#i understand that this can be taken as an angsty thing but tbh

[revvethasmythh]

How it started:

How it's going:

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

[jetii]

the cross fic made me realize there's not enough tech angsty fanfics

how about a groveling tech trying to get femreader back like they were an item before order 66 tech broke things off, they reunite with the batch later but reader became a very sad person after all that time

an i lied because i thought you deserved better so i pushed you away situation ?

sorry if it's a long ask 😅 first timer here

I like your writing 💕

No worries! I love a detailed prompt.

Writing angst for Tech was harder than I thought it would be tbh. I think his direct communication style and self confidence make it especially difficult, so I took a slight detour here that I feel is more true to his character.

Piece by Piece

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 5,630

Tags/Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, allusions to torture, PTSD

Summary: Pushing you away was the logical decision. It was the right choice. But Tech never expected it to hurt so much, nor did he expect to reunite with you months after the rise of the Empire, broken and haunted by your time spent in Imperial custody. Now, he's determined to make things right.

Being in the same room as you is exceedingly difficult in a way Tech didn’t expect.

It’s been weeks since you returned, appearing like a vision from the Force to them, alive, and he still can’t quite believe it. His hands shake slightly when you look at him, his mouth goes dry. He still wants to reach out to you, hold you tight and never let you go, and it is agony to resist, to stand by your side and not be able to touch you.

You were the one who asked for space, time to readjust to being around them again. And he has respected that, despite the desperate, possessive urge to pull you back, to keep you close so you never leave his side again.

It makes it hard to concentrate. Hard to be of any use at all, really.

Tech knows this isn't healthy, the way his mind and body and emotions are behaving, but he is finding it difficult to control. He has a lot of feelings that he isn’t sure what to do with, a lot of emotions that he doesn't understand. Tech isn't one for emotional outbursts, for being ruled by his heart and not his mind. He is rational, logical, always thinking of the most efficient solution to a problem, the most practical way of doing things.

It’s what lead him to break it off with you, after all. He couldn’t afford to have his head in the clouds when so much is on the line, couldn't afford to be distracted by thoughts of you when they could be used against him.

But then you were gone, and Tech was left alone with only the cold reality of his own decisions.

He thought he had made the right choice. Thought he had been logical and sensible, thought it would hurt you less in the long run, if he pulled away. But Tech doesn't feel very sensible now, and it doesn't seem very logical that the best way to protect you would be to push you away.

You have been hurt more than enough. And even if you don't want him in your life anymore, even if you want nothing to do with him, he will never forgive himself for not trying to help.

The fact is, Tech isn’t sure what you want, but he is determined to make amends, to help in any way that he can. It might hurt, might cause him to feel pain at the distance between you, but he is willing to accept that, to live with it if that is what you need.

What he isn’t willing to live with is seeing you unhappy. And you are unhappy.

Your eyes are dark, hollow. Your face is drawn and gaunt, cheeks too thin, and when he sees you, your shoulders are slumped as though under an impossible weight. You barely eat, you barely sleep. Tech watches as you push food around your plate and drink only water. He notices how you keep to yourself, avoid talking and laughing and joking like you used to, and he hates that you have changed so much, that the Empire has taken that joy from you.

And that, more than anything, is what hurts him the most. The Empire took your light, the thing that makes you, you. They ripped your spark away and left a shell behind, and he is struggling to reconcile that with the bright and lively woman he knew, the woman who had such a profound effect on him.

"On all of us," Echo points out one night, as the rest of them watch you sitting alone.

Echo has become increasingly vocal about his feelings, something Tech is glad for. It gives him a chance to understand better, to gain perspective, and Echo has been the one to notice what Tech can't admit, the thing he isn't willing to think about, the thing that hurts the most.

You're suffering, and you're pushing them away.

At first, it seemed reasonable. You were gone a long time, and they hadn’t seen you. It made sense that you needed space.

But time has passed, and you're still not yourself.

Tech thinks back to your first night, how you flinched away from his touch, and realises how foolish he has been. He sees now how much he was hurting you, how much damage his words and actions were causing, and his heart breaks a little more.

It was never about protecting you. Not really.

Tech wanted you. He wanted you for so long, and when he finally had you, he was terrified of losing you. So, he pulled away. He cut ties, and told himself it was for the best.

Except now he has no ties to cut, no bonds left to sever. You're here, but not, and his chest aches as he watches you.

This isn't the way it should be.

Tech should be holding you, and you should be smiling. He should be telling you how much he loves you, how happy he is to have you back. He should be making sure you're comfortable and safe, ensuring that you have everything you need, everything you deserve.

Instead, he stands in the corner of the room, watching silently as his brothers try to coax you into eating, or drinking, or just saying something. Omega is the only one who is successful, who manages to make you smile.

Tech can't understand it. He tries his hardest, he does his best, and you always turn away.

And the more he tries, the more he feels the ache inside him grow, the more his feelings change, twisting and turning and growing, and he can't keep track of what's happening to him. All he knows is that the idea of losing you is the worst thing he can imagine, and the idea of being without you is becoming unbearable.

He doesn't know how much more he can take.

You've been avoiding him.

No, not avoiding. You've been staying away.

Or maybe, you've been ignoring him.

“She's not talking to me,” Tech admits one evening.

He's curled up in the corner of the cockpit, legs pulled up, head buried in his arms. The rest of the Batch have dispersed, going off to their own bunks to rest or to tinker or to read. Tech is usually the last to retire, but not tonight.

Tonight, his shoulders are slumped and his goggles are pushed up onto his head. He's been scrubbing at his face with the heels of his palms for the past few minutes, trying to work through the thoughts and emotions swirling in his mind.

You're not talking to him.

And yes, maybe it's because you're not talking to any of them, but it still feels personal.

You're not talking, not laughing, not doing anything, really. You’re just there, a shadow of your former self, a ghost.

Tech misses the woman who used to laugh and tease him, the one who could always bring a smile to his face and a blush to his cheeks. The woman who was a whirlwind of color and life, the one who lit up his world and made him see things differently. Who kissed him so deeply and passionately that it felt like his entire world was reduced down to the feel of her lips. He misses her warmth, her kindness, the way she touched him, looked at him.

He misses the way he felt around her.

He misses you.

Tech doesn't know what to do. He can't stop thinking about you, can't stop thinking about what he's done, what he could have done.

What he should have done.

Maybe if he'd tried harder. Maybe if he hadn't given up, hadn't let go. Maybe if he had listened to Hunter, had heard Echo. Maybe if he'd told you the truth, he could have stopped this.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

He sighs, rubbing at his face. He feels miserable, and it's his own damn fault. He's the one who ended things, who pushed you away. And he can't blame you for that, not when it was him who decided that you weren't worth it.

That isn't to say that he didn't care. Of course, he cared. He cares now. So much it hurts.

You are the person he was in love with, the only one. But it didn't seem fair to ask you to share his life, his world, when he couldn't promise that it would always be safe, that it would always be stable. He couldn't give you a future, couldn't provide for you the way a proper partner should, the way you deserve.

He could give you the present, but he couldn't offer you anything else.

And yet, as Tech sits here, head in his hands, he can't help but think that he should have at least tried. If he'd told you how he felt, maybe things would have turned out differently.

“I only ever wanted you,” you had told him once, and Tech can't believe how stupid he was to let you slip through his fingers.

Tech isn't used to feeling helpless. He's used to knowing exactly what he's doing, to being in control. But when it comes to you, it's as if he's floundering. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to act, doesn't know what you want.

He’s tried everything, he's done everything he can, and still, you push him away.

You don't want his comfort. You don't want his love.

He doesn't understand it. You've always seemed happy around him, like his presence brings you some peace. But now, whenever he gets close, you move away. When he tries to talk, you turn your back. When he offers help, you shut him down.

Tech isn't sure why you won't accept his assistance, or why you won't talk to him. It doesn't make sense.

He can't understand, can't rationalize. And he's never felt so lost.

Tech groans, burying his face in his arms. He's being ridiculous, he knows, but he can't help the way he feels.

He misses you.

Tech misses the way your hand fits perfectly in his. He misses the smell of your hair, the softness of your skin, the sweetness of your lips. He misses the way your smile makes him feel like his heart is full, like he can take on the world, like he can conquer anything.

Tech misses the way your body feels against his. The way your fingers feel on his skin. The way your breath catches when he touches you, the way your heartbeat picks up, the way your pupils dilate.

Tech misses the way you made him feel alive.

Tech knows that he isn't worthy of your affection. He knows that he doesn't deserve your love. He's not a good man, not a good partner, not a good friend. He's not the kind of person who should have someone like you, and yet, somehow, you chose him.

But not anymore.

“I only ever wanted you.”

You said those words to him before, and they haunt him. You told him you didn't care about the risks, the dangers, the fact that he couldn't give you the future you deserve. All you cared about was him.

And he threw it away.

Tech isn't sure how long he sits there, wallowing in his misery. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. He just sits, and broods.

“Maybe she just needs time,” Echo says, though his voice sounds doubtful.

Tech shakes his head before pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead.

“She has made it clear that she doesn't wish to speak to me, or see me, or have anything to do with me."

The words sting as he speaks them. His throat is tight, and he swallows hard, trying to hold back the emotion.

"I doubt a little more time will change her mind."

There's a long silence.

Echo leans against the wall beside Tech, his arms folded. He's watching Tech carefully, his gaze piercing. Tech feels uncomfortable, and shifts, ducking his head. He doesn't like being scrutinized, doesn't like being vulnerable. He prefers to keep his emotions in check, his feelings close to his chest.

But he's finding it hard to hide them now, and his pain is obvious, even to himself.

“But she does,” Echo says finally.

Tech glances up, frowning. "Elaborate."

"She does want you," Echo clarifies, his voice gentle. "She loves you. She wouldn't have come back if she didn't.”

Tech doesn't want to admit it, but Echo has a point. If you didn't want anything to do with him, then you wouldn't have bothered to find him. You would have left, disappeared again, and never come back.

You wouldn't have risked your life for him.

Tech isn't sure if that makes him feel better, or worse.

Because it means that you do care, but it also means that you might be willing to sacrifice yourself, and Tech can't have that. He can't let you throw away your life, not for him.

Tech groans, burying his face in his hands. He's being selfish, and he knows it. You're the one who was captured, the one who suffered, the one who nearly died. And yet, all he can think about is how much it hurts.

He's been thinking about how much it hurts him. He hasn't been thinking about what you need.

"What should I do?" Tech asks, his voice small and defeated.

"Apologize," Echo replies simply.

"I have tried," Tech protests, lifting his head. "I have apologized countless times, and she does not want to listen. She doesn't want to speak to me."

"No," Echo corrects. "You've apologized for the wrong things."

"Wrong things?" Tech echoes, frowning.

"Yes, the wrong things," Echo repeats.

Tech isn't sure what Echo means by that, but his brother looks confident, sure of himself. Tech wants to believe him, but he doesn't know how. He's spent so long trying to convince himself that he did the right thing, that he did the only thing, that he can't help but doubt.

"How do I fix it?" he asks, voice quiet.

"That, I can't tell you," Echo replies. "But Tech, the first step is admitting that you were wrong."

Tech nods, letting his shoulders sag. He doesn't feel particularly good about the situation, but he's willing to try. It's not easy, admitting he was wrong. He's so used to being right, to having the answer, to knowing what's best. But when it comes to you, he has never felt so lost.

