#nay... a great friend

[vashtijoy]

have you seen the commentary from the p5r artbook going around? the shuake part of my dash is losing it a bit at the implication that their wishes were mutual!!! that seems to be what some people are getting from the commentary at least… amy insights?

Hi! I have been through the artbook. It's great, isn't it? :D

The image above is called "One Ending", and the creator caption (by illustrator Akane Kabayashi) reads:

When I think about how Akechi's wish was to play chess after school with the protagonist, I almost want to call him out with "You liked him after all, didn't you!"

Look at that. We're told about Akechi's wish, and what it included. We're as good as told outright that he likes Joker—and this isn't the only time, there's also this:

—There are a whole lot of things we can imagine, based on how the protagonist was depicted as someone special to Akechi. Those are more or less the exact emotions represented during Akechi's confidant. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

"someone special" here is 特別な存在 tokubetsuna sonzai—literally "a special presence". It means a special person, and more than that; it describes someone you find compelling, someone you can't look away from, someone who becomes one of your most important people, the centre of your world. It's another term that is often romantic, but isn't necessarily romantic.

(In the same way, I think Kabayashi's suki jan! is more tongue-in-cheek than it is a cast-iron confirmation that Akechi was canonly in love with Joker. The language there is teasing, it's ambiguous, it's baity; Kabayashi is joking. This is a rank 6—as they say, if you know, you know. But it is of course ultimately up to all of you.)

There's another mention of this image, down in the creator interview:

Out of all the Maruki ending illustrations, it was Akechi's that stuck with me the most. It made such an impression to see them opening up as friends, having a fun, peaceful time together like high school students should. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

What really strikes me in all of this is the emphasis the creators put on the fact that this is Akechi's illustration, Akechi's wish. Because I've thought for a while that we know Akechi has a wish. You can see him struggling with his refusals to Maruki in the first week of January. And you can hear his wish spoken—when Maruki repeats it back to him, during the boss fight, on 2/3:

Maruki {F1 81}君たちとなら、君も過ちのない道を歩めるかも知れないじゃないか！ {F1 81}-kun-tachi to nara, kimi mo ayamachi no nai michi o ayumeru kamoshirenai ja nai ka! If you're with {F1 81}―kun and his friends, you could begin to atone for what you've done! Think about it! With [Amamiya]-kun and his friends beside you, you could choose a path with no mistakes as well!

So this wish has several parts. First, there's that kimi mo, "you also"; it's tempting to read this as Maruki also wanting his new world to erase his past mistakes. Second, there's the first part, "if you're with [Amamiya]-kun and his friends". Where to even start here?

Being with Joker and the others is a prerequisite for the second half of Akechi's wish. It doesn't just coexist, it enables the rest of it. Just like his words in the engine room, "I wonder why we couldn't have met a few years earlier, [Ren]..."

Remember, Akechi's whole arc is about his rejection of trust and friendship, and his insistence on doing everything himself. This is precisely what Futaba calls him out on—"you trusted no one", or "you played life in single-player mode". This is what he unlearns at the climax of the engine room, when he realises he isn't prepared to let the others die—and follows through to save them.

Akechi is nothing without others, and he knows it. Without their support, which he believes he has no right to, he has no hope of living a better life, even were he to be given the chance—and he knows that, too. He has learned, and he has grown—and yet he knows the things he needs and wants so badly are forever inaccessible.

And his wish is about all the Phantom Thieves, not just Joker. There are many tiny references to this end—not least the original Japanese rank 10 line for his confidant, where he sacrifices himself for all of you. Joker is his compelling presence, his someone special, but he's formed small bonds with the others too, God help him.

and then there's the crime thing

The localisation frames Akechi's wish in terms of atonement, but that's not what's on offer. You cannot, after all, atone for things you never did. We see Akechi's wish put into practice, in the Maruki ending, where he appears with his friends beside him, wholly innocent and with unstained hands. And we see it in the first week of January, after he has finally met Maruki and spoken to him:

Akechi: Ah, that reminds me—there was one more thing I wanted to tell you. Akechi: About the reality Maruki's put us in... Akechi: It seems that Okumura and Wakaba are both considered alive by all accounts. [Ren: They're not dead anymore? / What do you mean?] Akechi: They aren't mere illusions, or cognitive beings—they truly are alive and existing in this world. Akechi: In fact, their deaths seem to have never taken place at all in this reality. [Ren: What happened to Shido?] Akechi: Shido was the only one arrested on the crime of attempting to overthrow the government... Akechi: It seems the Phantom Thieves were causing a stir in this society as well, but there's no record of your arrest now. Akechi: Basically, in this reality, you and I haven't committed any crimes.

While Akechi still remembers his crimes, they never took place. They have been undone, and only his lingering memory—and Joker's, at this point—speaks to them. He objects to this on countless levels, he summons all the strength he has to refuse it, but don't make the mistake of thinking that means he doesn't want it. This is Akechi's wish in action.

People are often very certain that Akechi's resolve in the third semester is like iron—that he rejects Maruki's offers right away, is never tempted, never wavers. But that can't be true. We know he's afraid to die. We know about the bad end where you don't complete the Palace, where Akechi says nothing and stares at the floor, seemingly blaming himself internally while all the others blame themselves aloud, for being unable to say no to Maruki's temptations. We know how he responds to this assertion of Maruki's—Maruki, who has perfectly summed up what we know all the other PTs wanted, and who (even if Word of God hadn't just confirmed Akechi's wish) we have, honestly, no reason to doubt.

Because Akechi never refutes this wish that Maruki describes. He never says he doesn't want it. He just rejects it—like all the others, who so desperately want what Maruki could give them. Futaba's mother, Haru's father. Akechi's life, and his innocence. And the people who might have been his friends, if he could dare, one day, to ask.

Akechi is tested just like the others, and the price he pays for his defiance is perhaps the highest of all.

and finally

[The Maruki ending illustrations are] of Maruki's world, where everyone's wishes are granted and they seem happy. The scene shows their actualised wishes, which were never granted in the real world. (Mumon Usuda, chief designer)

We shouldn't forget the price Akechi pays for his impossible wish. Sure, the vision of himself being altered like Sumire clearly haunts him, and I'm sure it made the choice easier—but I don't think it made it that easy. Instead of taking the dream Maruki offered him, Akechi chose to face up to what he'd done, and who he'd become; at the very end, in the third semester and in the engine room, he always makes the right choice.

And that choice was taken away from him. Agency over his life and death, his own acts, and who he would even be—Joker and Maruki take it all away from him and make him a puppet, just like Shido.

Maruki's ending isn't pretty.

revision history

Click here for the latest version.

v1.0 (2024/03/29)—first published.

[undying-love]

'Well, let's just say there's someone in the music industry--a fairly famous someone--and he's pretty certain it [Starting Over] was written for Paul, and that Paul damn well knew it was...but that in the wake of John's death most everyone thought it would be disrespectful to Yoko and Sean to dispute who John had in mind while writing it. We were talking about it after an email correspondence I started having with a friend here who says she believes it was as well. I agreed with her. So, being my curious self, I just had to ask around, and that's the information I got. Whether it's totally 100% or not, I can't say. But hearing about it from this guy in particular was enough to confirm my belief that it was. It's not only his opinion but something that seems to be pretty well known amongst a lot of industry folks. We talked about it at great length and honestly, I was a bit surprised it was something he feels so strongly about....as well as their relationship, in general. When I told him straight out at first that I thought they were a 'couple', he said, "Well, no shit! Anybody who thinks otherwise has to be a fucking idiot!" I thought that was funny as hell! Not to bash the nay-sayers round these parts, but this guy isn't one to mince words and I'm just repeating what he said so don't go yellin' at me. Couldn't help laughing when he said it. And he knows a LOT of people in the business. Far more than I could ever dream of encountering...'cause he's quite a bit older than me and way more experienced in these circles. He used to be a session player ages ago and branched out on his own a long ways back....so he's definitely been AROUND and knows his shit when it comes to the 'who's who' of the music world and all the dirt that gets turned up at its surface. I trust him totally or else I wouldn't be so certain he's right about the stuff he says. He even said that the 'recording-style' and vocal effects used on that song, in particular, are what John specifically wanted in order to send a certain message to Paul." ------------------------------------------------

This is a comment made by a woman in an old forum, who said she spoke to an industry insider. I have read many similar comments (and I myself have been in contact with someone who claimed to have spoken to a couple of people who were once close to the Beatles) that have said that John and Paul's relationship was an open secret in the music industry. Maybe that's why Howard Stern is often asking Paul a lot of uncomfortable questions about John, and even suggested that "Maybe I'm Amazed" was written for John, lol.

[cherrycola27]

Just the Tip

Pairing: Rooster x Reader

Warnings: Language, Drinking, Smut. Rooster has quite the mouth on him... that is all. Minors DNI 18+

You weren't totally sure when you noticed it, but once you had, you couldn't stop noticing it.

It's was all you could seem to focus on, the unconscious habit your boyfriend had everytime he was extremely focused. Whether he was flying, playing pool, serenading the Hard Deck, or looking at you like you were a fine meal, Rooster always sticking his tongue out.

He didn't stick it out in an in your face kind of way... no it was subtle...just the tip of it. You were certain he didn't realize it, then again, maybe he did, and maybe the others in your friend group didn't seem to pick up on it either...but it drove you insane.

Not because it annoyed you, but because you wanted to know what else his tongue could do.

Sure, Rooster had used his tongue to trace the space between your collar bone and your ear, and he had plunged it into your mouth to explore it like Magellan, but he had never gone down on you.

That was mostly your fault. You were honestly hesitant to let him do it. Everytime you fell into the sheets he offered, nay, begged for you to let him. You had given him head many times, but something about letting him return the favor made you apprehensive.

"What if I tastes weird?" You told him once. "Honey I've tasted you on my fingers before and believe me, you are delicious." He quickly replied back. "What if I crush you or suffocate you with my thighs?" You had argued. "What a hell of a way that would be to go, drowning in my girls sweet pussy." He quipped back before you smacked him in the shoulder.

Even with his reassurance you still couldn't bring yourself to let him... until tonight.

You weren't quite sure what had changed in you, but the air at the Hard Deck was charged with sexual tension. Maybe it was your 3rd cranberry mule of the night that changed your mind. Maybe it was the way his aviators hung low on his nose as he played the piano. Maybe it was the way he looked in his new Hawiian shirt you had gotten him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way that damn tongue of his peaked out of his lips as he lined up his final shot in his game of 8-ball against Hangman.

Whatever it was, you found yourself sliding off you your bar stool and waltzing over to him to congratulate him on his victory.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. His smile was bright as he hugged you. Your lips ghosted against his ear, and in the quietest whisper you could manage you breathed out: "Take me home, I want to find our what else that tongue can do Daddy."

His grip on your waist tightened as he inhaled sharply and stood up. He cocked his head to the side as if he was checking to make sure he heard you correctly. You nodded your head and gave him a wink. His eyes darkened, as if on cue, the pink tip of his tongue peeked out from his lips.

Rooster didn't need to be told twice. He quickly said his goodbyes, paid your tab and dragged walked you by the hand out of the bar.

Once you had made your way into the parking lot to the Bronco, Rooster pushed you up against it and slanted his mouth over yours. He tongue plunged deep in your mouth. You moan against him as you battled him for dominance in the kiss.

"You know baby, if you had wanted to make out, we could have went out back, we didn't have to leave." He states pulling away and leaving you breathless.

"Making out with you is great and all baby, but I had something else in mind... if you're up for it." You tell him with a mischievous glint in your eye. "And what might that be Princess?" He asked you silently hoping it's what he is thinking.

"Everyday I watch you stick that pretty little tongue of yours out when you are concentrating on something. I watch you wag it around during flight training, pool, piano playing, it taunts me, and today... well today I've finally decided I'm done letting it tease me. You explain to him with your new found confidence.

"So what exactly do you want me to do with it then?" Rooster asks you. He needs go hear you say it.

"I wanna know what it feels like between my legs when I cum all over it." You tell him as you bite your lower lip and look up at him with big, innocent doe eyes.

"Oh Baby Girl..." he groans. "You don't know how long I have waited to hear you say that. Fuck you look so pretty with those filthy words coming out of your mouth." He tells you while gripping your chin to make you look at him. "Well Roosie, are you just going to stand there and tell me how pretty I look, or are you going to take me home and show me?" You challenge him rocking back on your heels.

"Get in the Bronco." He orders while opening the door. You climb up, but before you can get all the way in, Rooster delivers a playful smack to your round ass.

He had a white knucked grip on the steering wheel as you drove back to your shared bungalow. His left knee bounced against the floorboard. You weren't sure who wanted this more, you or him.

At a stoplight you shifted in your seat, pressing your thighs together in a feeble attempt to relieve some of the growing pressure. He hadn't even really touched you yet, but you were already soaked at the thought of his face buried in your heat.

You glanced over and watched him adjust himself through his jeans, his desire growing more prominent by the minute. His brows furrowed, you could tell he was getting antsy waiting for the damn light to change.

"Thank fuck" He cursed under his breath when it finally did turn green. He did 10 over the speed limit after that. You swear the Bronco was peeling in the driveway on two wheels when you finally got home.

Rooster literally jumped out of the driver's seat and ran to your side. You had just enough time to unbuckle yourself before your door flew open.

He leaned in and pressed a heated kiss to your lips. "God I love you." He said looking deep into your eyes before grabbing you out of the car and tossing you over his shoulder. "But I cannot wait to wreck you" He said as he made his way up the few steps to the front porch.

"Bradley!" You gasped. "Put me down!" You're hands smacked his back as you fought to no avail. Rooster smacked your ass and chuckled. He had no intention of giving into your demands until he had you where he wanted you.

He finally set, well rather tossed you down in the middle of the king sizee bed. Rooster wasted no time yanking your sundress over your head and tossing it along with your shoes across the room, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lace panties. His shirt and pants joined your clothes lost somewhere in the room. "Someone's eager." You quipped looking at him as he stood bedside the bed.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he leaned over to kiss you.

"What can I say, I've been waiting almost a year to do this... it's like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one." He told you. His eyes were dark with lust as they raked over you.

You looked up at him through hooded lids. His pupils were blown so wide his normally honey golden orbs were almost black. He leaned back on his calves deciding his next move. He look good sitting there... almost too good.

His chest rose rapidly with shallow breaths. His hair was slightly askew from your fingers running through it. His black boxers hung low on his hips, leaving his sleek cut V on display for you. His cock was straining through the material of them...begging to be let out for you.

You laid there watching him, drinking him in, engraving this image of him into your brain.

"Baby" his voice came out softly breaking you from your trance. You met his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this? You know I would never do anything you didn't want to. And I don't want you to feel like we have to do this." He asked you.

If there was one thing Rooster was sure about it was that he always wanted your consent before trying something new in the bedroom. He wanted to make sure you were okay with everything and you know if you told him right now to stop, he would, no questions asked.

"I'm sure Bradley. I want this, I want you." You assured him once again.

He silently nodded his head and slipped to the bottom of the bed. You laid back and looked up at the ceiling letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You knew this was going to be good. You had never had a bad sexual experience with Rooster.

You had mentally prepared yourself for this on the ride home, but what you hadn't prepared yourself for was for Rooster to grab your ankle and pull you to the edge of the bed. You let out a surprised gasp when he pulled you.

Your ass was now on the edge of the mattress while he knelt on the floor infront of you.

He pushed your thighs apart and settled between them. His broad hands landed on your hips as he played with the waistband of your navy blue lace panties.

You could feel his breath hot and heavy against your center.

He was taking his time and you were getting impatient and losing your nerve. You were just about to tell him to forget the whole thing when you felt his lips connect with your clit over your still clothed core.

You sucked in a deep breath of surprise and arched towards his mouth. You heard him laugh from the end of the bed. "So sensitive already" He mumbled against your center as he sucked it over your underwear.

Your eyes were already rolling back in your head and he hadn't even made full contact yet.

He continued to lick and suck over your panties giving you the chance to get used to the feeling and relax. Once he was sure you were nice and warmed up and ready, he slid them down your already trembling legs.

They were soaked.

"So wet for me baby." He murmured against your skin as he nipped the flesh inside your thighs.

Everything already felt so good, you weren't sure how it could get better until you felt the first broad swipe of his tongue over you.

You almost flew up off the bed because fuck it felt good. A scream left your lips as he flattened his tongue out again against you. His arms locked under your thighs and pulled you closer to his mouth.

His tongue assaulted your core, licking and sucking and fucking into you.

You bit down on you lower lip, afraid of the sounds that might spill out of you.

However the last ounce of self control you had quickly disappeared when you felt his plush lips seal over your clit and suck it hard into his mouth.

"FUUUUUCK Bradley!" You scream at the sensation.

He chucked from between your folds as he buried his face further into you.

