from other, more dedicated Royals, but No. Meghan knew better and decided that she was deserving of instant worship fit for her 'celebrity' expectations. The Duchess of Cambridge has earned respect over years with quiet dedication to her causes. Meghan felt entitled to all the glory instantly, and was clearly slighted to learn that respect is not something to be commanded. She is a culture vulture with no respect or understanding of the very people that she promised to represent." [Jace T Adams]

"The narrative of the relationship is laughable. Everyone knows they first met in Canada when Harry was there for Invictus. He needed a girl for the night and Meghan was arranged for him. She must have been impressive as they had a date the next day and the rest is history." [Lady M]

"You can't work with someone you don't trust and these two have proven untrustworthy." [ellegrav]

I have no inside information on any of above, but people better placed than I am are making similar judgments on the contents of FF; people who've spent their working lives following and reporting on the RF.

"The Queen’s former press secretary Dickie Arbiter told the Mail: ‘I think it has their fingerprints all over it. We had a similar scenario in 1992 when Diana swore blind she hadn’t helped Andrew Morton and yet a year later it came out that she had indirectly helped him so history is repeating itself. ‘There are too many things that we have seen in the serialisation that could only come from the horse’s mouth, like deciding to gatecrash Sandringram when they landed from Canada."

And Jan Moir: JAN MOIR on the Meghan and Harry biography that has put ...

What did the pair of them want or expect? Top billing, it seems. What is remarkable is that Harry’s whole life and entire upbringing have been devoted and calibrated to him being a prince. Surely he understands how it works? Surely he could have explained the system to his vexed new bride? Primarily, that being royal is a form of active service, with ranks and a hierarchy so uncomplicated that schoolchildren throughout the realm understand the line of succession and its importance to the Windsors — and to us.

And Robert Hardman: ROBERT HARDMAN: Harry and Meghan are ... - dailymail.co.uk

Yet Finding Freedom is a struggle against protocol and seating plans. It is based on the perceived unfairness of a pecking order which has governed — and preserved — the monarchy for 1,000 years.

We can't all be wrong!

110 notes · View notes

seriouslyhooked · 3 years

Text

Feels Like This (Part 10)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hi everybody! I am so excited to FINALLY be back with a new chapter of a fic that so many of you have fallen in love with. This response has been truly unprecedented in my writing experience. I have had lots of fics that many of you rooted for and supported me in, and I am always so grateful for that, but having a hiatus from writing this story showed me just how invested so many of you are. This is a great feeling as a writer, and that excitement you all have is the only reason I have been able to write more of this fic. My ability to write at my usual pace has been tested this fall, and there’s been some ups and downs in my attempts to reengage, but I love this story and I am so excited to share the rest of it with you all. I hope you will all like this new installment, I thank you again for continuing this with me, and I cannot wait to hear what you think!

“Mmmm, this smells delicious,” Henry said, hovering over the skillet not for the first time this evening, and breathing in the pasta sauce Killian had been working on the past half hour. To the boy’s credit, it did smell absolutely wonderful, a comforting classic anyone would love, and which the three of them had earned, after a day of unexpected meetings and introductions. This pasta was a traditional Montennaran recipe, not far off from a classic Sicilian pomodoro, but with the benefit of a few of this country’s specialties. It was a favorite of his personally, and one of the few meals he’d learned to cook well during his time in the service.

“Seriously. Who knew you could cook like this?” Emma said, still stunned at the display before them. She must have assumed from pizza night and the slow cooking speed of their first date that he was fully a novice, and he was in many ways. But he did have a few small tricks up his sleeves, and one was this sauce, which was easy to make as long as he had the right ingredients. It was quick, but precise, and it gave off the perception that he had mastered something difficult, even though that wasn’t true.

“This dish is a special one for me and for my unit. This is the spread each of us waited for during deployments. You crave so many things when you’re without them for so long, but this meal symbolized something else. The moment we’d touch down on Montennaran soil, this is the first thing we would eat. It represents safety just as much as it does a good meal.”

“You always had this?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “No matter what time?”

“Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. This was it,” Killian said, smiling at the memory of early morning pasta meals that he’d enjoyed more than most other moments in his time at sea. Those were the times when they all felt at peace again, and where they allowed themselves to breathe and heal no matter what dark moments had been withstood. “We took turns preparing it, tired as we’d all be from the tour and the travel, but the pressure was on. The last thing you want to do is disappoint newly anchored sailors. It’s a mistake that may just be your last.”

“No kidding,” Henry said, surprised but taking the words at face value. “It sounds so cool though. Being in the Navy, I mean. You meet all those people, people who are your family too even if you’re not related.”

“Aye, lad, they are my family. Always will be.”

“I can’t wait to meet them someday,” Henry said eagerly. Killian noticed Emma tense a bit but she didn’t need to worry. It was always his intention to introduce them all, because it was his plan to keep Emma and Henry with him forever. “Will it be like today do you think?”

“That depends on how you think today went.”

Killian’s quip earned a laugh from Henry and a soft smile from Emma. He was teasing as if the afternoon had been anything but excellent, when of course that was not the case. Despite the unexpected nature of it all, his family had been on their best behavior and they’d all immediately loved Emma and her boy. He knew in his heart they would, but it took a lot of pressure off and hopefully would help ease some of Emma’s worries about where this was going and if his family would approve.

“Today was totally awesome!” Henry said. “Everyone was so nice and cool. But Gran was definitely my favorite.”

“For now maybe,” Killian said, knowing full well what the draw of his Gran was and how her energy and feistiness made her infinitely lovable. “But give it time. My Mum and Liam both have a few more tricks up their sleeves.”

“What did you think of today, Mom?” Henry asked, and Killian was intrigued to know her thoughts. He doubted that Emma would go very deep with her assessment, but she was always honest with her son, of that Killian was totally assured.

“It was… easy,” Emma confessed, smiling at the memories of the day. “I never expected to feel so welcomed right away, but everyone was so normal, it was nice.”

“Normal is pushing it a bit, love. My grandmother’s revelations alone somewhat undermine my family’s classification as something so benign.”

“Maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “But the families I’ve seen all have some kind of well-meaning meddling, don’t they? Hers just has a bit more royal flare.”

“Oh, Gran’s got flare all right. No doubt about that,” Henry said cheekily as he took the dishes and silverware from Emma and headed to the dining room to set the table.

It wasn’t a statement the boy had meant to be impactful, but it hit Killian right in the heart. That was another special moment from today. There was no formality with his family and Henry and Emma, and he had witnessed the moment his grandmother insisted that Henry call her Gran as well. To have Henry accept that so quickly was a blessing, and another bright spot in what had been a beautiful day.

“And what about you?” Emma asked him when they were alone. “How did you think today went?”