Tech thinks of the pain in your eyes, the way you flinched from him, the way you turned away.

He has to do better. He has to be better.

He has to earn your forgiveness.

"I was wrong," Tech says, his voice steady and sure. "And I'm going to make it right."

You're standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by medical supplies and overturned cots. Your face is pale, eyes wide and fearful, and Tech isn't sure what to do.

The voice of his brothers and Omega inside his head tell him you need space, but they also remind him that you need someone to look after you. That you need help. That you can't be alone.

Tech hesitates. He isn't used to this, the uncertainty, the not knowing what's best. He's never been particularly good at reading people, and even worse at knowing what they need.

He has never been more unsure than he is now.

He wants to help. He wants to take care of you, to make you feel safe, to give you what you need. But he's terrified of getting it wrong. Especially when you're standing in front of him looking like a startled animal.

You're shaking, and your breathing is fast and shallow. Your eyes are darting around the room, as if searching for something. Tech isn't sure what it is, or if it even exists. You look terrified, and Tech knows you have reason to be. The last time you were in a place like this, the Empire was holding you captive, and he can't blame you for feeling uncomfortable.

Tech has to suppress a shudder as he remembers the footage, the recordings they managed to get from the base. The screams, the cries. They haunted his dreams, and Tech can't even imagine what they did to you.

Tech wants nothing more than to run to you, to take you in his arms and promise that he will protect you. But he can't, not without permission.

Not when he isn't sure you'd even want him to.

So, instead, he stands there, watching. He keeps his distance, gives you the space you need. He's trying his best, but it isn't easy.

She just needs time, he tries to remind himself, but Tech isn't so sure.

He isn't sure if time is enough. He isn't sure if anything will ever be enough.

He watches as you stand there, your hands clenched into fists, your eyes still scanning the room. He watches as your breathing speeds up, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He watches as the panic spreads over your face, your lips pressed together, jaw tight.

You look scared, vulnerable, and Tech's heart breaks a little more.

“Cyare,” he calls out, as quiet and soothing as he can manage. You stiffen, and Tech curses himself for causing you discomfort.

He should have stayed quiet.

But then you turn, and your eyes meet his, and something inside him seems to settle.

You look so sad, so lost, and he can't help it. He walks over to you, careful and slow, making sure not to startle you. When he reaches you, he holds out his hand, palm up. He wants you to know that he is there for you, that he will not hurt you.

He will never hurt you again.

He waits, holding his breath. He's afraid that if he moves, if he speaks, you will run. So, he stands, motionless, watching as you stare at his hand.

Slowly, slowly, you reach out, your fingertips brushing his. The touch is gentle, tentative, and Tech is afraid to breathe.

Then, your hand closes around his, and he exhales.

Tech knows he's taking a risk, touching you, but he can't resist. He can't stand the thought of leaving you alone, the thought of not being able to help. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you. He doesn't know what else to do. He wants to hold you, to keep you safe.

He never wants to let you go.

You're shaking, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You're trembling, and Tech knows that this is a big step, that you're taking a chance. So, he holds you, and he waits.

Your body is tense, and Tech is worried that he's overstepped, that he's pushed you too far. But then, slowly, you relax. Your arms wrap around him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he can't help but sigh in relief.

The others are nearby, finishing a sweep of the facility. He should be helping, but he doesn't want to leave your side. Not when you're finally letting him be close to you.

So, he holds you, and he strokes your hair. He whispers quiet reassurances in your ear, tells you that everything will be alright, that he's got you, that you're safe.

He's not sure if you believe him, but he has to try.

He can't lose you again.

Tech is trying.

He's trying his best, but he feels like he's failing.

Every day, every hour, every minute, his mind is filled with thoughts of you.

He thinks about how you're doing, whether or not you're eating, sleeping. He thinks about the nightmares you have, the way your body shakes as you wake, pale and trembling, gasping for air.

He thinks about how his brothers can't seem to calm you, how only Omega is successful, her soft voice and gentle touch somehow bringing you some measure of peace.

Tech can't help but feel that it should be him. It should be him comforting you, not Omega. It should be him easing your pain, not his little sister.

It should be him.

He isn't sure why he can't seem to do anything right. After they left the facility, after you finally started letting him hold you, Tech thought things would get easier.

But they haven't.

You still seem so distant, so far away. You still refuse to eat, to sleep, to talk. And Tech isn't sure how much longer he can handle this.

He's frustrated. Frustrated at himself, at the Empire, at the galaxy. Most of all, he's frustrated at you. Not that he would ever admit it aloud.

You've been through a lot. More than anyone should have to go through. Tech understands that. But he can't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, if you'd been willing to accept his help earlier, things would have been different.

Tech doesn't mean it, not really. He doesn't think that it's your fault. He's just tired, and angry, and frustrated. 

And, if he's being honest, he's a little jealous.

You trust Omega. You open up to her. But you won't even talk to him.

It hurts.

Tech has spent the past few weeks trying to make things right, to show you that he’s changed. But you seem unwilling to let him in, to let him help.

It's infuriating.

Tech knows he shouldn't feel this way, but he can't help it. You were his girlfriend, his partner, his lover. And now, you won't even look at him.

He's trying, but he feels like he's getting nowhere. He wants to help, wants to be there for you. But he can't do anything if you won't let him.

“I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” Omega says, her voice uncertain. Her feet swing over the edge of the bunk across from him, and her brow furrows. “Won’t she be mad?”

Tech sighs, running a hand over his face. He knows that Omega is worried, but he can't sit around any longer. He has to do something.

"She is already upset. I'm not sure anything else could make things worse."

Tech tries to sound convincing, but the truth is, he isn't sure what the consequences will be. He isn't sure what will happen, isn't sure if this is a good idea. But he has to try.

“If you’re sure,” Omega replies slowly.

Tech nods, trying his best to look confident.

"I'm sure."

He isn't.

"Okay."

Omega pulls out her datapad and types the message. Tech watches as she hits send, then lets out a shaky breath. She slides off the edge of the bunk and hurries down the ramp, leaving him alone.

Tech waits, his nerves growing with each passing second.

You are going to hate him for this, he's sure.

But he has to do it. He has to try.

"Tech?"

Your voice is quiet, uncertain. You're standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around yourself, and Tech feels his chest ache at the sight.

You're here.

You're actually here.

"Hello," he says quietly.

“Where’s Omega?” you ask, your voice sharp. You step forward, and the light catches your face. Tech can see the bags under your eyes, the paleness of your skin. You look tired, worn down, and he hates it.

Tech winces. "She's not here."

"Where is she?"

You sound panicked, and Tech doesn't blame you. The last thing he wants is to make you more stressed. But he needs to talk to you, and this is the only way.

"She is fine," Tech says, trying to sound reassuring. "I asked her to leave."

You narrow your eyes, taking another step toward him. You're still clutching your arms, as if you're trying to hold yourself together. Tech wants to reach out, to take your hands, but he knows you'll pull away.

“What do you want, Tech?” Your voice is harsh, but Tech doesn't mind. You're speaking to him, which is more than he's gotten out of you in days.

"I, ah, I wanted to talk," Tech replies, his tone hesitant.

"About what?"

Tech swallows, his throat suddenly dry. "About us."

You frown, folding your arms across your chest. "There is no 'us', Tech. There hasn't been for a long time. You made sure of that."

Your words are sharp, cutting, and Tech can't help but flinch. He deserves them, he knows. But it doesn't make the sting any less. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the words.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have ended things."

You stare at him, eyes wide. Tech isn't sure if you're surprised, or just angry. He can't read you, not anymore. He isn't sure if he ever could. He's always felt a little bit of awe, a little bit of fear when it came to you. And now, more than ever, he feels completely lost.

"So why did you?" you ask, your voice tight.

Tech sighs, adjusting his goggles nervously. He's not sure how to answer that. He isn't sure if he even has an answer.

"I was... afraid," he admits, his voice low.

"Afraid of what?"

Tech shrugs, looking away. "Everything. The future, the war, losing you."

You don’t say anything, and Tech takes a deep breath, forcing himself to continue.

“I ran an exhaustive cost benefit analysis, and I had determined that the risks far outweighed the benefits. I could not continue our relationship knowing that I would most likely hurt you. In my mind, I needed to end things before they went any further. Before you were able to become attached.”

"I was already attached," you whisper, your voice cracking. "I was already in love with you."

Tech's heart stutters.

"You were?" he asks, his voice quiet.

You nod, biting your lip. Tech feels his stomach twist, a mixture of guilt and hope rising in him. You were in love with him. You are in love with him. And he has hurt you more than he ever thought possible.

"I was a coward," Tech says quietly. "I knew if we had gone any further, and I were to hurt you, it would have caused me immense emotional pain. And, in the process, I would have risked my ability to perform at optimal efficiency, and that would have resulted in harm to the rest of the squad."

Tech looks up, meeting your gaze. "I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't want to put the squad at risk. But in the end, I failed at both."

You frown, and Tech can tell that you're trying to understand.

"So, let me get this straight," you begin, your voice strained. "You broke up with me, because you thought it was the best option for everyone involved."

Tech nods, his expression pained.

“That’s not for you to decide, Tech. I can make my own decisions. And, I decided to be with you. But instead, you made the decision for both of us, and you didn't even bother to ask my opinion."

“I knew that if I had discussed it with you, you would have tried to convince me otherwise,” Tech explains, his voice soft. “And I wasn't certain I would be able to resist your arguments."

You shake your head, an incredulous look on your face. "So, basically, you dumped me because you couldn't trust yourself to make a logical decision?"

Tech's shoulders slump, and he nods, his head bowed.

"That is correct. It is also…” He looks at his hands, his expression pained. “For all of my unique modifications, I am still a clone. I am still expendable. But you, you are not. You are more important. You are special." He hesitates, swallowing hard. "You are irreplaceable."

Tech can see tears gathering in your eyes, and he feels a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He never meant to hurt you, but it seems he has managed to do just that. And now, he doesn't know how to fix it.

"Tech, no." You shake your head. "You're not expendable. None of you are."

"That may be the case," Tech concedes. “But at the time I could not see a future in which the two of us could have a happy life together. Not with the way things were, not with the risk we faced. So, I chose the safest option."

"But we could have figured it out, Tech. We could have found a way."

Tech shakes his head, his expression weary.

"I was not willing to take the risk. I was not willing to gamble with your safety, with your happiness. It was a decision I had to make. For all of our sakes."

You are quiet for a moment, your expression thoughtful. Tech can see the pain in your eyes, the hurt and betrayal, and he wishes he could take it all away. He wishes he could erase his mistakes, undo his actions.

"You made the wrong choice," you say at last, your voice low.

"Yes, I did," Tech admits, his voice quiet. "I was wrong. About a great many things."

He looks up, his gaze meeting yours.

"But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious, that I want to fix things."

"Why?"

"Because I love you," Tech says, his voice breaking.

Your eyes widen, and you suck in a breath. Tech can see the surprise in your expression, the shock. He knows you didn't expect him to say it, to admit it. But it's the truth. And Tech can't hide it any longer. He can't pretend.

He has to be honest. Even if it means losing you.

"I love you," he repeats, his voice stronger this time. "I always have. I've never stopped. I didn't think I was capable of loving anyone, not like this. But, you changed that." He pauses, swallowing hard. "I don't want to lose you, cyare. Not again. Not ever."

