#much. and i will never fully forgive him for those years.

[kingkaizen]

𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓻

∘ desc: although things are going great with your boyfriend nanami, sometimes you think he's too nice in bed. who better to ask for some pointers than from nanami's opposite, gojo satoru <3

∘ ft: nanami & gojo

∘ word count: 2.7k

∘ includes: voyeurism, threesome, pussy slaps, spanking, face fucking, edging, dacryphilia, dirty talk

Nanami is the best boyfriend that you’ve ever had.

No matter everything that you’ve been through together in the last three years, nothing has ever made you doubt the amount of love you had for each other. You absolutely adored everything about him. After being friends for years before getting together, it wasn’t hard to fall so deeply in love with the man that he’s become. Being able to come home to him is everything that you’ve ever wanted and more.

But, of course, all relationships come with their issues.

When Nanami received a message from you saying that you had to talk, his heart immediately dropped. What could he have done wrong? Was today a special day that he forgot about? Did he accidentally leave the toilet seat up? What could possibly be it? He rushed home from work, unlocking the front door to see you sitting on the couch.

“Is everything okay?” Nanami questioned, slipping his shoes off and placing them neatly on the floor along with pinning his coat on the rack. “Your text worried me.”

“No, Kento. Everything is fine, I promise, come sit with me.” You gestured to the cushion next to yours, trying to keep him calm. You knew that texting him like that would elicit this concerned reaction, but what you’re about to say could not be said through a simple text message.

“Kento, when I say this to you, I need you to know that I love you so much and you are an amazing boyfriend okay?” Nanami nods his head slightly, eyebrows slowly coming together in complete anticipation of what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“I want you to start being rougher with me in bed.”

Finally coming out and saying it, you felt like a weight being lifted off of your chest. Nanami always treats you like glass, in and out of the bedroom. Although you love how gentle and loving he is with you, you need something more. You can’t help but think back to all of the times that he would come back home from work, irritated about something that happened. How good it would feel for him to take out those emotions on you. But, knowing your sweet boyfriend, that thought would never cross his mind. 

“Am I not satisfying you enough? I thought you enjoyed our intimate moments together…” Nanami responds, his brain thinking back to every single night you’ve spent together in the past. Why hasn’t he seen this before? Knowing that he hasn’t been satisfying you in the way that he thought hurt him much more than he was willing to admit right away.

“No, that’s not it at all. You know that you always make me feel good. I just want to change things up a bit, that’s all.” You placed an encouraging hand on his thigh, prompting him to look up at you. “I know you, Kento, don’t think too much into it. I love every moment that we have together, I just want us to try something different, that’s all.”

Nanami took in all of your words, making a pact to himself that he will change things for the better. He understands what you want, he’s just not sure how to fully give that to you. How he is in bed is exactly the way he is outside of that: sweet, loving, and overall just concerned. He would never forgive himself for hurting you in any capacity, so living up to your request will be a challenge for him. Who better to ask than his complete opposite in every single way?

“She wants you, Nanami Kento, to be rough?” Gojo almost can’t help but laugh at the thought. It’s not laughable because Nanami doesn’t have a rough side to him, Gojo of all people would know how it feels to be on the opposite end of that. The funny part is that he can’t imagine him being rough towards you. Even from an outsider looking into your relationship, anyone could see how he treats you.

“I didn’t tell you this so that you could laugh at me, Satoru, I’m asking for your help.” This request from Nanami also humored Gojo. Finally, after all of these years, Nanami is actually voluntarily asking for his help.

“How exactly do you expect me to help you? Do you need me to demonstrate?” Gojo laughed as he said this, waiting for Nanami to show some sort of disagreement in his face.

That look never came.

“That is actually exactly what I want you to do. I know the type of history that you two have, I’m not an idiot. All of these years since we’ve all been friends before we started dating, I would see the way you would look at each other. I know that there is chemistry there and I wouldn’t be surprised if you have been intimate before.” Nanami looked at Gojo, seriousness etched across his face. “I want you to show me how to treat her the way that she wants to be, I only want her to be happy.” As much as Nanami hates to admit when Gojo is better than him in any sort of way, he knows the truth when it comes to this. He sees how other women have fawned over him, and it must be for good reason.

“I’ll teach you how to fuck her like a slut.”

The sight of two shirtless men is enough to excite anyone. After telling Nanami what was on your mind, this is the last thing that you expected him to do. Of course he brought this up to you before this moment, always wanting to ensure your comfort. It was hard to disagree, you’ve been with Gojo years prior but it was never anything serious. Always flings, Gojo was never the “relationship type”. 

“So gorgeous, my love.” Nanami always admired how ethereal you looked, both in and out the bedroom. He caressed your face, planting soft yet firm kisses on your lips, growing more and more passionate by the second. Gojo was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, watching with an intense gaze. You would think that having another man watching the two of you would freak you out, but it weirdly turned you on. Gently, as always, Nanami laid you down on the mattress, fingers finding their way to your covered breasts, exposing them to his hungry mouth. After moving the fabric, his lips puckered around your nipple, tongue pushing on the hardened nub as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Kento, I need you so bad.” You whimpered, the impatient side of you coming out already. You know Nanami, you know that it doesn’t take much begging to get what you want. You know how bad he wants you too, he can’t help but fully oblige to every word you say.

“I know honey, I’m going to give it to you.” Nanami had no self control when it came to you. Gojo rolls his eyes in the corner, finally making his presence known.

“Nanami, you can’t let her talk to you like that.” Gojo slowly began to touch his growing bulge through his pants. “It’s like you already forgot everything I told you.” He stood up and walked towards the two of you, Nanami moving to the side. Gojo gently gripped your chin, turning your head to look him dead in his eyes.

“If you want something from him, you’re going to have to earn it.”

You nodded your head, his authoritative tone sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. Following his discrete directions, you kneeled in front of your boyfriend, fingers playfully toying with the zipper in his pants as you pulled it down along with the rest of it. You kissed his hard length through the last piece of fabric still left on his body, looking up at him through your lashes.

“D-Don’t tease me like that, (y/n)”. Nanami loved this obedient side of you, even if he wasn’t the reason you were acting this way. Before he could even process, Gojo lightly tapped the side of your ass, sending a slight sting throughout your body.

“Tease him like that again and you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. Now say sorry.” Gojo threatened, backing away once again to see how this unfolds. By now, he has fully released himself from the confines of his pants, fingers wrapping around his girth as he slowly began to pleasure himself at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at Nanami once more, pulling away the last piece of clothing separating your awaiting mouth from his leaking tip. 

“I’m sorry what?” Gojo sneered.

“I’m sorry sir.” Your pleading voice made Nanami groan, watching as you finally began to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You began to put your tongue to work, swirling it around his head while keeping your lips firmly around the top, sucking in. Nanami could tell that you were still in a teasing mood, refusing to go any lower than that. Suddenly, you could feel his hand find its way to the back of your head, forcing you to let more of him in. Nanami would never do something like this normally, his forcefulness with you turning you on tremendously. Gojo laughed, approving of Nanami’s sudden confidence boost. It’s arousing to him too, watching you take all of him so deep in your mouth, gagging on his length as he throws his head back.

“That’s it, take it all.” Nanami grunts, “I love how messy you look, choking on me like that.” He could feel you moan around his length at his words, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of what’s to come. “I know how wet you are already, if you want some help you have to ask for it okay?” 

No matter what, Nanami is still always keeping your needs in mind, noticing how soaked you're starting to become. He removes himself from inside your mouth, allowing you to fully breathe. You look so beautiful, tears threatening to spill from your lash line and saliva coating around your mouth. He helps you back up to your feet, leading your body to lay backwards onto the bed, callused fingers catching any tears that manage to slip. “Tell me what you want.”

Your gaze moved from his eyes over to Gojo. “I want you both. Please sir, just touch me.” You felt pathetic as you begged, your core pulsing with need. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, everything feeling that much more intense given how hungry the two men in your presence are. 

“Aww, what a little slut you are.” Gojo grinned, making his way closer to you. “What do you think Nanami, has she been a good girl for us? Should we give her what she wants?” Gojo’s fingers began to rub on the outside of your panties. “Look at how wet she is for us.” Gojo showed Nanami your slick on his fingers, watching it glisten underneath the lowlight. 

“I think she has been a good girl.” Nanami smiles at you, so proud of how well you’ve been doing for them. “Go ahead, Gojo, you can touch her.”

“Finally.” Gojo quickly moved your panties to the side, the coolness of his touch catching you off guard as he teased the inside of your folds. “You don’t understand how torturous it was watching you without being able to touch you yet.” He makes quick work of finding your clit, slowly rubbing his thumb on your pearl as he watches you begin to writhe underneath. “Don’t forget why you’re here slut. You wanted to be treated like this so bad and now you got it. Beg for it.”

“P-Please Satoru, please touch me. I can’t take it anymore, I need it so bad.” You pleaded, beginning to feel helpless underneath him. Gojo smirked, plunging his slender fingers inside of you unexpectedly. You felt your body arch up in surprise, a gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure began to consume your body.

“So fucking greedy.” Gojo began slowly at first, catching a rhythm. “Look at how she’s drenching my fingers.” Nanami rubs himself at the sight, growing impatient. You’re too far gone to notice, feeling your own orgasm already beginning to slowly creep up in intensity. Before you know it, you're cumming all around his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Gojo quickly pulls his fingers out, not doing anything to help you ride it out. “Who told you that you could cum?” He taps his hand against your pussy repeatedly, watching you moan in a mix of pleasure and pain and you slowly come down from your high. “What a fucking whore.”

“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t -fuck- I couldn’t help it.” You sob, looking at Nanami. You’ve never seen him look so angry. He didn’t say anything to you, only twirling his finger around, motioning for you to flip over. You quickly follow his que, not wanting to do anything to tick him off further. You can’t fully process that this is happening, your Nanami actually treating you this way.

You fucking loved it.

You felt his familiar touch rub over your ass as you got on all fours, arching your back slightly. He groaned at the sight of your wetness, glistening core almost calling out to him. He rubbed his tip against your folds, feeling your hole try to suck him in. Meanwhile, Gojo is sucking your juice off of his fingers, loving the taste of you.

“Get on with it Nanami, if she wants to be punished so badly then so be it.” Gojo made his way in front of you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your plush lips. “We told you what would happen if you didn’t listen, right? You have to be a bit smarter than that sweetheart.” The syrupy tone of his voice didn’t match his actions as he parted your lips with his head, feeling you wrap your lips against his girth. With that, Nanami finally pushed himself all the way in, moaning in unison along with you. Gojo could feel the vibrations of your moans against him.

Nanami gave you no time to adjust, pounding his entire length into you with such force that caused your mouth to hang open in shock. You felt so good, brain completely fogged over with no thoughts other than the complete monster that Nanami has become. He’s never fucked you like this, usually preferring soft thrusts over the hard pounding that he’s subjecting yourself to now. You suddenly felt a sharp slap on your ass, his large hand rubbing the sting away almost just as quickly as he placed it.

“Don’t ignore Gojo now, honey. I thought a slut like you would love to have two thick cocks filling you up this way?” Nanami questioned, picking up the pace which made it so much harder for you to focus. Gojo wasn’t having that. He placed one hand on each side of your face, holding it in place for him to thrust his hips against you. His cock filled your mouth, spit sloshing everywhere as your face got messier and messier.

“Fuck (y/n), you’re doing so fucking good for us princess.” Gojo moaned, the sounds coming from the room overwhelmed his senses. The bed creaking, you struggling to take Nanami while also pleasuring Gojo, and the sound of Nanami’s balls slapping against your ass sounded like music to his ears. Nanami couldn’t believe how hot this all was, feeling as your walls began to quiver around him.

“You’re gonna cum again baby?” Nanami asked, gripping your hips tighter as he felt himself get even closer. Gojo was already almost there, hips beginning to stutter as he watched you cry out. All you could do is whimper in response, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Nanami made it there first, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he spilled himself inside of you. Ropes of cum flooded in as he fully pressed himself against you, beads of sweat threatening to drip off his nose. Gojo soon followed, shooting his load into your mouth as you took it all.

“Such a good girl.” Gojo mused, wiping the side of your mouth when he finished. He proceeded to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. Nanami pulled himself out slowly, watching in delight as his seed slowly dripped out of you. You whimpered at the now empty feeling, your orgasm slowly starting to retreat.

“You’re not going to finish me off?” You angrily turned to Nanami, watching the smirk begin to creep up his face.

“Not unless you beg for it.”

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[billfarrah]

One of my favourite things about Young Royals and its characters is how much it romanticizes being utterly ordinary.

Stories often focus on characters who are exceptionally good at something or who are more ambitious than the average person. Even in the teen shows I’ve watched, these young characters always seemed to have their dream career and dream university figured out at a young age and I could never relate to that because I had none of those things figured out as a teen. It always felt like pushing this narrative that teenagers need to have their entire lives figured out before their brains are even fully developed.

None of the characters in YR seem particularly ambitious and in fact, the main character’s journey is a story of anti-ambition. When he is introduced to Simon, it is precisely Simon’s ordinariness that draws Wille to him. Sure, Simon is a very talented singer, but it’s never indicated within the series that he has dreams of being a pop star. It’s just something he likes to do. Simon is motivated by very ordinary things - he wants to do well in school so he can have better opportunities for himself, he wants to take care of his family, he wants to hang out with his friends and play video games. He’s a dedicated student but not necessarily valedictorian. It’s not his ambition that Wille is drawn to but his integrity and kindness and warmth.

Wille had a chance to be extraordinary - to be Sweden’s first gay king - but being extraordinary has never been Wille’s ambition. Wille’s ultimate goal and dream within the series’ narrative is to be free to make his own decisions and live his life as he pleases. He just wants to kiss his boyfriend and get drunk at parties and live his life one day at a time instead of spending every moment of his life preparing for an inevitable future he doesn’t want. In the end Wille is extraordinary not for his ambition, but for his bravery to reject the expectations thrust upon him and throw himself into the unknown and see where it takes him. Wille had a whole future in front of him as crown prince and future king - he’d never have to work a day in his life and would have people advising his every move - and he rejects that. This lack of ambition is not portrayed as a moral failure, but a necessary step in Wille’s journey to personal self-discovery and fulfillment of his own desires. His desire right now is simple - be free with Simon, but that doesn’t mean his dreams end here forever. He deserves peace and tranquility after all the trauma he’s been through without having to worry about where or who he’s gonna be in a few years. He deserves time to just exist.

None of the characters know where they’re going when they drive away at the end. We as the audience don’t know what careers if any these characters will find themselves in, but that’s also not important to this story. The series is saying you don’t have to have everything figured out when you’re 17 and you don’t have to do something just because your parents think they know what’s best for you and even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the agency to know what you don’t want.

It’s not a moral failing to want the simple things in life or to be ordinary, and I love that Young Royals celebrates that. It shows the beauty in simple moments that feel revolutionary to a person - touching the person you love, forgiving someone and making amends after a hardship, whooping with your friends in a car as you drive into the summer and celebrates them. Ultimately these are the moments that make life worth living.

[schoenht]

↳ the four times he sees the moon and stars in your eyes

character: ace trappola

synopsis: dancing is a language that is felt instead of heard, and he can feel it with every time he sees you move like silk

a/n: HAPPY LATE BDAY NATSUME @kunikame HERE'S MY BDAY PRESENT TO YOU </3 got inspired over there and. we all know how it went so it is EXTREMELY late i am so so so sorry

when he knows that you're not having a good day

He's memorized your favorite song, by beat, by melody, by note. A single note from any other song reminds him of you and all he can see is the corner of your lips flitting upwards, knowing this was the one song you adored more than anything.

One he makes you do because you're having a sad day and he just blasts your favorite song that he knows won't stop you from at least moving your head to the beat. Or swaying it from side to side. Those little moments are the ones that he holds close to his heart, even if he refuses to ever say it out loud. Unlike his symbolic counterpart, he does not wear his heart on his sleeve. He refuses to, for he will never chase someone that could not possibly fall for him back.