Instinctively Killian turned off the burner, knowing the food was ready to serve but not wanting it to be ruined. He wiped his hands clean of any rogue tomato and then he pulled Emma straight into his arms in one fluid motion. Without pause, he pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be soft and nonintrusive in case Henry returned, but quickly morphed to something heated when Emma clutched at his shirt and arched in closer. By the time they pulled apart, he almost forgot the question, but Emma’s curious green eyes prompted him to reassure her of the truth.

“Today was one of the best days I’ve ever known, love. The most important people in my world came together, and if my instincts are correct, it’s gone just about as perfectly as it could. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that…”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ hanging in that statement,” she said, running her fingers across his cheek as she looked at him, searching for answers. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just that I -,”

“Okay, table’s set!” Henry said, barreling back into the kitchen and prompting Killian to step back from Emma but to keep his hand in hers.

Emma and Killian exchanged a look that silently said they would pick up this conversation again later, but Killian squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a calming and comforting gesture. The hanging words he’d yet to say were hardly bad ones, he just had to admit that as beautiful as today was he wanted so much more. He’d never have enough days like this one for his liking. He would always want more, no matter what came, and that was what he’d have to ask her for if not today then someday very soon.

Dinner proceeded without a hitch, and not only was his cooking a success, but the meal was fun and lively. Henry made for so much conversation, and his thoughts on the day were long and varied. He was so full of excitement and energy that it was contagious, and Killian learned more from both the boy and his mother about what they’d taken from meeting his family. They all talked about the center too, about Marco and Marie and Cecelia, and then at length about Anna and especially Elsa.

“Do you think anything will come from it?” Emma asked Killian at one point, after they’d already dissected how undeniable the moment was between Emma’s friend and Killian’s brother.

“Oh for sure,” Henry said before Killian could respond. Both Emma and Killian laughed at his confidence.

“You seem rather certain, lad.”

“Well it’s pretty obvious. I mean he looks at Elsa the way you look at Mom. They’re totally gonna get together. It was love at first sight. Just like with you two.”

“Henry,” Emma said, chastising him somewhat but in a measured way.

“What?”

“Well not for nothing, but you didn’t even see Killian and I meet how could you know it was…”

“Love at first sight?” Killian offered, grinning at her, knowing in his heart that was exactly what they’d felt the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, come on, Mom,” Henry said, rolling his eyes in a move Killian rarely ever saw, but which looked exactly like his mother when she was exasperated. He nearly choked on his water, but he powered through, biting back a laugh at Emma’s shocked face. “It was totally love. You came home extra happy and you had a dreamy look on your face all the time when Killian started volunteering. And since then you’ve been kinda… what does Mrs. H call it again? Oh right, scatterbrained. Love can do that, you know. I asked Gran about it today and she said it’s a telltale sign.”

“You asked her that?” Emma asked, shocked and maybe just a little bit mortified as Henry nodded like it was no big deal.

“Yup. She knows everything. She said that’s what happens when you’re old, and since Mrs. H says that too I think it’s probably true. Come to think of it, they’d be great friends don’t you think?”

“Mrs. H and Queen Eleanor?” Emma asked, as if the thought of their neighbor and Killian’s grandmother being ‘friends’ was too much to handle. “Well I mean, now that you mention it, there are a few similarities there.”

“Totally. And if Mrs. H was here she’d agree with me about Liam and Elsa. It’s totally love, and that’s awesome. Queen Elsa. It has a nice ring to it. Like she was meant to be a royal.”

Killian didn’t think Elsa was the only one with a name suited for royalty. In his estimation Princess Emma and even Prince Henry were rather fitting as well, but he bit that statement back, not wanting to overwhelm Emma or bring something up in front of Henry that she wasn’t ready for. Instead he steered the conversation in other directions, enjoying himself thoroughly as they all enjoyed dessert together that Emma had put together before watching a movie the three of them. It was a totally natural thing, and at more than one point Killian thought that they really looked like a family. It filled his heart with hope, and he wished one day he could officially claim both of them as his. But tonight, he’d just enjoy how good it felt to be with two such special people who seemed to see something in him too.

“Okay, kid, it’s about that time. It’s late already, so PJs and then you can read two chapters and then that’s all she wrote. You got me?”

“Sure, Mom. But can I read to Killian tonight? I’m at a great part in the story. The pirates are about to board the ship.”

“Um, I’m not – I mean, if you want?” Emma asked deferring to him though she was obviously flustered.

“Sounds good to me,” Killian said prompting relief in Emma and a sound of excitement from Henry.

Henry hurried to get himself ready for bed, and just as he’d promised, he proceeded to read Killian two chapters of his current book. The title was one Killian recognized from his youth, but he was impressed that a ten year old had such command of the story. Henry was a good reader but also theatrical, keeping Killian’s attention all the while. Only when he closed the book did Killian leave the swashbuckling alternative universe the story took place in.

“Quite the tale there, lad. You’ll have to keep me apprised of what happens next.”

“No need, I’ll save it until you come back again,” Henry said easily, gesturing to his bookcase which was full of books in so many shades and shapes. “I’ve got tons of them to read.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Killian said truthfully standing back up and heading towards the door. “Well thanks again for the story, Henry. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian,” Henry said, letting out a yawn and settling into bed. “Love you.”

The words placed a direct hit on Killian’s heart, and he was unsure if Henry had meant to say it or if sleep was getting the better of him, but Killian could only go on instinct. He answered honestly, telling the boy he loved him too and seeing him smile and settle to sleep before slipping into the hall and walking right into Emma who had tears in her eyes.

“Emma?” he asked, mindful to keep his voice more a whisper than something that could wake up Henry. “Is everything all right?”

“He said he loves you,” Emma whispered, and Killian nodded, brushing her tears away as he held her close.

“He did, love, and it made me feel ten feet tall.”

“Because you love him too,” she whispered, awed at that as if were some kind of stunning revelation and not a given fact of life.

“Of course I do. He’s an amazing boy, and his mother… well she’s the beating of my heart. How could I do anything but love him when he’s a piece of you, Emma?”

“What were you going to say earlier?” Emma asked, abruptly pulling them back to that moment in the kitchen. He debated holding back, but he decided ultimately it was better to put all of his cards on the table. Transparency was key if they had any shot of making this work.

“I was going to say that you, Emma Swan, are the reason. You’re my reason for everything, this impossible gift I never saw coming, and I’m lost in you. I see this perfect moment and forever when I look in your eyes, I see a life I’m desperate to pursue and real hope for the future. I still can’t believe that you’ve chosen me and that I’m standing here with you at all, and a day as good as this one only reminds me that I’ll always have this want - this need - for you. I love you, Emma, irrefutably, incandescently. In a forever and so much longer kind of way.”

“I love you too. Just as much,” Emma said, her voice stronger this time though her tears still came. They appeared to be the product of joy instead of sadness, but they still clutched at his chest like a vice. The only antidote was pulling Emma somewhere private, in this case her bedroom, and confirming he was right.

