#no crisis yet which is promising

[tiredcowboyy]

The treasures of my future

I cant stop thinking ab the idea of merlin one day post s5, where they all survived, becoming really secretive and protective of his room and not telling anyone at all whats inside. Not even gaius. He even gets a lock installed and whenever anybody asks he brushes it off with jokes like “its to stop arthur from finding me” or smth.

he also unrelatedly really hates any talk of destiny, going to war, and anytime morgana mentions her fear of her magic turning her merlin slightly freaks out.

That is until one day gaius manages to catch merlin off guard while hes rushing between the main room and his bedroom and walks in.

Only to see a whole bunch of stuff that hes never seen before.

Merlin freaks out, tries to play it off as some weird experiments and stuff hes been collecting but gaius can feel it, somethings different about these items, not wrong but not right. Not really magic either.

It takes 3 weeks of gaius pestering him before merlin breaks and explains to him that he IS A TIME TRAVELER. after the battle of camlan as we know it that lead to arthurs death, merlin did wait, he really did, but in the year 2020 when arthur didnt return for yet another global crisis, merlin broke and did spell upon spell until he figured out how throw himself back in time.

And holy shit did it work well. He managed to come back just at the perfect time to change everything that needed to be done to assure that everyone lives happily and safely, and when he realises hes done it, he decides to stay in this time. See his friends and family grow old as they should have. See arthur rule as he should have. Live the life he has been craving to go back to for centuries now.

Until a month in he realises how old everything is. Sure merlin can survive without his phone and stuff but theres a few things he really misses. Like his slippers, his potato peeler, his favourite hoodie, and especially his favourite tea flavours.

So once in a while he allowed himself to go back to the modern day and bring one thing back. He started with a scented candle, because candles exist in camelot and having one here shouldn’t mess up time right? Then moved onto a herbal tea that he knows if he traveled past the boarders he may be able to find similar ingredients.

Then he brings a new release of his favourite book series because he cant help it and realises small things like that dont change time.

And so thats what he’s been hiding away in his room, all of his modern day stuff. Ranging from trinkets hes collected over his life to his favourite scarf to his stuffed lion that he won at a fair in the 80s. He doesn’t go back often, only when his tea runs out or he really needs something, he tries to limit it he really does.

It takes gaius another 4 weeks to wrap his head around it all. Another 2 weeks after that to touch merlins stuffed lion thinking it may attack him at any moment.

He makes gaius promise to not tell a soul, offering him tea bags as payment. They have a nice system from then on, gaius would try a new flavour of tea everytime merlin returned, once in a while he would also bring a modern day snack (gaius yelled when he first tried salt and vinegar crisps).

A yell which led to leon finding out. And so a cycle began.

[vagabond-umlaut]

⁙ ensnared

No matter what the world says, no matter what the world believes in, Gojo is nothing but a puny fly to the wily spider that you are. Flying headfirst into the gossamer web your skilled fingers have spun, time after time after time— The silk threads, perfectly tailored. Just for him.

▸ Gojo x Wife!Reader; Tooth-Rotting Domestic Fluff; Very Very Suggestive Themes; Nudity; Mentions of Food & A Plant Dying; Gojo calls his wife 'cookie'; Everything is fair in love and war ;) [This Fic's Rated Mature -> MDNI!!! ^_^]

▸ This is for you, Dilay! *MWAH MWAH MWAH* @roseqzpd

For all that is said about him, Gojo is a man who succumbs to only two temptations.

One:

Sweet dishes, regular intake of which will put anyone into a hyperglycemic crisis. [Good thing, he isn't just 'anyone'.]

And the other one:

You. His wife. His sweet, sweet, sweetest wife, who's currently peering up at him from his lap, wrapped in nothing except a way too tiny bath towel— however– he instructs himself the nth time since you emerged from the bathroom– you are a temptation he refuses to cave in to... just for now.

Strangely cognizant of his mind [like you are, more often than not], Gojo watches you intently stare at his lips for a full two seconds. Then repeat the request you made less than thrice today, but your husband already feels his defenses crumbling.

"'Toruuu," you whine, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing closer, "Won't you help your wife choose a pretty outfit for today's get-together? I'm so confused... You want your wife to look the best among all the ladies there– tell me, don't you?"

"'Course, I do, cookie!" he exclaims, indignant as to how you could ever think anything otherwise— before a sudden ping! from his laptop sends him careening to the ground like a deflated balloon.

The poor man sighs. "But there's still so much work left to be done–"

"– which you can always complete once you've helped me, 'Toru," you cut him off with a pout, that slowly gathers a playful tinge as you ask, "Why are you behaving like this, though? Usually, you jump at the faintest chance to get out of paperwork. But now..."

Eyes growing comically wide, your voice sinks to a conspiratorial whisper. So worried, so cute. "Did anyone threaten to leak where your secret sweets stash is, 'Toru? If you– you know– submit these reports too late like always, eh?"

The only response your husband manages to eke out for your query is a very strained chuckle... 'cause, yeah, that's right.

Nanami promised to do exactly that– telling his very dear but having-black holes-for-stomachs students where his foreign sweets are stored– besides telling you how the white-haired man hogged ten chocolates one day despite his allowed daily two– and how your favourite star cactus didn't die from age but from him overwatering it, that week you were on a mission in France two months back– should he submit anything late ever again... But, no, wait.

You were on a foreign trip when he was given this ultimatum, and returned only last night. And Nanami promised to not tell you these yet– at least, not any time before that damned deadline's over. So, how...

"'Toruuu," Your petulant self, very adorably so, draws him away from his musings. And Gojo swears, if he wasn't losing before, he certainly is now. Your watery eyes, lower lip jutted out just the right amount and your nails leaving a delicious trail on his undercut— they've always been too strong for the world's strongest sorcerer.

Groaning, he leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. And darts his eyes to bore into yours lest they travel to your soft skin peek– NO, DON'T GO THERE. NOT NOW. PLEASE.

He huffs. "Okay, fine."

You open your mouth, probably to screech in delight, but your husband shushes you with a finger to your lips. He continues, shifting his tone to a graver timbre, "But only to help you choose your outfit– nothing else."

Lips curving into a wide smile behind his finger, your eyes gleam in terribly concealed delight. He has to actively stop himself from kissing you right then and there— there are still three mission reports left to be filed.

"And if I catch you trying to change the stream to anything else," he warns. You nestle closer into him, blinking your gorgeous eyes up at him in silent wait. A chuckle [which sounds more embarrasingly choked than anything] leaves him.