"Tech."

You say his name softly, your voice cracking. Tech can see the tears welling in your eyes, and his chest aches. He wants to take you in his arms, wants to kiss away the pain, but he knows he can't. He knows he has to let you decide. He has to let you choose.

You step forward, and his breath hitches in his chest. You're so close, so near, and Tech wants nothing more than to hold you. But he doesn't. He stays where he is, waiting.

You reach out, your hand cupping his cheek, and Tech leans into the touch, savoring the warmth of your skin. You're looking at him, your eyes searching his, and Tech hopes that you can see the truth in them, the sincerity. He hopes that you can feel how much he loves you, how much he needs you.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice breaking.

You nod, and he can see the tears streaming down your cheeks. Tech wants to wipe them away, but he doesn't move. He stays where he is, watching you, waiting. You're still staring at him, and Tech feels a flicker of hope bloom in his chest.

"I'm sorry, too," you whisper, your voice raw. "I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry for everything."

You pause, biting your lip. "I love you, Tech. I never stopped. And, I don't want to lose you, either."

Tech's heart swells, and he can't stop the tears that come, or the smile that spreads across his face. You're looking at him with such tenderness, with such love, that he can't help but reach for you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight. You melt into his embrace, your arms winding around his waist, your face buried in his chest. 

Tech can feel your tears, wet against his skin, and he runs a hand through your hair, trying to soothe you. You cling to him, your grip almost desperate, and Tech feels his heart break a little more.

You've been through so much, endured so much pain, and he was part of it. He was responsible for it. And he doesn't know how to make it better. He doesn't know how to take away the hurt, the betrayal, the fear. All he can do is hold you, and promise to never let you go.

"Cyare," he breathes, his voice choked with emotion. "You will never lose me. I am yours. Always."

And then, you lift your head, and his eyes meet yours, and Tech can't stop the surge of emotion that rushes through him. You're so beautiful, so perfect, and he can't believe how lucky he is. 

You're the best thing that has ever happened to him, the only thing that has ever made him feel alive. And now, here you are, in his arms, telling him you love him. It's everything he's ever wanted, everything he's dreamed of. And it's real. You're real. You're here. And you're his.

"I love you," Tech whispers, and then he leans in, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is soft, gentle, filled with everything he's feeling, everything he can't say. And when you pull away, Tech's heart skips a beat, and he wonders how he ever thought he could live without you.

"I love you," you whisper back, and Tech can't stop the smile that spreads across his face, the tears that sting his eyes. He holds you tight, and the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you.

He's never letting you go again.

[parkerdoeswriting]

I Don’t Wanna Keep Secrets Just to Keep You

(TASM!Peter Parker x GN Reader)

category: fluff with sort of angsty undertones?

summary: reader is dating spiderman for a half a year, they want to see his face.  

warnings: not a lot tbh, breakup themes but that’s it 

word count: 1.3K

A/N: Kinda a part two no one asked for to Walking Back Home, but you don’t gotta read it to understand this

It’s been 6 months since you and Spider-Man had that moment together in the alleyway. He was the most amazing boyfriend ever. From the late night talks on the rooftop of your guy’s “spot”, to him “walking” (swinging) you home from school each day, and him sneaking into your room from the fire escape so you can help him with his injuries.

But you couldn’t help but feel- upset about the whole relationship? You’ve never seen his face, you don’t know anything about him besides the fact he’s your age and he’s a guy, and you can’t even confirm those things! 

“Penny for your thoughts?” a voice breaks your pondering, bringing you back to your room. 

You look at the voice, seeing Peter, you remember you invited him over so you guys could study for finals. You smile faintly at your best friend, Peter knows all about you and Spider-Man’s relationship, so you could tell him about it. 

“Just thinking about bug boy” you sigh, resting your face on your knees. 

“What about him?” Peter says, scooching closer. 

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing” you rub your neck, not wanting to tell Peter about your doubts. 

He raises an eyebrow at you not wanting to tell him what you were thinking about. You blush as soon as you realize what he was thinking. 

“No- no! It’s not- those thoughts” you bury your face into your palms, laughing softly. 

“So why don’t you tell me?” he laughs, looking at you. 

“Fine, I’m having- doubts” you confess, biting your lip. 

You can see Peter’s face faintly drop, his eyes widening. 

“Wh-what?!” he exclaims, his mouth agape. 

“It’s not that I don’t love him, I really do, I just don’t know like- anything about him!” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 

“I just, I wanna be able to see him without a mask, like a regular boyfriend?” you add, your face contorted with frustration. 

Peter remains silent, he looks kinda- sad?

“Come on, tell me you didn’t grow attached to my boyfriend from my stories” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. 

“No, that’d be crazy” he rolls his eyes playfully at you. 

“So, are we gonna study or not?” you give him your signature smile, grabbing your notes. 

Timeskip two days later..

You were still sitting in your room studying alone, your parents out with friends. You yawn, debating just giving in to sleep. You get up from your bed, heading to your wardrobe to grab your pajamas, shuffling through your drawers. 

Knock knock knock…

You turn, the familiar knocking on the window making you sort of guilty. You were sort of ignoring your boyfriend, your doubts making it hard to face him. You shuffle over to the window, opening it, letting the warm air flow in. 

“Hi babe” Spider-Man says, sliding in and giving you a swift masked kiss. 

You smile faintly, burying your face into his chest, tracing the spider emblem with your fingers. 

“Whatcha doing here?” you whisper softly, taking in his scent just in case you break up with him tonight. 

“Wanted to see you” he mumbles back, rubbing your back. 

You both stay like this for a while, waiting to see who the first to let go is. 

“You staying for the night or are ya heading out?” you pull away, grabbing your pajamas and a pair of emergency pajamas for your boyfriend. 

“Staying” he says, his shoulders dropping as you pull away, taking the pajamas from you. 

You smile faintly at him as you swiftly change into your pajamas, not minding him staring. You walk back to your bed, falling down onto it. He watches you, changing from his suit to the pajamas. You sigh as he joins you, noticing he still hasn’t taken off his mask. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, falling back in the same manner as you, cuddling your body. 

“Mm, it’s nothing” you rest your hands on his face, picturing what it’d be like to feel his skin. 

He removes your hands from his mask, cupping them inside his hands, bringing them close to his chest. 

“I don’t think it’s nothing” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 

You suck in a breath, averting your eyes so you don’t have to look at him, your memory flickering back to your conversation with Peter. 

“I just, I wanna be able to see him without a mask, like a regular boyfriend?”

“Hey, please tell me?” he adds, still clutching your hands, bringing you back to the present. 

“Will I ever see your face?” you blurt out, your face heating up more and more by the second. 

I can feel his body tense beside me, his hands clutching a little tighter around mine. I can feel him sigh, pressing his forehead a little harder against mine. 

“I’m just.. scared” he replies sadly. 

“Why would you be scared?” you caress his face as you sit up, looking down at him. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m a loser or something and dump me” he answers, leaning into your touch. 

“I could never, I think I could love you no matter what” you frown, sort of upset that he thinks you're that shallow. 

No one dares to speak next, leaving you in uncomfortable silence for what seemed like ages. 

“Do you want to see?” he whispers so quietly you can barely pick up on it. 

Your eyes widen, your head slowly nodding up and down. He sits up as well, both of your hearts beating with anticipation. 

“Can you uh, look away for a second?” he asks, his voice cracking. 

“Mhm” you turn around, fidgeting with your fingers as you wait. 

Spiderman lifts up his mask and sets it in your lap, causing your heart to flutter. Peter plays with his hair to fluff it back up as he breathes in to calm his nerves. 

“You can look now” he informs you, his heart racing more and more. 

You take your time turning around, you don’t know what or who you expected to be behind the mask. Your eyes subconsciously shut, only opening when you’re sure you’re making direct eye contact with him. 

You let out a soft gasp as you see your best friend sitting there, your eyes and mouth widening. 

“P-Peter?” you reply, your face heating up. 

“H-hi” he responds, his voice sounding ashamed. 

You look at him, disbelief flooding on your face. Memories come back of things you’ve shared about Spiderman to Peter, and you’re surprised you hadn’t put the dots together sooner. 

“I’m sorry” his voice quakes as his eyes brim with tears, his hand clutching onto his pant fabric. 

He starts crying, but you can’t move. Peter, your best friend, your- boyfriend? 

“Peter?” you repeat again, finally snapping from the dazed out state you were in. 

“Yeah..” he wipes his tears, putting on a brave face. 

You can’t help yourself, you should be furious at Peter for not telling you, but you aren’t. How could you be so mad at the boy you love?

You leap forward in bed, wrapping your arms around him as you bury your face into his neck. You can feel his body start to sniffle again, reciprocating the hug. 

“You’re not mad?” he says weakly, his hands clutching you like you’ll fall through his fingers. 

“I’m fucking furious, I love you” you pull back, holding his face in your hands. 

He doesn’t know whether or not to frown or smile, whether or not to pull away or kiss you. 

“I love you Peter, okay? I’ll love you no matter what” you reassure him, pecking his lips.

He smiles faintly against your lips, holding you closer. 

“Thank you for showing me your secret” 

[luminouslywriting]

Angsty stressful BOB headcanon - you accidentally get pregnant during the war and try to hide it but they catch on that’s something wrong w you

Sweetheart, I LIVE for and LOVE angsty requests, so I’m here for this! For the sake of historical accuracy and simplicity, reader is a medic/nurse that travels with Easy Company! More below the cut, cut for length, angst mentioned, pregnancy things and miscarriages mentioned:

Dick Winters:

-The thought that you might be pregnant is NOT one that crosses his mind initially. You’re distancing yourself and he doesn’t understand why. -He does his best to try and reach out and try to show you that he’s still committed—he’s honestly wondering what he did wrong. -The minute he sees the small little baby bump though?? He knows and he feels IMMENSE guilt over the entire thing. He should’ve been more careful and you definitely deserve better than being an unwed pregnant woman. -He’s now double stressed about the war and how he’s going to fix things with you and reconcile the problem. So his solution is to have a quiet elopement with you. -At least now you have some money to be taken care of. And he begs you to go and stay with his family back in the states so that you have someone taking care of you since he can’t be there. -He’s happy to have you and to be a father but it’s a very angsty and emotional time that won’t be reconciled until the war is over.

Lewis Nixon:

-Well this is a messy situation….if only because he’s well aware he’s getting a divorce but he was also having an affair with you and now you’re pregnant. -Panicked stressed upset—all of the emotions and goes through the five stages of grief tbh…and drinks to cope. -He’s got a lot of mixed emotions about the complexity of the situation. This is a second chance for happiness and also the nail in the coffin to his previous family. He also feels the weight of responsibility pretty heavily. -Also wants to marry you ASAP and cleans up his act so that he can have a chance with you and the kid. -Views it as a messy second chance so he’s very grateful despite the poor timing of everything. Dick helps him see the good in the situation. -He plans on making a very happy life with you as soon as he can.

Ronald Speirs:

-Clocks onto you being more sick than normal and more often….and just puts two and two together. He’s not an idiot, he knows he should’ve been more careful, and he feels bad. -This is a war and it’s not exactly great timing. He doesn’t want to make you commit to anything if you’re not absolutely certain of being with him. -Conversations are had about whether or not you’ll keep the kid and what you’ll do if you decide to keep it. Co-parenting seems to be the safest bet for now. -Don’t get me wrong, he wants a life with you. He just doesn’t want you to feel like he’s trapped you in said life with him. -He’s probably the most logical about things in the sense that he’s making sure you get a transfer back to London and away from the front lines for safety and health purposes. -Also dutifully writes you until the war is over and he can meet the kid and marry you.