He truly was buried in your pussy, eating you like you were a buffet that had been prepared just for him. One of your hands found purchase in his curls and tugged hard on them. The pull only seemed to futher spur him on along with the mewls and moans from your mouth that were driving him crazy.

"Feels so good, oh my God, yes daddy please" you moaned out as he alternated between sucking on your clit and circling it with his tongue. The same tongue that had put you in this very position. He was just as good with it as you had imagined he would be... better even.

"So.... so.... close... please... Roos... please" you panted out trying to communicate what you needed to him.

"That's it princess, come on baby cum all over my tongue. I know you want to... I need you too." He moaned from beneath you.

You ground yourself down hard against his face. His mustache providing a deliciously scruffy friction that you never knew you needed in your life.

Any coherent capabilities you had left your body the moment two of his thick fingers plunged into your folds and curled up into you.

He used them to fuck you in tandem with the movements of his mouth against your center.

You were so close and so wet. It should have been embarrassing out turned on you were and the sounds that you were making.

It was loud, sloppy, pornographic, and the hottest fucking thing you or Bradley had ever heard.

You gripped his head tighter pulling hard on the roots of his sandy locks trying to not let go, wanting to extend this feeling forever.

Rooster growled and gave a harsh suck to your sensitive bud which caused the flood gates to quite literally open. You came harder than you ever had in your life, sure you had left a huge mess behind but you were so deep in your throws of pleasure you didn't care. You screamed his name as he continued to lick and suck and finger you through your high.

You barely had a moment to breath before his lips and fingers had coaxed a second orgasm out of you hot on the tail of your first.

As you came down from your second high, his mouth and hands became to much, you were too sensitive. You pulled him away from you, abet with some protest from him.

"S'too much" you weakly protested. As you laid down on the bed throughly spent.

Rooster came and gently tugged you up the mattress. "C'mere baby, you made a mess" He mummbled to you. You sat up and noticed the large wet spot on the duvet. You covered your face and blushed.

"It's okay baby. That was amazing. Hot as fuck. Can't wait to do it again." He told you.

You kissed him hard. "Let me take care of you now" you whispered against his lips. You moved to slip your hand into is boxers only to be met with a sticky warmth. Your eyes went wide as you broke the kiss and looked at him.

"Did you cum from eating my pussy?!" You asked him both shocked and amazed.

"Like I said baby... Hot. As. Fuck" Rooster stated back.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed it just as much as I did, anytime you want to do it again, I will be more than glad to let you. And to think I was afraid to let you om the first place... man was I stuipd." You laughed as you settled against his chest you eyes suddenly heavy with sleep from the two intense orgasms he had given you, while his face lit up with a shit eating grin and a look of "I told you so in his eyes"

"Baby Girl, can't fall asleep just yet, let's get cleaned up and a new blanket." Rooster gently told you. He got up and stripped the duvet off the bed and tossed it in the corner. He grabbed a clean one off the top shelf of the hall closet and went to the bathroom and grabbed a warm wash cloth and cleaned both of you up.

He slipped on a pair of fresh boxers before grabbing one of his old Top Gun shirts and a pair of sleep shots for you. He helped you dress, as your body was still weak.

Once he had taken care of you he climbed into bed and tucked you against his side. His hands gently played with your hair as you laid next to him.

"Baby" He called to you. "Hm?" You asked meeting his eyes.

"Next time, you're riding my face" Rooster stated leaving no room for argument before he turned out the light.

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @meggiemoomitchell @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger

[number1mingyustan]

Habit (part i.) —k.sy

fuckboy!hoshi x fem!reader

Genre: fwb au, college au, fuckboy au, angst, smut

Warnings: kissing, cursing, mutliple orgasms, oral (f.), fingering (f.), protected sex, he's kind of an asshole but at the same time not ??

Summary: You're in desperate need of getting laid, whether you want to admit it or not. And it just so happens that the fuckboy from your Economics class comes knocking at your door.

Word Count: 3.1k

part ii. part iii. part iv.

_______________________________________________

(a/n: bittersweet made me realize i’m more of a mini series girl, so here’s a lil treat for you all)

“Soonyoung,” you frown with a sigh as you look through the peephole on your door.

The overly enthusiastic boy stands in front of your dorm with a brown paper bag in hand and a cup holder.

You crack the door open, peeking your head through. “What do you want?”

“I know you’re still mad at me, but I brought you food,” he smiles.

You close the door in his face.

“Please Y/n! I said I was sorry, just let me in. I’ll beg if I have to, but I’m going to drop these drinks if you don’t let me in right now!” his voice is muffled by the door.

“You can’t win my forgiveness with food Soonyoung!” you shout from the other side of the door.

“I got your favorite! Strawberry milkshake with extra whip and waffle fries! Please Shorty!”

Ugh you hate that he knows you so well. And as much as you want to prove him wrong, you’re hungry as hell.

You cave, opening the door for the boy. He rushes in, nearly dropping everything in his hands before placing it onto your desk.

He turns around, facing you with the brightest smile on his face. “Thank you for letting me inside.”

“Mhm,” you reach over him, grabbing your fries out the bag. “I’m still mad at you though.”

“Please Y/n, I’ve apologized like a billion times,” he pleads with you.

Last week Soonyoung ditched you to get laid. The two of you had an Econ project to work on and he didn’t show up on day you were meant to work on it. You texted him a billion times and didn’t get a response and ultimately ended up finishing the project alone.

He texted you later that night apologizing profusely because he was in Akari's dorm and forgot about your plans.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t completely out of character for him either.

You first met Soonyoung at a party. Your roommate, Nai started dating his roommate Seokmin. The mutuals brought you together one Friday night on campus. And although you usually didn’t befriend guys like him, the two of you worked great together.

You’d seen him around campus, including Economics class , but before the party you’d never interacted with him. The day after the party he changed seats to sit next to you.

You could admit he was attractive, yes, but that was really it. Soonyoung had… a bit of a reputation that preceded him.

He wasn’t big on relationships and he slept around a bit. He could commit to a friends with benefits, but that was really his limit. He partied a lot, which was how he met so many girls and had the chance to hook up with them. He did one night stands, but he also maintained his flings, like Leina and Akari. He maintained his grades well too, however his fuckboy tendencies still preceded him, especially in situations like this.

“I told you food wasn’t going to buy my forgiveness,” You dip one of your fries in your milkshake and take a bite as you plop down on your bed.

He frowns. “Please, I’ll never do it again,”

“Damn right you won’t,” you take another bite.

Truthfully, you’re not actually mad about it anymore. It was a stupid thing for him to do, but it’s been a week already and you’re not big on holding grudges. However, it is fun to mess with him.

“I give up,” he throws his hands up in defeat. “As soon as Nai came over, I knew you’d be here alone and figured I could win over your forgiveness. But you’re so stubborn I’m not even gonna bother anymore.”

“If you get on your knees and beg I’ll consider it,” you smirk.

“Are you being deadass?” he asks.

You giggle. “No, I‘ve been gotten over it. Thanks for the free food by the way.”

Soonyoung is silent for a moment.

“Seriously?!”

You nod, taking a sip of your milkshake.

“God Shorty, you’re so uptight I genuinely thought you were still mad at me,” he plops down on your bed next to you and takes a sip of his milkshake.

“I am not uptight,” you defend.

“Yes you are,” he takes one of your fries despite having his own. “You need to get laid or something.”

“Excuse me?”

He takes another sip. “What? Don’t act like I’m wrong. I know you’re under some sort of dry spell, it shows.”

“I am not under a dry spell,” you frown.

“Yes you are,” he laughs. “If you weren’t, you’d be more like me.”

“Bold of you to assume I want to be like you. You sleep around so much, I have no idea what diseases you’re carrying,”

“Hey! Have you know, I practice safe sex and maintain my 3.8. Don’t hate because you can’t get laid,” the blonde boy smirks.

“I can get laid!” You defend.

“I’m sure you can, you’re a pretty girl. You just like… don’t,” he takes another sip.

“That’s only because every time I’ve ever slept this someone it sucked” you scoff.

Soonyoung stops mid sip and slowly deadpans into your direction. “Are you serious?”

“Ugh!” you cover your face in embarrassment. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, it’s so embarrassing!”

He pulls your hands off your face. “Stop being so dramatic. I might be able to actually help.I’m kind of an expert in the area.”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ve only ever slept with 3 guys and the experience got worse between each guy. It was just like… I don’t know. I think I’m the problem.”

“I’m sure you’re not the problem,” he buts in.

“I think I am,” you frown.

“What, did you like… bite it or something?”

“No! God no! Nothing like that. It’s just like, none of them have ever gotten me there,” you admit.

“Like they’ve never made you finish?” he asks.

You nod.

“Then the problem definitely isn’t you, you’re just sleeping with guys that have no clue what they’re doing,” he shrugs.

“Yeah well I thought that the first time and then it happened twice again and ended up worse than before. Figured it had to be me,” you explain.

“No Shorty, they just suck. It’s really not that hard to get a girl to finish,” he shrugs.

“That’s easy for you to say,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve slept with half the girls on campus.”

“Okay first of all I haven’t slept with that many girls,” he defends. “And second of all, all those girls I did sleep with left satisfied.”

“I’m sure they did Soonyoung, but that doesn’t help me in any way,” you point out.

“Yeah, but I could help you out you know,” he offers.

Is he saying what you think he’s saying right now?

“You mean like…. sleep with me?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Only if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

“Won’t that be weird?” you ask.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” he shrugs again. “I’m not asking you on a date Shorty.”

You frown. “Yeah I know that.”

“It would just be like a no feelings no rules thing, just me helping you out,” he takes a sip of his milkshake. “Can be a one time thing we both forget about if you really want.”

“I guess,” you think. “Okay,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

What? Are you actually agreeing to this right now? You know he knows what he’s doing and that he’s safe about it, but it’s the emotional aspect you’re not taking into consideration right now. Soonyoung is still one of your good friends and this changes everything… right?

He says it’s only weird if you make it weird, but it’s easy for him to say that. He’s done this before, and he’s good at it. The sex with no strings that is.

You trust Soonyoung and you know he would never hurt you. He’s doing this to help you, and it’s really a win–win no matter how you look at it.

He smiles. “Come here.”

He pulls you onto his lap with great care. His thumb strokes your cheek for a minute assuringly before he closes the small gap between your faces.

The kiss starts slow and gentle. Quick pecks turning into a longing kiss that grows more intense with each passing second. His other hand lay on your waist, thumb rubbing small circles on your side as he continues to deepen the kiss.

You kiss him back with the same energy he provides you with. Hands wander across each other’s bodies, touching clothes and skin.

He moves, pinning your body down on the bed under his. He hovers over you, lips trialing down your onto your neck. He’s careful enough not to leave marks, simply pulling down the strap of your tank top. One of his hands sneaks up your back, unhooking your strapless bra and tossing it on the floor somewhere.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he says between kisses. "Or if you don't like anything, at all."

"Okay," you breathe out as you allow your eyes to fall shut. You submit your body to him, putting your trust entirely into his hands. Your body relaxes and sinks into the mattress. He removes his lips from your skin, stopping to grab a pillow and adjust your body to ensure your comfort.

He crawls down your body, fingers playing with the strings of your pyjama pants before pulling them off and tossing them onto the floor. You're left in your tank top (that's really only halfway on) and your underwear. He kisses your inner thighs gently before hooking his fingers into your panties and sliding them off.

"You're so pretty, Shorty," he mumbles, more so to himself.

His gentle demeanor is gone almost immediately. His lips immediately attach themselves to your clit, licking and sucking on your extremely sensitive bud. You let out a hiss and arch your back at the sudden contact.

Soonyoung's never been one of those guys against going down on a girl, but holy shit. He's eating you out like it's his last meal on earth. His lips and his tongue are everywhere, spreading warmth along your most sensitive areas.

He concentrates mostly on your clit, stimulating the sensitive bud to the max. You find it hard to keep still, constantly squirming as he devours you.

He's monaing in pleasure as your taste coats his tongue. He groans when you tug at his blonde hair, only causing vibrations to rumble through your body.

He's slurping and sucking, thoroughly devouring you like his life depends on it. It's only been a few minutes and Soonyoung fears he's addicted to you already. You taste sweeter than he could've ever imagined and the sounds you're making are driving him fucking crazy. He loves that you're vocal too, it's only serving as encouragement for him. You've never made this much noise in bed and the fact that he has you squirming and moaning like this only makes him want to devour you more.

Just when you think it can't get better, he slips his fingers inside of you. One at a time he pushes his digits in, pumping them in unison to bring you more pleasure. He's moaning with you enjoying this just as much as you do, if not more. His hips are rutting into your bed sheets, cock hard and leaking with excitement for what's to come.

You're grinding against his face and fingers, each flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The familiar feeling is buliding in your lower abdomen, however this time you actually feel the coil snap.

It comes so quickly you don't even have time to warn him that you're cumming. Your body shudders and convulses as you ride out your orgasm on his face and cry out his name. He doesn't stop even once you've come down, he's completely smitten and pussydrunk. You have to pry him off of you as your body grows sensitive from the overstimulation.

When he finally pulls away, his face is dripping and his eyes only half lidded. It looks at though he's been placed under some daze.

"Holy shit Soonyoung," you breathe out.

You're panting, chest rising and falling as you try to fully recover from the incredible orgasm he just gave you and the second one you nearly experienced.

"Was that okay?" he asks.

"More than okay," you lick your lips.

You pull his head down so he's hovering over you. "Want you to fuck me Soonyoung," you whsiper.

"You sure you can take me?" he asks. He breath fans against your lips. Smells like chocolate from the milkshake he was sipping on earlier.

You nod. "I can take anything you give me."

He swears his cock just got harder. He didn't think it was possible, but you're turning him on like crazy right now. Who knew you could be like this? The two of you quickly scramble out of all your clothes before you find yourself underneath him again.

There's a gold chain dangling from his neck as he hovers over you. He's got another shiny gold package in his hand that he got from his pants.

"You just keep those on you at all times?" you ask.

"Kinda," he shrugs. "Never know when you're gonna need them."

"Hmm, guess it's not such a bad thing," You lick your lips. "I was about to let you fuck me raw."

His breath gets caught in his throat. "Shorty are you serious?"

You peck his lips. "You know I don't keep any on me, and if you didn't bring it we'd just have to do without it."

He nearly tosses the condom away but you grab his wrist and giggle. "Maybe next time."

"Oh, so there's gonna be a next time?" he asks, voice laced with amusement.

"Can't decide that until after you fuck me," you smirk.

He feels his cock twitch under the sheets. He wastes no time ripping open the package, rolling the latex onto his length aligning himself with your entrance. He slides the tip along your slit a few times before he pushes the head of his cock in. Slowly, he pushes more of his length into you.

This feels so... intimate. Even though you've been in this position before, you never felt this close to any of the other guys. They all sort of just stuck it in and went at it for a few minutes before they finished. They didn't really bother to make sure you were okay, filling you up inch by in the way Soonyoung is. He wants to make sure you feel him.

"C'mon Shorty, you told me you could take it," he coos.

Your eyes are screwed shut as you try to loosen up for him but fuck, he's big. It's been a while since you've done this and he's fucking huge. Nonetheless he takes his time with you, ensuring that you're comfortable as he fills you up.

Once he's all the way in, he stops to ask if you're okay. You assure him at you are and give him permission to move. You can tell he's holding back. His thrusts are shallow and slow.

You've already started to adjust to his size and you encourage him to go faster. It's like a switch in him turns on again because his hips rapidly pick up in pace. He draws his cock out of you, slamming back in and making you curse and moan his name.

"You're so tight Shorty," he groans.

Shit, this feels so good. He fills you up so perfectly. You love feeling the stretch of his cock, his length pounding into you at the perfect pace. His tip pushes against your walls and his thumb soon finds your clit. The stimulation from both is so good and you know you're gonna cum again soon.

You're sure it's something about the dancer in him. The way he fucks you so well. You feel so good around him, he doesn't ever want to stop fucking you. So tight, so warm, so wet, all for him. You're driving him crazy.

He can feel himself nearing the edge too. His veins are popping out of his arm as he holds himself up, gold chain dangling in your face. You can't see it though, your eyes are still screwed shut with your lips parted as he fills you with inexplicable pleasure.

You look so sexy to him. You're both dripping in sweat and he finds himself becoming more vocal as the two of you approach your highs. He's cursing over his breath, nearly catches himself whimpering at how good you feel. You're throbbing around his length, letting him know that you're just as close as he is.

Thankfully so, he didn't want to end the night without you cumming around his cock. His thumb continues to circle your clit quickly and it only takes a few moments before he's driving you into another state of euphoria. His hips grow erratic as his orgasm hits him, full force. He doesn't stop, fucking both of you through your orgasms as his cock twitches inside of your throbbing pussy.

He fills the condom and pulls out before collapsing on top of you. His body weight is crushing you and he's panting into your collarbone.