Features shifting into something brighter than a supernova, you push his finger away. And giggling, say, "You won't go easy on me— right, 'Toru?"

[In hindsight, though, Gojo thinks he should have recognised this plan to be yours.

From the way you step out the bathroom, not in your usual bathrobe but a towel... To the way you beg him to help decide your dress, in spite of knowing well how he leans towards only white or light blue choices... To the way your towel– pretty conveniently and accidentally, of course– slips lower not even ten minutes into the task...

To the soft 'Oops!' you exhale but make no move to cover your exposed chest, a mute thrill clear in the curve on your lips as you watch him watch, drink in, mentally devour the delectable sight before— your ever-present coyness nowhere to be found even as he strips you, nothing hiding you anymore from his starving gaze...

To the smug smile you're offering him now, the next day, after he's been thoroughly chewed out by Yaga for submitting his work a whopping four hours late...

Your wicked, brilliant, bewitching eyes go from him, to the mountain of empty candy wrappers on the centre table, to the empty pot of soil on the windowsill– the one that had your annoying, attention-hogging desert plant– then return to him.

A shudder runs down his spine— which doesn't take long to transform into a shiver of excitement. And a very, very warm burst of fondness right in the middle of his chest.

The man shakes his head with a laugh, 'cause—

For all that is said about him, Gojo is a man who succumbs to only two temptations.

And he'll be a fool, if he is to mess with the second– and more important of the two–

You.

His sweet, sweet, sweeter than the sweetest sweet dish, but startlingly sharp wife.]

[Also, no joke, but isn't your 'Toru insanely in love with you, even more for that?]

Gojo, some time later: My cookie is sooo smart– did ya know that, Nanamin? Hehe. Nanami: Why TF do you always hide in my office every time your wife is mad at you?

▸ Divider by @hitobaby. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

▸ masterlist

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

~

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The degrowthers are right: There needs to be a lot less physical stuff produced, especially in the way of fossil fuels, and, for anyone with the least sense of justice, this means rich countries consuming less and poor countries consuming more. Such an apparent threat of rich-country austerity meanwhile contains, in truth, the promise of abundance: fewer but more durable goods, less work and more leisure. (Already in the 1990s, the French-Austrian ecosocialist André Gorz wanted to “build the civilization of liberated time” in place of that of wage labor.) The fact that any such global rebalancing of consumption patterns can’t plausibly take place so long as the rich countries of the Global North dictate world history is one more reason that degrowth remains a dead letter under capitalism. It is not, however, the working classes of the Global North that must drastically curtail their lifestyles: The world’s richest 1 percent are responsible for as much carbon emissions as the poorest two-thirds of the global population. Much of the work of degrowth would be accomplished by the dispossession and destruction of the class represented by this sole percentile. As for the idolaters of growth, their god has not only failed but, Cronus-like, has started devouring its children as if these were so many chicken wings. “Growth” fantasizes one kind of fake substance, and “degrowth” another; real intelligence demands attention to how the ingredients of this world are different, not the same. Even so, the advocates of degrowth (a more attractive English word might be Samuel Beckett’s “lessness”) can boast of a sounder moral and political intuition than can the usual apologists for growth: Less stuff, more life! Such an argument may be obviated soon enough, either way, by the specter not of degrowth communism, but of prolonged capitalist contraction. Voters and politicians whistling past the graveyard being prepared for our children may have neglected to consult a recent article in Nature which holds that “the world economy is committed to an income reduction of 19% within the next 26 years independent of future emissions choices” (emphasis mine). Important factors in this bleak outlook include the declining agricultural yields and the massive and unpredictable damage to infrastructure attendant on climate collapse. In other words, even if carbon emissions are somehow reduced through the magic of the market, climate change can be expected to cause about $38 trillion in damages annually by the mid-century, enough to render overall economic growth infeasible. The choice facing the 21st century, then, is likely not between degrowth and growth. It is more likely between a form of capitalist contraction in which prosperity endures for a few but evaporates for the rest of us, and some kind of socialist or communist degrowth in which the well-being of everyone in general prevails over the wealth of anyone in particular. The precise politics of egalitarian degrowth are no more clear to me than they are to Saitō. But universal crisis will license strategies that theory alone could never discover.

26 August 2024

[cherryredstars]

First off, I love you.

Second off, I love you A LOT.

Okay so I’m losing my mind over a brain vomit where younger reader’s been harboring and hiding feelings for Miguel for the sake of being appropriate and it’s starting to make her frustrated like “fuck I’m gonna get actually fucking sick and vomit” because how much she’s crushing on him is CRAZY, so reader basically goes up to Miguel like “I can’t take this anymore.” Like reject me so I can move on type of thing. “ Do me a favor, and break my nose or something. Tell me to fucking go away” or something like that. My brain is burning.

Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader, John Price x civil!reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: For my baby, I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!!!

Edited (just for you boo)

| Miguel O'Hara

If you look at him, you will actually throw up.

Like projectile 'make yourself a laughing stock' throw up. It's just the way your body- your stomach- reacts when you see him. It gets twisted, fluttery with a fix of butterflies and disgust. It's down right disgusting, inappropriate at the least. He's almost a decade older than you, yet here you are pining after him as if you're some teenage girl. You feel physically sick when you think about it for too long: throat contracting and your stomach hurting. You aren't sure which of your delusions are the cause of such a horrendous crush, but you promise you'll strangle it when you find out. There is simply no way this could have ever worked out in your favor. It's simply impossible.

Miguel O'Hara would never go for someone like you. Young and naive, haven't even reached the appropriate age to have a mid-life crisis (but you're sure this is the closest fucking thing to it). You know this, hammer it into your thick skull every day before you have to face him. Yet, it all comes crumbling down when you lay eyes on him. It takes less than a second for you to skip after him, a stupid, lovesick look flickering across your face as you help him with whatever he needs. You simply can't stay away, even if you tried. You always fall back into his orbit, gravity pushing you towards him until you're practically glued to him.

You're sure he must find it annoying. Probably relates it to something like babysitting. It's well known Miguel doesn't like to be bothered when he's working. But there you are without fail, sitting around on his platform entertaining yourself by playing with LYLA when you aren't out saving universes. You don't miss the way his eyes flick to you every now and then with some emotion you can't quite place. But if you had to guess, it's probably something close to exasperation.

In all honesty, you're tired of it.

Tired of the false hope you delude yourself into believing after every minor interaction. Tired of trying to justify your affection for the older man. Tired of feeling a bit of resentment towards yourself. You're just... tired. He must sense it when you walk onto the platform, judging by the look he shoots you.