Buck Compton:

-Despite the seriousness of the situation, it just depends on if it was before or after Bastogne. Either way, I think he’s a very big nervous wreck about things. -He wants to be a dad, wants to be a husband and have a life with you….but not like this. -Whatever his plan is that he’s figuring out, it gets thrown off by Bastogne and everything that happens there. -I truthfully think that the best thing might be for you to follow him home since you’re pregnant and try to help in his recovery. You can be a big help emotionally to him. -Buck feels a lot of guilt for feeling broken and not able to support or help you as a parent or lover, but the minute that kid is born, he’s getting everything back on track. -After a while, he’ll ask you to marry him and share a life with him.

Carwood Lipton:

-This responsible mother hen?? Feels like the W O R S T person ever. Not his intention to put you in this situation and wants to send you home with a ring on your finger post-haste. -So that’s exactly what he does, he finds the nearest chaplain and gets hitched and then writes his mother

-He has so much guilt over not being there for the birth of the baby and not being there for you

-But it’s the hope of seeing you and the baby that keeps him going and keeps him hopeful, even during times like Bastogne. -Probably quietly talks about the situation with a few pals of his, including Speirs. And he definitely misses you a lot. -And consistently apologizes the rest of your marriage over the entire thing.

Joseph Liebgott:

-Doesn’t know whether or not to hope for the best or the worst because the timing of it all is just super poor and inconvenient?? -Feels guilty over that and while he’s happy that this means he gets to have you in his life, he’s also acutely aware of how complicated he’s made things for you. -It’s an anchor point for him to remember what he’s fighting for and that humanity is a thing though, so there’s that sobering point he gets to. -Probably wants to get married but there’s not a chaplain around so his next bet is to go to Winters and try to get you transferred somewhere else. -Promises he’s going to make it back to you and get married after the war. He thinks of little else during Bastogne and the hard times. -When he goes to Austria, you show up with the baby and he finally gets to meet baby Liebgott and get hitched haha.

Donald Malarkey:

-Excited and sad at the same time?? Doesn’t really know how to feel and is now worried about leaving you on your own with a baby. -Is also really worried he’ll never get to meet the baby and so he tries to make the most of the short times that you do have together. -Insists on getting married so that if he dies, you have some fallback money and something that will take care of you and the baby. -Probably cries about it when he’s alone because it was NOT the plan and he doesn’t think that you should have to put up with any of this stuff anyway. -Tries to find baby stuff in different towns that he can give to you when he gets back to you. -Wrote home to his mother immediately that she was going to be a grandmother lol.

Eugene Roe: (Big sad, I’m sorry):

-Was not intending on getting you pregnant but now that you are, he’s super excited and happy about it….and also terrified because pregnancy has so many complications anyway. -Prays avidly for your safety and for the baby’s safety as you two are figuring things out. Truth be told, it’s probably right around Bastogne that you both figure out that you ARE pregnant. -The guilt is real and he’s coming into the city as much as possible to try and see you and check on you. It’s cold, rations are low, and you’re working a lot anyway. -Now here’s where you’re all going to demand I pay for therapy (get in line kids). You survive the church collapsing but you lose the baby a few weeks later after some severe cramping and being sick. -And the thing is?? He’s horribly awfully and guiltily relieved because it’s probably safer for you this way and there was no way that either of you could have been parents right now. -But he does promise to marry you and that you’ll have more children one day.

Bill Guarnere:

-Finds out about it by accident when you’re telling another nurse and freaking out bc you don’t know what to do. And this man?? Baffled and shocked and trying to figure out what to say. -So he comes to you and quietly lets you know that he knows and is willing to do whatever you need/want for things. -You two get married right before D-Day and then he ships out. You two write letters back and forth faithfully for months. -Everyone knows you’re having a baby and that is the baby of Easy Company lol. -His accident in Bastogne happens and he gets shipped back to London and then back to the states and you go with him. -He’s in recovery when the baby is born and he’s happy about it because it’s really a new life for everyone tbh.

Joe Toye:

-You try to break up with him and the argument gets pretty nasty bc there’s no real reason for the breakup until you drop the bomb that you’re pregnant and he just??? Short circuits?? -He gets really soft and sweet about the entire thing and promises that he’s going to stay by your side through it. -So he writes his family ASAP and marries you in a church in his uniform. Then you’re getting sent back to your family and his and it’s a bit messy. -But he’s writing you and really excited to meet the kid….who is faithfully and dutifully born a few weeks before his accident in Bastogne. -He doesn’t even know the kid had been born until he gets back and there’s a lot of guilt and grief and feelings of inadequacy about the situation. -But he’s a great dad and a great husband so it all works out.

George Luz:

-is honestly trying to come up with every possibly outcome and solution so that he’s prepared for whatever decision you make. -You told him about it shortly after they returned from D-Day and he’s a little shocked (more than a little) and having a hard time keeping a lid on things. -He wanted a whole wedding that everyone could celebrate and be happy with, but going down to a courthouse with you and a few of the guys will do. -Gives the men of Easy Company updates on the pregnancy via letters from you all of the time. And you get the weirdest most random questions from them, I’m sure. -Narrowly survived Bastogne and was really struggling until your letters started coming through again. -Is really excited to meet the baby and see you again once things are over with the war.

[lesbianmarrow]

legends cast has to do the crucible. (which they COULD it would be within the bounds of the show) who’s killing them?

aaaaaaahh you say this to ME. ok. my first thought is that ray palmer has to kill john constantine bc thats SICK and i love it. and then ray cant do it so sara kind of rolls her eyes and steps in to do it herself.

(for any legends fans reading this: the crucible is a thing in xmen comics where if youre a mutant and your powers got taken away but you want to get your powers back, you fight someone to the death in an arena [someone you trust to give you a good death] and you die and then are resurrected with your powers)

maybe there could be a storyline where sara has to get her prophecy powers back but first she has to be killed in order to be reborn with her powers.....in that case i think its all the legends against sara and its a little bit like the episode where shes possessed by mallus exorcist-style and fighting everybody only this time theyre all in their right minds and theyre fighting out of love. ava deals the killing strike of course and its very dani holding xuân's lifeless body in her arms and weeping.

if its like season 3 era and we change it so its like ok everyone has to wield the totems but first everyone has to be killed and then brought back by the totem or whatever. i think mick has amaya slay him bc thats kind of their dynamic. like he wouldnt trust anyone else to do it. amaya would probably want nate to kill her and i think he would go through with it but he would be sad. i want zari to have to kill wally bc that will be the most angsty for her bc it will remind her of her brother's death. i dont think ray has the heart to kill anybody but i feel like it would be easiest for zari and sara to kill the others, zari bc she saw them die a thousand times in her time loop and sara bc it used to be her job. and then sara is the last one standing and has damian darhk kill her i guess. and a small selfish part of her hopes she wont come back and she will just get to be with her sister again.

maybe theres a thing where astra has to be killed (do you know astra? shes cool) and the episode is building up the expectation that constantine has to be the one who kills her and hes very tormented and mopey about it but in a surprise twist it turns out that it doesnt have to be him and so astra requests spooner to do it. and it ends with spooner holding astra in her arms and saying "i got you" and there are tears in her eyes but shes smiling proudly. and when astra comes back the first thing she does is wrap spooner in a big hug.

if ava had to be killed i actually dont think sara could bring herself to do it. HYPOCRITE that she is i think shes like pshh guys cmon a little light dying never hurt anyone! and like teases the others for being squeamish about it. but when it's ava's turn to be dispatched and shes looking at sara with so much love and understanding i think sara is like FUCK and runs away and hides for a minute to collect herself. and gary is very eager to step in and take over and theyre like fuck off gary. so i think zari 2 fights & kills ava instead but sara is like cheering ava on and then holds her hand as she dies.

i feel like i should say smth about sara and constantine bc its you asking but honestly i feel like if they crucible'd each other it just wouldnt be that interesting bc theyre just gonna do it and be like mostly fine with it. like thats just something that they can and will do for each other. its more interesting when its characters who are more apprehensive about it for whatever reason.

this is such a good game. we need to make this the hot new fanfic trope tbh

[thedeal-if]

Ohh y además eres de habla hispana?? A D O R O! Automáticamente te has convertido en fav JAJA

I will continue in English just in case, but I didn't expect you to know Spanish! Lol I have a question, when you write, did you do it in Spanish and then you translated to English or you did the write in English from cero? I want to try to write something sometime but I don't really know what way better ngl (well that's only if your mother tongue is Spanish as I'm taking it for granted lol)

Now let's talk about business... What romances have/will have more angst? Just for research purposes 👀👀

And I don't really know if you answered this before (if that is the case, sorry!) But can you please tell us what kinda action/words can make the ROs meltdown? (But in a sweet romantic way, like RO.exe stop worked I forgot the word for that lol not a meltdown for anger, but if you think is more funny that way, works for me too)

Sisoy 🫂 JAJSJJAS (soy española 😶‍🌫️ a que quieres que te gane)

I write in English! I have for many years lol it helps internalize things better but I do remember translating things at first (I knew like... 0 English at the time lol). It takes some getting used to but I recommend you try and see how you handle it ^^ grammarly helps too when it comes to checking spelling mistakes and all that.

I made an angst top but tbh all romances are angsty to some degree ✨

Imo, the top 4 (Nathan/Aliyah/Lilith/Victor) have pretty... rough moments.

Words that would make them stop functioning below! (crushing stage)

RO.exe stopped working...

Dante isn't exactly shy but he does tend to get a little wordless when he's very embarrassed by MC. He recovers quickly enough so I wouldn't say it wrecks his mind to be flirted with. Instead, the way to probably turn his brain to mush is through art. Dedicating songs, sketches, aligning Dante's existence to that of a muse— worthy of that affection.

Lilith is very sweet and doting her route is pretty much full of repression and forbidden love (Inferno and Succubus lore spoilers, you'll understand when you meet her). Prior to establishing a romantic connection with her, Lilith's brain would melt if MC were to call her out on her attraction toward them.

Honestly, he's known MC since they were very young so it really depends, I think he'd be desensitized at this point lol. In the case that MC is normally very extra, Josh would be pretty much immune to anything they might say— if they're normally more guarded sincere words would break him. Surprises are something he can't handle well.

Villanelle is very sweet and naive, her initial reaction to most affective things MC says or does is to accept it wholeheartedly and return it eagerly. To really really break her would be easy tho lol, flirty MCs would completely shatter her expectations. Villanelle kind of doesn't know how to flirt.

Yeah, no words are getting through to him lol. Victor places no value in them, he needs MC to put their money where their mouth is. Taking care of Victor, small tasks and such, is the best way to startle him. MCs would need to be two steps ahead of Victor. He would be beyond lost, he wouldn't know how to respond to being taken care of.

Aliyah is very calculating and guarded with her true emotions. Even if she's surprised she's going to swallow it all down. I only see one and one thing only completely breaking through her walls and that is MC committing themselves to helping free Aliyah of her shackles.

Honestly, even she admits that would be a terrible decision. But who knows ^^?