Once the door was closed behind them, locking them into a sound tight suite on the other end of Emma’s temporary home, their actions blended together. He didn’t lead the way, but moved with Emma, a dance that felt so much more practiced than it was. Emma pulled him for steamy kisses, and he savored her taste on his tongue as he held her close and moved her back towards the bed in her room. The lights were dimmed, but washed the room in a warmth he felt upon his skin. He was burning up from the closeness and the promise of what was to come, but the only thing he could think was that he needed more.

In the back of his mind, Killian also realized that this moment needed quiet. With Henry in the house, they didn’t have the freedom he might yearn for, but no matter. He had the love of the most incredible woman and she’d accepted his love in return. That needed celebration and merited some long-desired reveling. He wanted to show her how he felt, and though he’d finally said the words and attempted to make her understand, the feelings he had went so much deeper. Looking in her eyes right now, he could tell she felt just as much, but the time for waiting and wondering was over. They had put the truth between them and now it was time to truly immerse themselves in it.

Instinct and hunger soon took over for Killian, melding with the love he felt and the softer feelings in his heart in a wickedly wonderful way. He wanted Emma bared to him as soon as could be, spread out on the sheets of this bed and ready for his taking. They’d been flirting with the pleasures they could have for a while now, and they’d been intimate before, but this was different. This was a first in many ways, and Killian was intent on having this moment be one they wouldn’t rush, and that they’d remember for the rest of their lives.

A primal voice in his brain urged him to take her fast and hard, to make a claim they’d both feel branded by, but Killian anchored himself to an idea of something slower and more sensual. He knew taking his time would prove so much more gratifying, and he wanted to make this as good for his Swan as it could possibly be. He helped Emma out of clothes, noticing the tremble of her hands as he did. She was buzzing with excitement and electricity, but she matched his pace, understanding that if they drove each other crazy for just a little longer it would be sublime.

He was entranced by her entirely, and as her clothes from the day fell away, revealing two extremely unexpected scraps of red lace underneath, he couldn’t help but groan. No woman had a right to be so lovely, to claw at him so surely, and to set him alight in this way, but God did he love it. Emma was impossible, but somehow she was real. He felt her responsiveness to him and tracked the way that she noticed how his appreciative gaze moved up her body. A flush spread across her creamy skin, but she stood there, proud and sure as her hands moved across his body, removing his clothes as he’d done hers.

“I didn’t know that I could want this much,” she whispered, the honey-laced tone of her voice a sweet melody to his ears. “I need you, Killian. I love you.”

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, surprising her by taking her in his arms and lowering her to the bed. She let out a gasp before giving into laughter, her eyes bright and sparkling in the lamp light.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” she quipped, but her feistiness faded somewhat as he shed the rest of his clothes. Now her attention had switched, she was watching him steadily, and unconsciously licked her lips. That was it. His patience broke and he was on her, hands roaming, mouth teasing, and hellbent on more.

“Much as I might love that idea, Swan, tonight isn’t about fucking. Tonight I make love to the woman of my dreams. Tonight I show you my heart in full. It’s so much more than sex.”

“I know,” Emma whispered, running her hands along his cheek. “So show me.”

Bound by her request, Killian set out to do just that. It began with roaming hands and removing the last two scraps of red that shielded her from him. Once she was bare, he let himself explore and learn every spot and lick and nip that made her breathless. He traced the sensitive places on her body that made her hum in pleasure, and cherished each freckle on her skin that had come from the summer sun. He riled her up with his hands and his mouth until she was pleading for release, and then he gave it to her, touching her tender flesh and prompting a thready moan from her lips.

“Killian.” Emma’s croon was ragged and gorgeous, making him harder than he ever thought possible. The sound of her desire reached within his soul and engulfed him completely. Unable to resist, he felt himself growing addicted, unsure if he could ever stop. He needed her sighs like he needed to breath, and he purposefully pulled as many sounds of pleasure from her as he could.

There was nothing like Emma lost in lust. She’d never been more beautiful and he didn’t know how that was possible. As his thumb swirled against her clit and his fingers filled her, she gave more away, revealing herself and her needs in ways that made him dizzy. Every response set Killian aflame, and every breathy sigh and plea for more was a sign he intended to follow until he’d led her right over the edge and she shattered beneath him.

“You destroy me, love,” he found himself saying as he looked down at her and brushed some strands of her curled blonde hair out of her eyes. “Destroy me and make me into so much more. I’m in awe of you.”

In the face of her release, and the sincere words that he meant completely, Emma blushed again but smiled. Her expression was one he’d only ever seen her share with him, and it made him feel indestructible. He’d never met a person with more impact on his soul, and he’d never met a woman who so effortlessly created hope and good in his heart. Emma Swan was everything a man could ever want made real, and Killian still couldn’t comprehend how he was lucky enough to be here.

“I can’t imagine this is real,” Emma said, her words still dazed, but happy and content. “But I know it is. I know you are. I’m in this, Killian. I’ve never been more in.”

“Thank God for that, love,” Killian said with a grin and one more kiss before he trailed lower.

With careful attentions designed for maximum pleasure, Killian hit each peak point on her body, bestowing licks and nips that made her jump and mewl. By the time he’d reached her inner thighs, she was breathing heavy, anticipation clear as day. Killian looked up to her now emerald colored eyes as his hands held her steady, needing to know that this was what she wanted and what he saw was irrefutable. Emma was just as desirous for this as he was, and Killian was never so glad for anything in his life.

When his tongue met her sex, he tasted her need for him. Her body writhed beneath him, but he held her still, knowing she needed this from him now. She was wound up tight, the desire twisting around inside her and making her try to break away, but he built it up wanting to give her something she’d never get enough of. With slow, languid licks, he built the moment for him and her. The higher she climbed, the more crazed he himself became, but he waited until she shattered again to take his own pleasure. Once she had, though, all bets were off.

Their coming together was sensational serenity, walking the line between hard and gentle, tender and heated. Further and further they moved towards bliss, but time was off its normal tracks and their minds were filled with only this glorious moment. Soon enough, and yet not soon enough at all, they met that magic, crashing into climax. Minutes later they remained, both spent and breathing heavy, glowing from the aftermath and intertwined together, two bodies hell bent on never being parted. Killian found himself speechless in the aftermath, though his hands drew unknown figures on her skin. He had to touch her, had to hold her, even though he had just felt heaven itself. Truth be told, Killian was totally complete, and more invigorated than ever. Life had never felt more perfect and nothing had ever made more sense.

These revelations were all thanks to Emma. She was the one who made him believe love could be honest and true. She showed him depths he’d never dreamed of, and right now, as the swift and gentle tug of sleep came beckoning, she was a vision. Smiling at him, holding him close and whispering a promise he almost couldn’t bear.

“Forever, Killian,” she breathed, cuddling towards his chest after pressing one last kiss upon his skin. “That’s how long I know I’ll love you.”

“Forever, Emma,” he replied, though he knew even now she may already have succumbed to slumber. “Forever and whatever exists beyond.”