LYLA is muted mid-sentence as he angles his body slightly away from his monitors and towards you, watching as you plop yourself in your usual spot. He waits expectantly for your usual greeting, brows furrowing with confusion when you do nothing but play with the elastic quality of your suit. You haven't even looked at him since you got in.

"Everything alright?" His all so familiar voice asks, making your stomach ache and the urge to punch yourself stronger.

"Yeah," you respond simply, silence lapping over the two of you.

Miguel waits patiently, expecting something more. But, you don't continue. Miguel hesitates for a moment before turning back around. His eyes study the screens once more, his finger hovering over the button to unmute LYLA before you speak up again.

"Can you like... degrade me or something?"

Miguel almost chokes on his spit when he turns around, not expecting you to say...that. You're still playing with your suit and staring at the floor, face painted with frustration. You look up when he doesn't answer, brows furrowed when your eyes meet his shocked face. You quickly divert your attention to his muscular shoulder, not really having the courage to face him head-on.

"Not like the... sexy kind. More like the heart wrenching kind." You clarify, not that it's any better for Miguel.

He turns to full face you this time, arms crossed over his chest as he studies you. The request doesn't really make sense to him. Why would you want him to do that? Is it some universe-exclusive culture he isn't aware of?

"Why?" Miguel asks, trying to recall your past interactions to see if they have something to do with your strange request.

"I dunno, just thought it might make it easier?" You shrug, your eyes flicking to his again and then looking towards the ceiling.

"Make what easier, exactly?"

Miguel isn't a fan of cryptic answers, but he tries to be patient with you. He watches as your face twists, unsure how to word what you're feeling. You let out a heavy sigh eventually, actually meeting his eyes and holding his gaze for once.

"To get over you."

The words cause Miguel to freeze, his body going rigid. You groan, hiding your embarrassed face in your hands and scrubbing ferociously. This is absolutely embarrassing. You wished a random portal would just appear under you, throwing you into another universe and far away from this particular moment in time.

You're so caught up in your embarrassment that you don't realize Miguel is walking over to you until he's crouched down in front of you. He pries your hands gently from your face, giving you the softest smile you have ever seen on him. His thumbs caress your wrists absentmindedly, doing nothing to calm your raging heart. It practically explodes when he leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes are wide and dazed as you look up at him, trying to commit the curve of his mouth to memory.

"Now, why would I want you to do that?"

_____________

| John Price

You aren't exactly sure when it started.

But the moment you realized you liked John, you've started hating yourself. It feels wrong. Almost disrespectful in a way. You aren't particularly sure why, it just does. John Price is a nice man, a good man. A man that could be easily mistaken as your father if someone didn't look close enough. The man you had happened to meet and befriended one day after he had been so kind and gentle with you.

Not the man you should be liking and forcing your feelings on.

You're someone John goes to for comfort, someone he seeks out after coming home from a battlefield. Someone that's supposed to help him distress. The idea of taking advantage of that gently placed trust, of expecting something from John just because he goes to you for help, makes you want to throw up until you're nothing but a useless husk. It's shameful, eating you up on the inside until you feel like your organs are on the verge of failure.

So your solution: Avoid Johnathan Price like the plague.

Does it hurt seeing his texts flash across your phone screen, asking you if you're free throughout the week so he can spend time with you before he deploys again? Hell fucking yes. It makes you feel guilty as hell. But you try to justify it to yourself, reassuring that it's only temporary. That everything will go back to normal once these stupid feelings leave you alone and John Price goes back to being the sweet man you grab lunch with every now and then when he's home so you can catch up.

But of course, your plans never go accordingly.

You startle on your couch when there is a firm knocking on your door, your hands rushing to pause the telly to see if it was just a hallucination. But sure enough, that same steady knocking sounds again. You get up hesitantly, brows furrowed as you try to remember if you ordered take away or something. You peak through the peep-hole, hand planted on the cool wood of the door as you squint.

The alertness in your body dies away when the familiar frame of John greets you, only to tense up again. John Price is at your door. The same John price you've been avoiding for a week. The same exact John fucking Price you're practically in love with. Your hand slides down to the knob, gulping nervously as you unlock it and yank your door open.

John is standing there with his hand raised again to knock, decked out in his military gear. His hands drop to grip the strap of his vest, his mutton chops quivering as his face lifts into his soft smile. You blink up at him, feeling the knob warm under your hand and your heart slamming against your chest. Why did he have to be so handsome, goddamnit?

You step out of the doorway, silently inviting him inside. He accepts it, stepping in and examining the area out of habit. You close the door quietly after him, turning to face him as he turns to face you.

"Missed ya, love? Been busy lately?" He asks in that comfortingly rough voice of his.

You don't trust yourself to not choke on your words, scared he'll see through your lies. Instead you nod, letting out a weak hum that he returns in a more confident note. Your eyes drop down to his military gear, a frown slipping onto your face. Is he being deployed again?

As if sensing the underlying question, John's hands let go of his military vest and he stuffs them into the pockets of his tactical pants.

"Heading out tonight, just wanted to say goodbye before I go since I didn't get to see you this time around."

You feel a stab to your chest at his words, resisting the urge to lift your hand and smooth the pain.

"John..." You start hesitantly, your mouth going dry when he hums again. "Can you tell me you hate me? Or... or that you think I'm stupid or something?"

John tilts his head in confusion, brows furrowing as his lips thin. There is a silent question in your eyes, an aura of demand wafting from him that orders you to explain further. Your hand comes to rub your arm, socked heel digging into your ankle as you debate how much to tell him.

"It's just... I like you and I don't..." You sigh in frustration, turning your head away to glare at the wall. "I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of how nice you've been to me or that I expect you to reciprocate how I feel."

It's quiet for a moment before John's chuckling fills the room. Your head turns away from the wall, meeting the sparkling amusement in John's eyes as he looks at you. There is a fondness there that makes your knees feel weak, your breath getting trapped in your lungs. John takes steady, reassured steps towards you, stopping when he's centimeters away. Your heart is practically lurching in your chest as you look up at him, watching as he slowly takes off his boonie hat.

Your eyes are wide as he places it over your head, chuckling when it slips down over your face before he readjusts it. He admires the sight for a second before he leans down, his facial hair tickling your cheeks as his lips press against the corner of your mouth. Your heart officially stops, your body dangerously close to swaying as he pulls away. You're in a daze as he pinches your cheek lightly, trying to call your attention away from the sparks lingering across your skin.