"Soonyoung! Get off of me!" you push his slick body off of you.

He rolls next to you on the bed, landing on his back with a soft thud. "My bad," he chuckles. "I swear I died for a second."

"Was it really that good?" you muse with a smirk.

He presses his palm to your face plafully. "Be quiet Shorty, you know that was the best lay of your life."

He's got you there. There's no denying that he absolutely just changed the trajectory of your sex life and rocked your shit.

He smirks, sitting up on the bed. "That's what I thought."

He rolls of the bed and slips his boxers back on before disposing of the used latex.

"C'mon," he reaches his arm out to you. "You need to get up. Gotta pee and shower."

You groan into the pillow. "No."

He lets out a breathy laugh. "C'mon Shorty, you need to."

You groan again, but he pulls you out of bed. Luckily you only share a bathroom with Nai and none of the other girls on your floor. He helps you to the bathroom and assures everything is okay with you before venturing back into your actual room.

Once you're all cleaned up, you walk back into your room with just a towel on, only to see Soonyoung pulling his shirt over his head. He's leaving.

“You’re not spending the night?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“Can’t,” he says as he adjusts his pants. “I’ll see you later though yeah?”

You nod. He grabs the rest of his things silently and leaves with a soft close of the door. His exit leaves an odd feeling brewing in your body. What the hell just happened?

_______________________________________________

this is part 1 of 4!!

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[redheadspark]

Hi!! May I request Rhys from ACOTAR with prompts #13 and #14 please?

A/N- This is great for Rhysand! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Truth

Summary - When rumors and doubt creep in, High Lord Rhysand snuffs it out

Warnings - Angst and Fluff rolled together

“Who said these nasty lies?”

“Who do you think, Rhys?”

You were curled up in your bed, tears stinging your eyes as our husband and mate, High Lord Rhysand, was pacing back and forth in a lot of rage and anger.  Mor was sitting next to you on the bed, running her fingers in your hair as Cassian was standing near the entryway of the bedroom, his won anger was festering under his skin, as it should, since his own sister was the center of gossip from a certain High Lord over in Spring Court.

Cassian got wind of it first since he was visiting Spring Court with Azriel as representative of Night Court, much to the dismay since Tamlin was never a favorite when it came to the High Lords.  But Rhysand was tied up with his own work back in Velaris, so he sent you to go with Cassian and Azriel instead.  You’ve done your own delegation work and negotiations with other High Lords, you in fact built up a great reputation as a leader and High Lady.  Most of the other High Lords had respect for you, admired you even, all but one.

It wasn’t spoken when you were in the room with him, but High Lord Tamlin was mostly tolerable with you as you two were going over the treaty that was brought up some time ago between your neighboring Courts.  You, being optimistic, thought it was going well as you excused yourself from the room.  Azriel and Cassian were outside the door since Tamlin was alone, which had been a big mistake since both the Illryians heard the nasty rumors about the High Lady of Night Court and how she slept with Rhysand to be the High Lady.  They heard it from Tamlin himself

Tamlin made a huge mistake, not merely because he spoke against their High Lady, but he spoke against Cassian’s twin sister.

They both wished to retaliate immediately, but they knew better since it would be an all-out war.  They both winnowed your home, you were confused as to what was going on and why you were leaving abruptly.  It was only when you were finally home at the House of Wind that they filled you in with what Tamlin said.  You took it hard, filled to the brim with sadness and uneasiness as you looked at yourself. There was no reason you should let those words get to you since you were beyond happy with Rhsyand and with your life in Night Court.  

Tamlin had no idea that you and Rhysand grew up together as childhood friends, that you fell in love with each other over time lowly but with deep affection. He had no idea that you were trained just like the other Illryians as a soldier and not as a dainty flower that Tamlin thought you here, fending for yourself over a dozen times against alpha-type Illyrian soldiers at the camp.  There was more to you than a pretty face, more grit and strength.  

Yet you still let those nasty words get the best of you in that moment.

“How are we going to deal with him?” Cassian asked in a growl as Rhysand still paced, thinking to himself.  You could see from your spot on the bed, how his brows were hunched and a fist made at his side.  Rhysand was never one to be challenged or crossed when it came to his wife, let alone his Inner Circle.  You were his center, his entire world, and he had no shame in reminding the doubters and nay-sayers of your title and his love for you. 

“Maybe now’s not the time to talk about it,” Mor calmly advised, Cassian and Rhysand looking over at you as you were still crying on the bed and curled up against Mor’s lap.  Cassian was about to say something else when Rhysand over to you, his anger was no longer evident on his face as he knelt in front of you on the bed to pull you in his arms.  You hugged him tightly, almost wanting to hide from the rest of the world as Mor and Cassian slipped out of the room silently to give the two of your some space.

“Maybe it wasn’t right for me to go there,” You mumbled in his hold as you were finding your voice again, “I wasn’t ready to deal with Tamlin, or any other High Lord for that matter,” 

“You’re more than capable,” Rhysand reminded you as he sat with you on the bed, pulling you into his lap and keeping you tightly in his arms, “You are a great leader and a wonderful High Lady.  The others respected you and all that you contributed to Night Court.”

“You’re just saying that,” You hummed in a low tone.  Rhysand tutted and lifted your chin with a singular finger.  You saw his violet orbs pouring into yours, how intense they were, yet filled with love he had only for you after centuries of being together. 

“I say that because it’s the truth,” he stated, “You are without a doubt a powerful leader and High Lady, and this Court has been thriving because of you.  No matter what anyone else says, you are important to me.”

You felt that love in his words, in your mating bond that was now humming and throbbing in your gut.  Rhysand saw you as an equal, never was someone less than him.  When it came to being a leader or simply his mate, Rhysand loved reminding you of your worth with him.  

“It brings me pain to hear you talk or even think less of yourself,” He reminded you, you smiling softly as he smiled, seeing a sense of relief on your face, “I would think after centuries of being together that you wouldn’t doubt the love I have for you,”

“I don’t!” You started to argue, though he chuckled and shook his head to show that it was merely a joke.  He kissed the tip of your nose as you grinned, “I do love you. Rhysand.  More than anything,”

“That I do not doubt,” he stated in his lighthearted manner, “But just remember in those darker times that you feel not good enough, those are lies.  Don't talk about yourself like that, nor think of yourself like that, ever.  Promise me,”

You felt those powerful words down to your veins, wrapping around your bones and sinking into your heart.  Rhysand would build you up every time, just like you would build him up when he doubted his place as the High Lord.  You both knew how to go against the doubt, to build yourselves up, and to survive the world together.  Although this moment seemed like a slip-up of your own doubt, Rhysand could always remind you of your worth.  Even If he wasn’t the High Lord, you would still love him with all your soul.

Rhysand had choice words for Tamlin the next morning, and there was never another gossip or ill rumor from Spring Court ever again. 

The End

[runephoenix6769]

Vulcan as a Muthafucker!

Some folks have been saying that they find her lack of inclusion in the last 3 episodes really jarring, and 'bad writing'. I argue against that. (I really like T'Lyn, but then again I'm a sucker for the whole vulcan's accusing outwardly appearing stoic characters of 'losing composure' n being 'emotional' because of an eyebrow twitch. I find it highly comedic.)

There's been plenty to discern about T'Lyn this season:

Mariner goes out of her way to invite her and doesn't take T'Lyn's disinclination as a slight/insult suggesting this is a common occurrence.

T'Lyn doesn't drink, and doesn't seem to be a big fan of the perceived 'drink' culture on the Cerritos - which the season has estb the core4 participate in quite a bit - knowing this, its easy to extrapolate that she might avoid this as much as she could.

She's a great friend, who is encouraging/supportive.

From this, we can extrapolate that she's been around them enough off screen for them to listen to her and respect her opinion/ trust her judgement.

She listens and takes into consideration the feelings of those around her, putting friends before her career and potential advancement.

She respects Mariner's opinion enough/ trusts her judgement, to take comfort from her support even when Beckett might not be entirely in her right mind. (Vulcan as a Muthaf*cker) and we've been given insight into her insecurities.

She has a wicked sense of humor.

I genuinely believe that she's just messing with Tendi, when she said her hug quota for the day/week was reached.)

She's similar to Beckett, in the way she can be reckless/gungho n think she is always right w/o considering the consequences. (Turning everyone into a Tuvix meatball, n then finding out she messed up n she can't reverse it.) Like Beckett, shes a doer and takes a direct approach to problems, including nerve pinching anyone who becomes a problem.

She can more than appreciate a hunk of man meat. (Not speculating on her sexual preference, just pointing out her agreement with Mariner on Orion.)

She there's a chance that she likes chocolate -- occurring off screen -- showing it in a Vulcan way that Mariner has noticed. (S4E5 Mariner: I know you don't drink....there's going to be a chocolate fountain, if you want to get wild. T'Lyn: I do not understand what you mean, but thankyou for the invitation.)

She's sassy (i know its from season 3, but still)

She initially viewed her posting to the Cerritos as a punishment - nay i'd even go so far as to say a demotion.

I'd actually love them to expand on this and have her come to the realisation that its not a punishment, but rather a better fit for her, where she can grow, be appreciated, better fulfilled and dare i say happy? But we'll see if that's her arc.

I think that's an insane amount of character establishment squeezed into a handful of episodes.

I'm confident that we'll see more of her in the next two rollercoaster episodes, and she'll be instrumental, or why else include her in this season? Unless they really do intend for her to be just a foil for the warpcore 4?

[realtalk127]

alright fuck it. i can't sleep and i need to talk about this scene from the last episode of critical role.

because holy shit if this ain't some of the best rp – nay, storytelling in general – that i've ever seen. (buckle up, it ain't gonna be short.)

laudna: i made you a doll. because dolls are for children. and you're a child.

the way she says this is not nice! it's biting, it's snarky. she definitely seems to mean it as an insult – and she probably does! – at first. but laudna's idea of a child is much more expansive than just a cheep insult, as she makes clear shortly.

then ashton's response: i've never had a doll before. this is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me.

i don't know if this reaction melts laudna a little (if it does, she doesn't show it visibly), or maybe she was already coming to the conversation with a more nuanced definition of 'child', but either way, the conversation shifts immediately – and the next two sentences clarify where they're both coming from here.

laudna: i like children. // ashton: i don't.

she likes children! and we knew this, of course. marisha, the god of intentional rp showed us this within the first few moments of laudna's screen-time way back in episode 1. but still! it's worth repeating. despite the bite of her initial comment to ashton, she doesn't necessarily mean it as an insult. i don't know that we could entirely call it a compliment, given the context, but at the very least, i think she intended it as a point of connection.

after all, our data re: Laudna And Kids is not limited to that one scene from episode 1. there's also the parallel scene that mirrors it (with a happier ending) back in episode 38, when laudna first visits the sun tree after her resurrection. we also know (via a 4sd episode that i don't care to dig up right now) that laudna had another friend before imogen, who was a little girl.

and i think it's that little girl that's the most important piece here. we don't know anything about that story except that she exists, but i'm willing to read between the lines and make an assumption that laudna – on average – has better luck getting children to be kind to her (when they've not yet been taught to be cruel) than with adults. there is an innocence there that laudna needs! she needs people who haven't been hardened by assumptions and pre-judgements and all that bullshit. for laudna there is safety – both emotional and literal physical safety – in a childlike perspective.

ALL THAT TO SAY: laudna's associations with childhood are, generally, positive. for a variety of reasons.

but!

ashton's are NOT.

ashton's childhood sucked. from the jump. he was a part of a shitty cult that he barely remembers, and after that they were in an ophanage. their associations with childhood are overwhelmingly negative, and likely associated with feelings of helplessness and loneliness.

whether or not laudna intended that original comment ('you're a child') as an insult, we can pretty safely assume ashton took it as one.

they continue:

ashton: they're awful. // laudna: they're not.

NOW, we're getting into the meat of it. where before they were dancing around a metaphor, it becomes immediately clear what's really being talked about here. ashton is saying 'i'm awful', and laudna is emphatically saying 'no you're not.'

which! first of all, is so insanely generous of her. after what ashton just put her through less than 24 hours ago, laudna has every reason to affirm ashton's assertion that they are, in fact, awful. but she doesn't. ashton knows this, which is why he amends his original statement:

ashton: they can be.

they're saying: perhaps i can concede that i am not always awful, but let's at least agree that sometimes (like specificaly, oh, i don't know, LAST NIGHT) i can be.

laudna: you should remember what it's like to be one.

ashton: i do. it wasn't great.

the LAYERS, y'all. the LAYERS. the important thing here is that it's all in the context of that first comment: you're a child. which is, critically, a statement made in the context of ashton's decisions the previous night. they're talking in generalities here, but they're mostly talking about last night.

so!

when laudna says they should remember what it's like to be one [a child], she also means: you were a child last night, but not in a cool, whimsical way, just in a shitty, immature way. AND! when ashton says they remember, and that it wasn't great, they're saying they know they fucked up last night, but all they know of childhood is an overwhelming helplessness, how can that possibly be spun to a positive?

and this, really, is the crux of their two differing worldviews. these two have a lot in common – much has been said about that in game and out – but this point is where they split. laudna has survived, by embracing her childlike nature (admittedly, to a fault, at times). how to keep from being hurt? just keep everything fun and whimsical! nothing to worry about here, it's all just a silly little game! and she has also needed people who share that perspective. people who are willing to take her at face value and without any of the negative assumptions and prejudices they may have picked up along the way.

ashton, on the other hand survived by growing up immediately. they got through their own shitty childhood by becoming an adult (or acting like one anyway) as quickly as possible and STAYING that way. ashton needs to have a tough exterior (there's the made-of-stone thing again) to feel safe. (admittedly, from an audience perspective, this veneer is basically see-through. but ashton doesn't necessarily know this. they're trying their best. so from their perspective, the tough guy thing is Working.)

laudna: you should find more joy in your inner child.

she's saying two things here:

(1) you can be soft and be safe. those can co-exist, aND!

(2) i need you to be soft for me to be safe. when you have this false tough exterior, it hurts people. it hurts (hurt) me.

which is certainly a resonant metaphor to play with for the literal ROCK GUY who just got literally MELTED into LAVA 12 hours prior.

ANYWAY- that's what i've got for now on this scene. i'll probably never stop thinking about it, and there's even more good shit from later on in the scene when they talk about the doll, but that's it for now.

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ SFW Alphabet

❖ Character: Obanai

❖ Reader: genderneutral

❖ Wordcount: 1830 without prompts

❖ A/n: Requested by @kakushino for the alphabet event 🫶

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

ꕤ Obanai is shy when it comes to physical touch, so he shows his affection mostly through gifts or poetry he will send to you

ꕤ His gifts are really thoughtful since he remembers small details of conversations you shared and he simply observes you

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

ꕤ He’s a calm and chill best friend, one you can go to whenever you have a problem, no matter the time. He might be gone on missions from time to time but he writes letters. He will also protect you at all costs

ꕤ To become his friend Kaubramaru has to accept or even like you so he can be sure that you're not a bad person, next to that you should share some interests with him

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

ꕤ Obanai needs a long time to accept or want physical touch, if he does hold you or lets you hold him it's a great proof of trust so don't abuse it

ꕤ He finds peace when your arms are wrapped around him and he listens to your heartbeat. He also enjoys being the big spoon since it makes him feel protective of you, his face is nuzzled into the crook of your neck or buried in your hair so he can be close, legs tangled with yours

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

ꕤ He would like to settle down one day but is unsure if he wants to start a family - perhaps post Muzan he would like to

ꕤ Otherwise he tries to be domestic, cooks a lot for you and helps where he can if he sees you're struggling with the household. Its a shared activity but he hates it - won't ever complain about it though

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

ꕤ He would straight up tell you that this isn't the right thing for him and that you two aren't compatible. If you already live together he would offer to just leave, you can keep everything except for Kaburamaru

ꕤ If he leaves you out of concern of your safety he would just disappear without a trace. If you happen to be dumb enough to follow him he would confront you but once he decided it's done you can't win him back

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment?