……………

Sneaking back into the castle now was a stark contrast to the many mornings he’d snuck out for a bit of space. Killian couldn’t resist smiling at how much things had changed since that time, and on those days when he walked out in the hills to watch the sunrise. However, unlike those other mornings, Killian knew the moment he walked through the great oak doors that he was not the only one up at this God forsaken hour. Call it instinct or intuition, but Killian could sense uneasiness in the palace, and as he moved up the corridor and saw light emanating from one of Liam’s studies, his hunch was proven right.

With measured steps he approached the open door. It remained ajar, a beacon to anyone who may pass by that his brother was here but still approachable. What Killian saw when he walked to the doorway, however, was the undeniable truth that Liam was not well, and that he likely had no idea the door was open. He’d been up all night, burning the midnight oil, and studying files and photos strewn about his desk.

“For your information, you’re about…” Killian’s words trailed off as he checked the clock on the mantel to clarify the time, “twenty-two and a half minutes from being discovered by Francine or Claudette. Give or take or minute or so.”

The mention of two of the maids on the morning shift in the palace seemed to ground Liam into the reality of this moment and the predawn light outside. He looked up at Killian and then out the antique windows which offered a familiar view of the palace grounds, now bathed in the early morning sunshine. Liam let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair that had already been mussed with some frequency. There was no way his brother had slept this evening. He was wild and unkempt, and so far from his state of normal it was fascinating to see.

“Any other day and I’d be focused on your early morning return,” Liam mused, offering something like a smile. It surprised Killian, given how infrequent smiles had become for his brother, but before he could mention it, Liam looked back to the papers and the books strewn about the mahogany desk. Killian wasn’t sure what he expected, but these archives of the family’s public events was not it. His curiosity grew, and he urged his brother to explain himself.

“But it’s not so ordinary, is it?”

“No, she isn’t,” Liam whispered, slipping up and referring to the woman who had turned his head completely, instead of the morning itself. “I didn’t plan for this.”

“No one ever does,” Killian quipped. “Gran will be the first to tell you that to love is to surrender. Planning has no place in affairs of the heart.”

“That old bird is too crafty,” Liam said shaking his head as Killian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “All these years of talk, throwing opinions here there and everywhere. She never met a moment where words failed her and she never lets a day slip past where she doesn’t share her every whim. But I’ve always written it off as her opinion or some grandiose turn of phrase that sounds ripped from a book of clichés rather than something rooted in truth.”

“The worst are the riddles. The woman loves a riddle,” Killian added and Liam groaned, a sound of actual pain that Killian felt, despite its humor.

“I hate the bloody things. The flowery words, the abstract philosophies. It’s all just meaningless. Or so I thought. A whole life spent listening to this woman, and I never took much of it seriously. To be sure there were some times when she offered sage counsel, but I found it unlikely that she was actually providing me with answers to anything really sentimental. Half the time she’s as vague as can be. I wrote off nearly all her musings for the better part of my life.”

“Yet here we are,” Killian said evenly and Liam nodded.

“Aye, here we are.”

Liam stood from his chair and walked towards the windows. Killian watched as his brother’s arms crossed over his chest, his gaze turned out to the world, looking but not really seeing. He was lost in his own thoughts, struggling to give voice to them, and so Killian was patient. There was no use dragging Liam to conversation. His brother was guarded and grappling for control. Only when he was ready, would the truth come out. A few minutes later, after a prolonged bit of silence, they finally did.

“I’ve long put off the inevitable, brother. Royal expectation demands that I choose a bride, but for years I’ve hesitated, unwilling to commit to any kind of match. The press has questioned my delay for ages, but that talk is mostly harmless. Still, I have always known that would change. A day would come when talk became more, and I needed to settle, to choose duty over heart.”

“You’ve said as much before, brother, but nothing in the law says that you have to forsake your heart for the sake of the country. A love match is allowed. You know this.”

“Aye, I do, but I never entertained the premise, not really. After our parents’ fiasco of a marriage, I ruled it out entirely. My best hope was for what had existed before, something arranged where, if I was lucky, love may bloom. Look at Gran and Grandad. It was love, absolutely, but it was also a merger. There was very little choice involved at all, just logic and good reasoning. At least in those situations you know what you’re getting into. There’s a safety in settling for that which is known. But fuck if I want that anymore. Truth be told the thought makes me sick, and I barely spoke to her.”

“To Elsa, you mean?” Killian prodded and Liam’s eyes brightened as he nodded.

“How can she move me like this already? One day in her presence and I hardly know myself. One day and I know that everything I thought would happen will never come to pass. I’ll never be the man that settles, not when I know she’s out there. I can’t describe it except to say that I have to know her, have to pursue this, have to hope she’ll give me a chance. I’ve never felt this out of my depths. I saw her and the rest of the world just ceased to matter. I wasn’t the King, or a ruler, or a politician. I had no duty and no course. I was just a man, and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, plain and simple. I know it’s mad, but damn if it’s not true.”

“If it’s mad, you’re in good company. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I saw Emma.”

“That’s reassuring, and yet… it’s the strangest thing, I swear I looked at Elsa and I was halfway in a memory. I was a boy again, but the details were hazy. It just felt familiar, like we’ve met before. My heart had skipped that particular beat. My gut had felt that strongly. Now though I’m lost. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s more than what it is. Maybe I missed something, but how could anyone ever miss her?”

“Ah that explains these books,” Killian said gesturing to everything here. “But let me guess, no sign of her in these.”

“None. But the feeling still lingers. It’s like I dreamed her up. The recognition is strong, but just barely out of grasp. God, listen to me. I’ve become an absolute melt.”

Killian couldn’t help but laugh at the slang of their youth. Their boarding schools had been filled with Brits and other Europeans, and to be a melt was to be a sop, a sap, someone who had given in to their most romantic feelings.

“Maybe, but if that’s true, God knows I’m happy for it.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am. I’ve always wanted more for you, Liam. You shouldn’t aim for mere contentment, or to just be comforted by honor and duty. The goal is to be genuinely, honestly happy, and this morning, despite the anxiety of newness, I see the start of something in you. Something good.”

“I fear I’ve been too hard on you, Killian,” Liam said, his voice softer and his tone sincere. “Not lately I mean, and hopefully you’ve noticed the shift over the past few weeks, but in the beginning, I didn’t see how you could feel so much. I asked a lot of you, with the parade and royal obligations, and I didn’t realize what the risk was. Slowly I’ve grown to understand that the changes in you I have seen can only be attributed to love. You are happy and it is clear for the world to see. I’ve respected that, but now to know it’s more than hypothetical, I just think it bears repeating. To lose this feeling…” Liam brushed his hand against his heart absentmindedly, as if his chest ached from some physical pain. “Anyway, I hate that I forced that choice upon you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgiven, brother. Well, it will be, if you grant me one wish.”

“Anything.”

“I’d like your blessing, and not a royal one, not a King’s well wishes. Just you, as my brother, backing me when I ask Emma to be my wife.”