"We'll take about this when I get back, silly girl." He rumbles, his heavy paw landing on the top of his hat before he slips past you, closing and locking the door behind him as he disappears out of your flat. You're left in a daze as your shaky hands reach up and grasp the rim of his hat, the smell of him instantly invading your senses.

And when John reaches base and the lads pester him about where his usual hat is, he just shakes his head and replies that he left it at home for safe keeping.

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 10

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

Days three and four went by uneventfully, they slept wrapped up together in their nest, Eddie talked a lot and ate way more than he usually would be able to eat, and Steve was eternally grateful that the friskiest he got were just flirty come on’s and maybe the odd slap of his ass whenever he bent over to grab new things from the low cabinets.

There was no rush on the incoherent lust.

Although Eddie always seemed to be just simmering a touch below boiling in terms of flirt, although his scent still occupied every corner of the room and cloyed until the point of needing the ventilation system to clear the air a little less Steve actually go a little loopy on it. Although he had been running a touch warm since the morning of day five.

He was still pretty much himself.

Which was why a switch in that scent mid-way through the day sent Steve into a bit of a panic he was due, day five would be it. He was due to turn at any point, Steve had even rubbed the weighted blanket all over his scent glands just in preparation for it.

The change in scent was barely noticeable amidst the forest pine, the petrichor, amidst the most pleasant of earthy scents, it was like… rot, woodland rot, faint but weaved in among the rest, and Eddie had stopped eating his bag of pretzels. Neither of the two promising great things.

It wasn’t the scent of lust, no Steve knew that scent, it was the scent of sadness.

“Eddie?” Steve was right there though, crouching low as he approached just to crawl into the next to be beside him, having been moving the unused bed out of the way to expand the nest a little. Give them more room for snacks. “Eddie, baby what’s wrong?” The brows were pinched, eyes cast downwards to the sheets, flicking left to right ever so often, mind stuck on something. Steve couldn’t have that, couldn’t have his Omega stuck on anything that would cause him distress.

He gently took Eddie’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted his face ever so slightly to look at him and oh… oh those big brown eyes. The panic, the uncertainty, the sadness… Steve didn’t know what’d caused it, but he’d fix it.

He’d do everything he could to fix it. “Steve” it broke his heart how sad his poor Omega sounded, that little whine in his voice

“What’s the matter, my omega? What is it? What can I do?”

Eddie didn’t even know if he could say it. He’d tried many things over the past five days, he’d said many things, and every single one of them had been shot down, maybe with the odd sprinkling of Steve saying things back in that tone with those subtle touches that made his gut all tingly and his pants drenched in slick, but Steve had always pulled back before they could go any further.

He'd always attempted to be as professional as he could be and that was fine, but this wasn’t one of those times, this was real, a real personal crisis, and Eddie didn’t know if Steve would take it as seriously as it needed to be taken.

He didn’t want to be there for his heat.

He didn’t want to be somewhere, with the perfect alpha, where he couldn’t touch him, or be touched by him. He didn’t want his first sexual experience to be with a goddamn heat aid. He didn’t want that taken away from him just because he’d been too scared to let someone see him as he grew up.

Just because he’d been too afraid to take chances and put himself out there.

It was coming. He knew it was coming. He’d been feeling that increasing pressure in his gut all morning, felt saliva build in his mouth whenever Steve moved in just a way that made his clothes stretch over his broad form. Felt his body warm whenever Steve got just a little too close, right now he felt like he was on fire but—but he couldn’t.

Not yet. Couldn’t slip under.

“Take the heat aids away.” Next best thing. He couldn’t ask for Steve’s knot, it wasn’t fair, wouldn’t be allowed, would only get Steve fired and maybe worse if the authorities got involved which sometimes they did when it came to the clinics. The government itching to close them down cause fuck Omega’s, right? “Take them out. Out of the room completely, all of them and—and get some chains an stuff for me okay? Just—just so I can’t—I can’t move.”

“Eddie, I don’t—”

“It’s coming now, Steve… I can feel it, I’ve eaten enough, I’m warmer than I’ve been in five days, my whole body itches but not in the way that any scratch can fix, It’s coming. I—I don’t want a fake knot, Steve. If I wanted one, I’d have sold enough drugs back in high school to get one for myself but instead I chose concert tickets, I chose smokes, I chose D&D minis, and books, I chose amps, and my guitars, I could have afforded a heat aid years ago, but I chose not to.” He was poor, yeah, he wasn’t middle or upper class by any means.

But he could afford a heat aid. They weren’t that pricy. Maybe he’d have been a little insulted that Steve thought he genuinely couldn’t afford a heat aid if he wasn’t so damn perfect.

“You need them, Eddie this isn’t—Eddie it’s gonna—”

“I know it’s going to suck, I know, I know, it’s sucked for years, it’s sucked every month for the entirety of my pubescent and post pubescent life, I know. I refuse to have that taken away from me by a stupid piece of silicone when I’ve finally found an Alpha who makes me feel like I can actually be myself and not be judged or pushed away for it. I know you can’t do anything, I know I cant ask you to break the rules because—because society has decided that Omegas don’t get to choose after their heats start, that we cant think.” It was a fair assessment, he knew it was, he of all people knew how batshit insane an Omega could get during their heat, but it didn’t feel right when Steve was right there and he knew, he knew he wanted him but couldn’t have him.

Not yet anyway.

“Eddie let me finish, it’s going to hurt, you are one bad heat reaction away from being registered dangerous, you attacked your own blood relative last time, someone who’s been with you most of your life, blindly, and you know what they do to dangerous Omegas? They institutionalise them for the safety of everyone around them… if… if you don’t get some kind of knot this time around, even if you don’t go off the rails, your next heat—the chances of your body rejecting a mate… The chances of that omega part of you rejecting your alpha…” the chances would skyrocket.

Eddie could very easily self-destruct. Omega’s needed that knot, not just for stimulation or pleasure, but it was a deeply rooted need for their continued mental stability. Going without for so long… something would eventually break, and the cracks had already begun to form.

“Steve” Eddie’s voice sounded so pathetic to his own ears, a mournful, pleading whine, but Steve was right there, his big hands cupping Eddie’s jaw, holding his face, thumbs gently swiping the tears rapidly gathering on his waterline, feeling the skin warming beneath his palms. He probably looked pathetic, but he couldn’t care less.

He’d waited too long. Gone through too many heats with nothing to help.