ꕤ It scares him at first, being tied to someone for life and it makes him feel trapped but once he fell in love with you his mindset changed fast

ꕤ Being with you is second nature to him and he wants to spend eternity at your side. He does however take long to propose because he needs to be 100% sure you want the same - Obanai coulndt handle a rejection here

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

ꕤ He tries to be gentle with you but his words are sharper than a knife sometimes and he speaks his mind freely so you need thick skin to handle harsh truths

ꕤ physically Nai treats you so delicately, knowing he's stronger than most men and he wouldn't want to hurt you on accident or risk serious injuries

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

ꕤ Obanai is not a hugger but he won't ever turn one down if it's you. Holding you in his arms or sometimes being held by you is his solace

ꕤ At first his hugs were weird, two limp arms around you but the longer you were together, the more comfortable they got, strong arms holding you close and caressing your back

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

ꕤ you could wait exactly 27838382 years on that. He doesn't say these words easily nor does he say them fast

ꕤ These words hold a great meaning for him and if he says them, you can be sure that he really does love you and wants to be with you. The first time he said them was when he found you taking a nap with Kaburamaru 2 years into the relationship - he didn't know you heard them to this day

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

ꕤ He would like to say that he's not jealous at all because he doesn't own you and trusts you but it's boiling on the inside when someone flirts with you and you're too oblivious to realize

ꕤ He won't outright say that he's jealous but he gets uncharacteristically clingy and wraps his arm around you or holds your hand tightly in public (without hurting you). At home he will pout about it - just reassure him a little since his jealousy is coming from a deep insecurity of not being good enough.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

ꕤ His kisses are timid at first, his mind racing because you will see and feel the scars on his face but when you don't react in any way, not reducing him to them or acting disgusted he gets more secure

ꕤ Once he's fully comfortable his kisses are almost desperate, kissing you like you're the air he needs to breathe. His tongue begs for entrance quite fast, just wanting to be oh so close

ꕤ Obanai really likes to kiss your hands and your temples, liking the same for himself. He absolutely melts if you kiss his chest where his heart is, making him feel like you kiss his heart

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

ꕤ Children give him anxiety and he doesn't know how to properly behave around them so he's mostly tense and awkwardly silent whenever they're around

ꕤ However if you were to start a family together he would try his best to take care of them, reading books and educating himself on how to do things.

ꕤ Playtime with dad Obanai is super awkward at first because he doesn't know what to do really but he eventually gets the hang of it!

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

ꕤ Obanai likes calm mornings, drinking a cup of tea and doing his workout before he has to do anything of importance. He doesn't like to be hurried with last minute changes since he has a morning routine

ꕤ He's not really talkative during the mornings but doesnt mind if you're a bundle of energy - but beware, he likes to get up early!

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

ꕤ Nights next to you are sacred to Obanai, given he's away on missions a lot, never knowing if he comes back home. He likes to spend them as close as possible to you

ꕤ Sexual stuff doesn't need to happen, it's enough if you to can rest skin to skin, whispered talks about your shared future and past memories. Those are the times he opens up to you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

ꕤ Obanai is a mystery in itself, barely ever revealing much of himself but he enjoys listening when you tell him things about yourself

ꕤ But the more he trusts you and the more you've shared about yourself, the easier it gets for him to open up. He Shares secrets about himself and his past, allowing himself to be vulnerable in the safety of your home with the love of his life wrapped in his arms

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

ꕤ He's patient when it's reasonable and necessary otherwise he loses his composure quite fast (but only on the inside) which makes him a great target to piss off out of fun but i wouldn't recommend taking it too far

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

ꕤ Obanai remembers every single detail about everything you tell him, especially if it's important to you. He never wants you to feel like he doesn't listen and therefore feel unloved.

ꕤ A lot of times he brings small gifts from his missions that reminded him of you - like your favorite flower or a hairpin in your favorite color

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

ꕤ His favorite moment of you is how you averted your gaze out of respect when his bandages fell off and how you made sure to shield him from others. You never spoke about it either

ꕤ His favorite moment of you two together is your first kiss. He remembers how soft the skin of your cheeks was beneath his fingertips and that your lips tasted like your favorite chapstick. The way you stole his breath with just one simple kiss never fails to amaze him

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

ꕤ Obanai protects you with his life if it comes to it. He would never let anyone lay a single finger on you - and if they dare to do so in his absence they will lose their right to touch anything ever again

ꕤ If you're protective over him he thinks it's sweet because he can handle himself just fine but he won't ever stop you from telling some women off - but please don't ever try to protect him from a demon, it's his job to protect you in dangerous situations

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

ꕤ He puts much thought into everything related to you, hoping that one day he can feel worthy to be your partner. Dates are intimate and always something you've talked about. He doesn't mind how much money he spends

ꕤ otherwise it's smaller things like doing your chores so you can sleep longer, writing haiku for you he leaves around the house, always spying on you just so he can catch you smile when reading them

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

ꕤ His fear of not being good enough while also having a god complex from time to time. He jumps from “I should leave them because they deserve better” to “I should leave because no one should hold me down, they don't deserve me” in seconds but it's really just a mechanism to deal with his deeply rooted anxiety

ꕤ Kaburamaru always comes first (who can blame him tho)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

ꕤ Obanai isn't very concerned about his looks in the sense of fashion but he does make sure he appears put together and clean

ꕤ personal hygiene is important to him and he is a firm believer that looking put together gives one more respect which is what he expects from others

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

ꕤ It sounds heartless but he does feel whole without you. He's lived before you without being incomplete but that doesn't mean he likes being without you

ꕤ Just because there was a life before you doesn't mean there will be a life after you. You certainly leave a permanent imprint on his life and he would like to keep you at his side for all eternity

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

ꕤ Obanai isn't too fond of eating a lot given his childhood but he will eat everything you cook or bake without thinking twice

ꕤ He cuts his own hair - which is why it looks very shaggy from time to time but he doesn't trust anyone, not even you, close to his face with a scissor or a blade of any kind

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

ꕤ Being disrespectful to people who deserve respect! He doesn't like it if you or anyone else run their mouths in front of people you should be respectful with

ꕤ He doesn't like overly flirty remarks coming from you or others, it makes him feel reduced to an object

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

ꕤ Obanais limbs tangle with yours in his sleep and you can't get away from him, even in summer. He holds onto you tightly and his legs tangle with yours

ꕤ Kaburamaru sleeps in the bed wherever he pleases and he positions himself around the snake to not disturb its slumber - you better do that too

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

[yuri-is-online]

i’ve got this picture of Yutu being kind of artsy from your description. besides, being an outcast probably means a lot of solo hobbies from no friends. maybe a bonding method for Yutus with a father that is more artistic 👉👈

You have such a good point about being an outcast driving people towards solo hobbies σ(￣、￣=) certain Yutus are more outgoing than others but that does only get you so far.  Of the ones I have written about, Floyd! and Cater! Yutu both had friend circles before coming to Twisted Wonderland, while Ace!, Azul!, and Riddle! Yutu were certifiably friendless.  Bonding between Yutu and a more artistic dad hmmmmm let's see...

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of my fyuuture kid au, you can find an explanation of it here and here, or look at my masterlist for all of the posts.

Vil! Yutu

... really likes to paint and draw, when I first wrote about him his unique magic involved temporarily bringing his paintings to life.  My brother used to dig through old fashion mags when he was teaching himself to draw and I can see Yutu doing the same.  So when he finally gets to see a not tortured version of his father and finds out he is a model on top of being an actor?  He's so eager to learn about all of it, and Vil has got to be thrilled to share.  You know between him and his own dad Vil has got to have a nice collection of vintage designer items he's willing to let Yutu have a look at.  Yutu has drawn his dad a lot, receiving a drawing someone has made for you is already beyond flattering, but when it's from a family member?  Forget the fridge, Vil is getting this framed.  I can also see him maybe commissioning Yutu because he wants to make sure he never under sells his work.  He is a member of the Schoenheit family, he is allowed, nay required to have a great deal of pride in himself.

Cater! Yutu

... likes playing guitar and he loves playing with his dad.  He's not really interested in playing with the other pop music club members, Yutu is a bit shy around his dad's friends.  When he's stressed he likes to play a few songs and sing, something I could see working for Cater too.  While I'm talking about Cater, I don't think he'd make a bunch of magicam posts about his family, just in general.  He uses magicam as a way of maintaining his false happy facade, his want to date Vil comes at least partially from his presence on magicam, some of his real self is on display there sure but a lot of it is exaggerated and fake.  When he has something real he wants to keep it away from the rest of the world, so while his followers absolutely are told he's #taken #blessed they don't know about the details of his relationship.  At least not if it's a healthy one.

Jade! Yutu

... is someone I haven't written about before but he is also very into music, just not jazz music.  Not that he hates jazz, he's just stuck in that teenage phase of refusing to admit the things his dad likes are cool, something Jade reasonably “sniffles” about but that's not to say music isn't a bonding point for them.  He also plays bass, just an electric not an upright one, and Jade enjoys listening to Yutu play.  He's very supportive and surprisingly soft in his praise for someone who just got done listening to his kid scream out a punk rock song.  As long as Yutu is willing to do some hiking with him (which he is) then he has no real problem with what his kid likes, if anything I can see Jade enjoying their differences.  Life is boring if everyone is the same.

Rook! Yutu

I've been thinking about Rook, just as a character recently and one of those things that's been stuck in my mind is that he was very shy as a child.  To keep this from becoming just general information about Rook! Yutu, unlike his father Yutu never got over his shyness, so a lot of their bonding revolves around Rook encouraging Yutu to see the beauty in himself.  He books tickets to shows, symphonies, and ballets in advance so he can make sure Yutu knows when they are going out and can prepare himself to be seen in public.  They plan their outfits together in advance, look up information about the company and what they are going to see so they can appreciate the art just that much more.  On the day of Rook makes sure to kiss Yuu goodbye,  and promises to come home safe.  But not to worry, he always has Yutu help him pick out a bouquet of flowers to bring back for you.  (Unless you're allergic to pollen in which case he'll bring home something else.)

[coallise]

Zestial and Carmilla, "All I want" (Ellie Goulding cover) gives great fluff inspiration. Lyrics of: "'Cause you brought out the best of me, A part of me I'd never seen, You took my soul and wiped it clean, Our love was made for movie screens."

I would personally call this bittersweet love song than fluff but I had fun listening to it. You got good taste annon

Memories

Carmilla leaned back in her chair, the radio on and playing a soft song. She had a glass of wine on the table. She was debating whether to drink it or not. The night was almost perfect, but she did not know what it could be missing.

“Thou looks like thee wants a dance,” Zestial offered. Carmilla smiled, she had no clue when he arrived but did not care. She fit easily in his arms as they started a waltz. Carmilla found herself remembering past dances.

Their first one, when she was a fresh overlord at her first ball. She had been mostly standing on the sidelines when Zestial offered her a dance.

“Are you sure your dance card can squeeze in another?” Carmilla had asked, gesturing to the ladies and men who he had danced with previously and those who wanted a dance next.

“Nay, I am sure I have a slot open for thee, after all, an overlord should dance at her first ball,” Zestial swept her on the dance floor. They danced for three songs back to back.

Out of the memory, Zestial twirled her and Carmilla found herself in a different memory. Carmilla was finally secure enough in her position to start bringing her daughters to events. The three of them took turns dancing with Zestial, taking over his entire dance card.

The first night they spent an extermination together was also the first night they spent the night together. It hadn’t been planned, but the meeting they had together went long so they all stayed at her mansion.

“What is on your mind, old friend?” Zestial asked, bringing her out of her memory.

“Just remembering all the dances we had together,” Carmilla let her head fall on his shoulder.

“There have been many. Thou hardly lets me dance with anyone else,” Zestial joked, knowing that he enjoyed dancing with her just as much.

“You’re just such a good dancer, I feel like every dance cleanses my soul from sin and I’m in heaven,” Carmilla did not know where the poetic bit came but it was true.

“Then we must dance more, if I shall get thou into heaven with just dancing,” Zestial kissed her head.

“Fuck heaven, I’m happy right here.”

[oldtowrs]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐘 an aemond targaryen / reader fanfic

pairing—aemond targaryen / f!reader

tags—friends to lovers, fluff, love confession, couples' first kiss, other fluffy happenings such as aemond removing his eyepatch and the reader immediately worships his skin in the form of kisses and praise, vague meaning of flowers references, reader’s looks or house not specified, no use of y/n.

warnings—mentions of aemond's trauma and the effects it had on him

word count—~3.6k

—aemond had always understood what it meant to be a prince and the duties that came with it. duty became such a big part of his life that he had come to terms with it, and even begun to look forward to some parts of it. but then when his eye is taken from him, all of aemond's musings are for naught and all his dreams are taken away - including his hope of being loved by his future wife, and loving her in return. or, at least that's true, until you come into his life.

author's note—yay first aemond fic!!! this was originally supposed to be a little concept, that turned into a blurb, that turned into a kind of shitty one shot, that turned into a full fledged fic that i am actually quite proud of. this is not my usual type of fic, nor does it read like it, but i think i really like the concept and how some of it turned out. plus, who doesn't like seeing happy, in-love aemond? i know i do ! enjoy xx

gif credit—♡

masterlist | inbox | requests and inbox open !

aemond understood duty and sacrifice earlier than most did. his mother had sacrificed endlessly for him and his siblings, and it was through her that aemond learned how to go about his duties with grace and honor. he watched as his brother wailed and rebelled against his own, including those of his birthright, and how he continued to hurt their beloved sister helaena, the people of king's landing — even the servants that brought him wine and dinner — in the process. and so, aemond learned the importance of doing his duty without complaint. he had learned that as a prince, he had more responsibilities and duties to perform than others his age -- for the sake of his father and mother, his family name, the throne, the realm -- and there was nothing that he, nor anyone, could do about it. it was just his lot, and yet, it was still much better than most.

there was one duty in particular that he had thought long and hard about, however - one that he had come to take great comfort in during even the worst of his family’s toils. he knew the day when he would have to be betrothed to another was not far off, and that one day he would have to marry some young lady, and do his duty to her and her family, as well as his own. and though he would most likely have no choice in the matter, he had decided that he would not perpetuate the same pains his father impressed upon his mother, his siblings, and even upon aemond himself.

nay, he would treat his lady with the gentle care and the tender love that she deserved, whoever she may be. he would provide for her needs and be there for those of his children -- so contrary to the way his father was with aemond and his siblings sired by his mother. and though he may not have a choice in the course of his own life or which lady would spend it by his side, there was a little lingering spark of hope in his chest that maybe one day, his lady - whoever she would end up being - would learn to love him the way he had already vowed to love her.

but then his eye had been taken from him, and everything changed. almost all marriage proposals and discussions of possible betrothals stopped. it was as if his partial blindness - forced upon him violently and against his will - would burden the honor and reputation of any future wife's family the moment her hand was given by promise of betrothal to him — aemond, the one-eyed prince.

his mother had attempted to comfort him throughout it, but aemond knew the truth of it. his disfigurement had maimed him, robbed him of a normal complexion and — according to the rumors that followed him in the form of whispers and jeers thrown at him by the court — any masculine beauty he may have grown into through the dwindling years of his youth as well. it became painfully and quickly obvious that the mishap with his nephews an cousins had cost aemond that love he would've fostered so loyally. and so, he quickly found himself buried beneath the depths of a lonely abyss, with only vhagar, himself, and a  fury burning unresolved in his heart to keep him company.

but then you had arrived at court, and aemond couldn’t remember when exactly it had happened, but he soon found absolute pleasure in your company. you were, in his eyes, the embodiment of the summer sun, of soft rose petals and sweet dornish perfume. and you seemed so devoted to showering him in unrelenting and constant kindness. you, with all your golden jewelry hanging about your perfect neck, and adorning the loving hands with which you always reached to comfort him. you, who matched his intellect of the histories, and admired his mastery of the sword. you, who seemed to look past his disfigurement, who - if anything - admired the strength he mustered every day to face the world and the woes it threw at him with poised grace and elegance. you, who saw not a monster, a maimed crippled, or a besotten little boy that had grown into a bitter man. but you, who saw him for his worth, for his loyal soul and kinder dispositions, who tended to the ashes of his heart until a fire burnt anew amongst the cold catacombs in its depths.

aemond loved trying to teach you little bits and pieces of high valyrian amongst the quiet rustling of the giant wierwood's red leaves as the late afternoon breezes blew through the godswood. he secretly revelled in the way you would lay your head upon his lap and let your curls tumble across his thighs and cascade down his knees, giggling and blushing at his teasing when you mispronounced words here and there. he would love the late nights spent with you in the heart of the archives, before the raging fireplace, reading stories of old valyria to each other in hushed tones. and it would be his turn to blush as your delicate fingers brushed the soft strands of silken silver out of his face as he read, solely because you had convinced him to let his hair down for the evening, mumbling all the while about how you "adored seeing his wonderful face". he would look forward to the walks with you in the gardens, where every turn and loop was taken until the two of you would lose yourselves in the rows of flowers and beneath the canopies of the trees - all for the sole purpose of obtaining a few more moments of quiet, uinterrupted companionship alone with each other. 

it would be on one of these walks together through the gardens that you give him a handwoven crown of eucalyptus, baby’s breath and the occasional dandelion, and insist upon calling him "my king” despite his protestations that a wandering ear might find your words treasonous. but you insisted, and aemond found that he couldn’t resist the smile that continually pulled at the corners of his mouth. his face ached from the constant pleasure you pulled from him again and again in hushed murmurs and gentle teasings, his heart would ache alongside his face everytime you smiled at him, cheeks rosy and painted in the golden afternoon sunlight. you tell him you’d commit a thousand acts of treason if it meant you got to see him smile the way he did then. and in the sweet silence that follows when he looks down at his hands resting upon the pommel of his sword that he finds the confession lingering in the depths of his heart — he would follow you into a thousand deaths if it meant you were always this sweet to him in every life in between. 