The look of surprise on Liam’s face quickly morphed into a grin. There was his brother of old, the one who had existed before royal training. He was truly happy and a bit mischievous as well. The two of them had long been told they shared that smile, but coming from Liam, it felt like a most precious gift.

“You plan to ask her already?”

“Already?” Killian laughed. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. But I suppose you’re right. It is fast.”

“Fast seems to run in this family,” Liam said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have said that before yesterday, but as it stands, I understand. You have my backing, Killian. Emma is right for you, and if she’ll have you, we’d be lucky to have her.”

Liam came around the table, hugging Killian and showing him the depth of his joy. It was genuine, this support from his brother, and it made a world of difference. No matter what, Killian would ask Emma to be his wife, but knowing that his family felt as good about this as he did settled something in him. Now all he had to do was find the perfect moment. It was hard to be patient, especially when they’d admitted how they felt, and when he knew his feelings for Emma would only ever grow, but he’d find away. More than anything he wanted Emma to have a perfect moment, one they could build their future on forever more.

“And what of you and Elsa? Where do you go from here?”

“The only way I can go,” Liam said, resuming his assured control even though he was at the precipice of something totally foreign to him. “Towards her.”

“Good man. Trust in that feeling. It’s yet to steer me wrong.”

The two of them would have no doubt shared more, but at that moment, the voices of the morning staff could be heard down the hall. Their privacy had expired, the day had dawned, and reality beckoned, yet Killian knew even without proof, that things would work out. For now, there was a tremendous amount of hope for both him and Liam, hope that had been missing for many many years. Things may still be a bit uncertain, hearts needed to be won and vows needed to be made, but in his soul, Killian knew it would all work out. For Gran was usually right in the end, and he and Liam would both certainly surrender to love. Killian, for his part, already had, and honestly, it was the best damn thing he’d ever done. Soon, though, he would need to do more, to take the steps he so badly wanted with Emma, and to build a life with her and Henry worthy of them both. It was a mission he felt down to his bones, and one he simply would not fail. He’d find a way to their happily ever after, whatever it may look like, and the excitement of that would keep him going as long as it took.

Post-Note: So there we have it – a new chapter of this story, and the setup for the next chapter which will have more of the Elsa/Anna backstory for you all. From there we get to move towards my typical happily ever after recipe, a proposal, a wedding, and the joyful thereafter. I think there’s going to be about 4 more installments left total (though one of those will be an epilogue and it may be quite a while before I am ready to publish that). But I promise to do my best to update more frequently than I have been. I have had so many of you sending love and wishes for faster updates, and those requests have not fallen on deaf ears. In fact, every comment and message makes writing that much easier, and I am so grateful for the overwhelming support. I promise I am doing my best to get you all this story, and just hope it’ll live up to everyone’s excited expectations. Either way, I thank you all so much for reading, and I wish you all well and healthy in this time. Sending you all the best!

33 notes · View notes

kbstories · 4 years

Text

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Kamino Arc, Kidnapping & Aftermath, Hurt/Comfort, Bakugou Gets A Hug

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Content warning for kidnapping, aftermath of violence. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

i’m gonna die (sent 19:08)

no seriously i’m this 👌🏻 close to losing it bro (sent 19:08)

aizawa’s voice is so zzzz and it’s like sir,, i’m begging,,,, (sent 19:09)

a little bit of energy. just a little bit (sent 19:09)

A nudge to his side, somewhat urgent.

shit brb (sent 19:10)

“Dude.”

Kirishima keeps his voice down to a hiss, shooting a glance at Aizawa’s turned back just in case. Hidden behind his pencil case, his phone shows Bakugou has read his messages – near-immediately, as always – before Kirishima locks the screen. His own face is reflected on sleek, innocent black.

Next to him, Kaminari is looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Don’t dude me, dude”, he whispers back. “Texting in Aizawa’s class? D’you have a death wish?”

Next to Kaminari, Mina leans over her desk, clearly curious and uncaring of her notes crinkling quietly under her elbows. “You? Kiri, paragon of wholesomeness and sunshine, breaking the rules? Lemme guess, it’s because of Bakugou.”

Next to Mina, Sero joins the fray with a muted headshake. “So brave yet so reckless. Truly inspiring.”

“You can say that again. That guy’s scary, man.” That’s Kaminari again. He leans in conspiratorially, nodding at Kirishima’s phone. “You got Blasty’s number? How? He almost bit my head off when I invited him to the 1-A chat.”

“Uh, yeah? We’re besties. But guys…”

If they were anywhere else, Kirishima would let out a whine. All he wanted to do was keep himself awake by texting his bro, is that such a crime? Especially since Bakugou’s the only one of ‘em who is actually allowed out there, where the fun stuff is happening. It’s downright cruel to have a new challenge dangled in front of their eyes like the juiciest steak only to be dragged away to the equivalent of plain steamed broccoli. Or something.

Point is: Kirishima’s bored enough he could cry and Aizawa, bless his insomnia-plagued soul, is making it about a thousand times worse with his monotone mumbling while he continues to write whatever-the-fuck in chalk to illustrate his point.

Three mouths open simultaneously in what Kirishima knows will be a too-loud bout of teasing – a frantic gesture of his hand to shut up, shut up, shut up has identical grins bursting on his friends’ faces.

Grins that disappear the instant the familiar sense of Aizawa’s quirk washes over them. Uh oh.

Aizawa doesn’t even have to say anything. Not even a brief pause registers in his lecture yet Kirishima snaps to attention so hard his buttcheeks clench as he furiously scribbles down what’s on the board. Some sort of… diagram? (It’ll make sense later, Kirishima hopes. And if it doesn’t, there’s always his equally draconic tutor-slash-best-friend he can poke into helping him eventually.)

After a semester at U.A., everyone in 1-A is whipped enough that not a single word is breathed between them for a good fifteen minutes. Aizawa talks, they take notes.

Then the adrenaline wears off and Kirishima finds himself drifting once more, fingers automatically flicking the home button. There, over Crimson Riot’s confident grin, three new messages.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

pay attention (received 19:14)

ffs (received 19:14)

hope aizawa murdered your ass (received 19:16)

No surprises there. Well, the fact that Bakugou has deigned to reply just before a training exercise kind of is, and he even triple-texted which makes a sappy part of Kirishima’s brain think he must’ve rubbed off on him over the past months. The day Bakugou Katsuki discovers emojis can’t be far off now and it will be Kirishima’s greatest achievement to date.

He bites his lip to suppress an amused noise at that. Ignoring the incredulous stare from Kaminari to his right, Kirishima types.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

haha! i lived bitch (sent 19:32)

minus the bitch askdjfhsk sry (sent 19:32)

i’m just tired af lol (sent 19:32)

how’s things on ur end tho? (sent 19:34)

no asses left unkicked i’m sure (sent 19:34)

👊🏻💥💥 (sent 19:35)

Kirishima gets about a solid second to feel good about furthering his pro-emoji agenda before his phone is snatched away by rigid, white cloth. Wide-eyed, his gaze is met by a flat expression that exudes more exhaustion than any human should rightfully have to feel.