“Oh baby, my beautiful, perfect Omega, it’s okay… it’s going to be okay, this? This doesn’t count. Heat aids don’t count, they never count, it means nothing other than giving your body what it needs to stay healthy. It’s like that salad you ate, like all those celery sticks? Your body needed those didn’t it, so you ate them, and you felt good, didn’t you?” Eddie nodded, sniffling away the tears Steve’s thumbs couldn’t catch in time. His temperature was rising, pupils dilating, Steve needed to get the hell out of there and fast. “That’s all this is, your body needs that knot, okay, it needs it, and this… stupid thing—” Steve reached over to where he’d put the aid. Or rather where he’d hidden it to stop Eddie from cracking jokes about it, under two of the blankets and one pillow. He held it up while his other hand remained on Eddie’s cheek, the way those big brown eyes just zeroed in the way he leaned so heavily forwards, breathing heavy, neither going unnoticed. “Just like those celery sticks, it’s just a thing your body needs, just something that'll make you feel good.”

It wasn’t even a fun heat aid, it was just a cylinder with a knot at the base. Didn’t have any bumps or ridges for stimulation, just… a smooth cylinder with a knot, purely for medical purposes.

“You—you should go…” Steve nodded, and it broke his heart to do so, but he had to.

“I promise, Eddie… after all this is over, me and you are gonna spend a whole week just… hiding away from everything, alright? I have a good few vacation days saved up, gonna use a whole chunk of them on you and you alone” with a harsh swallow of saliva Eddie nodded, a whole week, just the two of them. “I promise, just me and you” he pressed a kiss to the rapidly warming sweat-slicked skin of Eddie’s forehead, he could do that, just a forehead kiss, he was allowed to do that.

“Alpha…” yep, he had to go. Steve grabbed the weighted blanket from the side of the nest, it’d been laid over the edge of it, not quite part of the nest just in it, and draped it over Eddie, the Omega sinking into his nest beneath it’s weight, head turned to the left to get as close as he could to breathe in the scent it was drenched in, writhing under it to get as much of the scent on it onto himself as possible.

“Please be okay…” Steve uttered quietly, before ignoring every instinct he had, and leaving as quickly as he could, giving his key to the security guys on the way out as he went.

All he could do now, was wait.

Part 12

[fatehbaz]

Why should low-carbon projects be permitted to destroy legendary Native American sacred sites? Yakama elders witnessed the construction of The Dalles Dam that flooded and silenced Celilo Falls on the Columbia River. Since time immemorial, Celilo Falls was one of history’s great marketplaces. Multiple tribes had permanent villages near the falls. Thousands of people gathered annually to trade, feast, and participate in games and religious ceremonies over millennia. During spring, this natural monument surged up to 10 times the amount of water that passes over Niagara Falls today.

What must Indigenous people continue to sacrifice for energy development? The Seattle Times editorial board recently announced support for the Goldendale pumped-storage hydroelectric project to benefit the state’s clean-energy portfolio [“Goldendale energy project can help meet state’s clean-energy needs,” Sept. 2, Opinion]. The board constructed an alternate reality where tribal nations could find common ground with the developer and resolve objections to project construction. The board wrote, “A compromise that would allow the project to go forward while respecting tribal concerns would be a benefit for all.” The board ignores the realities of Native American history and the history of this project, which the Confederated Tribes and Bands of Yakama Nation (Yakama Nation) have objected to from the initial development proposal at this site.

The project site is situated on Pushpum — a sacred site to the Yakama Nation, a place where there is an abundance of traditional foods and medicines. The developer’s footprint proposes excavation and trenching over identified Indigenous Traditional Cultural Properties, historic and archaeological resources and access to exercise ceremonial practices and treaty-gathering rights.

Notably, the project site covers the ancestral village site of the Willa-witz-pum Band and the Yakama fishing site called As’num, where Yakama tribal fishermen continue to practice their treaty-fishing rights.

Yakama Nation opposes the development. The developer proposes two, approximately 60-acre reservoirs and associated energy infrastructure within the Columbia Hills near the John Day Dam and an existing wind turbine complex. The majority of the nearly 700 acre site is undeveloped; the lower reservoir would be located on a portion of the former Columbia Gorge Aluminum smelter site. The tribe’s treaty-reserved right to exercise gathering, fishing, ceremony and passing of traditions in the area of the proposed project has existed since time immemorial. The tribe studied mitigation; it is impossible at this site.

Columbia Riverkeeper, and more than a dozen other nonprofits, stand in solidarity with Yakama Nation and oppose the development: The climate crisis does not absolve our moral and ethical responsibilities. Both tribal nations and environmental organizations have worked tirelessly to stop fossil fuel developments and secure monumental climate legislation in the Pacific Northwest. But we refuse to support a sacrifice zone to destroy Native American cultural and sacred sites in the name of combating climate change.

Environmental justice is on the line with the pumped-storage development. Seventeen tribal leaders sent a letter to Gov. Jay Inslee, urging him to reject development permits. The leaders explained, “Our ancestors signed Treaties with the United States, often under threat of violence and death, in exchange for our ancestral lands and sacred places. Through these treaties, we retain the rights to practice and live in our traditional ways in these places. Yet, the promises made by the government have been broken time and time again.”

Earlier this year, the Washington State Office of Equity, located within the governor’s office, released the state’s inaugural five-year Washington State Pro-Equity Anti-Racism Plan & Playbook. Gov. Inslee stated, “We will no longer replicate and reinforce systems, processes and behaviors that lead to inequities and disparities among various communities.” Now is the time to apply the playbook to climate change and energy siting.

There is no room for compromise. The choice is stark: Continue to advance our nation’s and state’s history of sacrificing Indigenous resources through broken promises, or work with tribes committed to tackling the climate crisis while, at the same time, protecting the last remaining sacred sites.

---

Text by: Jeremy Takala and Lauren Goldberg. “Stop sacrificing Indigenous sacred sites in the name of climate change.” The Seattle Times. 25 September 2022.

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 11

WC 1326, Masterpost CW: anxiety

“Hey, kid,” Flash the older said as he raced up beside Danny.

“Still not a kid, old man,” Danny replied. It was already a well worn argument by this point after several dinners or weekend meals over at the Flash’s household. Sure it was used before that, but once Danny had started seeing Barry out of the mask, he’d only been worse about it. Danny guessed it was their thing now. It was weird to have ‘things’ again with people, but a good sort of weird.

“Still not an old man, kid. I’m not even a grandpa yet!”

Danny almost dropped the tablet he was working on. Barry didn’t have any kids, not aside from Wally who might as well count. Did that mean…?