aemond loses himself as the afternoon goes on. he becomes lost in the way you wrap your gentle hands around his bicep when he offers you his arm, and press your cheek into his shoulder in the aftermath of the fit of laughter one of his jests causes, cheeks red and chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. it’s as though he can feel his darkened and bloodied soul entangling irreversibly with yours amongst the warm summer air and the sweet scent of the blooming flowers. 

and it was there, amongst the blooming hydrangeas that the two of you had ended up, so close that your hands, which lingered on his chest, served as the only source of space that remained between you and aemond. it was there, hidden amongst the blooming hydrangeas, that his hands had settled upon the small of your back, pulling you close as he tangled his lithe fingers into the silken ribbons lacing up the back of your bodice in an attempt to keep them from shaking. his lips would inch closer and closer to yours until aemond could feel the heat of your blush radiating from your loving cheeks, and aemond’s name would fall from your lips, hesitant and so uncharacteristically shy that he could feel his heart ache with every beat in his chest. 

aemond could scarcely remember the longing that had lingered in your irises as he hesitated, longing that hid itself behind flickering eyelids and long eyelashes as you closed both your eyes and closed whatever distance may have remained, your lips falling upon his own and ending the tension that threatened to snap aemond’s very heartstrings. 

but how could he remember what came before, when it was what followed that was a thousandfold sweeter and more memorable? 

absolute relief would wash over him when you don't shy from him or the passion that burnt like dragonfire in his heart, but rather met each stroke of his swelling, pink lips and dutiful tongue with your own as though your heart was perfectly attuned to his. he could only remember the absolute elation when you respond with soft, tender fervor, as you meet him over and over again, fingers pressing into his chest all the while, burning holes through his tunic, through his skin and musculature and blood, straight to his heart. aemond could only remember feeling surrounded by the hydrangeas, which spilled their scent so readily into the summer air, and your sweet perfume (the one so captivating that he was sure it had to be from the most expensive source in dorne) — the feeling of your love and affection, suddenly laid out in its entirety, for him and him alone, overwhelming him slowly. 

aemond is so lost in his absolute elation that he doesn’t even notice when your hand falls gently upon his scarred cheek so reverently that even his nerves sing a song of comfort rather than their usual wail of pain.

in fact, it is only when you finally pull away, and your fluttering lashes reveal a gentle shine of pleasure dancing about your eyes, that he realizes. aemond would go to pull away frantically, wishing he could make his disfigurement disappear. and so he makes to leave, the wreath of foliage and the love with which it was woven sitting forgotten about the crown of his head still. a familiar chant rang like an alarm through his mind, growing louder by the second: shame, shame, shame. it shut out all else, as the feeling railed into him over and over: SHAME. 

but before he could make his escape, a soft tug at his wrist pulled him back to reality, the warmth of your kind hands against his skin slipping beneath the hem of his sleeve until halting, just there, above his pulse point. all thoughts immediately dissipated into blissful silence and that shame which constantly plagued his ego seemed to evaporate, and the strong urge to forever ally himself to you taking its place with reckless abandon and without a thought given to self-preservation. 

"do not run from me,” you whispered, desperation clear in the buzzing summer air. “please, aemond."

and oh, how his heart aches at that -- the soft calling of his name from your sweet lips, spoken in reverent tones that you seemed to reserve for him and him alone. he looks back at you, downright heartbrokenness clouding his remaining violet iris as if bracing for the insult and the collection of his shattered heart in the aftermath. another realization would hit aemond then: he was irrevocably in love with you. and a word from you could do just that — shatter his being into a thousand wounded splinters with just a few carefully chosen words, whether those words spoke of kindness or worse, it did not matter.

but then that worry dissipated into relief, one which had begun to feel more and more familiar under your loving instruction, as your other hand tucked a strand of silver, pulled free by the heated nature of your engagements only moments prior, before falling once more to the curve of his strong jawline and nestled itself along the strong ridge of bone there. your fingers would tuck themselves against it just so and aemond would melt into the touch you always gave him so freely and so sweetly. your thumb would trace the scar which he finds so abborrent, absolute adoration lingering in your irises before you lean in until your lips were only inches away from his once more. 

“you are so beautiful, aemond,” you murmur, words so saccharine he is surprised he can’t taste their honeyed residue lingering upon his lips in the wake of your kisses only moments prior. “i only wish that you could see it.”

aemond can’t help but fixate on you  in that moment, your fluttering eyelashes, and the impossibly heated dusting of rose decorating the bridge of your nose, and the faint birthmarks and freckles that dotted your face revealed themselves to him by your closeness. its then he notices how your lips shine with the combination of him and you, and how your eyes travel from the accented dip of his cupid's bow, to his strong cheek bones, and finally to the leather patch that bisects the the craggy pink scar, hiding the worst of the injury from view. 

“especially here.”

tears well in his eye, stinging with the unspoken promise that his heart would always belong to you, from this treasured moment on.

“hmm, you flatter me, my sweet girl,” aemond hums, the words ache in his throat and upon his tongue as he speaks them, regretting the little ounce of betrayal that seems to seep like poison into his words — evidence of his heart still preparing for the worst. “but there are many more men of greater beauty than i, who are more deserving of your heart than i could ever be.”

“what are you saying?” you ask, hurt now entering the stage of your beautiful eyes, as they held his gaze with such devotion as if you wanted him to see the glimmer that turned dark and cloudy with confusion.“did you not-”

“i am saying that you have been my greatest delight, my brightest joy and my most beloved companion these past years,” aemond begins, heart aching so profusely at the hurt that begins to well up in his heart alongside the wetness in the corners of your dazzling eyes. “but you deserve more than i could ever give you. i am not worthy of you, and i could never hope to be.” 

"but aemond,” you begin to protest, only for him to tilt his head down to capture your lips once more, his desperation bitter upon your tongue as he presses his lips to yours with such fervor and such sadness. 

“you deserve someone as beautiful and as kindhearted as you, who can give you all that you could ever desire and-” 

aemond’s voice is hoarse at this point, as though his vocal chords were just as strained as his heart strings. tears of his own began to cloud his own vision, throat constricting under their weight as he tries and fails to swallow down the pain in his voice.

“show me,” you say in the wake of his pause, perfect lips pouted as you try in vain to hold back a sob. 

it is aemond’s turn to be confused then. why would you, sweet, beautiful and kind you, wish to not only waste your time with him in the gardens, sharing kisses that tore aemond’s soul into shreds of contrasting regret and elation, but to gaze upon his life’s greatest horror as well? why would you wish to expose yourself to such offending ugliness?

“i love you, aemond,” you say then, the same desperation straining your voice the way it had aemond’s mere seconds ago.“and i can't pretend that you don't occupy my every waking thought, that you do not fill my soul with undeniable and unwavering happiness. i can't pretend that your beauty doesn’t rivals that of the stars themselves. so just show me.”

your name falls from his lips, but it is a mere whisper upon his tongue. 

“it is not pretty.”

“aemond,” you say then, “please?”

aemond finds he cannot bare to see the heartbreak in your eyes for much longer, and so he bends to your whim for what was likely to be his last and final time. he pulls the leather patch from his eye with careful, deft movements that wouldn’t allow for any lingering hesitation, to reveal the sapphire gleaming in place of his other eye.

a short gasp fell from your lips then, followed by a shaky exhale that had the tears burning in the corners of aemond’s eyes finally blur what remained of his field of vision. his sharp mind worked desperately to recount and commit the feel of your lips moving upon his to memory, as aemond feared he would no longer be the subject of your time and affections now that you had truly seen him — all of him.

the feeling of the leather sliding against his fingertips as it fell through numb hands to the ground by his feet barely even registering, the pain in his heart too great. he didn’t even feel the usual relief of his long platinum and silver hair falling in silken curtains as you reached and released it from the little leather cord that kept his hair neat beneath the strap of his eyepatch.

"i love you. unequivocally, unfailingly and wholly so," you say finally, your thumb roving the taught skin of his scarred cheek with holy-like reverence. his single violet eye dared to meet yours then, and aemond could feel his heart skip a beat. tears had begun to fall down the sweet slope of your cheek, and yet you still held his gaze with unwavering softness.“do not tell me that you are undeserving of my attentions. i will decide who i deem worthy of my heart, and i swear to you, aemond targaryen: not one man in all of westeros and the free cities combined could ever be more deserving of it than you.”

a silence falls then, and you press a hasty kiss to his lips once more - petal soft lips nestling into the curve of petal soft lips, teeth clasing against teeth, love pouring into each other’s hearts. an upward quirk of your lip has aemond’s self-loathing surrendering under your tender hand, and the fall of it back into quivering sadness has him swearing — to the mother, the father, the stranger, whoever may have been watching over him in that moment — that he would never do such a profound disservice to your loving heart for as long as he should live.

"my king of my heart."

the endearment fell into what little air kept aemond at bay from you with such ease, and yet, here aemond was — a fool trying to convince himself that you did not love him, that you couldn’t possibly love someone such as himself, despite your every effort to lay the intentions of your heart bare before him to prove the extent of your love, true and sweet and wonderful, to him. 

oh, the seven damn him.

"darling," he managed to croak, the endearment falling from his mouth with more emotion than aemond had ever shown in his life, the weight of his love heavy on his tongue. 

aemond couldn’t help but envelope you wholly in a hug right then and there. his sturdy arms ensnared themselves with your being once more, hands finding the base of your skull and the supple curve of your hip, hidden to him by the curve of your luscious skirts, to gently pull you into him before he buried himself into the most passionate embrace he could possibly muster, as though it would make you see that passion and devotion that burnt like dragonfire in his soul for you and the love which he too held in his heart of hearts for you, and you alone..

and when he finally releases you, with tears of happiness gleaming in his violet eye, the sun shining in the sapphire of his other, and a heated blush dusting the paleness of his sharp, aquiline nose and accented cheekbones, he can't help but smile and huff a laugh through the constriction his tears held upon his throat. he brushes away the tears of your pain and your hurt with gentle thumbs before placing the first of many reverent kisses to your forehead as a final realization hit him — as though it were an enlightenment gifted to him by the seven themselves. 

he couldn’t remember the last time he had ever truly smiled for anyone but you. 

you - his girl of flowers and sunshine, his darling who had tended to the flames burning hot in his dragon veins for years despite his lack of acknowledgment, his lady of kindness and sweet, unbowing reverence, his beauty, his most beloved friend — smiled then, and aemond swore he saw the stars themselves shining in your gaze, shining all for him.

you.

"marry me," he pleads then, hands wholly enveloping your own as he gently takes them and places a kiss to the very fingers that had woven him a crown of pure intention, everlasting love and the strength and power of your heart. "please, my sweet girl, i have been such a fool, all these years, and i… i -”

“yes. yes, i know exactly,” you laughed breathlessly. “i thought you would never ask, my dearest love.”

[etoilesombre]

Hey, do you guys want to hear a story? Let me tell you about the romance between Lancelot and Guinevere, as recounted in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur.

So, I thought I knew the basics. I grew up reading modern versions of Arthurian legend that focused on other aspects, but had a general knowledge of the Arthur-Guinever-Lancelot love triangle. It didn't show up too much, but I assumed it was subtext in some other versions. What I picked up was that it was sort of pure, almost an ot3, and not the cause of a lot of problems. 

My friends. In this version it is NOT SUBTEXT, it DEFINITELY CAUSED PROBLEMS, and it is WILD. It is a true will-they-won't-they drama fest soap opera romance, and I need to share. So please, come on this journey with me.

[I’m looking at you, Black Sails fandom people. I need you to know that Flint canonically would have read this. He would almost certainly have also grown up hearing these stories. I’m not saying he’s Lancelot coded, but I am saying it's interesting that he would have been aware that was something it was possible to be.]

A couple notes, before we dive in. I am very much just summarizing what happened in the book. The thing is, the book is a million pages long and also in Middle English, and this is just one of many plots, which I think is why it's not more widely known. I will show some excerpts so you can get a feel for the text, but you don’t need to read them to understand the story. I'm referring to a version that is as close to the manuscript as I can find, though with spelling regularized. For real fun, see what the original looked like. Malory purports to be translating part of the French Vulgate cycle, which likely is where the character of Lancelot originates, but in fact he is doing much more than translating, and compiles other stories as well. Point being, when he says “so the French book sayeth” etc, that is the “book” to which he is referring. Because of my lack of knowledge about the language and cultural context, this lecture series from Mythgard Academy was absolutely invaluable to my understanding. I cannot recommend it highly enough. Inevitably, some of the opinions of the prof are reflected here. I do not have it in me to compare the scholarship of various medievalists right now, I just want to tell you about this DRAMA. 

Let’s start with a prophecy. When Arthur decides he wishes to marry Guinevere, Merlin advises him to take someone else, because if he takes her, she will betray him with Lancelot and it will destroy his kingdom. All of this is foretold, not only to us, but to Arthur himself. Of course he takes her anyway, and all is doomed from the start.

As we begin the main arc of this story (several books after the prophecy), Lancelot is widely acknowledged to be the best and most renowned knight of Arthur’s court. He is plainly and hopelessly in love with Guinevere, and she loves him in return. Arthur doesn’t have a problem with this - who wouldn’t love Guinevere? This sort of love is socially acceptable, so long as they do not sleep together, which would be treason. Arthur in fact seems to support their love, because it means that Lancelot will be Guinevere’s champion should she need one. This is a role Arthur himself legally cannot fill because he is the king, and so would have to be the judge. Lancelot is indeed a good champion for her, and fights for her when she is wrongly accused of murder. 

Lancelot is deeply chivalrous, in a way that seems sincere. This is a great place for a first excerpt, a conversation with a Random Damsel Lancelot has been helping:

‘Now, damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘will ye any more service of me?’ ‘Nay, sir,’ she said, ‘at this time, but almighty Jesu preserve you wheresoever ye ride or go, for the most courteous knight thou art and meekest unto all ladies and gentlewomen that now liveth. But one thing, sir knight, me thinks ye lack, ye that are a knight wifeless, that ye will not love some maiden or gentlewoman. For I could never hear say that ever ye loved any of no manner of degree, and that is great pity. But it is noised that ye love Queen Guenivere, and that she hath ordained by enchantment that ye shall never love no other but her, nor no other damosel nor lady shall rejoice you; wherefore there be many in this land of high estate and low that make great sorrow.’ ‘Fair damosel,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘I may not warn* people to speak of me what it pleaseth them; but for to be a wedded man, I think it not; for then I must couch with her, and leave arms and tournaments, battles and adventures. And as for to say to take my pleasance with paramours, that will I refuse, in principal for dread of God. For knights that be adventurous should not be adulterers nor lecherous, for then they be not happy nor fortunate unto the wars; for either they shall be overcome with a simpler knight than they be themselves, or else they shall slay by unhap and their cursedness better men than they be themselves. And so who that useth paramours shall be unhappy, and all thing unhappy that is about them.’ 

So after doing his Knightly Deeds for this damsel, Lancelot asks if she needs anything else. She says no, but you are lacking one thing, which is the love of a woman. It is rumored that is because Guinevere has through sorcery made you love only her, and that causes all of the women great sorrow. In reply Lancelot makes this speech about how he cannot have a wife or paramour and be a good knight, but everyone thinks it is at least in part because his love is reserved for Guinevere.

Now, throughout the book his chastity DOES notably cause all of the women great sorrow. Everyone wants to sleep with Lancelot. Literally he is kidnapped by the four most beautiful queens other than Guinevere, and they say he has to choose one of them as a lover (not even a wife, a lover) or else die. He says he would rather die, though in the end he escapes. This is just an example, truly it is a recurring problem for him. He is, at one point, tricked into sleeping with a woman with whom he conceives his son Galahad (as was prophesied, it's a long story and the romance is only part of it. It is worth mentioning that something similar happens to Arthur, which is how Mordred is sired.) When Guinevere learns that Lancelot has been with someone else, she is angry and banishes him from the court. They still love each other and eventually reconcile. 

So, Lancelot goes on the quest for the holy grail. But he fails, specifically because while he is outwardly dedicated to God, in his private heart he is still dedicated to Guinevere. And so he makes a vow to renounce his love for her, acknowledging that it is beyond measure (beyond what is right, even if they have not technically done anything wrong.) However when he returns to Camelot, he cannot keep this vow, as we see. 