Rather than shameless flirting or compliments, Nathan's mind would be blown by genuine and heartfelt words. No sugar-coating it either, just an admission from the heart. He doesn't know how to approach sincerity all that well. Just a very honest “I’m so glad to have met you” would make Nathan's mind get the blue screen of death lol

I don't really see her being all that impressed if MC tried to compliment her in any way lol and she would receive and reciprocate most affective actions naturally. Startling Eden would take effort— taking her by surprise, with her guard low enough that she entertains you. Subverting Eden's views and expectations of MC while she's distracted, for example.

[aprillikesthings]

ugh my wired headphones are still hurting my head >:(

anyway

s3 ep2 huntara

ahahah I love this one

(if you're new here: i'm rewatching She-Ra for fic-writing purposes, and live-blogging my way through them making commentary and jokes and side notes about random shit. bc this is a REwatch there are many references to later plot points)

is that the Beta Kindergarten

(man I've been making a lot of Steven Universe references in these lately, but yeah I can't look at sandstone slot canyons without thinking "hrr hrr where's Jasper")

(wait has a Jasper cosplayer actually taken photos in one of these in like Utah? a quick image search says no. damn.)

how many times did I look at this establishing shot before I realized this part of the Fright Zone is the ruins of a ginormous spaceship

ALSO "day 135"? I noted yesterday that someone working on the show said sOMEWHERE that each season is about a year and I was like "ehhhh" but I guess that's not far off.

That makes the whole catradora arc even more angsty tbh. For some reason I thought the whole show took place over like a single year or so. But FOUR OR FIVE YEARS?? they pined for each other while trying to murder each other for MULTIPLE YEARS????

awwwwww

Listen. I love this ship. I'm always weak for "complete asshole with tough act is soft for one (1) person"

(tho lemme tell you. do not actually date those dudes irl. *sigh*)

why did so many 80's cartoons have extremely unrealistic quicksand scenes tho

gdi adora

The Crimson Waste is actually just a western bar full of furries. But seriously designing the characters in the bar must've been hella fun

AAHAHAAHH Adora being so, so blatantly gay for Huntara is one of my fave things

Did they need to establish that Adora is into women? Pfft, no. Did they still decide to show us Adora being absolutely smitten on sight for an older, big, buff, badass, butchy lady? YES.

Doesn't hurt that she looks likes this lol

like it's the least subtle thing on EARTH i love it so much

oh no now I want to look up fics

18 of them are explicit. well. I'm just gonna. leave that tab open.

ADORA. YOU COCKBLOCKED HER. RUDE.

lol there's a moment where Glimmer and Bow are like "ha ha we need to talk amongst ourselves" and turns around and Adora is still just staring at Huntara with googly eyes without noticing what Bow even said and lemme tell you, I've been that fucking obvious and oblivious

Huntara literally is like "oh my god you kids are gonna end up DEAD without me. FINE." Meanwhile, Adora:

Plot plot Huntara leads them to a trap and they get hit with tranquilizer darts and dropped into a pit.

that's just a nice shot tbh

EAT SOME DAMN SOUP your girlfriend spent TIME on that

she just refuses to be afraid of him

Anyway yeah this is when we find out he's just a clone of Horde Prime the Big Baddy of the series, Hordak is a "defective" clone, he was sent to "the front lines" to die and fell through a portal into Etheria. "with nothing but a broken ship, I built an empire..." the whole point of the portal is to bring Horde Prime through, which means that's what he was doing when he tried before and ended up with A Magic Baby (Adora) instead.

The animation in the flashback is clearly inspired by Lotte Reiniger which is super cool??

Back to the Crimson Waste, they've gotten themselves out of the hole, and Adora's upset because the whole point of this mission is her getting more info about Mara with the hopes of understanding her own past better

she's RIGHT

"...at least to me..."

LISTEN TO YOUR CUTE NERDY GIRLFRIEND YOU EMO BASTARD

She makes him a nice techy exoskeleton armor thingie

that's a start but c'mon I know you can do better than that

lolol the recorder baby critter KICKS HIM in an obvious "dude really????"

look at him!!! AAHAHAH

i'm gonna go over the image limit and tumblr's gonna cut me off and make me reblog this any minute now but this episode is jUST TOO GOOD

"I like being friends with you, too" ;_;

Huntara's "friends" make fun of her for being a softie while she swings the She-Ra sword around and then Glimmer drops in wooo

yeah I know this is a fight scene but eheheheh

and then they banged

okay they kept fighting but like, c'mon

the "sword point under the chin" thing is just so good and I loved the way they did the angles here

OH SHIT I forgot Huntara had heard of She-Ra

OH HO HO HOW THE TURN TABLES

Anyway Huntara does her little speech about how she also used to be a Horde soldier but left because Hordak was such a dick to his soldiers. "you would know, you were one of us."

called THE FUCK OUT

Huntara does her little "you can't defeat the Horde alone even if you're She-Ra" and she responds with "yah I'm not alone tho"

but also that shot is unnecessarily hot

....i've hit the image limit with two minutes to spare so I went back and deleted one because

hggghh

(not gonna get into how Shadow Weaver's face-touching thing is what made Adora do it here but yeah)

Huntara tells her minions to get lost, admits that the war scared the shit out of her and that's why she ran, but she knows that's bullshit and she promises to help Adora stop the war :D and then leads them to the place they were originally looking for: the ruins of Mara's ship!

AND EPISODE OVER

(gonna...see if any of those fics are any good 👀)

[technodromes]

———  BASICS! ♡

(PEN)NAME:  Saby

PRONOUNS: she/her

ZODIAC SIGN: Capricorn

TAKEN OR SINGLE:  single

———  THREE  FACTS! ♡

I tend to overshare or overexplain. I like to think that I got better about filtering myself all in all, but when I feel very cozy talking to someone, I still start talking too much lol. It's always okay to tell me 'Saby, that's too much information', because there are still moments I don't catch myself right away.

Iced Coffees from the store fridges are my guilty pleasure. I said a million times now that I want to reduce my consumption of them but I still pick them up every now and then to treat myself lol.

I made an apprenticeship as a gardener and worked in an arboretum for 5 years. I had to learn 420 botanic & german plant names during that bloody apprenticeship, but I think I forgot 90% of these names since lmao. They reduced the amount of plants to 418 (lol), but if you're just curious and want to take a peek: Here's the site with the lists (EFZ Zierpflanzen alle Lehrjahre (2018))

———  EXPERIENCE! ♡

PLATFORMS USED: tumblr (main), animexx (inactive), various forum sites (don't rp there anymore), discord (only very briefly and I didn't like it)

PLOTTING / WINGING IT / MEMES: I always used to be someone who's very much winging things on the go. But I like to plot partially now and look into possible directions with my partner to not get lost in the plot. The latter has happened to me way too often in the past. However, I say it here right away, I absolutely don't like to plot something from start to end. Sometimes I or my partner get a better idea while writing a reply and I'm sure we all know how a sudden change in plot can turn things awkward when everything was plotted through beforehand. So I rather just don't. As far as memes to threads go, sure! If I or my partner come up with a great pitch to a random prompt, there can be great threads out of that. But I also admit that, while I like random prompts, they can be difficult sometimes to reply to and incorporate into a scenario that would work for both of the muses. I have done so many prompt memes in the past, that I feel like I'm a little burnt out of them at the moment.

———  MUSE  PREFERENCE! ♡

GENDER: I have no preferences as far as gender goes. Everyone's welcome here.

MULTI OR SINGLE: I rp with both likewise. Listen, I had single muse blogs only in the past and can see the pro and contras in both. I understand why someone prefers single muse blogs, but I also understand why someone prefers multis. But if someone changes their interests almost daily, they will hop blogs and muses all the time, regardless of whether they run a multi or single muse. So for me it's not about 'multi or single-muse' but whether someone found a balance in how they deal with their old and new fixations on their blog/s.

LEAST FAVOURITE FACECLAIM(S):  After a million edits later all I have to say here is that I think that's a stupid-ass point. And I have no 'least favorite faceclaim'. NEXT.

———  FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡    

FLUFF: I love fluff. I'm legit a sucker for it and I'm guilty of wanting fluff threads when I don't feel very well. They're like my comfort food? Unfortunately, my muses here are all assholes by default unless they know someone well enough to adopt them into their asshole family. Except Bishop. Please send Bishop all the hugs. Yeah I love fluff but prefer writing it with people and muses I know.

ANGST:  I think angst can be entertaining and useful for muse development. It helps characters to understand each other better and either get them closer or have them drift apart. But tbh, I don't like writing with muses that are all ANGST ANGST ANGST in every.single.thread. It gets tiring fast. For example, I don't want Grum to be defined by their trauma only, even tho it is a great deal of who they are now. I rather wanna focus on them trying to get away from it. But I certainly DO love to delve into angsty themes when they come up.

SMUT: I've been thinking about that lately and I tried talking myself into 'I can write it once every while' before. But tbh, I'm no smut writer at all. I'm not opposed to letting the muses have some fun, but I generally prefer fading to black when the details kick in. I will remove my smut blog too, because I don't see myself using it. Things might get suggestive here once every while but yeah... my muses only get to have actual sex off-screen here for my own comfort.

Tagged by @countlessrealities Tagging: whoever wants to do this? Idk who's been already tagged and who not x"D

[chqads]

VINCE GAGLIARDI is looking for THEIR EX THEY STILL HAVE FEELINGS FOR. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of ANY FC 38ISH+, but you can reach out to DADIISM to find out more! (vince moved to denver 13 years ago with his wife at the time, she left him/they got divorced shortly after their second son was born. vince is a single dad of three (matteo, 8, rafael 6, and gia, 1). this ex would be someone he dated within the last year after gia’s mother passed away. how recent in the past year we can discuss. they would’ve broken up because vince wasn’t ready to date yet, but he definitely still cares about them/has feelings for them. whether they feel the same can be utp. I would love something angsty/feelsy tbh and I’m open to something romantic developing again if it feels right!)

PERCIVAL REIS  is looking for MULTIPLE ONE-NIGHT-STANDS AND/OR A FWB. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of UTP but preferably FCOC, but you can reach out to andante–andante to find out more! taken by vivian feng

KAI ROBINSON-ARMSTRONG is looking for THEIR HUSBAND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of ANY FC 50+, but you can reach out to DADIISM to find out more! (a lot can be utp but some base facts are that they met while kai was in his residency. they can be a doctor, someone kai treated, or not related to medicine at all! i’m open to whatever. they’ve been married for quite some time and have two children together (now grown), but recently things have been a bit rocky between them as they’ve been growing apart. kai wants to make their marriage work and is willing to do anything to do so. whether the wc wants to do the same can be discussed/decided! )

CARESS WASHINGTON is looking for FORMER FRIEND/ALMOST GIRLFRIEND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of ANY FEMALE FC, but you can reach out to SECONDHND to find out more! (the pair were extremely close until their friendship ended one day. to caress, it felt more like a breakup. we can plot out how their friendship ended together!)

MARISA EDORA is looking for CRUSH. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of ANY WOMAN/NONBINARY FCOC (suggestions include Devery Jacobs, Kiana Madeira, Sydney Park, Amber Midthunder, Reina Hardesty, Natacha Karam, Zion Moreno, Jessie Mei Li, Amita Suman) but you can reach out to OFWISHFULTHINKING to find out more! (+ Marisa always thought that she was broken. She never dreamed of romance, never longed for a significant other, didn’t attend any HS events with a date. So, she was understandably flustered when she found herself absolutely tongue-tied in the presence of this muse. I imagine they met in college or even accidentally around town, but either way, Marisa has been thinking about them ever since!)