“I’d tell you to watch your sass in your new position,” Barry continued, unaware or uncaring of Danny’s sudden crisis about the idea of children, “but one, I’d be a hypocrite and two, it’s a solid third of the reason I recommended you.”

“Well, that’s good because the sass isn’t going awa— wait, what new position?”

Barry grinned under his mask in a way that just felt dangerous. Not, like, dangerous in general, but dangerous for Danny who was the focus of that smile. “You’ll see. Flash Two will pick you up Monday at nine am. Don’t worry, you’re cleared off work already.”

“Fla— and he’s gone. That’s great. What the fuck,” Danny said to himself. It was a struggle to focus on finishing up the post event check in and then his reports and then going over his team’s report and then some more paperwork, but Danny managed. As soon as he got home he was immediately was texting Wally.

After the Reveal, Danny had gotten Wally’s civilian number too, but there were strict rules for using that number. Danny understood the caution. Apparently the first number he had been given was encrypted by Batman’s crew, which was crazy to think about, even when he was dating a Flash, so there were less rules other than no civilian names. Just for the ease of it, Danny mostly stuck to the old number unless they were planning a purely civilian date. Or if Danny wanted to say things that he knew would make Wally blush. Things Danny would very much never want anyone else to read. They may have mostly kept to kissing in person, but teasing Wally was just too much fun.

Danny: Why is Big!Flash having you pick me up on Monday??? What did he mean about a ‘new position’?????? I like my job! FLASH!

Quick Boy: You’ve got to give me a second to answer, dude!

Danny: You’re supposed to be fast. 😑

Quick Boy: Who’s always telling me electrical signals can only move so fast?

Danny: FLASH 🤬

Quick Boy: Sorry, babe, I’m not allowed to tell! But you’ll love it! Promise!

Danny: 🥺

Quick Boy: Don’t make those eyes at me! Trust me, babe, just wait until Monday.

Danny: Fine. But know I’m pouting.

Quick Boy: 😭

Danny behaved. He didn’t bother for updates. He sent more cats dressed as Justice League members and finished off the last Percy Jackson book, sending Wally updates along the way. But the whole weekend the fact that he apparently had a new job he knew nothing about and would be taken to Monday churned in the back of his mind.

It made him anxious in a way that he hadn’t been since he left Amity Park for Central city.

He didn’t much like it.

-

“Please at least tell me that I’m dressed fine for this new job?” Danny asked when he opened the door to Wally’s knock.

He didn’t really have many other options if Wally said no, he already had on his best dark jeans, cleanest boots, and his new cross body bag. He might have a button up shirt he could change into instead of the long sleeve one he was in, but that was as good as it was going to get. He just didn’t have business casual clothes with the jobs he had.

“You look fine,” Wally said.

“Not exactly a supersuit,” Danny said with a sigh, taking in Wally’s uniform.

Wally pressed a quick kiss to Danny’s cheek. “Not the kind of hero you are.”

That was something Wally had been doing, insisting that Danny was a hero. Whenever he protested, it only seemed to make Wally more insistent so Danny mostly let it be. Plus, the cute smile Wally got for ‘winning’ was nice to see.

It was gracing Wally’s lips now as Danny stepped out of his apartment, locked the door, and shoved the keys securely in his bag. One lost set of keys due to super speed was enough to make sure they were safely clipped in from then on.

“Okay. Right, let’s get this over with.”

“It’s a good thing,” Wally insisted as he squatted down for Danny to climb onto his back, “not your execution or anything.”

“I just don’t like not knowing,” Danny said.

“You love surprises.”

“Little surprises like picnics and presents, not life changing ones.”

“You’ll love it,” Wally insisted and then they were off.

-

“I’ll love an abandoned warehouse?”

“Apparently abandoned warehouse,” Wally stressed with a wave of his hands, like he was a two-bit magician.

“Convincing appearance. Once again, Flash, it’s a good thing you’re a hero because this as serial killer vibes.”

The windows were blacked out. There was a heavy layer of dust on most surfaces. The stairs to the foreman office were long rusted away. It was a mess.

But there was that feeling of being watched that crawled up Danny’s spine. None of the dust actually moved as they crossed the floor over to Barry. And the doors were either welded shut or solidly reinforced.

“Ready kids?” Barry asked.

“Still not kids,” Danny replied almost absently.

“Still don’t care!” Barry pressed one of the bricks on the wall and the whole thing shuddered and pulled back like some massive pocket door to reveal a… a portal behind the wall.

“Ta-da!” Wally said, complete with jazz hands.

Danny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the portal to look at him.

Did they know? Was this…?

“Danny?”

“What?” Danny started, forcing himself to look over at Wally who was beside him again.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Danny winced. He just couldn’t hold back the twitch of his body at that word. “Sorry. Um, so what is that?”

“A Zeta tube, it’s how we travel to the Justice League. It’s like a transporter,” Barry explained.

Okay, right, not a portal to the Ghost Zone. No one knew. He was safe. Danny closed his eyes. It was just a transporter that looked a lot like a portal.

Wally rested his hand on Danny’s arm and Danny almost jumped from the light touch. “Babe?”

“Um, remember how I told you there was an accident in my parent’s lab when I was a kid? Yeah, um, sorta similar look, is all. It just freaked me out for a moment.”

"Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Wally said. He squeezed Danny’s arm gently.

“No way you could have known. Who has a phobia over portals, right?” Danny said as he summoned his best attempt at a smile for Wally.

“Are you okay to…” Wally glanced from Danny to the portal nervously.

“I, yes? Can you just explain to me how it will go?” Danny asked. He pressed himself close to Wally, doing what he could to scrape together his frayed nerves. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone through the actual portal that had killed him all the time. It was just that now all that felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime no one remembered but him.

“Of course, babe,” Wally said, twining their arms together before he launched into a passionate explanation of the Zeta tubes.

It would be alright.

He could do this.

He had Wally.

-----

AN: Wally and Barry: We have something so cool to show you! Danny: *has portal based ptsd* ._.

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the masterpost!

[invisiblestringmm]

chapter three

it could change but this feels like, like the calm before the storm

a/n: you’re welcome & don’t forget to leave feedback! 🤍

tw: a bit of angst, brief mention of anxiety & rough pregnancy

2.208 words

There were times when you wondered how things would’ve been if Lily never existed - an unbearable thought, since you adored her more than anything in the world and would obviously do anything to make her happy, but where would you be now if you never met the love of your life? You frequently thought about how things would’ve been if Mason never shoved you away, nor ghosted you before you told him about Lily. So, besides your life, two others were living rent-free in your mind and the question “What could’ve been?” was constantly echoing in a soft yet agonising voice.