Then, as the book saith, Sir Lancelot began to resort unto Queen Guenivere again, and forgot the promise and the perfection that he made in the quest. For, as the book saith, had not Sir Lancelot been in his privy thoughts and in his mind so set inwardly to the Queen as he was in seeming outward to God, there had no knight passed him in the quest of the Sangrail, but ever his thoughts were privily on the Queen. And so they loved together more hotter than they did beforehand, and had many such privy draughts together that many in the court spoke of it, and in especial Sir Agravain, Sir Gawain’s brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. So it befell that Sir Lancelot had many resorts of ladies and damosels that daily resorted unto him to be their champion: in all such matters of right Sir Lancelot applied him daily to do for the pleasure of Our Lord Jesu Christ. And ever as much as he might he withdrew him from the company of Queen Guenivere for to eschew the slander and noise, wherefore the Queen waxed wroth with Sir Lancelot.

He and Guinevere start spending a lot of time alone together, and so there are rumors circulating about them in court. In order to put a stop to the rumors, Lancelot starts paying other women attention and doing more good knightly deeds for them. Guinevere is terribly jealous, but he tells her it's for their own good, and also tells her about the vow he made, and his concern that their love is beyond what is appropriate. She is devastated, and weeping banishes him from the court (again). 

Lancelot then rides in a tournament, disguised. (Why? Because this is simply a thing knights do.) To make it an effective disguise he takes the token of a woman, the sleeve of the fair maid of Astolat to wear on his helm. When she discovers that he was only using it for the disguise, and he does not indeed love her, she is so heartbroken that she says if he will not marry her or be her lover, she will die. He refuses, on the grounds that love must not be constrained and should arise from the heart, and offers her a thousand pounds a year instead if she marries anyone else. Properly insulted by this, she does indeed die. She has her body sent in a boat to Camelot, with a letter in her hand, saying that she died of her love for him, that he would not return. 

Seeing this, Guinevere reconciles with Lancelot, presumably reassured by the fact that he would let this very beautiful much younger woman die of her love rather than being with her. She insists that from now on he will not fight in disguise, and will openly bear her token. 

Then Queen Guenivere sent for Sir Lancelot, and said thus: ‘I warn you that ye ride no more in no jousts nor tournaments but that your kinsmen may know you; and at these jousts that shall be ye shall have of me a sleeve of gold. And I pray you for my sake to force* yourself there, that men may speak you worship. But I charge you as ye will have my love, that ye warn your kinsmen that ye will bear that day the sleeve of gold upon your helmet.’ ‘Madam,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘it shall be done.’ And either made great joy of other.

It is important to keep in mind that, to this point, there is no textual evidence that they were sleeping together, and a great deal of evidence that it was important to Lancelot that they not cross that line. There is much less evidence that this is important to Guinevere.

So then one fateful day in May, Guinevere goes picnicing with an entourage of knights. They are captured by someone else who is in love with Guinevere, and taken back to his castle, but she manages to send a message to Lancelot. At the castle, she insists that her knights sleep in her bedchamber on the grounds that they were wounded in the battle when she was captured and need tending, but truly she wants them there to keep her captor from raping her. 

Lancelot arrives to rescue her, and the person who kidnapped her agrees to give her back in the morning. She tells Lancelot to visit her room in the night. He climbs up to her window, which is barred. They have a heartfelt reunion and she says she wishes he could come in to her. He acquiesces and breaks the bars to get into her room, cutting his hand to the bone to do so. Despite the profusely bleeding wound and the ten other men sleeping in the room, they at last do sleep together, in this passionate blood covered consummation. He sneaks back out and replaces the bars.

In the morning, the man who kidnapped Guinevere comes in and sees blood all over the bed. He accuses her of being unfaithful to the king, saying she lay with one of the knights who had been sleeping in her room. She denies it, but it is very clear that she did sleep with someone who was bleeding. 

Lancelot says he will fight to defend her from this accusation, which is right and proper because he is her champion. In this story people take trial by combat and oaths before God very seriously, especially Lancelot. He really does try. So he swears an oath that he will prove with his life that Guinevere did not sleep with one of the wounded knights who lay in her room. This of course is TRUE, but only on a technicality. Lancelot, having slept with her himself the night before, is also the one who defends her honor after. I love this story so much. 

Instead of fighting him, the kidnapper takes Lancelot captive. In captivity he encounters ANOTHER damsel who insists that sleep with her in order for her to help him. He refuses, still faithful in his heart to Guinevere. Eventually she settles for him holding and kissing her, which is not across the line of appropriateness apparently, giving us some idea of where that line is drawn. Anyway, Lancelot gets out, fights for Guinevere and wins. There are indications that he feels like he barely dodged a devine bullet. 

Guinevere and Lancelot return to Camelot. Finally the rumors about them are true, the deed has been done, but of course nothing appears particularly different as there were already rumors about them. Two knights, Mordred and Agravaine, who have been intriguing against Arthur already, go and tell Arthur that Guinevere is being untrue to him. Here is his response: 

‘If it be so,’ said the King, ‘wit you well, he is none other; but I would be loath to begin such a thing but I might have proofs of it. For Sir Lancelot is a hardy knight, and all ye know that he is the best knight among us all; and but if he be taken with the deed he will fight with him that bringeth up the noise, and I know no knight that is able to match him. Therefore, and it be sooth as ye say, I would that he were taken with the deed.’ For as the French book saith, the King was full loath that such a noise should be upon Sir Lancelot and his queen. For the King had a deeming of it; but he would not hear thereof, for Sir Lancelot had done so much for him and for the Queen so many times that, wit you well, the King loved him passingly well.

Arthur says he will not hear of this without proof, because if Lancelot is accused and allowed to fight he would beat anyone. And, it is said that Arthur had some idea of the affair, but would not credit it because Lancelot had done so much for him and Guinevere, and he loved Lancelot greatly. 

So, one night when the king is away hunting, the two accusers contrive to catch them in the act, with a group of twelve armed knights. They do find Lancelot in Guinevere’s chamber, but the text is notably, pointedly vague about whether they are actually in bed. In any case, Lancelot asks for a trial. The knights say no, they have caught him and so may kill him. He is Lancelot, so he kills all of them instead, save one (Mordred) whom he leaves wounded. Lancelot flees, intending to return to rescue Guinevere and take her to his own castle to protect her from Arthur’s wrath. He maintains her innocence, and still intends that they will all reconcile.

Guinevere is to be burned at the stake (normal in this situation). Lancelot rescues her from the burning at the last moment, killing a number of knights of the round table. Arthur seems to blame the accusers more than Guinevere and Lancelot (for good reason; keep in mind that the romance is a subplot, there is a great deal of political intrigue going on.) Now a war will begin, whether anyone wants it or not, because of the people Lancelot killed. Lancelot takes Guinevere to his own castle. Battle lines are drawn, and Lancelot and Arthur confront each other in the fighting:

And ever was King Arthur about Sir Lancelot to have slain him, and ever Sir Lancelot suffered him and would not strike again. So Sir Bors encountered with King Arthur; and Sir Bors smote him, and so he alit and drew his sword and said to Sir Lancelot, ‘Sir, shall I make an end of this war?’—for he meant to have slain him. ‘Not so hardy,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘upon pain of thy head, that thou touch him no more! For I will never see that most noble king that made me knight neither slain nor shamed.’ And therewith Sir Lancelot alit off his horse and took up the King and horsed him again, and said thus: ‘My lord the king, for God’s love, stint this strife, for ye get here no worship and I would do my utterance. But always I forbear you, and ye nor none of yours forbear not me. And therefore, my lord, I pray you remember what I have done in many places, and now am I evil rewarded.’ So when King Arthur was on horseback he looked on Sir Lancelot; then the tears burst out of his eyes, thinking of the great courtesy that was in Sir Lancelot more than in any other man. And therewith the King rode his way and might no longer behold him, saying to himself, ‘Alas, alas, that yet this war began!’

So Arthur tries to slay Lancelot, but Lancelot, the better fighter, refuses to slay him and indeed when Arthur is unhorsed Lancelot forbids that he be slain, and gives him his own horse. Arthur weeps for the honor that is in Lancelot, and laments that the war began. 

The pope intervenes and tries to negotiate an end. Lancelot confirms that he is willing to return Guinevere to Arthur, and says he has always been willing to do this and will still defend her honor, but that he does not feel he can do so because Arthur has listened to liars and been misled, and he had more reason to take her away than the accusation of adultery - he does not trust she can be safe in that court, with things as they are. 

Eventually they do make a deal, with some assurances, and he surrenders Guinevere to the king. He kisses her openly, says that he will leave, but should she be in danger or ever again accused of being untrue, he will fight for her as he always has. He departs the court forever, to much great sorrow, and returns to his own lands. 

The war continues - eventually Mordred seizes the throne, Arthur kills him in battle but is mortally wounded himself and passes to Avalon. Following the king’s death, although her love would no longer be adulterous, Guinevere retires to a convent rather than reuniting with Lancelot. He seeks her out, and this is her reaction: 

Sir Lancelot was brought before her; then the Queen said to all those ladies, ‘Through this same man and me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together is my most noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Lancelot, wit thou well I am set in such a plight to get my soul health; and yet I trust through God’s grace and through His Passion of His wounds wide, that after my death I may have a sight of the blessed face of Christ Jesu, and at Doomsday to sit on His right side;* for as sinful as ever I was, now are saints in heaven. And therefore, Sir Lancelot, I require thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me no more in the visage. And I command thee, on God’s behalf, that thou forsake my company; and to thy kingdom look thou turn again, and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For as well as I have loved thee heretofore, my heart will not serve now to see thee, for through thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. And therefore go thou to thy realm, and there take ye a wife and live with her with joy and bliss. And I pray thee heartily to pray for me to the everlasting Lord that I may amend my misliving.’ ‘Now, my sweet madam,’ said Sir Lancelot, ‘would ye that I should turn again unto my country, and there to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit you well, that shall I never do, for I shall never be so false unto you of that I have promised. But the self* destiny that ye have taken you to, I will take me to, for the pleasure of Jesu; and ever for you I cast me specially to pray.

Rather than rejoicing in Lancelot’s presence, Guinevere laments that their love brought about the downfall of the Arthurian court, and the deaths of the knights of the round table and King Arthur. She calls upon Lancelot, by all the love that was ever between them to leave her presence, telling him to marry someone else if he wishes and see her no more. Lancelot replies that he wants no one else, and that he will respect her wishes, but will also renounce the world and join a religious order. He asks Guinevere for a final parting kiss, which she denies him. 

When Guinevere lies dying of illness, Lancelot sets out to go to her, having had a vision. She knows of his coming, and prays to die before she sees him, because she cannot bear it. She dies a half hour before he arrives, leaving instruction that he is to tend to her body, and then lay it to rest beside that of her lord King Arthur. Lancelot does this with great sorrow, and after ceases to eat or drink, and within weeks is dead himself. 

And there you have it, the love affair that doomed Camelot.

HUGE DISCLAIMER: Any and all mistakes or misinterpretations are my own. This is what I gathered, but I am not a medievalist. I am barely an interested layperson. I’m just a random fic writer who got obsessed with research for a story, and had to share this tragic mess. 

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Sixteen - Make It In Three

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Masterlist

“Against a counter top?”

“Aye, slammed his head right down into it,” you laugh with Jisung.

“The all-mighty Hwang Hyunjin!” he exclaims. 

“The very same.” An easy, pleasant smile crosses your lips.

The two of you have been walking for three days now, making great time. If you do not stop for the night, you both should arrive at Miroh’s Keep sometime around midnight.

By the way the sun was dipping behind the horizon, that was only about five hours away.

“Did he cry?”

“Nay!” You laugh out loud. “His pride was most definitely wounded but he did not cry.”

“Perhaps maybe not when you were watching.”

“I did not even tell you the best part yet,” you say and Jisung turns his head sharply to look at you with an eager expression. “I had vaulted over the counter to kick Camus. He grabbed my ankle and swung me around and threw me into Hyunjin, the two of us collided and hit the wall behind us!”

Jisung breaks out in a high pitched laugh, doubling over and holding his stomach. You have to stop on the road from how hard he’s laughing.

“I cannot believe it!” he wheezes out. “Oh how I wish I was there to see it!”

His laughter is so contagious, your cheeks start to ache from how much you’re smiling. 

While you both were walking along the path, there has not been a moment of silence longer than ten minutes. Jisung always pipes up with a question or comment that fills the air between you both.

It passes the time rather quickly.

In four short days, you’ve learned so much about this man. You know all about his childhood.

Jisung grew up as one of Chan’s best friends. The two of them played together for as long as he can remember. When Chan’s father had died and he was crowned Jarl, Jisung was the first person he asked to be a member of his court.

“It was an easy decision,” he told you. “I now get to live with and serve my best friend.”

“Do you ever feel like you are just his errand boy?”

“If I am honest with you, no. Never once has Chan ever made us feel that way. This does not feel like a job, it feels more like helping him. But it is not one-sided, he does so much for me as well as other members.”

Jisung paused. “Do you feel like an errand girl?”

You thought for a long moment, weighing your words carefully in your mind. “Nay, not anymore.”

He nodded and looked around at the trees that surrounded your path. 

“But it did before?”

“In the beginning, aye. I cannot point out the singular moment when it became less of a job and more of a relationship.”

Jisung bobbed his head and acknowledged your sentence.

“Are you enjoying the heavy pockets of gold, then?”

He finally pulls himself together, wiping the tears of laughter out from the corners of his eyes. 

“I have to travel with you two next time, that is hysterical!”

A hum comes from deep in your throat as your own chuckles fade into the wind.

“Come on, Jisung.” You motion your head towards the road and you both begin to walk again. 

You’re both walking along for fifteen more minutes, easy conversation passing between the two of you before goosebumps suddenly raise on your flesh.

Every single one of your hairs stand on end and it feels like an alarm bell is ringing in the back of your mind.

A large flock of birds suddenly fly away from the trees around you.

You immediately freeze in your tracks and snatch Jisung’s arm.

He gasps at your sudden grab, his body going into alert mode.

Wildly, your eyes look around for any sign of danger. Your head whips around on your neck.

You’re both in the woods, the trees are not too thick in these parts, but they obstruct more of your view than you would like. 

“What is it, Y/N?” Jisung asks, obviously alarmed. 

You turn and look at him and take a quick scan of his body– no weapons. No dagger, no sword, no nothing.

Reaching down, you unsheathe the dagger from your boot and hold it out in his direction.

“Take this.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, eyes wide and alarmed. “What is happening?” His voice goes up an octave.

Grabbing his hand, you thrust the danger into it, curling his finger over the hilt.

“I… I do not know. But I feel as though something is–”

Every muscle in your body screams and you react as fast as you can.

Pushing forward, you throw yourself at Jisung, tackling him to the ground. 

Jisung yelps as his back hits the ground. You had the place of mind to cradle the back of his head to make sure it doesn’t crack into the stone road. 

The distant whizz of an arrow pierces the air and flies over the two of you.

In an instant, you’re back on your feet, ripping your sword from your sheathe.

“Take cover!” you yell at Jisung. He doesn’t move, his body frozen on the ground. “ Now, Jisung! ”

His entire body jolts and he scrambles up to his feet. He runs and hides behind a nearby tree.

Your eyes are still scanning the treeline where the arrow came from, looking for the offender. 

You crossed the border into Miroh last night, who’s shooting at the two of you? 

Another arrow flies past your face, at the last second you move out of the way. It pierces the tree behind you and sticks out of the bark.

“Show yourself, coward!” You call out into the woods.

Nothing.

Reaching behind you, you pull the shield of absorption from your back and strap it to your arm. If arrows are flying from an unknown source, it’s better to be protected.

There’s a stiff, uneasy moment of silence. 

Your sensitive ears are tuned into the environment around you, listening for something, anything that would tell you where the attacker was hiding.

To try and help, you even stop breathing.

Your ears perk up when you hear the distinct sound of an arrow being nocked onto a bow. It’s coming from your left. 

At the last second, you raise your shield up in front of your face just for an arrow to fly right into it.

Your shoes crunch the cobblestone and you take off running in that direction without hesitation. 

When you make it into the specific crop of trees where the arrow came from there’s a loud thud . 

Instinct takes over and you lean backwards.

A sword swings over your body, your eyes stare at the blade as it barely grazes your nose. Once the sword clears your body, you snap back up and swing the shield in the direction the sword came from.

The bash that you deliver has the added bonus of the deflected arrow.

Whoever you hit with the shield grunts in pain and stumbles backwards. 

A long, high pitched whistle sounds through the trees and suddenly there’s more movement than your eyes can parse.

But, you know you need to focus on the enemy directly in front of you.

Once your shield is moved from your vision you immediately recognize the color of their armor, green and black.

Erbus.

Was this a covert team sent to spy on the hold?

Why would they attack two people on the road so suddenly? They could have easily stayed blended into the trees and waited for you both to pass. You knew for certain your ears were hidden underneath your hair.

Why did they do this?

Your hand grips your sword tightly and you lunge at the soldier who was still trying to regain his balance, it pierces right through the side of his breastplate.

He gasps one final time and falls to the ground.

Sliding your sword out of his body you turn quickly and look around you.