Ace can usually tell when you're in a bad mood and it doesn't take him long to figure out the reason why, even if you haven't told him. He says he's just smart like that, no. He knows that he cares about you so deeply that it is impossible for him not to know why you are in a bad mood.

He'll show up, play your favorite song, and ask, "Maybe a nap?"

"Ace, I can't nap with music playing."

"Pathetic."

But he knows this too. He looks at you like you've hung all the stars and the moon. There are times he believes you have. He hides it, believing that you are the sun to his moon: only bits of each other seen, never fully embracing the other.

2. when you are surrounded by your friends

"Epel, I am losing to you, I don't care that you're from the country!"

"You say that now, but I'm goin' to make you eat your words!"

"How about you--oh, it's starting!"

Ace sat next to Deuce as he watched you dance to a new game that Crowley had given you for Christmas. However, you didn't have a console. So the first years all scrounged around and got enough money to buy you one, co-owned by the others. And tonight was the night for Ramshackle to host a sleepover.

As he watched you nudge Epel aside casually to try and make him concede, his eyes softened. Forgive him for wanting to get too close to the sun, but he wanted to be around you more than he wanted oxygen. You were his oxygen. Even the darkest and gloomiest day could instantly be lit up by you.

No, what was he saying. He couldn't chase after someone who didn't like him. He was not Icarus, he wouldn't fall.

But oh, as he watched your expression, beaming at the small numbers on the screen, he knew he would plunge into the depths of the ocean if only for the promise that you would be on the sea floor, waiting for him.

Before he knew it, it was his turn. He got up quickly and grabbed Epel's controller. You pointed at Ace with your controller. "Be warned, Ace, I have not lost a single game to this dance and I don't plan on starting now."

"Big talk, you only wave your hands around to win! You don't fully dance!"

Your banter made his chest warm with affection for you. He loved it when this happened. With each word you tossed at each other, he knew that he would leave every single thing behind for you, if only for a glance from you.

3. when you are too close to him, willingly

The end of the final year was always bittersweet. Ace had grown through the years, becoming much more mature but still upholding his title as a complete lovable dumbass. Somehow, he became the housewarden, Deuce at his side. They would bicker a lot and it showed that even after all this time, they never changed. Occasionally, some of the new first years would ask if Deuce was actually the housewarden, to which Ace would be outraged.

"Can you believe that?! They thought Juice was the housewarden! Is this crown just an accessory to them!?"

You picked up another rock, checking for its smoothness. "Uh huh."

"You're not even listening!"

"No, I meant 'uh huh' as in I agree, they think it's an accessory."

Ace poked you, his lips downturned. "You think I'm stupid, don't you?"

You raised an eyebrow as you extended your hand out for him. In your hold was a smooth rock. "Your brain is as wrinkly as this rock."

"Love you too."

Ace goes back to his dorm, where Deuce is waiting for him. Deuce glances at him quizzically and then squints. As much bravado as Ace has, he knows that Ace is deep down a coward around you. "You didn't ask them to the dance, did you?"

"They insulted me--"

"No, they didn't. Answer the question."

The ginger shook his head, letting out a long and weary sigh. He had had a crush on you for the past three years and yet somehow, he had never once been able to hang out with you alone. No, either Deuce or Grim had to join you. And now he only had one shot to ask you to a dance. Perhaps he could go big. No, that wouldn't help. He would look stupid. This was so hard and for no reason. But he knew what Riddle would say if he was there. "Stop being foolish. You must do what you are meant to do." Granted, he was talking about following the rules, but he knew it applied in this case.

~

Sure enough, it had worked out in his favor. He claimed that he had never been nervous, but of course Deuce had to debunk that. He had been shaking like a chihuahua at the prospect of even asking you to the final dance of the school year.

The night was young and lively, with bubbling excitement from the third years. It would be their turn to leave next and once they did, the possibilities would be endless.

Endless, Ace thought. It was a synonym for forever, eternity even. If he didn't act soon, he could lose you for that time.

So he shoved aside his so called "pride" and went to you. "Dance with me."

"Wow, no asking anymore?"

He couldn't hold back a snort. "Okay, fine. Will you dance with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Oh, how lovely was it to have you in his arms, just the two of you in your own little world. The party had slowed during this part of the night and its stillness, its calm was what made Ace realize he would rather burn than lose you. Maybe he would burn from staring at you for too long. Every star had its final dazzling moment before collapsing, after all. It seemed impossible for that to happen to you. The universe's vastness could not compare to the overwhelming emotions that belonged to him. He couldn't take it anymore.

The moon needed its sun desperately.

4. when the world stops to hold only the two of you in its hands

Domesticity was a word that he never believed in. He had a lot of energy to spare, ready for any spontaneous adventures, shenanigans and schemes.

All of that stopped when your union to him came along. He had asked the biggest question of his life a year ago and now, here you were, right in front of him as you made yourself a warm drink at 2 in the morning. You weren't tired, or more so, Ace knew that you struggled to sleep these days. So he would stay up with you.

He walked over as you stared at the bubbling pot, seemingly lost in your own little headspace. With a soft spoken voice, he gently called for your name. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just thinking." You fiddled with your ring, the one that matched his.

Ace knew this mood of yours very well. He looked out the window, the sky dark and sprinkled with hundreds of stars. The earth seemed to be asleep, making them the only people in the universe in his mind.

With a small tug of your hands in his, he took you into his arms as he slowly began to sway with you. Side to side, a small two step. Ace was not much of a singer besides that one VDC competition back at NRC. Yet his favorite song was the one he danced with you on the day you were wed. Even now he hummed it softly as he hugged you close, afraid that if he let go, you would be far from his grasp.

But you would merely look up at him, eyes to his red ones, and it would calm him down. No, he wasn't afraid of losing you anymore. How could he? He planted a soft kiss to your head. "I love you."

"I love you too. Go to bed."

"No, you."

"Fine. Both of us."

Ace agreed, it only seemed like a fair trade. He turned off the stove and followed you to bed, curled up on you like he had grown accustomed to.

Your beginning was that of a galaxy, far out of reach and, while never getting into eternity's territory, it became that of a binary star system: gravitationally bound to each other.

[somerandomdudelmao]

there's something so potent about mikey's spirit protecting leo and i'm going to try to put it into words here but forgive me if i don't accurately get my point across

by all accounts - mikey should have shattered along with his body. and you can see the evidence of that because his spirit is cracked and fraying and glitching just like when he was alive and pushing himself too far. and yet against all fucking odds he's holding himself together and ripping through the veil almost the same way casey is just so he can stand over his big brother and return the favor leo's been doing for years - saying 'don't touch him'

leo's been acting as a shield, but even shields wear down and crack and break because they're meant to take hits, to protect the person on the other side, but nothing in this world is indestructible - not forever.

recently i learned more about radiation therapy, the way it can target certain areas in the body with the right settings, but also the way it progressively wears you down because as much as it can help you, it's also hurting you. it feels very similar to the way leo stands directly in the path of the krang's power because 'i don't have magic, it can't hurt me' but it can because the magic was there once and nothing is ever fully erased from existence. it doesn't feel like it's hurting him, but it is. and like a wilting plant trying to sprout new growth, repeatedly exposed to blistering sunlight but never being watered because 'it's already wilting and dying, there's no point' - but there's always something beneath the soil, some remnant that toils ever upward to keep growing and living. leo's never really given himself a chance, has he? because he's been so focused on keeping mikey out of harm's way that he never stopped to dig down a little further and find those roots, still trying to take hold.

there's no way of knowing at this point in the story if leo is ever supposed to find his magic/ninpo again, but wouldn't that be something? anything can grow, given the right environment and attention. take what's left from the ruined timeline and plant him in new soil, free of warfare, safe with his brothers, and who knows what could grow.

and if mikey is there? if his family is there? you can be damn well sure they're going to water anything that looks like new growth - why wouldn't they? it's time to return the favor, after all.

Yes yep mhm uh huh YES T H I S

[merakiui]

PLEASE. please. if you would be so kind to give us some more stalker ex scara... the first time I saw it it just changed my brain chemistry, and I desperately need more </3

>:D thinking a lot about stalker ex Scara, but you get really drunk and he's the only one left to look after you......

(cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, alcohol/intoxication, toxic ex scara, modern college au, connected to the previous stalker ex scara concept)

Just,,, the fact that he's been so good and sweet ever since he casually slid himself into your friend group and you're not sure if you can trust him, yet here you are being completely, utterly, stupidly vulnerable in front of your very unstable ex. orz

Kuni's not one for parties; in fact, he'd much rather spend his precious time doing quiet, comfortable things with you (cuddling is so much healthier than drinking, after all! <3). Unfortunately, you allow your foolish friends to talk you into attending these brain-rotting parties so you can get drunk off your ass, and he can't let you attend them by yourself because there are too many risks. If you got too comfortable with Venti or Kazuha or even Tighnari while drunk, Kuni would never forgive you. >:( he's worked too hard cultivating this friendly image for himself, and he isn't going to let you or anyone else ruin it.

But right now everyone else is too inebriated to do much of anything, and he hasn't touched the drinks ever since he arrived, instead choosing to anchor himself to some forgotten corner of the room. He sulks and broods in silence, a scowl plastered to his face. He's just barely tolerating it for your sake. It's because he loves you that he's doing any of this. Soon you won't even need any of these troublesome friends. Soon you'll just have him, and he's all you really need. It was like that when you were growing up, after all. Even though, as painful as it is, you don't seem so codependent, so swept up in romance... You're so independent now, no longer the shy, fearful thing from the final few months of your relationship with him. He'd be impressed if he wasn't trying so hard to isolate you from each of your friends. It's a challenge when he's trying to tiptoe around Heizou's sharp, witty perception or Venti's proclivity for knowing everything about everyone despite no one knowing much about him.

But he endures. He's gone years without you; this is nothing.

If you were smarter, you'd know not to trust a word he says. That kind, soft smile he's perfected for this act is not to be believed, especially not when he's using it to assure your friends that he'll bring you home safe and sound. Heizou has his doubts because it's late and you can hardly walk a straight line, but he's tipsy just like the others and it's hard to deliberate like this. Besides, when has Kuni ever let the group down? :)

He takes you back to his dorm instead because Albedo's not home and he has the entire room to himself. While you meander clumsily over to his bed, kicking your shoes off and shucking your jacket in the process, he watches. You have no idea how much he depends on you, how much he admires you, so much so that it surpasses love and lust entirely. Without you, he's nothing. Or that's what he thinks because for the majority of his life he's felt empty and sub-human and so alone. But now you're here, and you can fill those empty spaces in his heart and give him a reason to keep living.

You don't seem particularly fazed when the bed dips under his weight. Rather, you blink sleepily up at him when he leans over you, gingerly reaching to help you out of your sweater. You're too drunk to protest or struggle, and you feel so dizzy every time you open your eyes. It's difficult to remain fully conscious when sleep is tugging at your body, pulling you under. You don't even realize he's fit his mouth on yours until his tongue is pushing past your lips. You manage to place your hands against his chest, intending to push him away, but you're so exhausted and tired. They fall to your sides, useless.

Kuni sits up and smiles at you. He says something about you being dumb and cute... or something about how your friends are fools. You don't really catch all of his obsessive murmurings when your attention is waning. Clothes are torn off; he kisses you a lot. You're not sure if you're reciprocating, but it certainly sounds that way when you're whining beneath him, arching against sodden sheets, your breaths coming in pants and huffs each time he ruts into you.

He doesn't have to worry about anything. Right now, it's just you and him in a corner of the world, locked away from everyone who might try to take you away from him. It's not like you'll remember much come morning. You don't need to anyway. It's better if you're lost and bewildered. That way he'll be able to craft a story to suit his fancy. You'll believe it. You'll have no choice, and Kuni knows how to tell very believable tales.

[peachesofteal]

First Sight

Chapter 1 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. Reblogs, comments, likes, interactions, etc are cherished by me. 🖤

Simon Riley/female reader 5.9k words - AO3

Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnant reader, PTSD, thigh riding, Simon talks you through it, praise kink, explicit sex, jealousy, possessive Simon, angst, tenderness, mentions of blood and violence, nightmares, childbirth, medical procedures, Simon is bad at feelings; Simon is learning how to have his feelings. Simon has felt this before.

“And you are?” 

“I’m her… I’m the baby’s father. We had her information updated two weeks ago, at the office. I’m listed as her emergency contact.” The doctor looks skeptical but taps a few keys on her laptop before she glances back to him. 

“Last name?” 

“Riley.”

“Sorry, Mr. Riley. She’s been my patient for nearly seven months, and I’ve never seen or heard of you.” Bloody hell. His jaw clenches together so hard he thinks his teeth might shatter. 

“I’ve been overseas.” The lights and sounds are scratching under his skin, making him tense, priming him for a fight. “I came in on the ambulance with her... I have to be with her. She can’t be alone when she wakes up. She’ll be scared. She won’t… she has P-.” 

“I am aware of her history.” The doctor snipes and his fist tightens, tendons curling until his hand becomes a weapon, not thing the of comfort it was a mere ten minutes ago. 

“Look. I’m on her list. So you can let me back there or-“ She holds her hand up to silence him and the vein in his forehead pulses. 

“I’ve already paged a tech to bring you to her room, Mr. Riley. It’s just going to be a few minutes.” She gives him a reproachful look before she says something about coming by to check on you shortly, and he lets out a long breath.

You’re somewhere else. Your eyes are trained on the e-reader in your hand, but they’re not moving across the screen. You’re not blinking. Your breathing is even, and deep, but your fingers are fisted in the blanket, and your gaze is burning a hole through the bed, through the floor, possibly right down to the core of the earth.

It makes Simon nervous.

Not because he is afraid of your PTSD.

He is afraid of you slipping away. Sometimes, you leave and come back a different girl, the guarded one, the one that hasn’t tried to forgive him, the one who is reliving the pain he caused her every second. The one who takes your place when you disappear right in front of him, who’s memories burn too bright.

He knows he may never be fully absolved in your mind, but you still show him mercy. You still let him in, still let him have you, except in the moments when you fall through his fingers like tiny grains of sand. Those moments may have been earned, but it doesn’t make their sting any less painful, and he struggles in throes of them.

“Sass?” He calls, cautiously, reaching for where your hand is clenched. His fingers graze the sheets, the softness of the fabric much like your skin. They must be expensive, he figures, the cotton luxurious against the rough scrape of his palm. He thinks he likes the color, the soft green that matches the chair and the trim in the baby’s room. “Glacial green,” you correct him every time he calls it light green, or blue green, or pea soup. It’s a natural tone, earthy, and you seem to gravitate towards it, always telling him you think the color is ‘soothing’ or ‘calming’. You have a few shirts and sweaters in the same palette too, and an old, faded sweatshirt that you used to wear when you were with the 141, worn out lettering stitched across the chest. It was too big for you then, always drooping below the flare of your hips, the hem stretched out and curled. Now, it pulls snugly across your middle while you lay in bed beside him, where the e-reader sits in your dainty fingers. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it, keep your fingers so velvet and smooth, even after your years in the desert. “Sass.” He tries again, louder, squeezing with the lightest bit of pressure until you blink.

“I’m here.”

“I know.” You turn your face up towards him with a sleepy smile, and he reaches for you without hesitation. “Tired?” He murmurs into your hair, your nose just slightly smashed into his neck.

“Mmm. Yeah, sleep sounds nice.” He finds the light easily, pulling the room into darkness with a flick of the chain, and returns to press his face to yours before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

“I mean, did you get a good look at her?”

“Shit. I’d bury my face in that ass. EOD is air force, right? Think she’s got a landing strip?”