“Kirishima”, Aizawa says, as calm as ever. “How kind of you to lend me your attention.”

Lord have mercy. Whichever hell Aizawa is about to unleash on him, Kirishima will be in it for a while. And when that’s over, it’ll be Bakugou’s turn to have a field day with it.

Somehow, Kirishima is actually looking forward to that last part.

Then, a voice rings out in their heads. Aizawa jumps into motion. The villains strike.

Afterwards, all Kirishima can do is stand there and watch the forest burn. His phone is silent, held between fingers that won’t stop trembling no matter what he does. He unlocks, checks, locks, only to do it all over again a few minutes or seconds later.

Around him, everything is spinning out of control. Reality is too loud, too bright, already overwhelming where it waits to be acknowledged beyond the soothing green interface of his chat with Bakugou.

The messages are still there. Marked read until they aren’t, and Kirishima stares at that subtle difference like it’s the last thing tethering him to the ground. Blue tick, his best friend is fine. Grey tick–

Bakugou let Kirishima take a photo of him, once. Kirishima had complained about his profile picture being that creepy default silhouette, especially once they started texting on a daily basis. So Bakugou sighed and leaned over the tiny table of the café, his chin propped on one hand and his coffee in the other. He’d kept still just long enough for the shutter to go off and called him a clingy bastard right after.

In the soft morning light, there’d been something warm in his typical glare. It’s still there, tucked away in the top left corner of the screen. Fond, red eyes, looking straight at Kirishima ever since.

Higher and higher, the flames reach for the sky with greedy, cobalt fingers, bright enough to take the stars with them. And Bakugou?

Bakugou is gone.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

hey (sent 23:01)

it’s a long shot but (sent 23:03)

are u there? (sent 23:03)

these are going thru so ur phone is on and i thought (sent 23:08)

idk (sent 23:08)

please respond man (sent 23:37)

please (sent 23:58)

katsuki? (sent 00:40)

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

fuck (sent 3:24)

Bakugou Katsuki

um (sent 6:13)

the pros asked for ur number to track it and stuff so i gave it to them (sent 6:13)

turns out almost nobody has it?? so like (sent 6:20)

if u want a new one after all this it’s on me (sent 6:21)

pls don’t be mad haha (sent 6:21)

fuck that actually (sent 7:05)

be as mad as u want baku (sent 7:06)

u can do whatever ok? when u come back (sent 7:09)

free pass. i won’t guard this time (sent 7:09)

just come back (sent 8:00)

they’re looking for u so u gotta come back (sent 8:02)

Baku 💣💥

sry i just (sent 19:55)

ok still going thru (sent 19:55)

that’s good right? (sent 19:57)

i need it to be good (sent 20:05)

yeah (sent 20:06)

Baku 💣💥

it’s saturday (sent 2:33)

please be ok (sent 4:46)

i miss u (sent 5:00)

Baku 💣💥

we’re on our way katsuki (sent 12:45)

just hold on we’re coming for u (sending…)

wait (sending…)

oh (sending…)

Bakugou is quiet.

When all is said and done, injuries patched up and police statements given, Kirishima waits and Bakugou looks… tired. Small. Glancing back at the precinct with eyes a little too wide, a little too hesitant to truly belong to him.

Whatever he’s searching, if he finds it or not – Kirishima can only guess as Bakugou’s shoulders slump further and he mutters, “Let’s just go.”

In retrospect, he was probably talking to his parents. The Bakugous came for their son in a car as expensive as they come, white with chrome highlights and an interior clad entirely in tasteful, beige leather; it’s an aesthetic that’s the antithesis to Katsuki’s. Their expressions are full of love, though, brows drawn in concern carefully left unspoken. His father opens the back door for him first, going for his own in the front, while his mother ruffles Bakugou’s hair within the one-second-window he allows for the touch before shrugging it off.

“Welcome back, brat. We missed ya.”

Familiar phrases laden with far too much weight. From the outside in, it’s just that: Mildly exasperated parents picking up their kid after some school thing that dragged on into the night, or perhaps a late hangout with a friend. No one acknowledges the nightmare-ish three days they’ve left behind by the merit of time passing and the world spinning on and nothing else – the countless people injured or dead, an entire district torn asunder in a conflict much bigger than any of them, especially Bakugou.

Bakugou, who shuffles onto the backseat without saying much of anything. It’s only after Kirishima trails after him and Bakugou’s eyes meet his own over his shoulder that Kirishima realizes that’s what he’s doing.

Then Bakugou’s gaze softens and he kicks the door of the car open wider. “Um”, Kirishima pipes up, the noise of keys clinking together drawing his attention to one Bakugou Mitsuki. “Is it okay if I…?”

She snorts and ruffles his hair, too. “Kid, after what you did tonight, a ride home is the least I can do for ya. C’mon.”

Kirishima bows politely, a mumble of “Thanks, ma’am” waved away immediately. A moment later, Kirishima’s hand is being grabbed and he’s dragged inside. “Get a move on”, Bakugou mumbles, staring pointedly until Kirishima rights himself and digs for the seatbelt with his free hand. The click of the clasp snapping in is oddly loud in the ensuing silence.

It doesn’t last. The moment the engine purrs to life and the lights go off, a heavy guitar riff screeches from cleverly hidden speakers in perfect surround sound and Kirishima jumps. He’s the only one in the car to do so.

“Whoops, my bad”, says Bakugou’s mom as she turns the music down the slightest amount, her smirk – so familiar and yet not – clearly visible in the rear-view mirror. Next to her, Bakugou’s dad chuckles and shakes his head.

Bakugou himself is turned towards the window, the hand against his chin barely hiding the tiny smirk there. Kirishima lets him have it. Anything that’ll replace that lost expression from earlier is good in his books.

“So. Eijirou, right? Nice to finally meet ya.” Mrs. Bakugou checks in with him via the mirror. Her hand rests on the gear selector. “Where to? We’ll bring you home first. I’m sure your parents are worried.”

And oh fuck, Kirishima hasn’t even thought that far ahead yet. When he snuck out of the house a lifetime ago, all his mind was able to process was getting to Bakugou, saving Bakugou, bringing Bakugou back. As much as both his mothers are angels in their own right, they’re also easily worried and twice as buff as him. There haven’t been many occasions which called for them to throw down for their son but they totally would if given half the chance.

If they catch wind of even a fraction of what Kirishima got up to tonight, someone will have to pay. Kirishima’s willing to bet his most prized, limited-edition Crimson Riot figurine that that someone will end up being all of U.A., nationally famous pro heroes or not.

Before any of that can make it out of his mouth, Kirishima’s hand is squeezed and… Oh. Bakugou’s still holding it. Their skin isn’t touching; Kirishima’s sleeve has been pulled down to prevent that.