EDGAR YANG is looking for THEIR EX-PARTNER. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of MELISA PAMUK, CHARLES MICHAEL DAVIS, NICK SAGAR, KENDRICK SAMPSON, ILHAN SEN, FRANCIA RAISA, RICKY WHITTLE (UTP/FCOC PREFERRED), but you can reach out to ofwishfulthinking to find out more! (+ Edgar moved to Denver in his late 20s after having spent years in LA building his network. At this point, his security firm was well established and he could easily expand from personal security (eg. bodyguards for the rich and famous) to the lesser demanding area of home security systems. Unfortunately, in the push to establish his business, his marriage and family suffered. Edgar and his spouse have been divorced for roughly a year now. They’d originally moved to Denver in order to be closer to his ex’s family, but not even this could help. At this point in time, they’re co-parenting as best as they can, though there is definitely still feelings and regrets present!)

ALI ZAIDI is looking for THEIR EX-PARTNER. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of ANY FC WITHIN THE RANGE OF 35-50, but you can reach out to secondhnd to find out more! (+ Ali moved to Denver to take care of his mom with little word to his partner at the time about it. He didn’t stop to explain himself or to figure out their relationship and y/c wasn’t going to take his silence as an answer. They could be from Denver originally and are going back or have found him and now they’re asking their questions.)

[nabesthetics]

💐 for any/all?

hi yeah I didn't forget I'm just bad at this rn

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

Alastor & illnesses is an interesting topic because of his species, as it goes with him. You won't see him getting a common cold. If he's sick, then it's most likely something affecting his magic: a magic-leeching parasite, magic bacteria, something else disturbing his own energy and messing with his magic-dependent body as a result. So him getting sick is a rather rare but very unpleasant event.

On the bright side, this all also means that he's generally not infectious to humans and can in fact be taken care of without that risk. He's a good "patient" (if he's lucid anyway), his general response to being sick is to metaphorically hibernate so he'll stay in his pillow/blanket nest and accept nearly any form of treatment from people he trusts tbh. Isn't thrilled at the idea of involving anyone else though, and protests unless it's absolutely necessary. He doesn't enjoy the attention, might even feel bad about taking up everyone's time (smh)

As a caretaker, he has plenty of patience and compassion, but due to lack of personal experience sometimes lacks basic understanding of human diseases, symptoms and treatments beyond bed rest. Will absolutely look for magic solutions to the illness, and to be fair there's a good chance that he'll find it.

(…illnesses + Dragoat is a dramatic angsty disaster either way)

Marty is the "ignore it until you can't" sort of person. If he thinks he's infectious, he won't hang around other people, but he will still keep working by himself (or try to make a cure through alchemy) and someone might have to drag him to bed before he makes things worse. He's likely to try hiding or underplaying his symptoms, though he also won't argue with most treatments. Yes, he'll even let Julian whip out the leeches, through I have some doubts about his ability to, uh, stomach the procedure.

Hates every second of being "useless" (SMH).

Marty is also a goddamn hypocrite about it because if someone else is sick, he's a worrier that takes the issue very seriously. He's a very attentive caretaker, but might come off as strict as he tries to suppress his emotions to keep his mind clear and focus on the other's recovery.

[dysiver]

DYS DON'T BE SAD YOU WRITE SO WELL 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 PERISH THE SELF-DOUBT! YOU'RE AMAZING 😭😭😭😭😭

I'm not sad tbh but I kinda wanna explain myself.

I'm just a tad annoyed that's all, actually I think I'm just upset, but I am mostly annoyed that I take time and effort to try to give y'all what you asked of me which was character bios but when it comes to anything related to Isiah he gets overly criticized or not taken seriously at all. I understand it is due to this character being my vtuber persona, but it gets kinda exhausting because it feels like no matter how much effort I put into his character, nobody really cares so what is the point, y'know?

If this was a character from another show/webnovel/anything else, I doubt he would be receiving such shitty treatment tbh, especially when the story I have written is very self-indulging from what I believe we all like, and this is based on what y'all have told me you enjoy/like and what I personally also enjoy. It has a lot of fucking gay/queer relationships, it has a lot of characters attached to the MC in ways that can be shipped or not, it has borderline super gay relationships that are never truly canon for the sake of drama. It is heavily based on Korean webnovels and the way they do relationships around their MC characters. It is meant to just be FUN, over the top, with angsty scenes for the sadists in the group and character depth for those who need it. Isiah is an OC guys, an original character, he isn't really me. Please, I need y'all to set us apart like other people do with other vtubers and their backstories. The backstory is there for y'all to have fun with it, that's all.

There is a difference between y'all being silly goofballs, and y'all flat-out being cruel to me and nasty. Which is what continues to happen every time I talk about anything related to Isiah. The last time I mentioned Isiah kinda looked like Lucifer due to Lucy possessing his body and shaping it to be his own, all I got was dozens (literally around 30 asks) of fucking asks crying about Lucy being unlucky and ugly or how they hated him now.

When I talked about Noah and how the relationship is between him and Isiah, all I got were asks criticizing Isiah non-stop, even saying that it would be best if he just died and they could be with Noah instead.

That shit isn't funny, it is just cruel. I refuse to reply to asks like these cuz I feel like not replying to them should make people understand that hey, that isn't cool but it keeps happening.

Like, y'all need to understand that Isiah isn't me guys, he's a character like many popular vtubers have and base their lore around but their characters aren't also them, they are just playing a role and trying to make things fun for their audience. Yeah I kept the name Dys to make it EASIER for fucking everyone and cuz y'all wanted me to keep the name and cuz the name Dys means a lot to me, as it was the nickname Somni gave me, which I cherish a LOT, and it means a lot to me.

But at this point, I'm wondering if I should have just swapped everything to just Isiah and dumped Dys in the trash to start completely fresh, something I didn't want to do at all cuz I enjoy being myself with y'all and that's me, Dys, but I don't know if its working with the way everyone behaves towards anything related to my vtuber/vtuber persona.

[ihavenocarinsurance]

The Arcana - One Shot

This is a huge ass self insert moment. Asra and Lucio are my all time favs and while I did choose Asra as my main at first I gotta admit that broke me felt like he didn't want me, got my own feelings hurt after taking this game so serious and switched to lucios route in the meantime with the initial intention to distract myself while I collect enough coins for Asras route and boi oh boi- I fell for Lucio :p oppsie

CHARACTERS: Lucio, Asra

GENRE: kinda angsty tbh

READER: genderneutral

CONTEXT: romantic relationship (Lucio), platonic relationship (Asra)

WARNINGS: major spoilers of both routes I think, argument (nothing gets physical tho)

EXTRA INFO:

1) this plays during Book 12-The Hanged Man (1. Vicious Cycles) of Lucios Route (essentially right after everyone including Lucio returns from the magical realms but this definitely includes some info about MCs 'past' -

2) Essentially the reader used to have romantic feelings for Asra however decided to move on since Asra didn't make his feelings clear (yk the entire ordeal if you have finished his route better). Reader is romantically pining for Lucio in the present moment

As everyone got up to have lunch so did I. This entire ordeal had unravelled so much crucial information at once that ones hunger cues were automatically no longer prioritised. We walked towards the exit, however, before I could reach the door I felt Asra putting his hand on my shoulder.

"MC, can I talk to you for a minute?", we whispered, leaning closer as to make sure that nobody else heard. Nobody besides Lucio seemed to be bothered though even he decided to leave us alone - if not reluctantly.

"Is everything alright?".

It wasn't unusual for Asra wanting to talk to me in private. However, I hadn't gotten the chance to ask about his well-being ever since he had reunited with his parents. I figured that Lucios actions must have affected him greatly which I wasn't I aware of before. Infact I wasn't aware of anything Lucio had done in the past until now.

"Are you sure about Lucio?"

I knew exactly what he ment. He had obviously taken notice of Lucios fondness towards me. And I admit I didn't have any interest in hiding my obvious attraction towards him either.

"I know that he definitely likes you", Asra continued, "but you don't know him as well as I do. He wouldn't hesitate to harm the people around him for his own good.."

"Asra, I understand your worry", I sighed. His gaze remained on me, showing a hint of unsatisfaction or even disappointment. "But you know I can take care"

My tone must have given away my frustration since I was already very much familiar with these types of conversations with Asra.

"This isn't about you, MC", his tone sharpened as he said my name, "It's about Lucio. He isn't the kind of man he tries to make you believe he is-"

"Asra, I understand-"

"But do you?", he almost whispered. While his words were harsh his eyes were focus on me with their usual gentleness having returned before I had even noticed, too occupied with the topic at hand.

"Do you know about even half of the things he has done to not only me but the rest of us? The rest of Vesuvia?"

Asra stepped closer to take both my hands into his. His eyes shifted to our hands as he caressed mine with his thumbs. I could feel his magic tingling at my fingertips, a familliar and comforting feeling.

"MC, I wouldn't forgive myself for not being there for you. And I am sorry if I ever made you doubt that in the past"

I sighed. "But you did leave me-"

I shake my head as I slip my hands way from his, closing my eyes while my gaze shifts away from him.

"Asra, I don't doubt what you tell me about Lucio. But I have seen him change for the better step by step. I simply believe in him."

"So you don't care?" - "I never said that!"

Asra closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath attempting to calm his nerves. I felt guilty for not simply listening but at the same time this wasn't right. This wasn't right for him to do.

"It's much more about me making my own judgement", I continued, "I understand your pain and I don't expect you to forgive him."

Asras eyes met yours again, full of worry and doubt. I guessed he doubted myjudgement? My abilities? Maybe even doubted me as a whole?

"Please, MC. Listen. I say that with all honesty, if something happened to you I wouldn't know what to do with myself anymore. Please, don't do this", his familliar tenderness had returned as he replied. His hand found it's way to my arm caressing it affectionately, calming me down in the process. But I simply shook my head, this time not taking my eyes away from his pleading face.

"Just why do you doubt me so much, Asra?", my voice had become a whisper at this point. This wasn't the first time that I had asked him this question but this time I was burning for an answer. Was I truly that helpless in his eyes? Still? After all these years? I always thought I was strong, stronger than before at least. It was confusing for him to confirm my belief once and then tore it apart in the next.

"Just tell me, why Lucio? Out of all-why Lucio?"

Slowly his hand slid from my arm into my hand. I didn't hesitate in slowly engulfing his hand into mine firmly, my eyes never leaving his.

"He makes me feel wanted, Asra. I feel acknowledged. Strong even....I know I can't just trust him to be truthful like that but...I feel happy when I am with him"

"He isn't good enough for you, MC-"

"He's enough for me"

It was like time was frozen as we stood there. The silence within the four walls had settled in a comfortable yet noticable manner and I knew that I didn't want to break it.

"MC? The others are almost done having lunch and you're still sticking around this worryrat?" Lucio announced his presence as he barged into the room shaking both of us. Had he been listening this entire time? Chances are he never left since lunch wasn't exactly anything he could really benefit from in his current state.

I simply nod into his direction. I looked over to Asra who seemed to be very unhappy with Lucio barging in, however, his usual tenderness returns as I caress his back gently.