“Dunno but I’d be coming in for a landing all the time if she was on my squad.” The table of privates laugh to each other, and Simon’s fingers curl around the bottom of the beer bottle in front of him. He briefly considers, for a moment, if Price would dismiss him if he broke it over one of their heads and then used the shards to slit the rest of their throats. Bleed ‘em out right there on the table. 

He shifts on the stool. Johnny gives him a skeptical look. One of them, says something else. Sounds a little like ‘tight’ and ‘pussy’ strung together. Another one snickers. 

He’s on his feet behind them before anyone realizes. The low drone of rage pressurizes inside his skull. 

“Want to share what’s so funny, private?” The table falls silent immediately, all of them staring up at him, dumbfounded.

“N-nothing’s funny, sir.”

“Ya sure about that?” Johnny chimes in before Simon can say anything. 

“The bomb tech, we were just… appreciating her. Saying how nice it must be nice, having something like that to look at all the time.” Simon can feel the heat of Johnny’s gaze on the nape of his neck.

“The bomb tech outranks you, private. You will address her as Sergeant.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

When he gets back to the base and little house the 141 is crammed into, you’re already asleep in your room. Sprawled across the shitty thin mattress, your shirt rucked up around your stomach, little boyshorts riding the curve of your hips. The scar from Belize is still shiny across your ribs, peachy and puckered. The sight of you safe and sleeping soothes the raw buzzing of anger in the back of his head. 

His girl. His. 

He’s already got his hands all over you by the time he gets his boots off, and you shift a little when he presses his face into the top of your ass. 

“Simon?” you mumble. “Y’okay?” Simon, Simon, Simon. It’s always Simon with you now. You’re constantly stripping him bare with it, and he doesn’t even know your name.

He teases a hand across your skin, over the scar and up under the peak of your breast to your nipple, where he rolls the already hardening bud between his fingers. You shudder with a moan, shoulders twisting to turn yourself on your back, but he stops you. His teeth find the swell of your ass, and he sinks them deep. You squeak. 

“Can you hold still?” He says, your body answering for you with a shiver. The bite woke you sharply, and you watch him out of the corner of your eye. 

He pulls the underwear down your legs until they disappear, and then sinks his fingers into your cheeks. The glisten of your cunt shimmers, already wet, already waiting for him. 

“Scoot back, sweet girl. Up on your knees.” You do as he says, shimmying down until you’re pressing against his thigh, clit ghosting against the fabric of his jeans, just barely. Your hips are shifting, slowly, and he knows you’re trying to get just a little bit more friction. He leans over you, gloved hand in your hair. “Now be good for me and rub your desperate little clit on my leg until you come.” You shake your head no and he rears back, pulling off his shirt and gloves, leaving the mask and his jeans the only thing on his body. He slaps you across your ass, just hard enough to watch the skin turn under his palm, and you jolt with a moan, cunt pushing back against his leg. “Do you want me to give you my cock, Sass?” you nod frantically. “Then ride my thigh until you’re coming on it.” The curve of a smile, a smirk, pushes at your cheek, and you start to move your hips, slowly at first, and then fevered, chasing your high while he watches. “That’s my girl, just like that.” 

You start to jerk erratically, your face screwing up into the little pout and he knows you’re close. “You going to come Sass?” You mewl pathetically, mouth making desperate sounds and he watches you rub yourself all over him. “Sweet girl. That’s it, just a little more. There you go.” Your gasps reach a fever pitch, and he groans. “Ride it out, good girl. Come all over me.” His jeans are smeared with you, but he praises you, telling you how good you were, how much he likes that you made a mess on him. Once you come down from it, he strips and presses himself along your back, rucking the balaclava up to his nose to pull the skin beneath your ear between his teeth. He wants to mark you, hard. Leave an impression of himself on your body, brand you down to your bones. Tomorrow, when those fuckwit privates line up for brief, he wants them to know. 

He sinks into you as deep as he can, little noises coming from your mouth as he splits you open on his cock, your cunt so tight it feels like it’s choking him.

“Si-Simon.” It’s his name, again. You’re flaying him alive with it. When you say it, it feels like he’s not wearing the mask, it feels like he is Simon, and not Ghost. He’s becoming addicted to it, consumed by it. It makes his head foggy, makes him do things that he’s never done, like approach a table of infantry and scare them out of running their mouths, or mark you like you belong to him. You cloud his judgement. You make him want things, things he doesn’t deserve, things he could never have. You make him soft, and desperate, and when you turn and look over your shoulder as he slams himself to the hilt, your gaze burns into him like you’re seeing him. Like you know. 

“Please, don’t.” Your voice breaks as you beg, clutching the baby to your chest. Your face is bruised, nose probably broken, and tears stream down your cheeks. You’re trembling, eyes desperate as you plead. “Simon. Simon, get up. Please, get up.” He tries, but he can’t. He is beaten. His body is broken, bones shattered, organs bleeding out slowly inside him. The cool metal kiss of a barrel presses to your temple and you scream at him, for him, he’s not sure anymore. “SIMON GET UP.” His body weighs a thousand pounds, and cannot lift himself to help you, to save either of you. The gun cocks, and you close your eyes right before the finger on the trigger moves, the bang echoing across the room and your-

He jerks awake, immediately seeking the warmth of your body next to him in bed. When he feels you, his chest loosens, and you shift onto your side, cracking an eye open.

“Hey.” Your voice is thick with sleep, but still sweet as honey, and he takes your hand in his. Your pulse flutters under his palm. Strong. Stable.

“Hey.”

“Nightmare?” He nods.

“Go back to sleep.” You roll your eyes, flicking on the light that sits at your bedside table.

“I’ve been sleeping forever, I am practically sleeping beauty at this point.” You stroke through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “Wanna talk about it?” you whisper, and he shakes his head. Yeah, Sass. Want to hear all about how I keep dreaming of your bloody corpse? Or about how I keep seeing you and our son being murdered right in front of me, over and over and I’m powerless to stop it? That’ll do real well for your stress level. Instead, he smooths his hand over the swell of your belly, where the baby sleeps, warm and protected, safe from everything out here that might hurt him. “You promised.” You needle, and the slight push is all that’s needed to relent.

“I keep… dreaming of you dying. Or being killed, in front of me. You and the baby.” You sit up a little and he immediately pulls the second pillow down behind the small of your back for support.

“Dying how?” He swallows.

“Someone’s holdin’ a gun to your head and you’re begging me to save you, but I can’t. I’m lying on the floor, bleeding out.”

“Sounds pretty scary.” There are a lot of things, that he hasn’t found the courage to say out loud to you yet. Promises and pledges, thoughts about being grateful and feelings of adoration. He wants to tell you how much he appreciates that you listen to him, that you validate him, but the words never come out, so he presses a kiss to your forehead before sliding down so his head is resting on the side of your belly.

The memory of the dream skips across the forefront of his mind, and he can still see you lying in a pool of blood, little boy lifeless in your arms. The blood, that looks just like the blood that covered the walls and the floor of his family’s house. His mom’s blood. Tommy and Beth’s. Joseph’s. The blood, that looks just the same as it did when he found you unconscious a few weeks ago, smells the same as when it poured out of the wound in your stomach in Belize. The blood, the blood, the-

“Simon.” He doesn’t even realize he’s breathing harshly until he hears you saying his name. “Hey, Si. Simon, it’s alright.” You stroke up and down his arm, tracing a faded pattern in his sleeve. “You’re here, in my house. In my bed. With me. There is no danger.”  

“With you.”

“With me. And the baby. We’re here, together. We’re safe.” He turns his head, pressing his ear to your skin. Swoosh swoosh swoosh. The heartbeat soothes the frayed edges of his nerves, and the two of you sit just like that for a while, content. “Shit.” You groan, the sound a low whisper, and anxiously rub your belly. He waits for what he knows is coming, the pure, sweet melody that you hum when you try to settle the baby. The once guilty pleasure, when he would stand just out of sight so he could hear it, is now a full indulgence, as he’s able to lay beside you and rub circles into your skin while you hum softly.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you gasp in surprise.

“Sass? What is it?”

“I… I think I peed myself.”  

“Hey!” No. How did you find him so fast? “Simon, wait.” When you say his name, it jams into his brain, scrambling the signal, and forcing his steps to falter. It’s just enough for you to catch him. “Look. I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up.” You’re breathing heavily, probably from sprinting down the row of tents that he had ducked past, and you push your hands out in front of you like you’re trying to cage him in. “But I made sure Gaz was alright, and I still had a job to do! Those charges were my priority, I wouldn’t have split up otherwise. Simon, I understand-“ He cuts you off swiftly.

“You can address me by my call sign, Sergeant.” You startle. He looks away, looks anywhere else but your face, where your gaze waits to peel him open. 

“What?”

“You will address me as Ghost, or Lieutenant.” 

You’re guarded now, expression wary, but there’s still something hopeful in your eyes, something that’s calling him home to you.

He has to get away. Now. 

You take an uneasy step forward, hand extended like you’re going to touch him. 

“Simon.” You whisper. 

He steps back. 

Your face falls. 

He’s tactical about it. The bag, the extra pillow, your shoes. A phone charger, the collection of snacks you’ve been hoarding recently, like a dragon hoards their gold. He remembers everything.

Almost everything.

His phone rings when he’s buckling his seatbelt.

“So, should I like, call an uber or are you going to help me get in the truck?” Bloody hell. He nearly beats his head against the steering wheel before he’s unbuckling and running towards the door. You’re standing in the living room, hands on your hips, unimpressed, with a hint of a smile on your lips.

“I’m sorry, I-“ you wave him off, reaching for his arm.

“Come on, you gotta boost me up.”

His eyes dart back and forth from the road, to where you sit, stone-faced in the passenger seat. You’ve been quiet since he pulled out of the driveway, the silence an uneasy thing that rests heavily between the two of you, and he reaches for your hand that lays limp on the seat.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad.” You’re chewing on your lip, still lost in thought for a moment before you speak again. “Simon. If something happens…” his blood freezes.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“We’ve never discussed it though. What to do if something goes wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Something has already gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong. It can’t get worse. It can’t. 

“Well, if there are complications and we have to choose…” He almost pulls the truck over, his heart seizing in his chest like he’s been electrocuted. A million scenarios slam through his brain at record speed, flipping open in front of him like a picture book. Everything he’s imagined before, but worse. This time, it’s not mercs, or a stray bullet, or shadowed government assassins that take you away from him, but your own body, or a doctor, or-

No. He would not be without you if there was a choice. Not again. 

“There is no choice, Sass.” His voice is gruff, and you palm your belly with a gulp. “We… I, would choose you. A million times. A million and one. There is no other choice… for me.”

“Okay.” You whisper. A tear rolls down your cheek before it’s hastily wiped away, and you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Okay.” He echoes, taking your hand in his.

You almost died. You almost died, and he wasn’t there. Johnny almost died, and you almost died, and he can’t stop thinking about the two of you wandering around trying to find the 141, trying to escape without a weapon, or comms, or anything. He can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable you were, how close you came to being dead. Being gone. Like everyone else. Like his family. 

The feeling fills his body with ice. It paralyzes him before panic seizes his nervous system, pouring fear into every synapse flitting through his brain. 

His family. You could have been lost, like his family.

He barges through the door of the office, eyes wild behind the mask.

“I need her gone.” Price looks up at him, perplexed.

“Who?”

“Sass. Transfer her. Put her on leave. Anything.”

“What are you on about?”

“I can’t… I can’t have her here. She’s fuckin’ with my head.” His chest feels tight, like there’s a thousand pounds sitting on his ribcage. It’s terror that is pumping through his veins right now, unbridled, and raw, threatening to wreck him where he stands.

“Ghost, calm down.”

“I can’t!” It’s practically a shout. He’s losing it. The empty echo of the dead radio replays over and over in his head. The image of Johnny, bleeding out, slumped against your small frame, the panic on your face, the two of you covered in blood loops repeatedly every time he closes his eyes. It melts into the memories of finding his family dead and then twists together, over and over until he thinks he might be hallucinating. 

“Tell me what’s going on.” Price is standing now, voice calm, gesturing to the other chair. He’s not a loose cannon, not anymore, but it’s been a long time since he’s raised his voice at the captain. Guilt swells inside him.

“I’m fuckin’ her.” He paces in front of Price’s desk. “And it’s… She’s messing me up. Can’t think clearly.”

“You’re what now?”

“I’ve never… I’ve never asked you for anything-”

“Simon-“

“and I know this is unfair. She’s great at her job, Price I know that. But I have the seniority. And I need ya to do this for me.”

“I can’t just dismiss her. I brought her here, asked her myself.” He grits his teeth.

“Price…  she….” His lungs are screaming now, his breath coming in short gasps but there’s no oxygen in this room. “It’s not… I can’t. It’s not safe.” 

“Simon, sit down.” It’s an order, and he complies, slumping into the chair and cradling his head in his hands. “Now. Start from the beginning.”

“I know you’re disappointed.”

“You said I would be able to try.” You doctor is sitting on a chair at your bedside, across from Simon. She’s wearing a very serious expression, and you’re wearing your ‘don’t fuck with me face’, the one he’s seen time and time again, before and during ops. You open your mouth to argue with her again, but a contraction steals your breath, your nails sinking into his skin like tiny razorblades.

“Just breathe.” He soothes, stroking over the crown of your head until you fall back onto your pillow, tense lines of your forehead relaxing as your eyes close.

“If the placenta separates any further from the wall of the uterus during the rest of your labor, it could be life threatening for both you and the baby.” She doesn’t handle you with kid gloves, and you lift a lid to glare at her. He swallows the chuckle in his throat. Surefire way to catch a fist in the jaw. 

“Fine.”  The word is hissed through clenched teeth, and she pats your hand reassuringly.

“They’ll be some paperwork to sign, and then we’ll get you prepped. Nothing to eat or drink in the last six hours, right?”

“I’ve been in labor for the last seven and a half hours, so no.” you deadpan, before looking longingly over to your bag of snacks. The doctor glances at him with a gentle smile.

“Mr. Riley, you’ll need to change, we can… hopefully, provide you with scrubs that fit. We’ll also give you a surgical mask, and a cap. Sound good?” He nods in thanks as she leaves, and he turns back to you, pulling the mask down to his chin to rest his cheek against your palm. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not gonna pass out in there, right?”

“Me?”

“Well, they are going to pull my guts out.” What?  You giggle, just a little, and heave a sigh. “But seriously. Don’t faint. I don’t think they have gurneys big enough for you.”

“I’ve seen plenty of guts, Sass.”

“Yeah…but not mine.”

Price announces his presence with a knock. “Heli’s almost here.” Simon says nothing. His elbows dig into his knees, fingers rolling the elastic band between his thumb and forefinger, strands of your hair wrapping around and around the tie until they become tight, little strings that make indentations. “Ghost.” He knows what Price wants. What he wants to hear. He still says nothing. “I did this for you against my better judgement.” Price says, like he doesn’t already know. When Simon looks at him, he sees the weight of their decision. The shame. The guilt. And he feels it, too. “You should say goodbye, Simon.” 

His voice is rough, on the verge of a scream, or something worse when he finally speaks. 

“I can’t.”

“So, when you get in the room, you’ll notice she’s lying on a table, and there’s a drape that’s a visual barrier between her chest and the rest of her body.” The nurse, the super friendly one that you said you liked, is talking him through what’s happening while he walks down the hallway next to her. Her shoes squeak a little bit against the linoleum, and he focuses on the pattern of the sound. Step squeak, step squeak, step- “Now, she can’t feel anything, but C-sections can be nerve-wracking, and she got a little anxious when we got into the OR.” He nods. Of course you’re nervous. You’re strapped to a table where they’re about to cut a hole in your abdomen. “She’s asked for you a few times, I promised I’d deliver.” She gives him a wink and pushes open a door. “Here he is!” She calls cheerily, and you turn to look, eyes finding his within a second, like always.

“Simon.” You wiggle your fingers towards him, and he wastes no time, sitting in the chair that the nurse pointed to and bringing your hand to the mask, right where his lips are.