How many? How many?

Your heart sinks down to the floor.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

All of them were armed. All of them were angry.

A shaky breath leaves your lips and you look around at your surroundings as they stalk closer to you. One soldier licks his lips. 

Seven. You can do seven. You did ten back at Fort Mire. You can definitely do seven.

Right?

Yes.

The first soldier takes three large steps towards you and swings his ax around and at your head.

Your body drops to the ground and his ax embeds into the bark of the tree directly next to you.

He’s so busy trying to yank his blade out that you take the opening and slice through his body. The ax never leaves the tree but you move onto the rest of the soldiers.

One down. 

You bash the shield into the tree next to you as hard as possible. Once more, the air takes a deep breath around you and the metal hums and vibrates against your arm.

A smirk pulls at your face when you see the soldiers eyeing you curiously.

Digging your boots into the soil for a split moment, you then take off running at one of them

Shock causes his feet to stay in place, his eyes widen and mouth drops open.

You hold the shield in front of you and charge straight at him. Once you’re upon him, you swing the shield as hard as possible.

His body flies away from the blast.

“What the–?” one of his comrades yells.

You turn and spin your body around to gain momentum, you bring your sword up and around down to meet the sword of another soldier.

Your impact against his sword is so powerful that his arm is knocked back and he takes another step backwards to regain his balance.

Staying on the offensive, you swipe at him time and time again, he meets each of your swipes and each time his arm is pushed away from him. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a soldier sprinting up towards you.

At the last moment, you raise the shield up to block his attack.

The shield purrs.

Twirling, your body spins and you slam the shield into the first soldier, hitting him right in the head. There’s a sickening crack that sounds through the trees.

Your own sword twirls in your hand to turn the blade downwards in your hold and you stab backwards, underneath your shield arm, and into the gut of the second soldier.

Three more.

The pommel of the sword twirls in your grip and you push it upwards to arc and catch the throat and underneath of the chin of the next soldier that ran at you.

Blood sprays from the wound and all across your face. If you weren’t in battle mode, surely you would’ve had a bigger reaction. 

No time.

One throws a dagger in your direction, you quickly deflect it with your shield.

It tings off the metal and flies to the side. He grabs another one to throw at you and you charge forward.

In a split second, you drop your sword to the ground and then you grab the shield off your arm and hold it in one hand. Like a discus, you spin and launch it directly at his body.

The shield slams into his skull and ricochets in another direction. 

Violently, your head spins around looking for the last soldier. Where did he go? He was here just a moment ago.

Where? Where?

“ Y/N! ” Jisung’s screech rings through your ears and fear grips your heart.

When your head snaps over in his direction, he’s slowly backing away from the soldier, he’s holding the dagger in front of him like a mini sword.

You don’t think, you just run.

Jisung lets out a choked cry of horror. His eyebrows pinched together and his eyes looked glossy with fearful tears.

His legs are shaking and it looks like his knees might buckle underneath him.

“Knew who you were by that heraldry on the standard hanging on your belt, boy. You’re part of Miroh’s Court, eh? Maybe your head on a spike will send a message to Jarl Bang to call back his dogs.”

The fucking standard. It’s a small version of Miroh’s flag that all of the court members wear on their belts. You chose not to wear yours when fighting against Erbus to not put a target on your back.

Obviously, Jisung had not thought about it.

The Erban soldier raises his sword high above his head and Jisung screams, dropping the dagger and covering his head with his arms. Jisung falls to the ground in terror.

You scream as you tackle the soldier to the ground from the side.

Both of your bodies hit the pavement.

The soldier loses his grip on his sword and it skitters away on the stone. 

With no weapon, you have no choice but to fight dirty.

As soon as you’re able, you scramble up and straddle the soldier’s chest, your fist raises in the air and you bring it down as hard as you can into his jaw.

He grunts as his head snaps to the side. You bring your hand up again and deliver punch after punch. You feel the skin on your knuckles split and start to bleed.

Suddenly, you can’t tell if it's his blood on his face or yours.

A piercing pain shoots through your leg and you let out a startled scream. While you were busy delivering blows to his face, he managed to pull out a dagger and stab it directly into your thigh.

In the split moment you looked down at your leg, he flipped the two of you over.

Grunts and groans of exertion coming from both of you.

What feels like a brick wall comes in contact with your nose and you know immediately by the crunch that it's broken. Blood pours down your face and into your mouth. The familiar metallic taste and smell flooding your senses.

A second blow to your jaw makes your head crack down on the stone. Pain blossoms at the contact and your vision blacks out for a moment.

Another punch, another, another, another. Your vision returns to you but with how fast his punches are coming, you’re not able to gather your wits

The pain is starting to blend into one another.

Suddenly, instead of delivering another punch, both of the soldier's hands wrap tightly around your throat. 

Gasps tear from your body and your feet kick around wildly at the lack of oxygen. You bring your hands up and claw at his skin, ripping large gashes.

Your sore mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for water.

When you meet the eyes of the soldier on top of you, his pupils are blown wide, blood is covering his entire face. His jaw looks crooked, like you dislocated it with one of your blows.

An absolutely evil smile spreads over his face as he watches you squirm around, desperate for air.

Your fingertips begin to go numb and your arms grow cold from the lack of oxygen. The edges of your vision begin to fade.

“Do not think I do not see what you are,” he sneers down to you and then spits right in your face. The soldier leans down close to your face. Blood drips from his face down onto yours. “I wish I could take my time with you, make this last forever.”

A red hot anger ignites within you.

“Wish I could really fucking make you scream, dagger ear. Been so long since I had my dick warmed. But hey, bodies stay warm for a while. I’ll make sure to get back to you once I finish your friend over there.”

As if possessed, strength returns to every one of your limbs. Your eyebrows furrow deep and you grit your teeth and clench your jaw so hard you think your teeth may break. 

You rip the dagger out from your thigh and plunge it right in the side of his neck.

The soldier gapes and his grip around your neck immediately loosens.

Greedily, you gulp air into your system.

You rip the dagger out of neck and slit right across his throat. His body falls off of you and onto the ground, his hands desperately clawing at his neck as he chokes on his own blood.

But you’re not done with him, oh no.

You straddle his chest once more.

Over and over again you plunge the dagger down into his chest, his neck, his abdomen. Guttural screams tear through your throat as you do so.

“Y/N!” You hear Jisung scream, but you can’t stop yourself. Not after what he said to you. 

Hot tears are streaming down your face, making tracks through all the blood covering your skin. But new blood keeps splattering onto you with every downward strike.

“ Y/N! ” Jisung calls again, louder this time.

When you don’t answer, two hands suddenly grab you from under your arms and yank you backwards.

You scream and scream and scream. 

“Please, Y/N! It’s me! Y/N! It’s just me!” 

As if released from a trance, you stop thrashing and let the dagger fall from your hand and clatter to the ground. 

“It’s me, Y/N.” Jisung repeats and keeps a firm grip on you.

Your chest heaves as it takes in air. It feels like you can still feel the soldier's grip on your throat, his thumbs crushing your windpipe.

Swallowing painfully, you look back and up at Jisung. He’s staring at you in horror, his entire body tense. When you turn to him, his hands release you and he jumps backwards a bit.

You look down at the ground, not able to look at his mortified face any longer. Your face screws up in agony and you look around, careful not to look at the body that you just massacred .

“Are you hurt?” you croak out. Your voice is extremely hoarse.

“N-Nay.” Jisung answers.

“Good.”

You continue to catch your breath, your eyes closing.

Behind you, Jisung only stares at your wavering body. 

In and out, air comes through your lungs.

Why can’t you catch your breath?

Something is not right.

Yes, you were just choked out, but you should be able to breathe semi-normally right now.

“J-Jisung.” You choke out. He makes a startled noise in response. “Jisung, something is wrong.”

“What do you mean?” His voice is thick.

“I.. I know not. Something…” Your hand comes up and clutches at your chest. “I cannot…”

Your eyes snap down to your thigh. There is a large hole in the fabric of your pants and blood is oozing from the wound, soaking the cloth completely.

Ignoring the stinging pain, you pull the fabric aside and your stomach flips.

Ugly, purple veins stem from the injury, the blood seems to bubble and burn your skin even further. This blood is tinted black.

“Fuck.” You gasp.

“ What? ” Jisung prods again.

“P… Poison.” You wheeze.

“Posion? Y/N. I… We are so far from the capital, I have… I have nothing on me. What do I do? What are we able to do?”

Your mind is reeling at the same time Jisung’s mouth is. You also have absolutely nothing on you. There are no plants that grow in the area that could be crushed into a salve.

Four hours. You’re four hours from the Keep.

“Jisung. Go grab my weapons please.” Your voice is already so weak.

“Y/N.”

“Now.”

He hesitates one more moment before running off in the direction you came from. Your body turns and you crawl across the stone path towards where Jisung dropped your dagger.

The muscles in your thigh seize for a moment and you groan before it releases again.

The dagger’s pommel sits comfortably in your palm for a moment before you crawl back over to the bloody corpse of a body that you ruined.

You grab the bottom of his tunic that's poking out from under his armor and slice a piece of the fabric off.

Using that strip of fabric, you tie it around your thigh as tightly as possible. 

Each gasp of air you intake sounds like a gasp. No matter how deeply you inhale, it doesn’t seem like enough. 

“Here, here.” Jisung drops to his knees next to you. He has your sword in one hand and the shield in the other.

Weakly, you grab the sword from his hand and sheath it on your belt. 

“Here is what is going to happen, Han Jisung.” The man gives you his undivided attention, you look up at him with determined eyes. “We are going to walk to Miroh’s Keep. We will make it there in three hours, not four.”

“Y/N.” 

Reaching up, you grab a fistful of his shirt and yank it towards you. “We are going to walk to Miroh’s Keep, Jisung.”

He gulps once and nods. Reaching behind him, Jisung secures your shield to his broad shoulders. 

Jisung grabs one of your arms and places it over his shoulders. The other arm wraps around your waist tightly. 

“One… Two… Three!” He stands up with you and you scream in pain. The knee on your injured leg buckles but he holds you stead to him. The hand on your waist keeps you firmly to his side.

Blood has already soaked through your bandage.

“Three hours is nothing,” you grit through your teeth.

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

After two hours your brain is completely out of it. When you take a step, it’s like your bones are made of jelly and your body flops along with it.

Jisung has not stopped talking for a moment, trying to keep your attention on him. 

The two of you have had to stop several times for you to fall to your knees and vomit on the side of the road. 

But each time, you get up, wipe your mouth, and continue down the road. 

“We are so close, Y/N.” He begs in your ear. He sounds so exhausted. 

Jisung has basically been carrying you for the better part of the last thirty minutes. Your entire body is shivering and a cold sweat covers your skin in a sheen. 

Are you close or is he just telling you that?

Your body sways and then your muscles give out completely. Your mouth is moving and incoherent babbling is coming out of it.

Before your body can hit the cobblestone, Jisung reaches down and scoops you into his arms, one arm under your knee, the other behind your shoulder blades.

Your head lulls around your neck like a newborn.

“Y/N.” He shakes your body desperately, “Y/N, please!” 

All you can do is babble some more. Your mouth feels so dry, like Changbin made you run fifty laps around the Keep.

The world underneath you is moving. By the wind blowing through your hair, you can feel that Jisung is running . He’s sprinting because he knows that your life is on the line. 

Every moment counts. 

Where did this strength come from?

No matter how much you try, you can’t open your eyes. 

In and out, your brain comes and goes from consciousness. Every once in a while Jisung’s voice will pull you back down from the Void and back into your body.

You have absolutely no sense of the passing of time now.

Is it five minutes later? Twenty? Did time pass at all?

Your breathing suddenly picks up again, each intake shorter and shorter. They’re pitiful gasps. No oxygen is coming in.

Choking, it feels like you’re choking. 

A sudden blast of warmth hits your face. 

Through the fog of your brain, you hear Jisung screaming bloody murder to whoever will listen. His voice rumbles through his chest and against your body.

It’s raspy and nothing short of shrieks of terror and cries for help.

“ What happened?! ” Oh, you haven’t heard that lovely voice in so long.

A second set of arms pulls you from Jisung and, like a ragdoll, your body flops against their chest. 

Oh, that musky vanilla smell. You missed it so much.

“Felix!” Chan screams from above you, “Someone get Felix! Now! Get him now! Fucking now!”

You’ve only heard his voice sound like this once. When the messenger was dying in front of him. But, even then, it did not sound this desperate. 

“Go!” Minho’s voice echoes his command in an even stronger booming voice.

“Poison! She was poisoned– stab to the leg. Her leg.” Jisung wheezes out. He sounds like he’s about to keel over from pure exhaustion. 

Chan shakes your body violently. Nothing. You’re nothing but dead, limp weight.

The sound of several objects, metal and glass, hitting the floor rings around the room and it feels as though you’re placed on top of a table.

Every single muscle in your body suddenly tenses and begins to convulse violently. Your back arches off the table and you’re choking on your own spit.

No air, you can’t breathe. 

Two sets of hands hold every one of your limbs down to the table.

“Y/N! Y/N! Can you hear me? You are going to be alright, okay? Come on, Y/N. Hang on, please.” Chan begs. You can hear in his voice that he’s crying, his throat sounds tight and his words crack. “You are not permitted to die for Miroh, remember? Do you remember Y/N?”

Your chest writhes and arcs. Suddenly, bile rises in your throat again and before you’re able to choke on it, your body is turned on its side and you throw up all over the floor. 

“Where is Felix?!” Chan screams out.

“Here! I am here!” Felix yells back as he runs into the room. 

“Poison. Leg. Heal her!” Chan barks to him, his grip on your arm and leg tightening anxiously.

“By The Six…” Felix is suddenly directly next to you. His hands immediately grab at the absolutely drenched bandage on your leg.

You made it, you made it.

Felix curses under his breath and it feels like your pant leg is being sliced open. 

Despite the circumstances, you feel relieved. You’re in Felix’s hands, he’ll heal you, you know it. He’ll fix you.

Your brain falls victim to this sense of comfort.

Slowly, it sounds like their voices drift further and further away. Even the feeling of their hands on your body seem distant, like they’re holding some phantom limb on another person. 

Several slaps hit your cheek, but all your head does is lull to the side.

“Felix.”

“I am trying, Chan!”

“This is not happening…”

“She saved me. Fuck, she did this saving me. Fucking shit!”

“Felix, please!”

Black.

[mc-lukanette]

Ladybug just barely managed to squeeze through the window of the Liberty without being seen, her groan overtaking the sound of her detransformation. Finding places to hide as Marinette was simple when she could so easily slip out of a group, but when Ladybug got so much attention from everyone, it was nearly impossible to get back to where she was before. As it was, she'd had to use her aqua powers to hide in the water until she was sure it was safe to leap into the Liberty.

Maybe I should start carrying the mouse, she thought, slapping her cheeks to try and snap herself back into focus. Her mind whirled as she tried to remember what her excuse had been so she could follow up on it.

She was pretty sure it’d been snacks; she’d told everyone that she was heading downstairs to get snacks and drinks for them.

Heading over to the door leading to the deck, she opened it back up and hurried to grab some trays to put snacks on. Fumbling to gather things to make up for the time she was away, she tried not to get distracted by the conversation she could faintly hear up on deck.

"Haven't you wanted to change your look? It's been months now," came Mylene's voice. "Those costumes are starting to get old. I don't know about everyone else's, but Ivan's is starting to get beat up."

Marinette froze. Even without hearing the specific words, she knew they were talking about Kitty Section's costumes.

"We could ask Marinette to fix them up?" Rose suggested.

Alya dismissed the idea. "She's been busy all week! There's no way."

She wasn't wrong. Marinette tensed, already thinking about what'd just happened. She was living three lives - Marinette, Ladybug, and now the guardian - so it was only logical that she couldn't keep up.

"Oh," Zoe piped up. "If it's the costumes, I could find someone who's worked with real bands before on costumes? You could get a designer who could make something that'd last for a long time."

"Really? That's right, you even know the mayor!"

"That'd be awesome!"

"As long as you don't let Chloe hear, okay?"

Marinette fidgeted with the tray, hating the fact that a familiar jealousy was stirring in her chest. She and Zoe were friends, with Marinette being the one who vouched for her in the first place, so she had no one to blame but herself. Zoe was a great person: she was friendly, not awkward, and was even building a better relationship with the mayor of Paris. Anyone would want her company and Marinette couldn't compete with that.

It was inevitable that the costumes could get worn or damaged too, even by accident. She breathed up, steeling herself for the topic as she took the trays of snacks and started heading up to the deck.

Then, she heard Luka chime in, "They're Marinette's designs. We worked on them together and those two weeks are a verse I never want to forget."

"You don't have to throw the costumes away or anything," Alix interjected, confused by the emotional weight behind the words. "You'll just have new designs."