"We should go, don't you think?", I smiled at Asra gently pushing him towards the door, "You must be starving-"

~~

I figured I gotta attempt writing in order to improve. Please lmk what you think about it. A comment or reblog would help a lot♡

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [2] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, josei, mild angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) Notes: tbh idk how marriage works in japan, all i know is that once you have both your signatures in the marriage registration certificate with one witness then you guys r married skdjssks anyways onto the story- also might i add this is happy story?? i promise yall, all youll see is cute stuff in this story bcos fuck angst (ok maybe lil angst since you know plot development) but i stand by that nanami kento deserves that trip to malaysia under the sun with his lover! before i forget to add, the age dynamics is that y/n is around 25 and nanami is 38. no power play and all that, just two healthy consenting adults! sorry for the early delete had some minor corrections :( 

Izakaya-informal japanese bar

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next]  [updates; every friday yay!]

*13 hours earlier; a night before at some random Izakaya in Tokyo*

You sat in front of your phone and three bottles of saki, despite your friends advising you countless of times to lay off drinking too much, all sense and warnings are thrown off the window tonight.

You’re clearly far from sobriety as you recall the video chat with your otosan not looking too good and bright, “Why don’t you move back home? It’s not like the teaching job at tokyo is all that great! You’re alone there and your obachan and I don’t like that a lot…” your father’s words haunt you again and again.

Just what was wrong with living alone? And excuse your otosan but you definitely had a very good job at Tokyo High (It was a prestigious academy that paid well, best job out there that you still didn’t know how you landed). You mumbled a few curses underneath your breath, Oh, how much you love that oaf of a father and worrywart of a grandmother but could they lay off the idea of settling down? You were a responsible and good child who never had stepped a toe out of line. Wasn’t that enough already? You immediately downed the drink and let the saki burn your throat down.

“Oh ho, slow down there.” You hear someone say, “You’re all alone and it seems like you have no one to help you back home.”

It seemed like the men on the opposite side of the bar had noticed you.

“I can take myself home, thank you very much.” You mumbled, loud enough for them to hear. Unlike older men who liked to prey on you for your innocent stature. The men who sat across you in the Izakaya didn’t really exude that sort of energy (what can you say, you had a knack of experiencing that, unfortunately).

“Are you sure? We can ask the owner to call a cab for you. She’s a woman and she’s a friend of ours.” the other one in robes pipes in, wait, was that a Buddhist monk?

“No, I’m good. It’s just…” You paused before letting out a long sigh, “A bad time so I need to stick around for a bit.”

The white-haired stranger tilts his head just a bit, “Seems like you and a friend of mine are both going through some rough patches.” he replied, pointing towards his blonde company who you didn’t notice until now.

You wordlessly shifted your gaze towards the office worker next to the Buddhist monk, you hadn’t noticed the blonde man until now. It seemed like he was going through a rough time too since the pair was loud and boisterous enough to conceal his silent presence.

You notice how out of place he looks with his crisp and clean suit, hard gaze, and silence. It made you wonder what sort of man hangs out with two contrasting personalities, “You’re wondering if he’s our friend or our boss, aren’t ya?” the white-haired man asks.

You immediately turn red in embarrassment, were you that easy to read? You try to stutter out an apology but the monk waves it off, “It’s alright, we get it all the time. Contrary to popular belief, Kento is two years younger than us and is our junior from high school.” He smiles.

“Ah,” you nodded mutely, “Sorry. It definitely wouldn’t make sense to see a boss and his subordinates at an Izakaya.”

“Oh, Kento-chan doesn’t usually go out drinking but he couldn’t resist. After all, he’s a father with two very emotional teenage boys.” The white-haired man teased in a sing-song voice. It seemed like the three were close, with the way they were carelessly lounging around the stoic and kind-of scary man.

“I’m starting to wonder if he gets that teasing attitude from you.” The blonde man, seemingly out of his trance, called out his friend. Contrasting to his aloof features, he didn’t mask the annoyance in his tone.

“Oh, uh, do you need help?” you quietly asked, tilting your head to the side in wonder. The blonde man’s head snapped to your direction and quirked a brow.

“And you are?” he seemed to be calculating and observing you from head to toe. It suddenly made you a bit self-conscious because this older gentleman had no business being this good looking and scary at the same time.

“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way. I’m actually a high school teacher.” You introduced yourself sheepishly, “I’m always surrounded by angsty teenagers.”

His gaze narrowed just a bit, it seemed like he’ll be giving you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was a bit desperate since he was getting advice from a drunk stranger in an Izakaya out of all places, “So what seems to be the problem, Ojisan?”

He’s still quite hesitant so it’s his white haired friend who speaks out for him, “You see, Kento-chan here just moved last week because of a promotion from Kyoto.” he grins, telling the story for his friend, “His kids aren’t very keen with the moving, well one of them is outright showing it and the other one is well keeping it in since he’s just the sweeter one.”

The white-haired stranger keeps babbling on about how his friend had regretted taking the work promotion because it feels like he shouldn’t have done that. You peerlessly observe the older man’s reaction while his friend talks about his problems to you. He remains stoic.

It didn’t look like it but it seemed like this man had such a soft spot for his kids.

How nice, his wife must be proud of him.

“... and before I forget to add, Kento-chan is very much single.”

You almost choke on your saliva, this friend of his sure knew how to run his mouth. It suddenly dawns upon you why this man had been very worried, he was a single parent who only wanted what was best for his boys but he didn’t even know how he should proceed now.

“Um, ojisan?” You quietly call out, “I think you’re doing great.”

Silence lingered in the air for a bit, you cringed at your rather awkward and forward approach, “Excuse me?” the older blonde man asked, clearly dismayed by your response.

“It’s just…” you ears turn red, not from the alcohol but from embarrassment, “You wouldn’t have moved in the first place if the pay wasn’t better than your old job, right? Plus you’re alone and raising two kids. It definitely isn’t easy to provide for everything alone but I can see that you did some careful reevaluation on the whole thing. Obviously you can’t avoid the fact that they feel bad but you can sit them down and talk to them about how the whole thing was beneficial not just for you but for them too.”

You spoke way too quickly that you wondered if the man could understand you.

The blonde man holds his breath for a moment, “I know…” he mumbles, “I just don’t really know how to talk to them.”

“Well, maybe you could take them out?” You advised, “Spend a whole day with them for a while and just move around with them. Help them get acquainted around their new school or something!”

You watch him silently look at his glass and think it over. Man, if this guy wasn’t older, your obaasan would outright agree and tell you to go out with him since she was never fond of how men weren’t as calm or laid back as he was.

“That sounds plausible. Thank you, Y/N-san.” his voice turned a bit softer and you feel your stomach turn just a little queasy by his tone. God, was the alcohol this bad?

“Well, would ya look at that.” the white-haired man grins, placing his drink up as if he was signaling everyone to cheers with him, “I told you drinking at an Izakaya would solve all your problems. For that, we should drink here again next week!”

The man glared at him yet again, “No. I should be heading home now. I can’t be anymore away from S-”

“Ah, ah. You promised that you’d stay until 2 am.” The white-haired man hushed, “Or I’ll be pestering you for a whole month.”

You could definitely tell that a vein popped on his forehead and his blood pressure was shooting up. Man, you were really starting to doubt that white-haired man was older than everyone in this room. He sure had the mental age of an elementary student.

“You also said I could leave after five drinks.”

“That’s only your second.”

“Satoru…” the Buddhist monk dangerously hovers over his white-haired friend. Wow, middle-age men sure were amusing, “You don’t even drink that well and he has to drive home…”

“Tit for tat, I’ll hire one of my personnel to drive you home after five drinks and I’ll leave you alone for a wee-”

“Please just leave me alone for my whole life.” the blonde man deadpanned.

Unlike you, he wasn't such a bad drinker. Four bottles for him and one more drink for you later, you're both kind of woozy and you had gotten on even friendlier terms with the three men who you now know as Geto-ojisan, Gojo-ojisan, and finally, Nanami-ojisan. Nanami was well into his late thirties while Geto and Gojo were in their forties.

If you were sober, you wouldn’t be making friends with older men. With stories of how easily young people are taken advantage of in the big city, you’d swerve away from them. Luckily, it seemed like they were a good trio and not once did they invite you to sit on their table so you had some good distance between you four and so far, they hadn’t tried anything funny or uncomfortable.

Geto is currently a lawyer, Gojo’s apparently some swanky businessman of god knows what        you heard jewelry or something      and Nanami was an accountant. A job that he described was ‘dead-end’ and ‘fucking boring’.

“...What happened to your wife, Nanami-ojisan?” you ask, the alcohol slowly shedding your shyness away.

“I told ya, Y/N-chan. He never was married. The way he got the kids was just complicated!” Gojo Satoru frowns, splaying his long limbs in the air, for a man so enthusiastic with drinking, he sure got drunk pretty quickly.

“Really? Didn’t you have a hard time? Wow…” you whistled, “I have such high…” you raised your hand as high as you could, “...respects for like, single parents!”

“See? See? But he can’t get a partner because of that Y/N-chan.” Gojo pouts, “...We’ve been setting him up on dates and such but he keeps bailing on them!”

“I have kids.” Nanami deadpans, narrowing his eyes.

“What my friends are trying to say, Kento has a number of opportunities to bring a partner into his life but he likes to use the boys and his work as an excuse.” Geto surmised, it seemed like the lawyer was also starting to feel the effects of the alcohol since he had become more talkative.

“He’s good-looking, right Y/N-chan? If he probably didn’t act like some fossil from the Triassic period, he wouldn’t have a problem sometimes about the boys having a mother figure!” Gojo rants, making Nanami flick his forehead.

“Idiot, must you tell this stranger all my problems?” Nanami harshly interjected.

“Well, you do know that to actually get a partner, you must get out there, right ojisan?” you try to calm him down, you didn’t want a bar fight to erupt.

“I know.” he rolls his eyes, “But the kids-”

“I know.” You try to smile, “You aren’t very interested in bringing just anyone in your life, right? The boys need a permanent figure and you think dating around is going to help.”

“Holy shit, Y/N-chan.” Gojo exclaims, “I thought you were a teacher? How come you know all this shit?”

“It’s basic, Gojo-san.” you smile, ready to take another swig of your saki, “You should take into consideration that Nanami-san isn’t just anyone who’d settle for less. He needs stability since he’s technically a parent.”

“That makes you a perfect pair, don’t you think?” Geto nonchalantly replies, “I mean, you need a stable man in your life who has all of it figured out and wouldn’t hold you back at all while Kento here needs a person who could not only be a good parent but also be as understanding.”

“That’s…” you chuckle, he technically was right, “That’s definitely odd how all our problems will be solved if we both just went out together.”

“... looks young enough to be my child.” Nanami rejoined, “why would Y/N-san like-”

“I mean, you’re good looking.” you shrug, rather shamelessly, “I wouldn’t mind going out with you. Heck, I wouldn’t mind if I married you.”

Gojo spits out the saki he was drinking all over the table and that makes you cringe in disgust, “As long as he doesn’t get invited to the wedding. I’d marry you. If you’d like we could even get married right here, right now.” you proudly proclaim.

The blonde man is thrown off by your statement yet he’s too drunk to even sip in the seriousness of your words, “Well as much as I agree on not inviting Gojo to my wedding, I don’t know-” he tries to explain.