“Hi sweet girl. You alright?” You nod.

“I think I’m a little high.”

“She had just a bit of midazolam, for the nerves.” Your doctor says from the other side of the drape.

“That’s alright.” He smoothes some hair from your face and tries to remember to breathe. Everything about this room sets him on the edge, and there’s a live wire running through his bones, all the way down to where his hand holds yours. There are too many people, too many lights, machines, and his skin is crawling, the desire to snatch you from the table and disappear down the hall repeating in the back of his mind, again and again. He can’t stop thinking about what could go wrong, terrible scenarios that leave you dead or the baby dead, or both. They push and pull at the logical side of his brain, fighting to get through, desperate to derail him, insistent and-

You smile up at him, all sweet, a little daft from the drugs, and everything feels quiet again. The tension between his shoulder blades lets out like air from a balloon, fast and easy.

“You ready?” He thumbs at a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. You’re looking at him, looking beneath the mask, kicking and tearing past the pieces of Ghost until you strike true, until you reach Simon. You always do.

He pushes his forehead against yours, and breathes you in, the stench of sterile hospital and all.

“Yeah, Sass. I’m ready.”

He’s pulling the balaclava back over his face when you bust through the door and ram right into him. He recoils, the reaction second nature, and his eyes find yours in the little bathroom mirror immediately. You step away, the room stretching too big all the sudden, the distance between his body and yours too far, and his brain stumbles over the realization. Something stutters in his chest, his breath catching when he looks at you, watching as you flail before you look away. 

“Shit! Fuck. Sorry.” You glance at the wall, then the floor, then turn to run before he figures out how to make his mouth work. 

“You’re alright, Sass. I’m finished.” You’re standing half in the hall, half in the bathroom, bleeding, and something twists in his gut. Blood and injury are not uncommon in the 141, but he’s surprised at how unsettled he feels when he sees the trickle of red on your shoulder. 

“Get that cleaned up.” It comes out rough, like an order, and your throat bobs with a swallow.

“Okay a little bit of pressure and then you’re going to feel a lot of relief.” The doctor says and you nod, fingers pressed into his palm.

“Simon.” Your voice wavers.

“I’m right here. I got you.” He keeps his eyes trained on yours, willing himself to get lost in the hue of your irises, tuning out everything else in the room until-

A baby cries.

“Congratulations mom and dad!” Someone calls and the room spins. Mom and dad. 

“Can I see him?” your fingers are still entrenched in his, the words watery and light.

“Breath sounds are good.” A voice says, and then there’s a squalling baby next to him. A baby. Your baby. His. 

“Oh. Oh.” You’re in shock, he thinks. He’s not sure, because he might be too, and he blinks rapidly as you place a few fingers on the baby’s cheek. “Hi, Theo.” You coo and cry, smiling through the tears that dot your face. The nurse says something to you, and then she places the baby on your chest, where you cradle him with your other arm, pulling Simon’s hand up towards Theo’s back for support, holding it against his skin. You glance up at him for a second, teary happiness morphing into concern, and then back before your finger lifts from Theo’s cheek to his, swiping along his cheekbone. He presses your palm to his face with his free hand, over the mask, and closes his eyes for a second.

When you pull away, your fingers shimmer under the white lights of the operating room, and the tips of them shine with something wet.

His tears.

“I don’t see cabbage. What about romaine?” 

“No. It has to be cabbage. Or kale! But I really prefer cabbage, and so does your kid, you know. Romaine is totally different.” You babble, and he stares at the heads of green leafed things underneath the misters, eyes scanning for the label that says cabbage. 

“I don’t see any cabbage, Sass.” A woman who’s inspecting a shiny red pepper a few feet away from him looks over, curiously. 

“It’s a staple food, Si. It never sells out; it has to be there.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Ask someone.” Irritation is bleeding into your voice now, and the idea of approaching a store employee makes his skin itch. Maybe he can just buy the romaine and ask for forgiveness, or go to a different supermarket. It’s not quite midnight yet, something else could be open. 

The woman inspecting the peppers has sidled closer to him, close enough that he can see her face turned upwards towards his, eyes studying the balaclava before she clears her throat. 

“Excuse me?” He turns, eyes narrowed. 

“Who is that?” your voice rings through the speaker. “Is that a woman? Ask her where the cabbage is!” He pulls the phone away from his ear and blinks down at her. 

“The cabbage is up here.” She says politely, pointing to the top row of light green, rounded vegetables. Nearly in front of his face. 

“Thanks.” He says roughly, but she smiles at him all the same, while you call his name over and over on the phone. “I got it.” 

“Yes! Oh my god thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Bloody lucky I love you.” 

The line is silent. His heart lurches, thundering into a frantic beat that thrums through his entire body. His limbs feel numb, and he doesn’t say anything else, just holds his breath. He can hear you breathing, just barely, through the phone, but it sounds like you’re trying to hold your breath, too. Like you’re listening for him. 

“Simon-“

“I still gotta get the potatoes. See you in a bit.” The line goes dead.

“Okay, sit here.” The nurse instructs and he forces his legs to move, makes his knees bend so he can lower himself in the chair. He can’t look away from what she’s holding in her arms, the infant, the baby that is his and yours. His kid. “Skin to skin is very important for newborns. It helps regulate their heartbeat and breathing and can help maintain their temperature.” She continues, motioning for him to relax against the backrest.

“Skin to skin?”

“Yes. You’ll need to take off your shirt.” He shakes his head. He can’t do this. You should be doing this. You’re his mother. He’s… he’s not you. Theo won’t want him, he’ll want you. He- “Mr. Riley? You don’t have to, but while we wait for her to get back, it’s a good opportunity for it.”

“What do I do?” The idea of holding Theo to his scarred chest makes him feel sick.

“Once you take off your shirt, I’ll put Theo in your arms and cover you both with a blanket.”

“I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to hold him if that’s what you’re worried about.” Theo cries out, a sharp, shrill sound that draws her attention downwards before she looks back up at him with an expectant expression. Skin to skin is very important for newborns. He knows you would want him to do this. He knows that you would understand too, if it was too much, if he felt too exposed. But it’s important. Theo needs this. He needs… his dad. 

He pulls the scrub top over his head, careful to keep the mask in place, and leans back slowly against the chair.

“You’re going to support his head just like this-“ she moves him into the crook of his elbow, positioning his little legs and arms so that he’s laying flush against his chest. “and his body will just rest right here in this space… and there you go.” Simon doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t move, he can hardly think. He doesn’t even feel her place a blanket over his body, curling it beneath where he cradles the baby. All he can see is Theo in his arms, so tiny, his eyes scrunched shut and small hand curled into a fist.

The lights in the room go dim, and he looks up, realizing that the nurse is by the door. “I’m going to give you some privacy. They should be finishing up with mom soon but there’s a button right there, next to the bed. The red one. Press it if you need anything and one of us will be here right away. Okay?” She gives him another encouraging smile and he nods.

“Okay.” When the door clicks shut, he finally lets out the shakiest breath of his life and reaches up to pull the surgical mask from his face. Theo’s eyes aren’t open, but his chest rises and falls, soothing some of the fear that has a grip on his heart. He gently touches Theo’s hand, and his tiny fingers curl around Simon’s giant one. He gets lost, staring down at the small boy. Looking at every single feature, his ears, his nose, the bow of his lips. He tries to memorize it all, the way the tuft of his hair sits, the creases of his skin around his elbows and knees, the soft pant of his breath. It fills him with emotion, so much he’s afraid it might overwhelm him, bury him beneath its weight. He knows this feeling, has felt it grow inside him since the very first day he laid eyes on you. Has watched it fight through a forest of dark and snarled roots, cutting and biting away at the things that have died and festered inside him. He knows it better than he knows himself now, knows the truth, cannot deny this knowledge that he would lay down and die for you, for Theo. He understands the pure terror that has blazed within him since that day in Belize, and he knows that he would spend the rest of his life, waiting in agony with bated breath, just to kiss you once more, or hold his child in his arms.

It terrifies him, but he knows its name.  

He knows it’s love.

Simon leans down and brushes his lips across his son’s forehead, gentle and light, before murmuring to him as softly as he can manage.

“Hey, Theo. I’m your dad."

The next fic in this series is here.

[ariaste]

(Interview with the Vampire thoughts, i'm putting the label up here for my mutuals who aren't watching it, hi babes)

listen i have THOUGHTS about Daniel, alright, I just-- these messy bitches are SO messy, Louis and Armand are objectively awful people (and I love them SO MUCH but that's beside the point) and they are miserable and making each other worse and they keep talking over each other and trying to impose their own story over the top of the other one's story, and BY GOD the one thing they need more than anything else is for someone to just LISTEN

and then here's Daniel, a bright young(?) reporter with a point of view, whose whole job is to listen, and to ask questions that draw out the story instead of imposing his own.

there is something sacred in that solemn duty (and I do think Daniel would consider it sacred and solemn and a duty, it's IMPORTANT, he knows it's important, he has the tape playing in his head to tell him that it's important) -- something sacred, something almost holy, it's not an interview so much as a confession in the most literal religious sense, and Daniel is the one receiving the confession and is possibly the source of absolution, or at least the first step towards absolution -- he really is, you know, any healing that happened in this fucked up community did not start until Daniel was there to listen. He is the one who listens, who takes in every flaw and justification and excuse and inadvertent truth, he is standing in witness, he knows the subtle differences between sympathy and empathy and compassion and forgiveness and condonation, and he does NOT condone what either of them has (by god he does not condone), and forgiveness has not yet been earned, and sympathy is really not so much his style so that's not even on the table--

But empathy and compassion. Those are on the table. Because you have to have empathy to do the job that Daniel does, you have to have just enough compassion to show up and listen, to extend that moment of grace to the subject of the interview even if they're a monster, you have have enough empathy to give them the gift of a chance to bare their hearts and be as complex and fucked up and human as anyone else in the world, and welcome that complexity and embrace it. You'd have to love that person a little bit, I think, even if they're awful, because you cannot every fully understand something or someone unless you love them. But love, again, is not condonation or forgiveness. It is just love -- "You're fucked up and wrong and everyone here needs therapy, but I'm still listening to you and I'm still giving you a space to be your whole, messy, fucked-up self."

But then to do the job that Daniel does, you can't have so much compassion and empathy that you get personally entangled to the point that your objectivity vanishes. And yeah, Daniel is VERY MUCH personally entangled, but his objectivity is still there, he's still able to hold the story at arm's length and think, "These are unreliable narrators, bias is everywhere, memory is faulty. The truth will set us free, but it's not coming out of either of these bitches' mouths unless I go hunting for it."

Like look at poor fucking Armand who has had 500 years of some of the worst trauma a person can have, and he is used to being the victim and lying and manipulating to protect himself and to defuse the anger of people who have the power to hurt him, and he is a CONTROL FREAK about it, and he has probably never, ever, not once had someone showing up to really, really listen to him the way that Daniel listens. People come to Armand and yell at him or accuse him or attack him or force him to make terrible choices or coerce him into situations he did not freely choose -- has anyone ever just listened? Has anyone ever held space for him to be as scared and fucked up and cowardly and needy as he is, and simply patiently, compassionately held witness to it with measured objectivity? Can you imagine how delicious and heartwrenching and, yes, fascinating it would be if someone did that for you?

Daniel's a really, really good journalist. DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT WHAT A GOOD JOURNALIST HE IS. I JUST THINK WE SHOULD TALK MORE ABOUT WHAT A GREAT JOURNALIST HE IS

[k8lynjoy]

I genuinely want to know what show the people who say that Aang never respected Katara are watching. "Aang never let Katara feel anything other than what he wanted her to feel" "He idealized her" "He didn't care about her feelings" "He didn't support her the way she supported him". WHERE ARE YOU GETTING THIS FROM??? That's a rhetorical question because I already know what episodes/moments they're using to make those assertions (The Southern Raiders and the kiss in Ember Island Players), and even then, THEY'RE WRONG.

Let's start with TSR. This episode gets so misinterpreted it's not even funny. First off, Aang was never even upset with Katara in this episode, he's just warning her against killing someone??? He never gets mad at her or berates her. He just talks to her with a level head??? He openly acknowledges that he knows and understands how much rage and pain Katara is in, and he never tells her that she shouldn't feel it, he just advises her not to act rashly because of it??? Where is the lack of respect? Where is he ignoring her feelings or getting upset with her for not acting the way he wants her to? He lets her take Appa and even tells her that he understands that this is a journey she needs to take and supports her doing so, he just doesn't want her to kill someone. Honestly Aang shows more respect for Katara by knowing who she is as a person and not enabling her in her revenge than Zuko who is only going on this trip with her so that she'll forgive him, not because he actually cares that she's upset over the death of her mother (and this is not Zuko slander before people take it as such, I love Zuko, but it's not even subtext that his motivations in this episode are selfish and not about Katara).

As for the kiss in EIP, yes, it was not okay. Yes, it was a mistake. Yes, he shouldn't have done it after Katara laid a clear boundary, but he recognizes that immediately. After Katara- rightfully- gets upset with him, he gets upset with himself. We also see that he never repeats that mistake again and is fully okay with letting Katara lead after that. Which is why it's Katara who initiates the final kiss on the balcony. And if you still don't think he learned anything from it, he starts to ask for her consent in the comics before kissing her, showing that he absolutely DID grow from that mistake. So, we're really going to let one moment where a 12-year-old boy made a mistake dictate the entire show and negate everything that came before it??? That's coocoo banana's behavior.

I also think that those assertions are completely baseless because when does Aang idealize Katara? When does he hate her rage? When does he not support her? Is it when he laughed with her after she stole from pirates? Or in that same episode where he constantly reaffirms her skills as a waterbender- first by saying that he's able to pick it up so easily because she's a great teacher and then later when he refers to her as a waterbender which makes her so fucking happy? Is it when he gets so upset that Pakku refuses to teach Katara how to waterbend that he tries to walk away from his own waterbending training? Is it when he goes behind Pakku's back to teach her anyway? Or when he stands by actively cheering her on when she's raging against the patriarchy and fights Pakku? Is it when he calls her Sifu Katara because she expressed that he referred to Toph that way but not her? Is it when he helped her commit ecoterrorism and told her she was a hero for helping the people in that Fire Nation village? Is it when he holds her after she breaks down because she learned how to bloodbend? Is it when he comforts her after Jet's death? Is it... you get the point, don't you?

Aang recognizing Katara as someone who is strong and capable is not him idealizing her. Him not enabling her committing murder is not him hating when she feels rage. Aang actively supports Katara's rage on multiple occasions, he just doesn't enable her when he knows she's acting out of character. If you don't ship Kataang, that's fine, but please don't make up baseless accusations to try and tear them down just because you're mad that a ship that had no basis in canon (potential is not evidence) wasn't canon.

[i4oba]

nct 127 as… / fanfiction aus!? 🏡…

[take the quiz here to see which one you get!]

✰ TAEYONG — street racer!au

you hated that taeyong’s hobby has never changed: it was rather infuriating how he couldn’t have stopped with those stupid street races which he couldn’t even miss once; you had known lee taeyong ever since from elementary school, and you knew all too well how his biggest dream was to take part in formula 1, but a poor boy, living on the countryside can only dream of achieving such heights, he would never be able to reach that. you don’t even know how the two of you got to befriend each other, it might have been that chemistry project where you two were assigned to work together in that old fashioned “the breakfast club” way on saturdays, as you couldn’t properly behave. you two slowly became good friends, and then… something you weren’t able to describe, it was way too confusing, and growing up you two realised that the period of time when you were together, as a couple, was more than just toxic, pretty much unhealthy. you left him for good finally, leaving behind this mess of a relationship when you got accepted to the university of your dreams, after taking one year off of studies because of whatever reason you foolishly came up with. since taeyong’s name was pretty well known by then in the world of street racing, you knew fully well that he wouldn’t just quit for school which he despised anyways. after breaking up, you left everything unsolved between the two of you, leaving behind the memories as well, trying to make it easier for the both of you, after all. you weren’t mean. but that’s the first word in taeyong’s mind when he spotted you standing there at the track: it seemed as if your face became skinnier, your eyes were teary, hair somewhat shorter than what he was used to. you had changed, he decided, when you took a step closer to his car, which he couldn’t bring himself to change up. but he hadn’t changed in your eyes: he was still that little boy filled with enthusiasm, absolutely crazy for race cars, the taste of speed and you. especially you. “please, be careful” you whispered gently, as he drove away way too fast, as soon as the flag fell down. and then he disappeared in the night, loud and swift.