He paused, then directed his voice elsewhere as he asked, "What do you guys think?"

Some hums sounded amongst the rest of Kitty Section, Rose speaking up first to say, "New designs just mean we have more designs, right?"

Ivan added on, unsure, "I thought it was cool of Marinette to make these for us. It's kinda hard finding stuff that fits me."

"Mm," Juleka hummed noncommittally. "I like the worn look..."

"I guess it would be up to the band," Mylene pointed out. "Maybe we could vote yay or nay?"

"We're not getting anywhere like this," Alya countered. "All I'm saying is that it'll just put pressure on—"

By that point, Marinette had already stepped into view with the trays. She'd taken time and focus so as to not topple anything by accident, but was still wholly aware of the conversations. All eyes darted to her and it was difficult to tell who felt awkward and who was simply waiting for her to speak.

Keeping her expression as flat as possible, she went over to the nearest table and set the trays down. Standing straight to face everyone, she told them, "It's like Alya said: I'm busy. I'm not reliable enough to make repairs or new ones either, so..." She shrugged as casually as she could. "Those designs were made on a time crunch anyway, and I want you guys to have the best."

"See?" Alya gestured at Marinette whilst looking at Luka. "She thinks so too."

Having just been Ladybug a few minutes ago, Marinette had already had more than enough attention for the day. Preferring not to involve herself further, she turned on her heel and started heading back below deck, leaving Zoe free to use her connections without guilt of her watching.

"Marine—" Luka called behind her, but stopped short. She heard his footsteps follow after hers, but didn't discourage him and continued walking.

As she re-entered the lounge room, she went straight for the couch; not around, but straight ahead for the backrest. Putting her hands on top, she hefted herself over and plopped down onto the cushions, allowing her to lay back and stare up at the ceiling. A click of the door followed and Luka's face soon hovered over her from above the backrest.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Why? You were trying to defend me."

He put his forearms up on the couch, allowing him to lean forward more. "You're part of the band too, to me. I shouldn't've said anything without you there."

"You don't believe me." It wasn't a question.

"I just wanted to make sure there wasn't something deeper to it."

As deep as a bottomless pit, Marinette lamented, wanting to scream but not having the voice to. Instead, she waved her arms about and continued to insist, "Look, I really am busier than when I made you those outfits! That's why we we couldn't date!"

His eyes widened at that, and it took her a moment to realize why: she hadn't specified that part when they'd broken up. She'd been tired, emotionally drained, and not thinking particularly clearly at the time, so the actual reasoning had been left out.

"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette," was what he'd said then, but the actual timeline after the fact was a little fuzzy for some reason. She guessed it was also related to her exhaustion.

She sat up to be closer to him, talking again before she could think further on it, "I'd feel awful if Kitty Section had to keep holding itself back because I don't have the energy for it, okay? You guys need new costumes and Zoe is the best for the job, so don't do this for me—"

"Zoe?" Luka's brows drew together in puzzlement.

"...Yes?" She tilted her head, equally confused by his response. "She's the one who offered. She has connections that I don't."

He shook his head. "That's not it. She's not the best for the job, she's just finding someone else to do it."

Marinette stopped halfway to a reply, having been caught in her mindset. Either he was that observant or she was extremely transparent about it. She planted her soles on the floor, turning so that her back faced him.

Luka walked around the couch to sit next to her, keeping a careful distance but being close enough for them to talk comfortably with each other. "Zoe can't do what you do, Marinette." Then, thoughtful, he assured, "But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Except that was just the thing. She wanted to - always wanted to - yet there were never-ending obstacles to that. Everything she said had to be carefully calculated or she'd run the risk of causing everyone more trouble, but sometimes the choice would just be taken from her anyway if she waited too long. It was a tightrope walk of balancing words she should say with words that she shouldn't.

And she wanted off.

"I—" She grit her teeth, hands gripping the fabric of her capris. "It's not... it's not about what she can do. It's about what she doesn't have to. She doesn't have to worry about a packed schedule, or dealing with responsibilities she didn't ask for, or making time to do something for a friend because she can find someone else to do it."

Luka let out a hum of acknowledgment. She saw his hand reach over out of the corner of her eye, hovering silently over her hand closest to him. When she didn't pull back or express displeasure, his hand dropped onto hers and squeezed.

"There's nothing wrong with being jealous," he told her.

Stiffening, she pulled away from him on the couch and stood back up, arguing, "But there is! Zoe hasn't done anything wrong and I'm not allowed to want you after what happened, especially not when she's just a better me!"

"...What?"

She groaned, messing up her own bangs just so she could fix them again. "A better me. She was bullied too, but she's not—she's not like me. No one teases her or makes fun of her for what she does, but I'm such a disaster with everything that—"

"You want me?" he clarified.

Marinette met his gaze, having thought that was obvious from having told him why she'd had to break up with him. "Yeah? Who wouldn't?" Paying no mind to the blush that appeared on his face, she continued to throw her arms out and vent, "But I don't make people happy! I don't fit! Zoe doesn't get upset like I do, she doesn't have to run off all the time, and she doesn't make people argue over costumes since she's not the one who makes them anyway!"

She couldn't even look at Luka anymore, too ashamed to face him directly. She couldn't recall how she'd made the connection between her own issues and Zoe's, but finding out that she was jealous was another matter. It took time to properly recognize the feeling, but only because her initial experiences with jealousy were different.

Specifically, with Adrien. Whenever it came to seeing other girls around him, she'd wanted to interfere, to stop it at all costs. The exception had been Kagami at times, but due to a mixture of guilt and a desire not to lose her friendship with someone who'd openly told her (openly told Ladybug) that she prioritized pursuing Adrien over said friendship.

With Luka though, she'd never felt any rivalry or animosity towards anyone she deemed a "better fit" for him, and she never thought to act out on it. While Zoe had never made attempts to go after Luka herself, Marinette imagined it was only a matter of time if Zoe was indeed a better her, and she'd find it hard to complain if it ended up working out.

The difference in her states of jealousy was obvious: one was an obsession - "eyes on the prize," so to speak - while the other was a genuine love and desire to see the person she loved be happy. It hurt thinking about how it would all end regardless, but she was prepared to face it.

"...Marinette," Luka began slowly, still piecing his words together. He inhaled, exhaled, then finally said, "You can't decide that."

She faltered, scared to look at him directly in case she had an unpleasant expression on, but too confused not to do something. She turned her head just enough to peek at him through her bangs.

He continued without her asking directly, "No one makes me happy the way you do. Not Zoe, not anyone. You can't decide who fits me best just like everyone else can't decide what to do about the costumes without hearing you out first."

"But..." She shook her head despondently. "It was a nightmare dating me? I don't want you to want me if it'll just lead to that."

"What if you're the musician?"

That got her to look at him, in sheer befuddlement if nothing else. She'd registered the oncoming metaphor, but still failed to follow it to its conclusion. "What do you mean?"

"What if you're the musician, and I'm the guitar you had to stop playing because the music didn't sound right?" He put his hands in place to act as if there was a guitar in his lap. "Then you see a newer, fancier guitar that comes with all sorts of accessories, and everyone thinks you'd look great with it."

She gaped, horrified by the thought. "I-I wouldn't want that!" She sat down next to him again, huffing. "Just because it's new and fancy doesn't mean it'd work for me, and I already have memories with the guitar I have now! Maybe the music didn't work but—"

Something clicked. Luka must've seen it in her expression too, his frown making way for a smile instead.

"...There's nothing wrong with the instrument," she finished quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah. It was bad timing. Even the best musicians can get the timing wrong when it matters."

Sliding closer to her as she'd done earlier to him, he gripped her shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. Marinette gasped sharply, suddenly surrounded by warmth when she'd felt so cold before. It really was as if he'd never let her go so long as she didn't move.

Whispering so as to not break the moment, Luka questioned, "Do you know what it was about my dad?"

She gripped onto whatever fabric was nearest to her, uttering a soft, "M-mm?" in response.

"I know he left, and it hurt me, but he came back in the end. He wanted to make it up to me. He could've decided that I wasn't worth it, or that he still wasn't interested in being around me, but he didn't." He rubbed her back, seeking to soothe her. "I believe in second chances, and if someone wants to ask me for one, then it's my choice to let them back in. I'm choosing you, Marinette."

She blinked rapidly, feeling potential tears coming on. While reluctant to pull apart from him, she broke the hug momentarily to see his face again. The temptation to jump on the offer was strong, but she admitted, "I...I don't know how to convince myself that it's okay."

"I can show you," he offered. "We'll take it at whatever pace you want, and I'll show you that it's okay."

Her eyes give him the answer before her mouth did, her body stunned still by the gesture. She'd really thought that she'd lost him for good and that there wasn't any hope left, but he stuck with her anyway.

She wanted to kiss him in gratitude, but it didn't happen right away. The close contact made it easy for her to let her hands wander, fingertips trailing across the bare skin of his forearms. Luka accepted all of it, reciprocating by touching her face and feeling along her cheekbones as if he hadn't already memorized every centimeter of them.

They were the kinds of touches that she'd - that they'd - wanted since they got together in the first place, but never did. They're gentle yet eager, tentative yet meaningful.

The kiss followed afterward, somewhat clumsy when their noses bumped, but they weren't deterred from continuing. They held each other, relishing in the contact they hadn't gotten to have the first time they'd attempted it at the cinema. Even the soft 'click' as they pulled apart became ingrained in Marinette's memory as something special.

Luka touched his lips with his fingertips, feeling along the surface, but stopped to point out, "You've been worrying about me this whole time."

"H-hm?" She also had to stop herself from touching her lips to reply.

"What about you?" he prompted, staring at her directly. "How do you feel?"

Her lips quivered, but she was smiling. Knowing that he knew the answer already, she threw her arms around him to return his hug from earlier.

She felt happy. She felt like she could safely talk to him about things without fear or repercussions. She felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders, even if it was only for a moment.

Most importantly, she felt loved.

[thehamletdiaries]

Every time I'd have Hamlet and Horatio kiss in a production of the play

So, obviously there are a million ways to play Hamlet - more than a million - and this is just one of the many versions that exist in my mind’s eye…but I was going through the play and thinking about when I would have the two boys kiss; this post is meant for nothing other than my own indulgence and as something sweet and fun and ultimately, sad (of course, it is Hamlet…):

HAMLET I am glad to see you well: Horatio,--or I do forget myself.

As a general rule, whilst I would have Hamlet and Horatio fairly obviously being physically close - Horatio resting his head on Hamlet’s leg during the play on the pipe scene, for example - but I wouldn’t have them actually kiss around people, mostly, but I think with Marcellus and Bernardo - and for this first moment of them being reunited - I’d make an exception.

I’d have Horatio in the scene where Rosencrantz and Guildenstern first speak to Hamlet, and after this bit of dialogue…

HAMLET Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him not. Exit First Player My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord! HAMLET Ay, so, God be wi' ye; Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN

…Hamlet would make a “hey, go with the to keep an eye on them” face at Horatio, and Horatio would begin to exit, following them, then pause for a second and run back to quickly kiss Hamlet, before leaving to go after their friends.

HAMLET Nay, do not think I flatter; For what advancement may I hope from thee That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, A man that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.

This is the obvious speech for a make out session, of course, but I think I would actually just have Hamlet with this hands on Horatio’s waist for all of it, but only lean in to kiss him at the end of the speech, after “as I do thee”.

HAMLET There's another: why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha? HORATIO Not a jot more, my lord. HAMLET Is not parchment made of sheepskins? HORATIO Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.

I’d have Horatio lean in to briefly kiss Hamlet in a sort of “please stop going on about this I am worried about you and I care about you and I also sort of just want you to stop talking about it because you’re talking yourself into a weird state of mind here and also you are sort of adorable at the same time” way.

HAMLET Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes? Let be.

I’d have Hamlet gently kiss Horatio after “let be”.

HAMLET As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. O good Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.

I’d have Hamlet grab Horatio and passionately and desperately kissing him after “I'll have't” and throwing the cup away.

HAMLET O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: I cannot live to hear the news from England; But I do prophesy the election lights On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice; So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, Which have solicited. The rest is silence.

And I’d have Hamlet kiss Horatio once more after “O, I die, Horatio” before falling into his arms as they both sink to the floor.

[lemonsprite]

𝐌𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐥’𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 || 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

Summary: Mahal has blessed Gimli and Legolas with a gift

Word count:

Warnings: none! All fluff :)

A/N: side note I love the headcanon that hobbits are like cabbage patch kids and that dwarves are like those Nat Geo archeology kits

“A rock?” Asked Legolas, raising an eyebrow at the uneven stone in his hands. The elf looked down at Gimli with confusion.

“Nay.” The dwarf shook his head, smiling, and took the stone (practically boulder) from Legolas’ hands.

“A rock from Mahal.”

Legolas was silent, staring at Gimli as if he was insane.

“And what does that mean?”

The dwarf’s face went as red as his hair, his eyes looking everywhere but Legolas. The rock was so big Gimli’s hands could hardly cradle it and Legolas couldn’t help but be intrigued by the strange stone. It was lumpy and sharp as if the rock had just been chipped from the mountainside and scraped the palms of Legolas’ smooth hands.

“You don’t know much about dwarven culture, yes?”

Legolas nodded his head suspiciously, eyeing the stone.

“Well, when Mahal made us in the forges he created a second one for each of us, an eternal partner, our one.”

The elven prince stood silently in agreement. After all, he was quite familiar with at the very least, this ideal. His father, Thranduil, had complained more than once about that dwarven prince and Tauriel.

“Well.” Gimli began once more, one of his gruff hands fiddling nervously with the braids of his beard. “Once you have met your one and Mahal has deemed you ready you are to be gifted a child.”

“A child…” Legolas thought aloud, his eyes narrowing in thought at the dwarf next to him. “You mean to tell me that stone…”

“Is an infant.” Gimli finished for the elf, holding the rock closer to his chest. “It is how we Khazâd are born.”

Legolas was silent, processing everything Gimli had just revealed.

“But…” He began, furrowing his brow in confusion. “That would mean you’d have found your one, would it not?”

If possible, Gimli’s face turned even redder, his eyes frantically searching the ground beneath Legolas’ face so as to not look him in the eyes.

“Aye.”

Legolas froze, Gimli’s confirmation suddenly causing his stomach to sink, Legolas stuck now with the undeniable evidence that he’d have to be sharing Gimli with someone else.

He quickly dispelled these thoughts. Legolas placed his hand tenderly on the other's shoulder, throwing a gentle smile on his face before his friend beside him could even notice anything off.

“Why Gimli, that's… Great.” The dwarf practically flushed at Legolas’ words, caressing his thumb against the rough exterior of the stone.

“Who is she?”

Gimli froze, staring perplexed at Legolas.

“What do you mean she?” He asked, his gruff voice filled with surprise.

“Your one.” Explained the elf. ‘Why was Gimli so confused?’

Gimli stared at him as if he’d punched the dwarf right between his eyes. “My dear friend-” He sighed, exasperated, running a hand down his face. “You are my one.”

Legolas felt as if the Valar themselves had just descended from above, blood rushing to his face faster than he could string a bow. The elf was silent, wanting to say so many things at once yet nothing came.

Gimli frowned, holding the rock in his arms tighter. “I understand if you do not feel the same.” He sighed heavily. “after all, you are an elf-”

Before the dwarrow could finish his sentence Legolas was upon him like a stork to bird seed. He engulfed Gimli in a hug that would crush a mortal man.

“The Rock Legolas!” Gimli exclaimed, buried in the elven princes arms.

Legolas released him, holding Gimli an arms length away. He nodded his head vigorously, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his father telling him off.

“Apologizes… I got away from myself… I just…” Legolas trailed off, a small giddy smile crossing his lips. He could not believe the news he was hearing. Gimli was his, he was Gimli’s. They were meant for each other… after all according to the dwarves they were fated, it was destined by the gods.

Gimli looked tenderly up at Legolas, cradling the rock in his arms.

“Aye… you… do feel the same yes?” He asked, searching the Elves face for confirmation.

“Very…! A child Gimli!” He exclaimed, and the dwarf had never seen Legolas so joyous. “Our child!”

Legolas grabbed Gimli’s hands so that both were now holding the stone and smiled brightly down at the dwarf. His hands completely swallowed Legolas’, Gimli’s palms scarred and calloused from years spent in the forage.

“Meleth nîn.” Said Legolas quietly. “Thalion nîn, Melethron nîn.”

Gimli smiled, his ears picking up on what little he knew of the Sindarin language.

“One of these days I must teach you Khuzdul.” He said, looking down at the small boulder cradled in their hands. “Your elvish language is to sweet.”

“My word say nothing but the truth.” Said Legolas tenderly. “I’ve waited long for a moment like this.”

He leaned his head down as best he could, touching his forehead to Gimli’s the rock laid dormant between them.

Jojo try not to mischaracterize Legolas challenge (impossible)