“You know what, isn’t Geto-san a lawyer? He could have it notarized and all that right now then we could get married. I’ll be a great mom and help you out then you could help me get my family off my back. You scratch my back, I scratch yours!”

Geto is definitely in shock, how odd was it that he even had a marriage registration certificate in his briefcase back in the car too?

You both could just sign it and Satoru could sign it as your witness and he could have it officially notarized since he had his seal back there too.

Solved.

“So, Nanami-san, what do you say? Wanna marry me?”

Oh god, were you shameless.

Who in the right mind would marry a stranger, one who was thirteen years older and a father?

One thing was for sure, your friends were right. You definitely needed to stay away from alcohol.

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm  ; @frankenstein852  ;  @neavil  ; @shephard17895  @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant​ ; @bleepop​ ; ​

@Kurok1717 ;  @hcn421 ;  @shinhiromi ;  @airybnb ; @katshuya  ; ​

[guiltycorp]

about the ‘sworn’ or ‘righteous’ part of Kaeya’s relation to Ragnvindrs Considering the fact that Kaeya must have been ~10-13 years old when he was taken in by Crepus and also that his profile description calls him his sworn son (義子) I believe it's safe to assume that this was the primary relationship. Later in his stories Kaeya is often referred to as 養子, adopted or foster son and it is my belief that the meaning is 100% foster because being a sworn son is different to actually getting adopted. Sworn children don't share their 'parents' surnames and they don't inherit anything, in fact, often there's no form of written contract at all and instead it's just an agreement where one side provides patronage and care while the other offers filial piety. So, that means that it probably wasn't Diluc's decision to swear an oath of brotherhood with Kaeya! Instead Kaeya first became Crepus's sworn son and thus became Diluc's sworn brother by association; though calling the children of your sworn parent your sworn siblings isn't an absolute rule it's still kind of expected. Having skimmed through the Chinese Wikipedia page it seems to me like the main contemporary reason to make other children your sworn sons/daughters is because people weren't allowed to have more than one child and 'adopting' sworn children like this allowed the kids to learn the value of 悌, concept of fraternal loyalty. Also just in general easier to make close friends when your parents already did that for you. It would make sense to me if Crepus didn't want to risk adopting a random kid but still took in Kaeya as his sworn son specifically to provide Diluc with a close friend of a similar age and semi-equal status (sorry Elzer т_т). I should note that the practice of sworn parents/siblings was often historically used for political and economical reasons, in turn leading to corruption and abuse. For example, 'I give you filial piety, you give me money and promotions' or 'I give you a roof over your head and you give me your servitude' etc. This isn't really relevant to Kaeya's character since he mentions happiness while being with Ragnvindrs (when comparing his duty to his feelings), but still this is to provide context bc the practice isn't seen as completely ideal&pure. Plus he diiiid become a knight under Diluc ehe, but of course it’s easy to make the case for ‘he deserved it’.  Anyway in my opinion, considering the fact that Kaeya's and Diluc's sworn brotherhood oath wasn't made by them on purpose, the only thing that truly matters when it comes to their relationship is the characters' own view. We don’t really have much information on their pre-fight dynamic aside from them having been very close with Diluc as the older perfect prodigy and Kaeya as his sidekick (support + planning). However, they are said to have been as close as the gemini, like, the sign that means twins. This is probably a point in favor of an actual brotherly relationship rather than a fairly distant friendship. Meanwhile their current in-game relationship is fraught with tension.  Kaeya obviously wants to reconcile and Diluc still relies on him whenever Kaeya suggests it, so when it comes to professionalism they fall back into the same dynamic of brawns & brain, but their dialogues are filled with mistrust on Diluc’s end and with bitterness on Kaeya’s side.  It's fairly concerning that the only sign Diluc might still care about his ex-sworn brother is that ugly ass vase he kept in the lobby.   Considering the amount of things Kaeya managed to do for him already, it's slightly unbalanced immo to say the least :/ :/ Some like to say that Diluc not giving him over to Jean is already a sign of caring on his part but idk, considering his personality he might just see Kaeya as his own responsibility to watch over and I doubt that he would leave Mond for 4 years if Kaeya actually seemed like a threat.  And there were plenty of times when Diluc could have alluded to Kaeya (like, kaeya alludes to him in his voicelines all the time) and yet just doesn't.  Even the line that could vaguely be associated with Kaeya, the one about nightingales, is a mistranslation — he meant night OWLS, his own constellation and symbol. What a pity tbh.  We just have to wait for further content with them to be sure that Diluc isn’t completely heartless.  And more about the pairing though, read only if it’s relevant to your interests.  While ideally sworn siblings are expected to maintain platonic relations and to care for each other their whole lives, being halves of a whole and all that, interestingly enough according to the Wikipedia page the specific kind of sworn siblings you make through parents is less regulated, so if kids grow up and pursue romantic relationships between each other it's seen as just fine, sometimes even encouraged by the more meddling type of grannies. Tbh at first I was surprised by that, but likely it's because becoming sworn siblings isn't really their call? While if you swear an oath of brotherhood/sisterhood by your own decision as an adult you're expected to maintain that specific kind of relationship? makes sense to me i guess (that said, of course there are also practices like 契兄弟, Qi sworn brothers — like, specifically the gay sworn brothers, when men swore brotherhood with their lovers to avoid persecution for homosexuality... also my understanding is that women did that way more often because for them it was also a way to get out of marriages by saying that they were fully devoted to their 'sisters' instead, this isn’t relevant here, just interesting) Basically as soon as you enter a romantic relationship with your sworn-anything the boundary you maintain is replaced by the new romantic kind and you shouldn't count as sworn siblings anymore; unless you're lgbtq in which case open romantic relationships are dangerous anyway so you might as well continue calling your partner whatever. Basically there would be nothing wrong with kaeluc especially since they even already stopped calling each other sworn brothers (the eng translation took liberties again, in the comic it’s not actually clear who was the first one to stop). It’s all about the characters’ own perspective and while I’m convinced that genshin won’t have any outright lgbt representation bc chinese game, we can still assume a lot from how things between Kaeya and Diluc develop, like whether they will reconcile and if they do will they go back to calling each other sworn brothers or if they will start a completely new friendship free of the ties to Crepus. Or will they fail to reconcile in a dramatic and angsty fashion? Either way, this time it would be their own choice and thus all the stronger for it! 

[gotnofucks]

Hii, I'm not sure whether you still take request or not, but if you do I'd really appreciate if you could write something where the reader has a mild case of anorexia and body image issues. However I totally understand if you choose not to. I'm in a really bad mindset right now so it would be comforting to read some angsty fluff😅. Maybe with Lee or loki or bucky its totally up to you. Thank you, and sorry if i triggered in any ways it was not my intention. Im actually pretty embarrassed to even ask tbh.

You never have to be embarrassed to ask me for anything. I know life let's hard, it gets difficult. We all have our own problems. I want you to know that you're perfect the way you are. How you appears doesn't matter. What's important is that you are healthy and happy.

I am sorry this took a little long. Hope this helps. I did all three for you.

How would the boys react to reader having a mild case of anorexia and body image issues?

+++++

Bucky Barnes: This is the third time he's seen you in the gym in less than 24 hours. You were lifting weights, grunting with effort and he frowned.

"Doll, put those down." He said and watched your sweaty body drop to the mat, tired and spent. He kneels before you, lifting your face. He gazes into your eyes, concern and compassion filling them.

You were so good at hiding your pain. The first thing agents learn is shielding their emotions, but you can't hide from him. You can't lie to him. He sees you, your truth in your eyes.

"Talk to me sweetheart" he mumbles, pulling you in his lap. His frown deepens because of how light you are. He's noticed you picking at your meal at dinner, being thinner than ever.

"I -" you look down, a little ashamed. You were supposed to be strong, fight crime. How could you be susceptible to small insecurities.

Bucky takes your hand is his, giving you a soft, small smile.

"I just want to look into the mirror and not hate myself" you say, voice cracking as you admit what had been in your heart for a while. It got more difficult to eat as you saw beautiful agents around you with perfect thigh gaps and round ass. You worked out more, harder than ever. You knew this wasn't normal, you knew. But...but you couldn't stop.

Bucky holds you to himself, his heart beating with sympathy and love for you. He knew what hating yourself felt like. He found his solace in you, and was determined that you find yours in him.

"Doll, the only mirror you need to look into are my eyes. Look here. " Taking your chin he makes you look in his deep blues, fingers gently stroking your cheek. "Look in my eyes and see yourself as I see you. Absolutely stunning, utter perfection. You won't find any hate here, only love."

When tears make their way down your face he wipes them away, knowing it's just the beginning to bringing you back. But he knows he will take this and any other journey with you, no matter how difficult.

"When you feel like you're not enough, promise me you'll find me. Until then, I'll love you enough for the both of us.

Lee Bodecker: His gaze was on your face as he ate, aware of you moving your food around. You always cooked a very elaborate meal for him, always putting the best things on the table. But he rarely saw you eating them.

As he lay with you at night, curling his heavy body around yours, he realized that you weren't just thin. You felt weaker. How had he taken this long to see you fall in front of him? He pulled you tighter against him, placing his mouth over your ear.

"Honey, remember when you promised you'll be a good wife to me?" He asked and you nodded, wondering where you went wrong. You turned in his arms to face him, looking at him with worried eyes.

"Did I do something?" You softly ask and Lee pecks your forehead.

"You're forgetting that I love you. That I love everything about you, from your body to your cooking to your singing in the shower. You're not looking after yourself sweetheart, even when you know that you're the most precious thing I have."

Your lower lip juts out in a pout, heartbreaking sobs shaking your body as you cry into your husband's chest. It was difficult to believe that someone like Lee, who could have any woman in this town, found you attractive, loved you enough to marry you.

"I - I am so sorry. I don't know how to stop." You confess and Lee cups your face delicately, holding you as one would a little baby.

"It's okay my love, we'll get through this. Together. Like always."

Loki : He was annoyed, both because you were not wearing his colours and because you looked almost... hollow.

At every ball he had gifted you a green dress, his colours so that everyone in attendance can know that you held his favor and desire. But today, not only did you wear blue, but you also looked so broken that made him want to impale anyone who hurt you on his dagger.

He swept you in his arms, twirling you across the floor with refined movements, smoothly dipping down and stealing the sweetest of kisses from your painted lips.

"I see you My Lady" he whispered, pulling you closer. Your eyes that used to be bright seems dull, waist thinner and your spirit brittle. He didn't need to dig too deep to find the truth. He knew you, he felt you.

"My Prince" you said, head a little bowed in embarrassment. You didn't see yourself worthy to be the Prince's companion, to walk the halls of Asgard as a Princess. You couldn't compare with the beauty of the court ladies, their dainty figures. You've tried to eat less, sweat more to be like them. So much so that today you couldn't fit in Loki's dress. It was too big for you.

"None of this My Lady" he said, twirling and pulling your back flush to his front, swaying smoothly. "I can see that doubt in your face, and I command it must leave at once. You are perfect, perfect to me and for me. Promise me now, that you'll work with me to bring yourself back."

You turned to face him again, matching every step of his with synchronized precision. His words and his eyes, their green so bright is seems to colour the world around you.

"My Prince, you'll have me as you want. Just...teach me. I confess I forget myself."

As applause drowned the sounds of music around you, Loki bent down to place his forehead against yours, sharing his strength with you.

"All day, every day. Forever, all long as it takes."