✰ TAEIL — teacher!au

when you applied for a job at the elementary school of the new town you’d moved to, you made a resolution in mind, learning from previous mistakes: you won’t be so forgiving with your students, you won’t let the parents tell you how to do your job and most importantly, you will NOT fall in love with someone at work ever again (it seemed fatal by then, since you had to leave your previous job because of that). you didn’t have that much of experience as a teacher, your diploma was pretty fresh, gathering dust on the drawer, but you would never let that make you feel less: you were enthusiastic, very thoughtful, as you brought cupcakes for your class, for example! i mean, on the previous night, while decorating the cupcakes with that pinkish icing, you wouldn’t have thought this would be the first step of the chain reaction – you fucked up a few times before when it was time for the first impressions, and let’s be real, that’s exactly what happened on your first day too: you clumsily dropped the whole tray of sweet treats in the entrance of the teacher’s lounge, half of the cupcakes actually ending up on one of your colleagues, who you had tons of gossips going around in the hallways following shortly. and you couldn’t even deny the obvious attraction you felt towards moon taeil, who you fell in love with on the first sight. he was a biology teacher which… well, made place for a few inappropriate biological jokes (well, yeah, sex-ed) coming from the sixth graders, or! the silly theories coming from the youngest of students, telling their parents that you are for sure pregnant (which would’ve made you furious if it wasn’t for their undeniable cuteness).

✰ JOHNNY — high school reunion!au

the first high school reunion of yours was arranged by the student who used to be the council president of your class, who even sent out handmade invitations to everyone, hoping that most of the class would go, not holding grudges against each other anymore, no matter how the bond between everyone of you was pretty much terrible. you were not that big of a persona amongst your peers, you were rather quiet, much like an outcast during your high school years, sometimes addressed with the ominous word “weird”, so you weren’t even planning on going, since you knew very well: no one would bother to notice you being there, or your absence either. it was in the last possible moment when your mother persuaded you finally, after a very big fight between the two of you, offering a ride as well, because (whether it’s a shame or not) you failed your traffic exam once again. focusing on this mainly, you were afraid you would come off as a total loser, as you always fail no matter what. but, after not much of thinking, you decided that you can simply lie, since you live very far away from this dusty little town anyways, no one could actually fact check what’s actually true from what you tell. even on the ride to your old school, you were thinking of false fun facts you could say when someone asks something, telling yourself that it’s not that big of a deal, not that big of a lie – as soon as you stepped into the school itself, though, the damn nostalgia reminded you how much of a loser you had always been. plus, the sight of johnny seo made the situation even worse. your throat felt dry, palm sweaty as your courage left your body slowly, evaporating suddenly, as a fully random girl from your class showed something on his phone to you, laughing loudly in your ear, adding something witty too; you were in love with johnny for a long time, and everyone who got to find this out sooner or later, decided to turn it against you as soon as they got the chance, like those mean, little girls in elementary. you never knew how johnny felt about you, since he never actually told you, or brought it up either, because he was simply understanding. well, in the dimly lit bathroom of the school, pressed against the cold tiles, you knew exactly what he might have felt, kissing you messily, like someone who had been starving. you two were cowards to tell the truth to each other, afraid of making steps forward.

✰ YUTA — rockstar!au

it was pretty much a cliché to hear the “i’m with the band” sentence over and over again, but when you started using it… no one could ever stop you. you were proud that your boyfriend reached his goals and his biggest dream, and every time you saw the ever growing audience at their concerts, a certain, really warm feeling appeared in your chest, slowly filling the whole of your body, which, let’s be real, got to your head a few times. the band had been a thing ever since you were high schoolers, really active ever since the first practice in that musty basement, not too intense back then, but really consistent, persistence paying off in the end, resulting in concerts, albums, and whatnot, including interviews – both of your worlds turned upside down, and nakamoto yuta, as the front man of the group became a star, bringing you with himself everywhere they had to go, like a lucky charm. he felt at ease whenever he could spot you in the crowd, maybe in the first row, dancing and singing along to their songs, or at times when you gave an intense, adrenaline driven kiss on his lips before their performances, rewarding him with something more after… somehow it all worked out, since you two were insanely, madly in love with each other. but how long is this going to be the norm? you’re afraid of guessing.

✰ DOYOUNG — royalty!au

it felt a little chaotic as you spent your time in the spacious library of the palace, dressed in your newly made red velvet dress and a crimson coloured mask on your face, far from the ball room, and even further from the musicians, the aristocrats and young men, ready to ask for your hand in marriage. you were only able to stay for one dance, not having the patience to talk to complete strangers, to dance with heirs you didn’t even know of, and to let them get the best of you, waiting for the right time to use you for their own good. no, you’re not suitable for such things, even if it sounded a little selfish at that moment. it bothered you anyway, that you had to look for The One you could marry – you didn’t want to decide during one night only, whether they could enjoy your company for the rest of their lives, or not. to decide who’s the richer man, you could envision yourself with. you sneaked out in a second, when no one actually paid attention to you anymore. you only found the library purely out of accident, but it was such a pleasant accident since you felt like you were home there. it was quiet, the room filled with the scent of old books, and you were left alone with your own feelings and wandering thoughts. or so you thought at first, until someone stormed inside the library, following you shortly (you wanted to guess how much time you spent there, completely lost in the world of books but you lost your sense of time soon after entering). you didn’t even pay attention to the new guest, you simply continued with the intriguing, dusty book in your hands. the newcomer, however, decided to take a seat right next to you, with his own novel he got from one of the closer shelves. he didn’t say a word, but you could feel the smirk playing on his face, angrily closing your book, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. he didn’t have a mask on, which made you recoil a little, your breath hitching at the sight of such handsome young man, turning the pages of his poem anthology with a smile on his face. his gaze met yours when he looked up, winking at you mischievously. and that funny, unfamiliar feeling you felt at that moment, couldn’t have been described in any of those books laying around, although there was at least a thousand of them. only the boy next to you would be able to do so: kim doyoung, the prince of the kingdom, the heir of the throne.

✰ JAEHYUN — forbidden love!au

you hated hearing the word “forbidden”, although you had heard it several times growing up. you’re not a monarch, you bear no wealth and you basically have nothing else either, but the always so kind and warmhearted heir, jaehyun, couldn’t stop spending his precious time with you, since he enjoyed your company to the extent that you were ashamed of it. you had been selling flowers on the street ever since you were a little girl, mind filled with dreams and false hope. jaehyun always made you feel important, never getting in your way of achieving what you’d always been dreaming of. he was always following your steps, much like the shadow of you, not wanting to leave you any time soon. you could’ve thought it was because of the close friendship between the two of you, and you had always been a little oblivious of recognizing such hidden signs. you let him hug you, smile the brightest whenever he looks at you, and you let him waste your time which you were keen on sacrificing for him, not once hesitating whether what you’re doing is right or not. maybe it was a waste of time to spend your time at the flower field together, smelling the sweet scent of flowers, gazing at the sky endlessly. the stupid feelings were so blind and deaf, they couldn’t hear the obvious alarms of “forbidden” being shouted time to time – when he kissed you for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty. you deserved that. guilt only arrived when it was too late already.

✰ JUNGWOO — fake dating!au

you were actually serious about that contract and the paperwork, as an all too practical person you had always been, but jungwoo shook his head, declining your offer every time, saying how stupid it actually was… since you two are friends, right, and this is a one time only thing. it’s just one night, where you can surprise your family, to let them know that you’re not suffering from relationship problems or anything. you got bored of them always bringing it up, and jungwoo had enough of hearing you complaining about it, so he came up with this whole “fake dating” idea. you weren’t too optimistic, especially since your whole family knew about him, which could make you both seem a little suspicious. he calmed you down, though, telling you that you’re just paranoid, and you can say, after a good two or three months, that you two broke up through tears. little did jungwoo know, that you were afraid of a different thing… which involves the feeling of love you had been feeling towards him for years. you didn’t want to let him know about this silly crush you had on him, but you clearly knew that this night will change everything, as you two will have to act like a real couple for the whole night, and you weren’t sure whether you would be able to leave it all behind, once you get used to it. selfish or not, you were afraid that after a night where you two have to hold each other’s hand, kiss each other here and there (in the name of pure acting), you won’t be able to resist the confession. well, it’s such a rookie mistake to forget about the reason why jungwoo offered this whole thing, right?

✰ MARK — childhood friends to lovers!au

ever since you've basically known your name, mark has been the boy next door. there was the cheeky, red letters of "lee" painted on the mailbox, the windows were adorned with the same coloured curtains, and the same doormat has been sitting in front of their door for ages. you have loved mark ever since you two have met. there wasn't a day where you wouldn't think of him, and there hasn't been a day when you haven't loved him. it was like a vicious circle which you couldn't get out of, because those stupid feelings would destroy the oh so precious friendship of yours, and you cannot let that happen, right? i mean, that's what you've thought for far too long, since this friendship meant more to you, than the fragile feeling of love – you didn't want it to get to the point where you would rather spit on each other, than talk it out. maybe that's why you pushed him away from yourself? maybe you just did that because you weren't too sure of your own peace of mind? no matter what, you knew the decision itself was wrong, only to realize it way too late. damaging the friendship and crying yourself to sleep was all your fault, after all, being way too proud and scared, stupid even; when you came back to the town where you two grew up, the least thing you wanted was to meet mark lee, mainly because you wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes after all these happened. but you had to, so soon you even got a little surprised. it's been a while since the last time you have been home, your bedroom seemed way too unfamiliar at that point, just like the vhs tape placed directly in the middle of your bed. one which you haven't seen yet. it didn't have a title, the white label completely empty as you picked it up. you were a little bit cautious when placing it in the system, waiting for it to play whatever is on it, not having such large imagination to expect anything. it was a home video montage, full of videos of you and mark: playing together, getting ready for the first day of school, going to the movies, the way you two got engaged in middle school as a joke, and the omnious day of prom... you got teary eyed, with one thing on your mind - you have to go and save whatever's left now. maybe you're not too late.

✰ HAECHAN — rivals to lovers!au

lee donghyuck's name rushed through the hallways of your music academy just as quietly as a whisper, and you never knew why was it all like that ever since you've stepped foot into the school. you couldn't even hide the way too obvious rolls of your eyes every time you heard it. lee donghyuck was one of the biggest prodigies at the academy, no one could even be considered as a rival for him, this is mainly why he was such a big living legend amongst the students - you couldn't even hide how annoyed this made you, especially because he made sure you knew this ever since you two were little. music played a huge part in both of your lives, and somehow, you two always seemed to be at each other's throat, the first place at being the best always changing between the two of you. you could never get rid of each other either; your dad, always being so positive, once said, on your way to the academy sometime between sophomore and junior year, that the only reason behind this is that you two are equally good at what you're doing. you were pretty much skeptic for the longest of time, and felt as if you were destined to be the forever second next to him. you've had enough of always bumping into walls, since hyuck was the one who could stand at the first place ever so proudly. in kindergarten, in middle school, and even in high school, every. god damn. time. and that infuriating smile was plastered all upon his face even when you two were asked to not perform alone on the annual charity gala of your academy - you two had to perform something phenomenal, putting the childish jarring aside, growing out of the silly phase of hating each other, which was all made up by you, and you only, pushing the poor boy away from you. the boy who had always been so obsessed with you, utterly and completely. he won this time again, isn't it right?

[connabeth]

rick really woke up and said "what if i give the people what they want for once" and gave us grumpy black cat introvert percy and sunshine golden retriever extrovert annabeth we never knew we needed

also no one's talking about how percy made friends with annabeth's college's security guard (Florence or smthn?) so he's the only one allowed to walk in her campus anytime?

also I found a typo in the third chapter where dave was accidentally called paul which I found really funny

1) i’m glad this series is doing justice to annabeth’s personality because she spent so much of pjo & hoo caught in an inner turmoil of hurt and uncertainty and self-loathing and insecurity and fear given the circumstances of luke’s betrayal and percy’s imminent death. in spite of it all, she was still a bastion of hope and light throughout those books, but she deserves to be silly and unburdened by the weight of the world now that she has percy back and there’s no big prophecy (unresolved trauma aside). i think, in her mind, even though new, crazy things keep being thrown at them and she most certainly deals with a latent fear of losing percy at any moment, she’s resolute and confident that they can overcome anything that gets in their way of their dream of going to college and finding peace together because she feels that invigorated and wants it that bad. even if greco-egyptian gods or a triple goddess or a mortal apollo pop up throughout their senior year. i feel like she’s giving herself the freedom to just let go, breathe, be sure everything will be okay in the end, and just be excited about things without drowning in worry for once, which i love. she deserves to feel that childlike enthusiasm she was deprived of for so long. her confidence that they’ll be okay extends to percy being able to complete all his classwork and applications, which in turn reinforces his determination.

2) as for percy, he’s definitely the more outwardly insecure out of the two, mainly because of how his academic prowess pales in comparison to hers and the fact that he feels he doesn’t deserve her and she’s way better than him. percy thinking her SODNYC friends perceive him in the same critical light obviously isn’t helping. it’s evident in the way he’s amazed when he looks at her, disbelieving for a second that she’s his girlfriend, and how he observes her interaction with others more similar to her, feeling like an outsider who can’t understand that part of her brain the way her friends can. it’s even more abundantly clear when he believes “She would always succeed whether I was around or not,” which in theory is a sweet sentiment to have about your very capable girlfriend, but academic and social success aside, she needs him as much as he needs her and she’d see no point in being in california without him. but his insecurities and easy jealousy prevent him from fully understanding this even if he innately knows it’s a universal truth that they’re meant to be together. however, all this being said, percy’s characterization in wottg so far is a little…weird. in order for you to literally pee your pants, something must scare you or catch you off guard really, really bad. so while it makes sense for him to fear a powerful goddess, wetting his boxers seems like an extreme reaction. i know rick was probably just trying to insert immature humor, but the implications are not what he was going for considering this is the boy who didn’t have that reaction staring down titans and giants and nyx and tartarus himself. so forgive me if i think it’s a little insane that percy having such a visceral reaction to a goddess 13 year old hazel fared well against is out of character, even after taking into consideration his fear of not receiving and completing the remaining quests on time. it makes sense for him to be nervous and on edge, given the quiet of the past month, but that amount of fear towards a deity who’s not the most scary thing he’s faced down is an interesting choice since rick isn’t known for realistic depictions of PTSD and that likely isn’t the intention here. it’s also curious how it’s implied even a goddess as primordial as aphrodite caves in to hecate…

3) florence is the goat and i love percy making random friends to help his cause. he doesn’t go out of his way to befriend others in the mortal world unless they approach him first or there’s an opportunity there. and the fact that annabeth can a casually ask her friend to cover for her being gone from her dorm for several days makes me think this is far from the first time she’s snuck out for prolonged periods of time👀

4) this is an INSANE typo to have in a book because clearly not a single person proofread it and it doesn’t surprise me that it got past rick, but becky and several rounds of editors and everyone else in his circle who’s read the book not picking up on it prior to publication is wild. rick is too eager to have his self-insert be everywhere and it shows💀

[togenabi]

with flowers under the stars

inumaki toge x fem!reader (royalty au)

♡—Toge does his best to impress you, even when others might not want him to.

previous♡— [PART 1]

word count♡— 4.1k words (oml)

genre♡— fluff, romance, royalty au

aged up characters♡— 18+

content notes♡— potential lovers to actual lovers, mutual pining, courtship, dating, everyone is a prince or princes, older brother!gojo satoru, no use of y/n, romance, very fluff, mentions of engagement and marriage, toge uses sign language, some characters may be ooc >&lt; pls forgive me

author's note♡— after rising from the grave (I'm so sorry this took so long! buT! I'm graduating! AAA) I finally finished the sequel to my first toge fic. thank you so much to those who have appreciated my previous work! now that I'm back, I hope you enjoy this as well! (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)♡

Exchanging letters with prince Toge occurred frequently before you finally met again. He talked about many things, but they all ended the same way: mentioning how lovely you are and how he wishes time could run faster so he could meet you.