You never opened Mason’s message on your insta DM, but you never blocked him either for there was no point. The damage, if you could even call it one, was already done and you were more than certain about it on a Tuesday night, when Willow dropped Lily at your’s and her green eyes screamed “I’m so sorry”. Before you could question what had happened, your daughter walked in dragging her backpack and her usual cheerful personality, telling you what a fun afternoon she had with Summer, her mother, and her uncle Mason.

“I took Lily for ice cream like you said I could and they were there,” Willow was sharp to clarify when your widened eyes met hers - you watched your friend swallow hard, anxiously waiting for your reaction.

“Go to your bedroom, Lilian,” your daughter frowned at you and you noticed she pouted a bit. You sighed. “It’s alright, peanut. I just need to speak to auntie Willow, okay?”

Lily mimicked you and let out a sigh too, something that’d make you laugh if you weren’t so nervous. Still in her ballet clothes, you watched your daughter blow you a kiss and make her way to her bedroom, leaving the door open as you always instructed her and that made your heart melt a little. You were the luckiest mum in the world, how could you ever think of a life that Lily wasn’t a part of?

“Y/n, I swear to God I had no idea they’d be there. I didn’t even notice them there, it was Summer who spotted Lily and it was just her and the mum - what’s her na-”

“Jaz,”

Willow nodded, nervously. “I assumed it was okay to stay with them since the girls like each other so much and I didn’t even see him coming. I promise,”

“Will, it’s fine…” you sighed, defeated. This whole crisis was happening because of you, there was no one else to be blamed.

You were the one hiding your child from her father and his family - her family.

“I tried to leave immediately but Lils had just started eating her chocolate fudge and-”

“Oh gosh, was it a big chocolate fudge?”

“No,” Willow shook her head, chuckling. “We shared.”

You nodded, allowing yourself to breathe deeply and close your eyes for a second, feeling unexpectedly exhausted. “How was it?”

“He was very charming, particularly when she introduced herself,” you felt Willow run her hand up and down your back and found comfort in her eyes. “Lilian Maisie, she said.”

“Gosh,” you felt your gut wrench, heart pounding against your chest.

“I know this won’t make things any easier for you, but I think Jaz will probably try to reach you because she’d keep staring at Lily and Mason all the time.”

“Gosh,” you repeated, feeling your whole body weakening. Willow helped you sit on the sofa. “It’s because they look exactly like each other, isn't it?”

Willow slowly nodded, a sigh parting her lips. “The resemblance is undoubtedly uncanny,”

She didn’t stay long that evening, and you had to spend a few minutes reassuring Lily that you weren’t mad at her and that, sometimes, adults were complicated and needed to talk about important stuff - to which she wisely replied that you were a person before being her mummy and still loved you more than anything.

What made you obsessively wonder was: would she still love you when you tell her that her best friend’s uncle was also her daddy?

Willow’s prediction was confirmed when Jaz’s name popped on your notifications, asking when you’d finally accept her invitation to go out for lunch without the girls. It annoyed you a bit how much she insisted, not only because you didn’t feel prepared to face her, but also because things at work were hectic with the Holidays right around the corner. You also had your dad calling nonstop to know if he could take Lily to the Cotswolds before you had planned - according to him, she’d have a lot more fun staying there with her grandparents than with you, occasionally having to go to the office with you. He wasn’t wrong, but there was still the ballet recital on the weekend, so you two agreed he could take her the next day.

When Jaz started to call you instead of texting, you knew it was time to finally give in. Instead of going out, you two agreed it’d be a good idea to enjoy the opportunity to cook a nice meal, so your apartment was the chosen place and you were in charge of the groceries while Jaz fetched dessert and a bottle of white wine for you.

“I’ll have to make you a mocktail,” you said, giving her space to walk into your apartment.

“I definitely won’t decline it,” she giggled, and you noticed how her eyes quickly scanned your place. “I love the decoration. How do you keep it so tidy with that little hurricane?”

“You probably won’t believe it, but Lily is incredibly organised.”

“Hmm,” she muttered. “She got it from you, then.”

It was hard to swallow those words, especially with the knot that formed in your throat. Jasmine was so sure. You knew that she knew, and she knew that you knew - confusing, but clear as the day. You hadn’t been with Jaz many times and they had all been at the ballet studio, you spoke a lot through messages, but you felt oddly uncomfortable around her and you forced yourself to keep in mind that it wasn’t her fault, it was entirely yours.

“So, uh…” you started. “I never asked what we should cook but I’m trying to stay focused before the Holidays.” You giggled, Jaz mimicking you and nodding.

“Me too!”

Cooking made you feel relaxed, so despite the reason why Jaz practically forced this time together, you finally felt at ease again as you talked about the ballet recital and shared Holiday plans - you pointed at a photo of you, Lily, and your parents at Foxwoods House, surrounded by its beautiful garden. One your mum took great pride in.

“The estate has been in the family for a few generations and my great-grandfather built a small chapel there, to marry my great-grandmother,”

“That’s insanely romantic!” Jaz’s sigh was followed by a giggle. “I suppose your grandparents and your parents married there too?”

“Yes, it’s sort of a family tradition. My cousins married there too, and the babies were christened… It's really lovely, very private, and family-centered. The whole family is extremely close.”

“But the estate is your dad’s?”

“Yes and no,” Jaz raised an eyebrow and you chuckled, dividing your attention between her and chopping tomatoes as she focused on the garlic. “My grandpa was sort of inclined to gambling and almost lost the estate, but my dad saved it. It’s his, but like I said, we’re all really close so it’s not like he bans the rest of the family to go there and enjoy it when they need an escape.”

“Because you all grew up there?” you nodded. “Your dad sounds like a fantastic man.” You smiled at her, nodding too. He indeed was, and has always been the most supportive of all.

“He’s extraordinary. Lily is completely crazy about him to the point she’d move in with my parents without thinking twice.”

Jaz flashed you a sweet smile but said nothing. She wasn’t exactly discreet and her facial expression gave it all away, but she soon engaged in rambling about baby shopping, preparations for the baby’s arrival, and how her house was upside down with baby furniture arriving last minute. Rambling wasn’t your favourite thing, but it was better than her throwing hints about Lily’s father - the white wine and the smell of the red sauce cooking also made it easier to handle.