(It’s one of those things Bakugou does, tracking who and what gets in direct contact with his sweat and how to neutralize it in time. It makes Kirishima’s chest ache that, despite everything that happened, he is still aware of small things like that.)

“He’s crashing at ours tonight”, Bakugou tells his parents rather gruffly. Still looking out the window like there’s nothing unusual about that at all, and Kirishima gapes at him in complete and utter surprise. Bakugou’s grip only tightens.

“Got a problem with that?”

Just like that, Kirishima finds himself able to process speech. “Nope! Not at all. Uh, that is– Mrs. Bakugou, Mr. Bakugou, can I?”

Bakugou’s parents look similarly caught off-guard. To their credit, they merely blink and look at each other, shrugging. Again, it’s the mother who speaks. “That’s Mitsuki and Masaru to you, kid. Let’s go home, then.”

And that’s that. They set off, the car’s movement a quiet thrum that’s drowned out by complicated drum solos and vocals barely scraping past outright growling. Any other day, Kirishima would’ve been ecstatic to finally get to meet the Bakugous. He’d hoard bits and pieces of knowledge about them – such as the fact that Katsuki’s taste in music runs in the family, what the hell – like a dragon does gold coins. The notion that Bakugou invited him to their first sleep-over ever would be the biggest treasure on that pile, for sure.

Because Bakugou Katsuki is anything if not cautious: with his quirk, with his time, with his trust. Because, after days of pacing his room and worrying himself sick and crying until exhaustion took him out, their plan worked.

They pulled it off, Bakugou is back and alive, and Kirishima’s allowed to stay by his side a little bit longer.

He’s here because Bakugou wants him to be and that… feels better than Kirishima can properly put into words. So, no, he doesn’t boast about it, he doesn’t have the energy to – but Kirishima notes and appreciates it nonetheless, relief forming a ball of warmth and light that radiates within him like a tiny sun got stuck between his lungs and his heart. Bit by bit, it melts the tension off Kirishima’s bones until all he can grasp is the steady presence of Bakugou’s hand in his and how heavy his eyelids feel.

Kirishima could sleep for a week straight and still crave a nap afterwards. Probably.

There’s something he has to do before he crashes, though. With a gentle squeeze, he frees his hand to grab his phone and winces at the dozens of unread messages and missed calls that greet him. Both the group he has with his family as well as the one for 1-A have been running hot most of the night, reducing his battery to a pitiful 12%.

Opening up the chat with his moms, Kirishima scrolls to the bottom of the increasingly worried barrage of texts and hesitates, his fingers hovering over the keypad. Once he starts typing, he’ll have about a minute before shit really hits the fan.

💪🏻Kirishima Power 💪🏻

guys i’m so sorry!!! (sent 21:58)

i know ur worried and stuff and i swear i’ll explain later ok?? (sent 21:58)

just wanna let u know i’m safe!! staying over at baku’s tonight (sent 21:58)

he’s here and safe too (sent 21:58)

🙏🏻🙏🏻 (sent 21:59)

He pauses then, reading that last part over and over again. Safe. Safe, safe, safe. A smile cracks Kirishima’s lips apart and it remains there, steadfast through the flood of new messages rolling in.

Bakugou’s room is both everything Kirishima expected it to be and at the same time… not.

It’s huge, for one, the typical bed-wardrobe-desk setup expanded by a couch and a beanbag, a TV with a variety of game systems hooked up to it, a handful of shelves filled to the brim with books and manga and oh, a whole freaking drum set taking up a corner by itself. The walls are plastered with band posters and signed set lists and – less blatant but still there – the odd All Might merch Kirishima knows Bakugou would strangle him for mentioning, so he doesn’t.

What comes out of his mouth is: “Dude! I didn’t know you played drums. That’s so cool!”

Everything is kept in the triad of black-orange-green Kirishima recognizes from a certain hero costume. A few discarded shirts aside, it’s really tidy. So much so that Kirishima feels ashamed of the state of his own room just by seeing this.

The feeling is compounded by Bakugou picking up those shirts and throwing them in the hamper first thing, a quiet tch indicating he’s annoyed by it. Kirishima isn’t up to outing himself as an unrepentant walking mess in comparison – instead, he makes a beeline for the bookshelf with the manga, eyes drawn to a row of covers he’d recognize in a heartbeat.

“Wha– I’ve been looking for these for ages! They’re sold out every time I try to catch up on ‘em.”

A short glance at Bakugou is answered with a shrug and an eye-roll: It’s Bakugou-speak for do whatever the hell you want. Kirishima pulls out the volume he stopped at and leafs through it.

It’s meant as a distraction for Bakugou, a space for him to drop the put-together façade and breathe without people constantly fussing over him. It’s honestly what Kirishima would rather be doing right now (exploring his best bro’s room be damned) but it’s not what Bakugou needs. Well, what Kirishima thinks he needs.

It’s hard to get a read on him without the constant snark and pointed glares. With some dinner in their bellies and Bakugou’s parents now safely downstairs, the expression that fits nowhere on the Angry Bakugou Face catalogue is back. Kind of uncomfortable and so… absent.

Kirishima is really starting to hate that expression.

It’s entirely accidental that Kirishima actually gets into reading. One chapter turns to three, turns to five, and the troubles and worries whirling ever-tighter in his chest ease for a bit until–

Woosh. A soft, balled-up something knocks against the back of his head. Kirishima startles and almost drops the manga, a vaguely alarmed noise stopped short by the sight of Bakugou in sweats and a well-worn, black shirt. His hair is wet. Wild as ever. At Kirishima’s feet: A similar outfit including a towel.

“Bathroom’s that way. Leave your clothes out by the door, I got special detergent for the nitro. Shampoo and shit’s in the shower, there’s a toothbrush for you by the sink. Use it.”

Kirishima opens his mouth.

Bakugou sighs. “It’s just a fucking toothbrush, Kiri. Wreck it for all I care.”

Kirishima closes his mouth. He nods. His phone is quickly dug out of his pocket and set aside, then he slips out to shower.

A good fifteen minutes later, he opens the door to let out a gust of steam and sees his clothes are gone. The hallway is empty, half-lit by the light coming from downstairs. The Bakugous have been as nonchalant about their spontaneous guest as Bakugou himself; even so, Kirishima tries not to linger or make too much noise as he sneaks back to Bakugou’s room.

“Baku. I’m back.”

Bakugou gives him a grunt of acknowledgement from where he’s fitting some sheets over the couch, folded out to provide a decently sized bed. There’s a pillow and a pile of blankets next to him, wrapped in fresh linen as well. It’s unlikely he’s stopped doing stuff since Kirishima left and if he is about ready to crash in five to ten minutes, he can’t imagine how Bakugou is doing right now.

Y’know, the guy who just survived being kidnapped by Japan’s newest and most notorious villain menace. No amount of pretense can make that simple fact undone.