Toge's kingdom was a week on ship and a day by train away, so visiting was saved for important duties or events. ‘Maybe I should ask your brother to appoint me an official position in the council so I can stay in the palace.’ He wrote to you once. You reply that he doesn't deserve it, since he wouldn't be working with the empire or its people in mind.

He writes back that he fell for you a little more, and you trace that line an infinite number of times before tucking the letter away.

When the day of the banquet finally arrives, Satoru notices that you appear a bit more lavish than you usually care to look during events.

“Why! My dearest sister! How stunning you look! And for my birthday, no less! I love that color on you, your taste has improved so much!” He suddenly gasps dramatically and loudly—so loud, that the maid helping you with your earrings flinches.

“Are those... the earrings I got you last year? But I've never seen you wear them! I would give you a hug if it wouldn't ruin your clothes!”

You ignore him the entire time he fusses over you. He looks nice today, you admit. His hair is styled down which gives him a softer aura, and his white suit with gold details looks pristine. A midnight blue cape drapes over his shoulders and flows down his back. It would be difficult for anyone else to pull it off, but you don't tell him that. Goodness knows he would never let you hear the end of it.

You sigh as you watch him through the vanity mirror, but he only becomes even more giddy at your silence.

“Hey, give me that.” Satoru says to the attendant holding your brush. “Leave us.” He says as he stands behind you to brush your hair. You stare at him in disbelief.

Satoru knows you love when he brushes your hair. Even if you never outright told him, it was obvious that you enjoyed it when he cared for you. But because you were embarrassed to ask him as you got older, he hasn't done it since you were children.

He's silent and focuses on brushing your hair gently. The moment feels strangely emotional, and your resolve to ignore him cracks a bit.

“So...” Satoru meets your eyes in the mirror, then winks. “You and Toge, huh?”

You tsk, letting your resolve fully break. “I should've known you would notice.”

He laughs and places a hand on your shoulder. “Well, he wrote saying his father wanted to trade silk from their territory, and that he would like to stay at the palace to handle the negotiations.”

“...Add that to the letters you're receiving everyday, and it wasn't too hard to piece things together.”

You groan and cover your face in embarrassment. You and Toge weren't exactly a secret, but you didn't want your brother to know until it got more serious.

“So what now?” You dread having to ask. “Are you going to tell me to call it off?”

“Nope.” Satoru says, smiling. “Besides, if you're anything like your dear old brother—which, you are! Don't deny it!—I'll end up driving you into his arms if I try to keep you away.”

His eyes suddenly turn serious as he considers his next words. “He's a good kid... Good enough for you, though? We'll have to see.” He places the brush on the dresser, and takes your hand to help you on your feet.

“But what's important is to know yourself and decide for yourself. Don't let anyone else make that choice for you.” He looks sincere as he places your hand on his arm. “Shall we?”

“Satoru...” You call him, touched. He grins and kisses your forehead.

“And of course, if you end up marrying him, that saves me and the ministers the work of looking for your match!” You slap his shoulder, but he only laughs harder as he escorts you out.

The ballroom was sparkling when you arrived. There were already plenty of guests partaking in the revelries as the event had begun half an hour before. Satoru had insisted on the importance of being fashionably late. Normally, you wouldn't have let him actually be late, but you caved only for today.

“Entering, their Royal Highnesses, The Imperial Crown Prince and The Imperial Princess.”

As you descended the stairs with Satoru, the people bowed and you took that as an opportunity to look for a head of white hair, a mask or a high collar covering half the face.

“You're being too obvious.” Satoru whispered. “He'll show up, don't worry.”

He led you to the center of the hall. You were so caught up on looking for Toge that you had nearly forgotten you were to share Satoru's first dance; as he still wasn't engaged. The both of you took your positions gracefully as the music started to flow through the air.

“I'll spin you a few times.” He was grinning. “Try to spot him.”

And yet, the song ended without you seeing Toge anywhere. After giving a hasty bow to your brother, you went on with your search once again.

Your eyes caught princess Nobara the same moment she did yours. You were about to go greet her when her eyes trailed off to something behind you. When her gaze returns to yours, she's smirking and it makes you turn to look at what she saw.

Toge takes your breath away as he walks up to you. He wasn't wearing a mask, or a high collar like he had been during the previous ball. His suit was pitch black and every bit as elegant as him. Your eyes were immediately drawn to his lips and you blushed when he caught you staring. All you wanted to do was to dance with him so that you had an excuse to be close.

It seemed that he picked up on that, as he bowed and offered you his hand.

“It's good to see you again.” You greet him. He kisses the back of your hand with a smile before sweeping you away to dance.

Suddenly nervous, your words get stuck in your throat as the beginnings of a soft waltz reach your ears. “I... tried looking for you when I arrived.”

Toge leads the dance as effortlessly as he did the first time. It almost amazes you how natural it feels to move and sway with him. He seems pleased to know that you were paying him as much attention as he gave you.

Not wanting to simply dance, you took to asking him questions. “Did your journey here go smoothly?” Toge nods.

“When did you arrive?”

‘Today.’ He mouths.

“Ah. I'll have to take you sightseeing then.” You grin up at him. “Would tomorrow be alright?” You get your answer in the form of Toge grinning back, and before you could prepare yourself, he twirls you around and catches you in an embrace as the song finishes with a flourish. A number of people around you started to clap, and you couldn't help but blush in his arms.

After settling at the less crowded side of the ballroom, Toge explains, ‘I also tried to find you. I arrived as early as I could, and yet you and your brother were late.’ He looks at you almost as if to scold you, but you see mischief in his eyes. ‘I thought that you might be by the window where we met... So I went to check.’

“Oh, I see.” You respond, a bit embarrassed. “I should have warned you about my brother's flair for dramatics. He tends to do that when he's the star of the event.”

‘Do you have any remaining commitments here at the ball?’

That makes you think for a moment. “No, Satoru's the one the people want to bother today. Why?”

Toge gives you a look that makes you want to agree to almost anything he asks. ‘Will you allow me to whisk you away?’

And so you were both running, hand-in-hand and laughing, on your way to that secluded hall with the stained glass window. It shouldn't have been possible, but it felt more magical than before to be with him here again.

Toge slows his steps when you both reach the window. You realize that despite coming to cherish this place, you never sought it out when he wasn't around. Something tells you that would have only made you miss him more.

Looking at you with a serious expression, he begins to sign, ‘I know I have been very upfront about myself caring about you... But I want to ask this properly, because you deserve nothing less than the best.’

‘I would like—if it is alright with you, to formally court you.’

The smile on your face glows before you can help it, and you throw your arms around him.

“I would very much like that as well, my dear prince.” You lean to kiss his cheek.

Toge looks dazed and happy as if drunk on something you had given him. Maybe he was.

The moonlight shining through the glass paints him in a kaleidoscope of colors. Before, the only colors on him were the purple hues in his eyes. And now he stood before you, bright and shining.

‘You look beautiful.’

He took the words right out of your mouth.

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Satoru came to find you the day after the banquet. Naturally, he entered your office without knocking, and unceremoniously dropped a heavy document in front of the one you were already working on.

“What's this?”

“Toge's proposal...”

The floor seemed to sink, your heart and your breath gone along with it. “What?”

“—for the trade negotiations.”

It took everything in your power to not throw the block of papers at him. “You're unbelievable.”

Satoru only hummed. “So is your boyfriend. I can't believe he's making me work right after my birthday! He should be kissing up to me, not giving me paperwork!”

“Last time I checked, he's courting me. Not you.” Nevertheless, you take a few moments to sift through the document. It was very detailed and efficient. You note that the length of the proposal was due to the many alternative plans Toge had prepared. This would certainly help the negotiations go smoothly. Satoru and the ministers merely had to look at the options.

Looking back to your brother, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. What was he complaining about, when all he had to do was select the best plan and tweak where it was necessary?

“We're to begin the negotiations in two days. I think his plans have potential—” You couldn't help but snort at that, from what you'd seen, Toge was already excellent. (You were not biased. Not at all.) “But, I don't think the older ministers will be kind to someone who acts like a know-it-all.”

“Toge doesn't—”

“A-ah,” Satoru waves a finger at you, as if you were a child being told what you did wrong. You scowl at him but he ignores it. “This will be a test for him, to see if he's able to win against those old goons.”

“You mean yourself, then?” His expression drops at that, and you don't bother to hide how satisfied that made you feel.

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As the weeks flew by, Toge ended up being a lot more busy than you both anticipated. Despite officially dating, lunches together turned to having tea during breaks; then that turned to catching him in the hallway for a few moments before he had to go.

You didn't understand why his workload only seemed to grow, no matter how much effort he put in. Once, when you caught him just before he entered his chambers, you had asked him if anything was going wrong with the negotiations.

Toge looked exhausted, and yet he gave you a smile that made your heart melt. ‘No, the talks are going well, I suppose I'm just having trouble adjusting to the empire's work culture.’

You must have looked unconvinced, because Toge suddenly leaned in and rested his forehead against yours. Mischievously, he stared into your eyes until you were too flustered to be worried anymore. He laughed when you had to push him away.

That night, he bid you farewell with a kiss to your cheek.

‘Good night, darling.’

The next time you had Toge to yourself for an entire day, it was due to a holiday celebration. Everyone was too occupied with the festivities to work. You were supposed to be at another banquet Satoru had hosted, but you were determined to monopolize Toge's time today.

So you showed up at his door at the earliest respectable hour of the morning, dressed for warm weather and a picnic basket in your hand.

“Will you allow me to whisk you away?” You asked when he answered the door.

You took him on a tour of the parts of the palace he hasn't seen yet. Your office, the private library, and even some of the secret passage ways. His eyes lit up with curiosity when you showed him one behind a portrait.

You had lunch in the gardens, under a tree that offers wonderful shade. A soft blanket laid across the grass, with a spread of the empire's specialty dishes arranged all over it.

“This one,” You show Toge a cookie with flowers piped on top. “Has been my favorite since I was a child. It has just the perfect amount of sweetness, and goes beautifully with tea.”

You move to hand Toge the cookie, but he doesn't take it. Confused, you're about to ask him if anything was wrong when he leans forward and opens his mouth expectantly.

Wordlessly, you raise the cookie to his lips. The moment feels oddly intimate as he takes a bite without removing his gaze from yours.

Toge hums and moves his hands to sign, ‘It's indeed delicious.’ He leans to you and opens his mouth again.

You push the half-eaten cookie into his hands and turn away to hide your blush. “If you're able to tell me what you think about it, you can eat it yourself.”

He breathes out a laugh. Smirking at you while he chews the remaining cookie.

It was so peaceful, just sitting there with him. And it seemed as though you weren't the only one who wanted to sit with Toge. A tiny white butterfly fluttered about before landing on his knee. He looked so enchanted by it. Staring close, but being careful that he didn't move his knee or disturbed it.

The butterfly flying away made you want to explore too. Getting yourself up, you look over your shoulder and gesture for him to follow. He offers you his arm once he catches up, and you rest your hand on it. Birds chirp and leaves rustle in the wind as you walk towards the shimmering lake at the edge of the gardens.

Bracing yourself on Toge's arm, you kick your shoes off. You set them aside to dip your toes into the water. “It's so refreshing!”

Toge feels his chest grow as warm as the sunlight kisses your cheeks. He gets down on one knee to untie his shoes when he's abruptly hit by a splash of water. Flabbergasted, he looks up at you, blinking away the water droplets in his lashes.

Of course, Toge isn't one to back down from a challenge. The result is the both of you shivering and drenched by the time the sun has set. Your maids fuss all over you when you get back to the palace, and the other staff almost faint at the puddles that trail after you and Toge.

It was useless to insist that you could walk alone and that you both should get cleaned up at the soonest. Toge didn't leave your side until you entered your chambers, your gazes only being broken by the door once it closed.

⋆｡˚ 🌸 ˚｡⋆｡˚✨˚｡⋆

You got the most dreadful fever after that day with Toge. Satoru, wanting you to rest properly, made you swear not to lift a finger for work related reasons until you got better. Which, you followed without complaint. You took a break for a few days.

Toge did his best to see you, but he only got busier. His eyes looked more and more tired, dark circles under them when you caught him in the library one morning. He stayed there to work overnight. You were barely able to convince him to rest.

On another night, one of your maids caught him trying to sneak in your room, screaming and kicking him out. You could have sworn half the palace had woken up to that, and you couldn't help but hide under your sheets due to the embarrassment.

What irritates you most, however, was that the first thing you heard when you get back is, “Oh. Finally decided to return to your duties, eh?” from a delegate who spent most of his time gossiping, and whose biggest contribution to the empire was refilling the inkwells in the conference room...

The conference room has five inkwells.

Those ministers and court members were proving more and more to be nuisances. You gave them an earful when they had assumed you were slacking off when you were sick.

Not to mention, you suspected that they have been making Toge do more work than he needs to. Even if he never complains, you don't fail to notice how some courtiers turn their noses up at him just because his kingdom was distant and smaller compared to the scale of the empire.

The thought of Toge being belittled makes you pause during work, frowning at a chart of kitchen expenses as if it's done something offensive.

Dropping your pen, you head out of your office with brisk steps. You had to speak to Satoru.

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“Overworking Toge? Why, dear sister, I can't believe you're accusing me of such a thing!” Satoru puts a hand to his heart as if he was wounded by your words.

“Maybe not.” You're not going to let him weasel out of this one. “But you let the other ministers and court members walk all over him! Is Toge supposed to just sit there and take it? He's a prince, damn it!”

“Listen,” Satoru leans forward, his elbows on his desk as he uses his hands while explaining. “The ministers are just a bit frazzled, that's all. They think he forced you to skip the holiday banquet, and that he got you sick. He's good at his work, sure. But in their eyes? He just looks like a bad influence on you.”

You scoff.

“Now,” Satoru interrupts before you can say anything, “They were going to try and match you with prince Megumi—”

“Megumi's already engaged.”

“I know, I know. And that's why they're planning on pitching you with prince Yuji or princess Nobara.”

“I'm already with Toge.” You say sternly. “And what happened to not letting others make my decisions for me?”

“As far as those old goons are concerned, Toge is only the third best for you. ‘For the greatness of the empire’ and all that.” It doesn't escape you that he dodged your question. “They're going to try to push you apart until you break up or get hitched.” He leans back, crossing his arms on his chest. “Whichever comes first.”

“Why don't you stop them?” Frustrated, you run your hands through your hair. “Tell them I really like him and that they should leave him alone!”

“Sweetheart,” Satoru's tone becomes deeper, and you hate how it instantly makes you shut up. “The thing is, if Toge isn't capable of handling this, or if he backs out of your relationship because of it, he's not worth your time.”

You stare at him, unlinking. The thought of Toge leaving you had never occurred to you before, and Satoru could tell.

“I told you I would test him.” He shrugged. “It seems I'm testing you too.”

Rushing back to your office, you grab a piece of parchment and your pen from your desk. Not bothering to sit down as you write: Meet me at the gardens, by the tree. Midnight.

You fold it and hastily stuff it into an envelope. Delicately melting wax, you stamp your seal onto it before calling for your most trusted maid.

Handing her the letter, you instruct her, “Deliver this to prince Toge and prince Toge only. If anyone hinders you or attempts to read it, report back to me immediately. Go.”

She bows, and exits the room.

That night, Toge arrived before you. You note that he has a penchant for being early as he reaches to squeeze your hand. He looks you over to check if you're alright, and despite seeing nothing of concern, he asks anyway, ‘Are you okay?’

“We need to talk.” You nervously purse your lips. “The courtiers, the ministers... My brother. They've been making your work difficult.”

He sighs. ‘You found out.’

“You didn't tell me!” You rest a hand on his cheek, absentmindedly grazing your thumb over the marks near his mouth. “Do you understand what they're trying to do?”

‘Testing me.’

“Yes.” A lump forms in your throat. “Satoru said it's until you give up on me, or if you... propose.”

Heart racing, your hands can't stop fiddling with things. His face. His hair. The fastenings of his suit. “I'm just so worried. I care a great deal about you, and I just wanted to ask if you're enduring this because you want to.” You bite your lip in thought. “If it's because you're sure about... me.”

You can't look at him. You suddenly feel foolish. You should have given it a night and slept on it to gather your thoughts. You should have—

Toge embraces you. Everything stops.

You take in the view of the gardens over his shoulder. It was dark, and there was barely any light save for the stars twinkling above. You closed your eyes and let yourself be held.

Pulling away, he doesn't seem as fazed as you do, if at all. He turns to you slowly, and after taking a deep breath...

‘Marry me, then.’

You choke on air.

“Wh-what?!” A warmth creeps into your cheeks. “What are you—”

He places his hands on your shoulders and stares into your eyes. He gives you a look and mouths, ‘Breathe.’ And you do.

Once you've calmed down, he begins to explain.

‘We can come forward and make a statement that we've been seeing each other with marriage in mind. Which...’ He pauses, suddenly shy. ‘I have. I've been thinking about swearing everything to you... Intertwining my future with yours.’

‘I know it's only been a few months, so we could have a long engagement if you want. For us to get to know each other more. And if—’ Toge's hands freeze, his movements are slow as if the next words pain him.

‘...If you decide to break off the engagement, I will not force you to stay with me.’

You immediately stop his hands, holding them tightly with your own.

“Toge... I wouldn't even consider this with anyone else,” You feel genuinely happy as you smile at him. “But I'm willing to try. With you. Only you.”

He glows in a way that reminds you of when you first met. His expression is soft as if he's melting, and he smiles at you brightly. You think of how lucky you are that he looks at you this way.

‘This isn't the way I wanted it to happen, but...’

Toge picks a small, white flower from a bush nearby. It faintly reminds you of the butterfly that had flown to him the last time you were here together. His eyes are focused and he frowns in concentration as he fiddles with the stem. Your heart stutters as he makes... a delicate ring.

He kneels.

You say yes.

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A letter from you and Toge arrives on Satoru's desk the next day.

‘Dearest brother,

Please approve this statement that prince Toge and I have been seeing each other, and that we have decided to get engaged. You will find the formal document stamped with our seals attached to this letter.

We expect your approval posthaste, and I will not consider any objections. Please let us know when you will be available to discuss the engagement ceremony.’

“Your highness, what should we do with these documents you had forged?”

“Oh. Hand them over.” Satoru waves a hand to dismiss the attendant after retrieving the files.

He gets up from his desk and walks to the fireplace. “I can't believe he proposed before I could falsely accuse him of treason.” He tsks and throws the documents into the fire.

His eyes find a framed photograph on the fireplace mantel. It was of him and you as children. Satoru was laughing after you ran to him for a hug. His gaze grows sad yet understanding... He won't be the first person you'll turn to anymore when you get married.

Sighing, he considers that he should be thankful you chose someone determined and true like Toge. But then Satoru grins.

“I suppose I can always mess with him as his brother-in-law.”

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© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

[st-eve-barnes]

Servant

(Aemond x Fem Reader)

Summary: based on a little prompt "I want you to watch me masturbate" where Aemond just wants his maid to watch but she wants to give him a little bit more.

Word count: +2400

Warning: 18+ for explicit content and language. Male masturbation, blow job. Reader is very submissive in this one.

I really enjoyed writing this dynamic so there might be more parts coming up in the future!

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Being Prince Aemond’s maid was the best job you could have wished for. You were a poor girl from a simple family, your parents barely had enough to survive and sustain you and your three sisters. There was no money or time for an education. As soon as you were able to you started working to earn money for yourself and your family.

You’d started out cleaning in the staff’s quarters of the Red Keep, then worked your way up to taking care of the guest quarters, a job you’d held for several years.

This last year you got your final promotion: maid for the royal family and more specifically Prince Aemond.

You were nervous at first, knowing nothing about the prince except what you’d heard around the corridors of the castle, that he was not a kind man, that he could be cold and cruel. And those weren't the worst rumors going around, some called him violent and unhinged, a dangerous man you didn’t want to cross paths with.

But that wasn’t your experience with him at all. After many months of working for Aemond you had found him to be kind, quiet and polite. He always treated you with gratitude and respect and never demanded too much from you.

You felt like the luckiest maid in the entire realm.

It was late that particular night, you had just finished washing and folding Aemond’s clothes and were on your way to deliver them to his chambers. You knocked on the door and waited for the prince to answer.

“Who is there?”

“It’s Y/N, your grace, I have your robes for tomorrow…I can leave them by the door.”

It was quiet for a moment and you were just about to put the clothes on the little table next to his door when he answered again.”Come in, please.”

You opened the door without giving it any second thought and stepped into his room. 

Aemond must have just returned from the bath because his hair was still wet, clinging to his shoulders and bare chest but that wasn’t where your eyes were drawn to. He was completely naked and you couldn't help your gaze from traveling downwards.

The clothes you were holding almost fell to the floor in shock and for a moment you just stared, unable to help yourself. You quickly recovered and turned your back to him, averting your gaze and biting your lip.

“I’m sorry, your grace,” you stuttered,” I shouldn’t have looked, forgive me.”

Aemond just smiled, amused at your embarrassment and your obvious interest in his lower regions, ”You do not have to apologize, my dear. And I believe I have told you before there is no need for such formalities in here. Call me Aemond, please.”

���Aemond,” you sighed, still keeping your back to him,”I shouldn’t have come in this late, I'm sorry, I thought you said…”

“I asked you to come in,” he clarified.

“Oh.”

Confusion clouded your mind. You had known the prince for almost a year now but except for some small talk you two hadn’t really shared any actual conversations, and it definitely wasn’t a habit of him to invite you into his room this late at night. Aemond always kept to himself when you were around and he was usually quiet. And fully dressed.

“Why?” you asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you ask me to come in?”

“Maybe I like the company.”

You felt him move behind you but you didn’t dare turn around, knowing he was still as naked as when you walked in and not trusting your eyes to not have a will of their own.

"Do you want company?" you asked, trying to focus on the conversation.

"I wouldn't mind it."

“I can look into getting one of the girls from the pleasure house, my prince. I’m sure they would only be too happy to…”

“No,” he interrupted you with a weak smile,”No, I don’t want any of them.”

His words only brought more confusion and your mind was running in too many different directions. You had no idea what he wanted.

“My lady, are you ever going to turn around and look at me?” Aemond interrupted your thoughts.

He had never called you my lady before today but something was different tonight-apart from him not wearing any clothes that is- the air in the room felt heavy and thick.

“I can’t, my prince, it would be improper, I am your maid,” you reminded him.

“I am well aware, Y/N,” he chuckled and hesitated a moment before asking his next question,“Have you ever seen a man naked before?”

This time it was your turn to smile, “I have, your grace. More than once actually.” 

But no man like you. Those words died on your tongue and you shook your head, if this went on for much longer you were sure to say or do the wrong thing. You had always found the prince attractive, but you valued your job over anything else so it wasn’t something you allowed yourself to dwell on or really think about.  He descended from dragon blood, you descended from nothing. You would never be more than his maid.

You sighed deeply, pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind and saying the only thing you could say. “I should go, your grace."

Aemond's face fell at your formal words but then he noticed that despite them you still hadn’t moved closer to the door.

"Are you a virgin, my lady?" he then asked.

You bit your lip and shook your head. Why was he asking those things when you were fighting so hard not to think such impure thoughts?

"Answer your prince," he insisted.

"No, I am not a virgin."

His lips curled up into a little smile and he slowly took a few steps closer to you. Even without looking you felt him and your body reacted instantly, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest and if he came much closer he would hear it too.

When he took another step you could feel the heat from his body radiating against yours. His voice a heavy whisper against your ear now,"Do you want to go? Or do you want to look at me?"

You let out a shaky breath, the presence of him and how he was able to see into your mind, the teasing tone in his question…everything about him was clouding your judgment. 

God, you wanted to look. But you worked for him, it was all kinds of wrong.

“It is a simple question, my dear. To which there is no wrong answer, I will not judge or belittle you for your choice.”

You stayed quiet for a moment and he did not press you for an answer, letting you decide in your own time.

Eventually you asked the question back to him,”What is it that you want, your gra…Aemond?”

You heard him step back from you again and immediately felt cold at the loss. But then his voice brought you back into the moment, low and almost challenging, “I want you to look.”

You sighed deeply realizing there was no way out of this, if you walked away right now you would regret it for the rest of the night, and probably a lot longer. His voice and his request had broken down your walls. You would probably regret this too, but at least you’d have something to remember.

You slowly turned around.

Aemond was sitting down in his chair by the fireplace, still fully naked, legs wide open and his cock half hard in between. The sight of him instantly took your breath away.

He smiled softly when he noticed how you stared and how flustered you had already become just from seeing him like this.

But you recovered quickly, slowly taking a few steps closer to him while your eyes came to rest on his.

“What can I do for you, your grace?” your question sounded innocent but the darkness in your eyes didn't lie.

You would have done anything he asked of you, no matter how improper or vulgar it may be.

Your gaze held onto him, your turn to challenge him now and it worked. The prince was blushing, his chest rising up and down fast under his heavy breath.“I want you to watch."

He wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking it lazily and slowly, never taking his eye off you. You were both breathing hard. The sight of him put an ache between your legs you hadn’t felt in a really long time.

“Take off your apron,” Aemond asked.

You did as he asked, slowly taking off your apron and letting it fall down to the floor. The dress you wore underneath showed more of your curves and even a little cleavage. It wasn’t much but it seemed to be enough for Aemond to be affected. His hand moved over his cock a little faster and more determined.

“The dress,” he continued,” Take it off.”

You followed his instructions again, unable to do anything else but obey. You took your time, noticing how he enjoyed every second of you teasing him, encouraging you to keep it going.

Your dress fell to the floor next to your apron, leaving you in just your underdress. You knew he could see more than just your curves now, the fabric being almost completely see through.

Aemond’s eye was no longer on yours now, it was on your body, drinking you in from top to bottom. He was flustered and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander as well, down to his hand and how it wrapped so perfectly around his now fully hard huge cock, his thumb circling the head, spreading his precum all over himself. You couldn’t help but wonder what his hand would feel like wrapped around your throat, or how those long delicate fingers would feel curled deep inside of your wet cunt.

You pressed your legs together, the ache down there quickly building into something you wouldn’t be able to ignore much longer.

You started pulling down the last layer of clothing hiding you from him but Aemond shook his head.

“No, leave it on,” he stopped you, his eye finding yours again,”Leave it on, my lady.”

You nodded and did as he asked.

“Come closer to me,” he then pleaded.

Your feet moved instantly at his words, as if he controlled your every move now. You stepped closer until you were standing right in front of him. You weren’t sure what came over you, it was as if you were hypnotized by that one piercing eye boring into your soul and pulling all the strings.

Your body seemed to have taken over from your mind and it only wanted one thing, to make the man in front of you fall apart.

You sank down to your knees and Aemond’s eye widened in surprise. Your hands moved up his thighs, making him hiss between his teeth while he kept pumping himself, faster now, suddenly no longer the one in control. His mouth fell open as he watched you in awe.

“My lady...fuck,” he breathed.

You slowly licked your lips while you moved your face in between his legs, all your attention focussed on his cock. You didn’t touch him, you just opened your mouth suggestively and then looked up at him.

Aemond looked wrecked, still in disbelief of what was happening and how eagerly you got down on your knees for him.

This wasn’t what he’d planned. None of this was what he’d planned, he never should have listened to Aegon and shared that last bottle of wine with him. Aemond was far from drunk but he was definitely buzzed, the loss of his inhibitions made him bolder than usual, not to mention horny as hell. This was exactly why he didn’t drink.

Because now here he was at the point of no return, having lost all self control. You held it all in the palm of your hand as it wrapped around his cock and took over from him, jerking him slowly. Aemond was afraid he would cum on the spot just from finally feeling your touch. He had imagined this countless of times but his fantasies could never live up to the real deal. 

Your eyes looked up at him with so much lust as you leaned in and took him into your mouth, your heat and wetness engulfing him so perfectly Aemond thought he might die.

His head fell back against the chair and he moaned shamelessly, no longer able to hold back, hands gripping the sides of the chair.

You continued pumping him slowly while letting your mouth get used to the feel of him, trying to take him in a little deeper with every bop of your head. 

“Yes…just like that,” Aemond finally found his voice again, encouraging you as he moaned,”Gods, please don’t stop…you feel so good…oh my sweet girl…fuck…yes…”

Your free hand searched for his, grabbing his wrist and guiding him towards your head. Aemond took the hint, he gently caressed your scalp and then grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding your movements, letting him set the rhythm.

He wanted to go slow, savor every moment of this but his body was betraying him. He could feel how close he was already, your mouth and your hand pushing him closer to that edge.

“Faster,” he moaned,”Please…faster….oh gods…fuck…don’t stop…I’m gonna come…”

When you dug your nails into his thighs and moaned around his cock he was done for. He fucked your mouth mercilessly and it didn't take more than a few thrust for him to fall apart completely. He wanted to pull out but you didn’t budge, sucking him down until you felt his hot white cum fill the back of your throat. Aemond was whimpering beneath you, hands tightening in your hair as you swallowed all of him.

You felt him grow weak in your mouth and took your time licking him clean, he was still breathing hard and moaning softly, coming down from his high. His hand in your hair lost its grip and he leaned back against the chair, trying to calm down his racing heart.

"You're so good," he breathed in a whisper,"So good to me...my sweet girl...gods...your mouth is heaven.."

You smiled softly and got comfortable on the floor in between his legs. You wanted nothing more but to stay right there by his side, your hand softly caressing his leg while you rest your head on his thigh. All thoughts of your own needs were forgotten, somehow this was all you needed and all you wanted tonight, to take care of him and make him feel good. Nothing else mattered.

Aemond closed his eye, his hand finding its way back to your head, caressing your hair and gently scratching your scalp.

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to speak anymore, didn’t want to do anything that could ruin the magic of this moment.

You were so beautiful and so good to him and he had no idea what he had done to deserve this. But he would hold onto it, even if it was only for tonight.

Maybe he should thank Aegon for that bottle of wine after all.

***

Part 2

[aita-blorbos]

(Spoilers for Magnus Archives)

AITA for burning my childhood house down

Hello, Jon.

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. (slightly strained) I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself. So just listen.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

WIBTA for starting the apocalypse

I hope you’ll forgive me the self-indulgence, but I have worked so very hard for this moment, a culmination of two centuries of work. It’s rare that you get the chance to monologue through another, and you can’t tell me you’re not curious.

Why does a man seek to destroy the world?

It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my god. The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness, to place yourself beyond pain and death and fear.

It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, Jon, the freedom of it all. I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction in that choice.

I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.

I believe there are far more people in this world that would take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.

Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When RS (87, M) first gathered our little band – L, S, and the rest – to discuss and hypothesize on the nature of the things he had learned from R, I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear.