Kirishima pads over to help, the offer to take over already on his lips but– Too late. The last corner is already being tucked in and laid flat with grim-faced efficiency. Left with nothing else to do, Kirishima sits down on the very edge, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the hem of his borrowed shirt. There’s some sort of band logo on it, an English word written in that typical death-metal-font that looks like someone dumped a bunch of white sticks in a pile and called it a day.

It’s soft. A little loose and frayed around the edges.

“Hey, Baku?”

Taking the blankets, Bakugou dumps them in Kirishima’s lap. “Mh?” He makes to step away and Kirishima doesn’t think, just reaches out and catches the back of his shirt.

“Dude, seriously. Just… sit down for a minute. Please?”

And Bakugou… listens. He stops, he frowns at Kirishima for a moment like he’s trying to figure out what his deal is, he sighs like he’s been presented with the world’s most aggravating puzzle – and then he tells Kirishima to scooch. “What? I’m not gonna sit on the fucking floor”, he says.

Kirishima can’t keep the relief off his face as he gladly makes room on the couch, leaning against its arm and tucking his legs in. Once Bakugou has settled, cross-legged with an elbow propped on the backrest, Kirishima throws the blanket over both of ‘em. Might as well get comfortable while they still can.

“Okay.” He steels himself with a long, slow breath. “I know you hate this kinda thing and we’re both tired and… stuff. Still, though: Are you okay?”

Bakugou gives him a look, which– Okay, fair. It’s a dumb question with an obvious answer. Kirishima doesn’t back down, though, humming to buy himself some time to rephrase.

“Like… It’s fine if you’re not. Okay, I mean. And if you’d rather go the fuck to bed and not think about this for a while that’s fine, too. But that was pretty rough and you’ve been, um, quiet. And stuff. So, I’m kinda worried. Y’know?”

Kirishima pauses. A bit lower, he mumbles: “And I missed you. So yeah.”

At some point, he dropped his gaze to his hands, limp and useless in his lap. Kirishima swore not to be a coward anymore but it’s hard, to speak and ask about things in full awareness he has no fucking clue what he’s doing.

All he wants is for Bakugou to be okay. That’s all that matters, at the end of a day like this.

“I’m not”, Bakugou says, tentatively. Like he’s making up his mind as he goes. “I’m not gonna waste your time with ‘I’m fine’. I’m not. This shit’s fucked up.” And again he sighs, sounding so fucking tired Kirishima’s heart squeezes in sympathy.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days; my shoulders are killing me from using my quirk and sitting chained to that stupid chair and whatever the fuck else. The League scouted me specifically because they thought I’d make a good villain and fuck them for that. Fuck them. But it’s just… It’s whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Whatever Kirishima expected, it’s not that. He looks up and into Bakugou’s eyes and–

He can’t mean that, can he? Kirishima searches his face for evidence to the contrary, traces the tension around Bakugou’s mouth and the exhaustion smudged under his eyes and the line between his brows, growing deeper under Kirishima’s scrutiny. It all reads defeat. It hurts.

They won, right? A childish voice within Kirishima can’t help but cling to that even as he looks back down. They won, and things are supposed to get better when you win.

“People got hurt. People died, Kiri. Heroes, too.” Bakugou takes a shaky breath, a hand going to his hair and rubbing it roughly. “Fucking… Best Jeanist was there and nobody at the precinct wanted to tell me if he’s alive or dead or what. All of Kamino Ward is fucking gone and All Might–”

Bakugou’s voice cracks right down the middle and it hurts. Like there’s a beast tearing through Kirishima’s chest to rip out his heart and throw it to the floor, stubbornly beating as it bleeds out.

Kirishima wants to say something. Anything. All he can hear is Bakugou’s breathing but it’s all wrong, off-rhythm and thread-bare and upset, and any doubt what that means is erased as Bakugou’s hand clenches on the sheets and he sniffs, wet on the exhale.

“Baku–”

“Don’t. Kiri, don’t–”

He’s always been like that, ordering him around and demanding things when politeness dictates to ask for them instead. His tone is as close to pleading as Kirishima’s ever heard from Bakugou, though, and it twists him up inside to the point he feels distantly nauseous.

“Don’t look.” Bakugou isn’t supposed to sound like that. Not now, not ever. “Okay? Don’t f-fucking– Don’t look at me right now.”

“Okay”, Kirishima says. “I won’t.” His own voice is a mess as well, trembling all over the place. “I won’t, Nitro. I won’t.”

You’re safe, is what he wants to tell him. It’s okay, you’re safe now. That’s not what Bakugou is asking of him. Kirishima can’t stop himself from crying because it’s always been hard not to when the people he loves are doing it, but… He tries. For Bakugou, he’ll always try.

Through eyes heavily clouded by tears, he sees Bakugou’s hand tighten, knuckles going white and bloodless. Painfully tense, and Kirishima can’t stand the sight of that, either.

He shuffles a little closer to place his hand over that fist, careful to only touch the back of Bakugou’s hand. Kirishima whispers, “I’m here”, and Bakugou audibly swallows. He lets him slip his fingers in-between his own.

Holding on, just as he did in the car and when they met in mid-air, that desperate instance that decided whether he would make it out alive or not.

Bakugou holds on even as he breaks for good and his shoulders shake with his sobs. As he continues to breathe in gulps of air that sound strangled and desperate, through tears that leave a pattern of uneven dots on the blanket. By morning they will be gone without a trace: The sun will come up, the world will continue to travel around it, and time will reveal the road they walk on as they walk it, step by step by step.

Just because it’s meant to pass doesn’t make this moment any less real. Any less important. Kirishima sits there and listens to his best friend cry. He remembers days spent without him and the mad dash to save him. He thinks of dumb questions and obvious answers.

It’s hard to tell if this is one of them, so he gathers all his courage and asks: “Katsuki. Can I hug you?”

Just like last time, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He laughs, a watery, humorless thing – and he pulls at Kirishima’s shirt to crush him to his chest. His arms wind around Kirishima’s neck, Bakugou’s face pressing against his hair where Kirishima won’t be able to see him.

It’s fine. Kirishima’s great at hugs; he can totally work with that. Clenching his eyes shut, he adjusts his grip around Bakugou’s waist so he can rub his back, following the bumps of his spine. Up and down, over and over. Bakugou goes boneless in their embrace, not about to let go anytime soon and neither will Kirishima.

Eventually, Kirishima tucks his head against Bakugou’s shoulder, blinking sleep from his eyes. Safe. He doesn’t fight the sharp-toothed smile on his lips. Bakugou mumbles, “Fucking sap”, nearly drowned out by their collective sniffling.

It sounds a whole lot like thank you. Kirishima’s smile only grows.

>>Chapter 5

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bnha fanfiction #hi kamino still makes me emo: the manifesto #this fic is also on AO3!!#reblogs appreciated c:#my stuff

42 notes · View notes