But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. RS was so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of our patrons.

I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world.

At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race.

Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

I convinced RS to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked.

It. Took. Years. for the dread of the prisoners to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man before I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the center of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet.

It was… flawed, of course, as all RS’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it.

But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to.

It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it was born.

I’ll not bore you with details of my bodies and failures through those intervening years. Suffice to say I kept busy, both planning my own next attempt, and doing my best to stymie those others who tried versions of their own.

Surely my interpretation of the Watcher’s Crown had been incomplete; there had been some element of the ritual I had overlooked.

It was not until I met G (70, F) that things began to really come into focus.

You see, the role of Archivist has been part of the Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers; most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.

But G was unlike any other Archivist. She simply did not care about compiling experiences or collecting the fears of others. She was driven to stop those who served the Powers.

More than once I thought she must secretly be of the Hunt – but there was never that sick joy in her, that thrill of predator and prey. She had simply decided that this was her position in life, and went about it with a practicality that even I found disconcerting at times.

I once asked her what drove her, what had started her down that path. She told me the Desolation had killed her cat.

I don’t know if she was joking, and, to be honest, I could never bring myself to look into her mind and find out for sure.

In any case, G’s ruthless efficiency in derailing and collapsing rituals threw into stark relief a question that had been bothering me for almost a hundred and fifty years: In the whole span of humanity, why had nobody ever succeeded?

Perhaps there were a long line of G throughout history, but I found that hard to credit. Could it be, then, that there was something in the very concept of the rituals that meant they couldn’t succeed?

She was clearly having similar thoughts in that last year, all of which culminated with the People’s Church.

When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realized she was putting into practice a theory, and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain as mine had all those years ago.

Knowing G, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated – but she had not. The ritual failed. And all at once, I realized what had to be done.

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

Even those that seem to exist in direct opposition rely on each other for their definition as much as up relies on down.

To try and create a world with only the Buried makes as much sense as trying to conceive a world with only down.

Every ritual tied itself so closely to a single power as to render itself impossible. They could bring their patron close, but never sever it from the others, and eventually it would be violently pulled back into the place next to reality where they dwell.

The solution, then, is simple: A new ritual must be devised which will bring through all the Powers at once. All fourteen, as I had hoped I could complete it before any new powers such as Extinction were able to fully emerge. All under the Eye’s auspices, of course. We mustn’t forget our roots.

And there was only one being that could possibly serve as a lynchpin for this new ritual: The Archivist. A position that had so recently become vacant, thanks to G’s ill-timed retirement plans.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer.

It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive.

Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you.

You are a living chronicle of terror.

Perhaps, then, if I could find an Archivist and have each Power mark them, have them confront each one and each in turn instill in them a powerful and acute fear for their life, they could be turned into a conduit for the coming of this – nightmare kingdom.

Do you see where I’m going, Jon?

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck.

I’ll admit, my options were somewhat limited, but My God, when you came to me already marked by the Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as some sort of implicit blessing on the whole project, and, do you know what, I think it was.

Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push, learn how you worked – So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during G’s tenure, and, while she was always prepared, I made sure you would not be.

I reasoned if you couldn’t survive a single encounter, you were unlikely to make it through all fourteen. So, when JP attacked, I watched eagerly, one hand on the gas release from the start.

You acquitted yourself well enough, so I decided to see how far you would get, though I waited until the worms were in you before I pulled the lever. I needed to make sure you felt that fear all the way to your bones.

The discovery that one of the Stranger’s minions had infiltrated the Institute in the aftermath was certainly a pleasant bonus. Even if that sliver of paranoia, that vague wrongness you couldn’t quite place wouldn’t count as a mark, it was only a matter of time before it confronted you in a far more direct and affecting matter.

Admittedly, given the advent of the Unknowing, I needn’t have bothered. But what’s the old saying about hindsight?

More important to me was Sasha’s encounter with the Distortion. If it had taken an interest, then I very much wanted it to cross your path.

So I found one of its current victims and convinced her to make a statement.

Poor H (~20, F). I actually had to put her in a taxi myself, she was getting so lost in those narrow London side streets.

It worked, though.

Between the stabbing and at least two desperate flights into its doors – you’re marked very deeply by the Spiral.

JL (~70, M) was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to improvise. I had no idea how much G would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast.

I justified it to myself saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway, if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.

Still. I’d requested Detective T (~25, F) be assigned to the case when they found G’s body in the hope that having a Hunter in the mix would eventually lead to a confrontation, and setting you up as a killer certainly hastened that.

Then it was just a matter of feeding you statements to lead you to a few Avatars I thought were likely to harm you – but probably would stop short of actually killing you.

J (27, F) served her purpose exactly as I had hoped, as did our dearly departed Mr. C, marking you for the Desolation and the Vast.

Honestly, I had – nothing to do with M (23, F) and her Slaughter adventure, but when I saw the situation, I made sure to trap her here, so when her rage bubbled over you would be right there, a ready target.

I didn’t foresee the mark coming from surgery gone wrong, but it was a very pleasant surprise.

The Unknowing was a distraction, but not an unwelcome one. For this to work, you needed more than just the marks; you needed power. And that was something the Unknowing served to test, though it posed no actual danger in the grand scheme of things.

And it did serve another purpose, of course. It inadvertently pushed you to confront death, a mark I had been very worried about trying to orchestrate. If I tried too early, you’d just die. Too late, and you might be powerful enough to see the attempt coming, and maybe even understand why.

As it was, it was just right, and once again, you came through with flying colors.

By this point, your abilities were coming along in leaps and bounds, and I was concerned that meeting face-to-face might end up with you – (sigh) – Knowing something you shouldn’t.

I had initially planned to go into hiding, but when your colleagues surprised me with the police, well. It was simple enough to cut a deal.

All that remained, then, were the Dark, the Flesh, the Buried, and the Lonely.

I was a little put out when that idiot JH (???, M) misinterpreted my letters and attacked the Institute too soon, before you were even out of the hospital, but then – Ho, you should have see my face when you voluntarily went to him.

I couldn’t see what happened in there, of course, but given how you came out, I’m very sure it counts as a mark.

I suspected the coffin might turn up again, and once it did, it was simply a matter of getting any, uh… restraining factors you might have had flying off on a wild goose chase, and waiting.

Honestly, Detective T has been proving invaluable through this process. I’d been racking my brains for months about what I could use to lure you in.

And, of course, I knew the Dark Sun was just sitting there waiting. So when it came time, I just whipped up another apocalypse and sent you on your merry way.

Then all that remained was the Lonely.

Poor P (~50, M). He really should have left well enough alone. Or just done what I’d asked in the first place.

Ah well. He knew what I was attempting, and was very unwilling to cooperate until I made him a little wager about M (same age as you, Jon, M).

Of course, he had no way of knowing that, in addition to setting you up for the final mark, he was giving you all the tools you needed to escape from it.

How is M, by the way? He looks well. You will keep an eye on him when all this is over, won’t you? He’s earned that.

And there, I think, we are brought just about up to date. I have enjoyed our little trip down memory lane, but past here lies only impatience.

You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of the Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here.

Don’t worry, Jon. You’ll get used to it here, in the world that we have made.

Now. Repeat after me.

You who watch and know and understand none. You who listen and hear and will not comprehend. You who wait and wait and drink in all that is not yours by right.

Come to us in your wholeness.

Come to us in your perfection.

Bring all that is fear and all that is terror and all that is the awful dread that crawls and chokes and blinds and falls and twists and leaves and hides and weaves and burns and hunts and rips and bleeds and dies!

Come to us.

I – OPEN – THE DOOR!

[writersblockended]

Miguel O’Hara - HC

Warnings: no translated Spanish, other than that none??? Just fluff

Miguel O’Hara x reader

First of all that man is extremely romantic

He comes off as a serious man but did you see how he’s able to get bat shit crazy like he did for miles?

So he’s 100% capable of feeling intense emotions and SHOWS it. He’s got no problem with it

So he will shower you with gifts, sugar daddy style

One day you’ll see something in your closet or outside your door and think…I’ve never bought this before did i?

Honestly it didn’t take much to put two and two together, so you would just ask him about it

“Miguel, what did I tell you about buying me things, I’m not gonna have enough space for everything at some point you know?”

“I don’t dont know what you’re talking about.”

You’ll just roll your eyes, he’s never going to learn is he?

He is also jealous, but not controlling

He respects you and trusts you, but he doesn’t trust others

So if you’re in HQ to visit him and you find yourself talking to the different spidermen…

Hobie would be talking to you about politics and the importance of unions for workers, you would animatedly reply

And then walks Miguel…he saw you both and he knew you were going to surprise him

But he couldn’t help but feel jealous

Why couldn’t you go straight to him?

I think those feelings of jealousy come from his fear of losing people

You turn around and see Miguel, you smile

“Hey babe, cómo estás mi amorcito? Te quise sorprender pero ya veo que ya me viste”

“Hola, i see you two are talking, but that can wait. Ven contigo amor.”

You follow him to his lair (or rlly was is it …an office?)

And you go “okay what is it, did you need anything?”

“No, I just wanted you for myself.”

This makes you laugh, honestly Hobie is harmless and Miguel knows this. But he can’t help but feel threatened

He just wants you for himself really.

He’s also a huge cuddle bug, but he doesn’t show his affection in public. He doesn’t have an image to maintain doesn’t he?

At HQ he won’t kiss you unless everyone’s distracted, or he’ll have you sit on his lap while no one’s around.

Honestly it’s so easy to take naps while he’s working on things, those arms are quite literally pillows.

But at home? Oh my god, he’s like him stuck to your hair on a hot day

He will drop that persona and just simply attach himself to you and the nearest piece of furniture.

He will kiss you up and want to lay in bed so he’s fully on you

Sometimes he will fall asleep on you entirely, and he will wake up in the middle of the night panicking thinking he’s hurt you with his huge body

“No te hecho nada no mi amor? Fuck you should’ve told me I fell asleep on you babe”

“Oh my god Miguel you act as if you’ weight a ton, besides it’s no big deal”

He’s honestly such a worrier with you, he just wants you to be happy with him, so sometimes he will overanalyze every aspect of his relationship and you can see the gears turning everytime

Thats when you’ll reassure him and let him know he’s doing great, that he’s an amazing man who should not feel as if you are going to leave him. That simply won’t happen.

He also loved it when you take care of him, mostly bc he’s neglecting himself and it feels good to have someone do that for you u know?

If you give him a massage after a particular long day or tend to his wounds if he’s injured

He will just look at you with these loving glazed eyes and he will just melt under your touch

He acts tough but inside he’s like melted butter, softest guy you will ever meet.

He’s actually so emotional, he’s just good at hiding it

So if you guys argue, he’s upset and will look cranky at work

Once he gets home he sees you and your cold gaze and he will absolutely beg on his knees for your forgiveness, it makes you feel bad instantly, so you forgive him

All in all, your relationship with him is super stable and loving.

So yea this is me attempting to write after two years 😭🫣

Let me know if you guys like it cus idk I’m thinking of going back to writing fanfics and drabbles and all that good stuff ;)

Requests are open!!

[galedekarios]

also re: the last gale art i reblogged

when i have the spoons to do so, i'd also very much like to talk about gale and depression and him being high functioning. it's an extremely heavy topic, but i think it's one of those things - if not the thing - that resonated the most with me on a personal level while experiencing his story for the first time, and it still does now almost a year later.

his isolation, his deep loneliness, gale using his magic to create an escape for his mind when he felt there was none for his body and withdrawing from the circumstances surrounding him as much as he was still able to, while still feeling mystra's disappointment echoing through the weave the moment he tapped into it - which is something that we know from his origin playthrough hurts him more than anything else (in that case it's related to elminster, but i think we can draw the conclusion here as well).

gale's social circle slowly withering away, one by one, until it's not a circle anymore, but a pinhead. enough to only include tara now. and even with tara, we know he's expecting to become too much of a burden, too much of a hassle ("i feared she had abandoned me." he says in act 3, after his long time away). he's waiting for the other shoe to drop even with his own familiar. i'm sure he wished to have her by his side even when he rationally knew that she had to leave to find a cure - or to at least find means to stave off his condition. he fekt he couldn't burden the only immediate family he still has left: morena. afraid of shaming her, afraid of burdening her, afraid of putting her in danger.

despite all that, he manages to leave waterdeep, to seek a cure for himself, or at the least not present a danger to thousands of people around him, once he recognised he was no longer able to treat his condition.

and when we meet him there is almost no immediate trace of all that, he masks it with smiles and politeness and humour. he's friendly. affable. unflappable. he cooks, he fights, he reads, he's well kept, despite tara's nagging about eating regularly in gale's origin playthrough. you'd never know. you only get a sense of melancholy sometimes (his first camp scene, staring into the fire, unsure of what the tadpole means for him and, more importantly, the orb), when it's all too much and he hasn't calmed himself yet, hasn't quieted his mind fully ("i need to retrace my steps to a glade of calm and think").

what a difference a day makes.

(still, he's opening himself up a bit again, re-learning to live again, travelling with people he may have not met otherwise, some of whom have become his friends. it feels good to chat, it feels good to tell stories, to share knowledge and meals, and to not be alone.)

and even when it all comes crashing down around him in act 2, he receives mystra's orders with quiet acceptance and a smile. he thanks elminster. he's glad it was him. he deflects your concern and doesn't engage with the deeper meaning of what it means to do as he was asked. oh you know him, don't you. he's an optimist. it's all not so bad. at least his death will have meaning. at least he'll have forgiveness.

it's only much later that he lets himself acknowledge how scared truly is. terrified, he says. and even then, he marches on.

anyhow, excuse my disjointed rambling, i just have a lot of thoughts about it all.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Do you think Harry will ever recover his reputation - or at least what the palace created for him? It just seems such a stark contrast between real RF engagements and what they put out. William just carries himself like a serious and relatable person, which sends a very powerful message.

Nope.

The only ways Harry can get some aspect of his reputation back are to 1) leave Meghan, 2) complete rehab for addiction issues and become a teetotaler, and 3) actual, hard, real work - bread and butter engagements in the Princess Anne tradition. All three need to happen and *maybe* Harry can get his approval ratings up into the 50s or 60s in about 10ish years or so from leaving Meghan.

Harry is never going to get approval ratings back in the 90s again and he’s never going to have his pre-Meghan (or pre-Megxit) reputation back. The media will have a short memory and they’ll be the first to forgive Harry, but the general public has a much, much longer memory. They’ll remember what he did to The Queen, Prince Philip, and William long after the press has forgotten, and that’ll be reflected in his ratings and reputation.

But I’m skeptical that Harry can do those three things. I can see him leaving Meghan and I can see him doing rehab, especially if it’s a requirement to come back in on the family side, but I can’t see him picking up Anne’s kind of workload of exclusively bread-and-butter-engagements. He wants exactly what William has, which is military engagements, state visits, and signature/niche charity work that lets him travel abroad, look busy, take credit, and seem important. He doesn’t actually want to *be* busy and *do* work.

He didn’t in 2015/2016 before Meghan came along. He didn’t before Megxit (and in fact, the pre-Megxit era was when his desire to be equal to William really amped up). He didn’t after Megxit, and he won’t post-Meghan.

But of course, William is the linchpin here. If William forgives Harry and William lends Harry his PR magic (which he did pre-Meghan in the Cambridge+Harry trio era), then Harry could probably get part of his reputation back. The public holds William’s actions and what William says in really high esteem, to where a great majority of them take their cues from him. If William takes Harry back, then the public will take Harry back.

And personally, I think there’s no chance there. William might allow Harry back, but he’s not letting Harry back fully in. That bridge is well and truly burned, and I think William’s reckoning with Kate’s health crisis, and Charles’s cancer, has made him totally reevaluate everything. I feel William is more fully aware of what is truly important to his family and his future and in the revised priorities of his future monarchy, what his brother wants (or needs) no longer has a part.