“Pregnancy was fucking hell for me, you know,” you blurted, interrupting Jaz, but she didn’t mind and seemed interested for you to continue. “The first 6 weeks were marked by HG, I was always in and out of the hospital, and the stress made it all worse.

“Stress?”

You nodded. “Lack of emotional support. My parents were incredible but I was still a single mum.”

“Look, Y/n-”

“I tried to tell him.” Jaz gulped. “I need you to listen to me and let me finish the story without any sort of judgement.”

“I’ll do my best.”

This was it, the moment of the truth.

You left the chicken roasting at medium temperature and stood up on the other side of the marble kitchen island, watching Jaz taking a seat while holding her massive bump and taking a sip of her apple juice. Focusing on her bump seemed the best thing to do as you tried to find the proper words, and watching the way she softly stroked it made memories overflow your mind.

“It was just a one-night stand.” you sighed. “I don't want to justify my actions, I know I’m on the wrong side of the story here, but as young as I was, having the father of my child shoving me off the way he did when I went there to tell him just freaked me out.”

Then, you proceeded to tell her the whole story, but also how incredible it was being Lily’s mum. How giving birth was the complete opposite of the pregnancy and you were fortunate that things went as smoothly and as peacefully as possible, that your whole life changed once you held Lily in your arms and fed her your milk - you could see Jaz’s eyes sparkling with tears because she understood what motherhood meant and how you’d do anything and everything to protect your child from what you thought it could be a disappointment for her in the future. Mason turned his back on you that day before you could tell him, so how could he even support you?

You never said his name, but Jasmine’s next words were so full of confidence, that you knew you didn’t have to.

“You should’ve insisted, Y/n.”

You just nodded. “I know, and I want you to know that I regret it deeply because I had no right to deprive my daughter of being around her cousin, her amazing aunt…”

“Gosh,” you watched a single tear fall down her cheek. “He would’ve supported you.”

“You weren’t there, you didn’t see how badly he treated me. I was-” you sniffed. “I was so frightened, so lost.”

“Mason would’ve supported you.” The mention of his name made you finally allow some tears to roll down your cheeks. “And you named her after him…”

You nodded. “I wanted him to be around, somehow.”

“This is extremely tough for me but I don’t want to judge, so…” Holding her bump, Jaz stood up and unhurriedly made her way to you, her hand reaching yours and softly squeezing it. “I’m here for whatever you need, I’m here to be the aunt Lily needs and to support the both of you because I know that’s what you need.”

“Oh, Jaz,” you wanted to cover your face with your hands but Jasmine quickly pulled you to a hug, a clumsy one.

“I’ll be there when you’re ready to tell Mason, and I can’t wait to tell Summer that her bestie is her cousin.”

The rest of the day was followed by you showing Jasmine all of Lily’s baby pictures, telling her all the stories, and even repeating some of them - even if you insisted that it’d be incredible for her to find out everything about Lily by herself, Jaz said it’d still feel like the first time until she got used to being an aunt. She mentioned it was scary to see how much Lily and Mason look alike, that “Maisie” is the perfect middle name, and that she couldn’t wait to see their dynamic together. The hard parts were left out, but you knew that a paternity test would eventually happen for obvious reasons, no matter how much Lily looked like her father.

Jaz assured you that although Mason’s reaction would most likely be negative about what you’ve done, it wouldn’t extend to Lily and he wouldn’t reject her but it’d be a rough path navigating through the fact that he was a father and that his daughter wasn’t a newborn. And like she was reading your mind, she also assured you that he wouldn’t dare to try to take Lily from you.

This was the first time in five years, you knew that, somehow, things would end up fine no matter how hard the in-between was about to be.

next chapter

[emperorundying]

TLT Dashboard Simulator- Pt 5

💀 drearybruh Follow

10,000 y/o lyctor gf who exclusively calls me 'lovey': Ugh they're still debating the ethics of using cavaliers as a resource to suck dry, I can't deal with this empire today.

me [heard 'suck dry cavaliers' and got so hard i got nauseous]: I think I hauve devils in me

(2,710 notes)

🫁 soulosexualll

omg guys im so sorry ive been MIA!!! the alexandrite id been talking about won custody over our baby so i had a bit of a crisis about my future on the fifth house alone and loved only by the spirits. and then of course i visit the third over vacation and get roped into a multi-week bender [have u ever snorted dried marrow? life changing] and then i was lost on the third for likeeeee four days and had to find my way back through hitchhiking and bartering with my own blood.

but i promise ill update my Joy/Patience/Duty threesome fic soon :333

#rpf #munposting #EEEEEEE GET EXCITED GUYS #joy strap time? joy strap time.... #i see ur messages in the askbox and i super appreciate them btw but i cant justify answering all of them #BUT I SEE U AND I LOVE U <33

(42 notes)

🦴 skeletal-system-bracket

SKELETAL SYSTEM BRACKET ROUND 3 GROUP A

We had two ties last round [within a margin of error of .1%!!] , so we decided it would make the most sense to make this a four-way poll. Propaganda:

Occipital Bone: do you want an unprotected cerebellum??? the infernal surface is groovy af, and all the nuchal lines are actually goated. are u seriously going to look me in the eyes and tell me the three-part bone of all time [father son and holy spirit, anyone?] can even be stepped to by some normie basic bone shit???????? cmon..... [via. @skullfuckbonegod]

Fibula: VOTE FIBULA!!!! bone with a best friend <3 Tibia already got out round 1 so its ur legal duty to stand up for its legbestie... also my hounds r named Fibula and Tibia and theyre adorbsies [via. @sodiumradiation]

Thoracic Vertibrae: twelve bones. twelve bones, one combined goal: fuck shit up, take names, keep that back backing. least commonly injured part of the spine for a reason. its built different. this shit protects ur spinal cord, provides attachments to your ribs, supports your chest and abdomen, and literally lets yr body move. objective best bones. [via. @ithinkthereforisam]

Scalpula: Scapula sweep!! Those are your angel wings. Watching your Cavs shoulder blades move under their skin while they carry a big sword is the best part of being a necro. They're also just such a good plane of bone they're perfect for breaking up into little pieces for bone adepts to store in their pockets. Also the attachment point for a bunch of muscles!!and the yummy little joint cavity… [via. @kavkisser]

#polls #tumblr polls #skeletal system #tibia #fibula #vertebrae #scalpula

(450 notes)

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE EMPEROR HASN'T COMMENTED ON HIS FIRST AND SECOND'S SAINTS DISAPPEARANCES

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

For my Edenite followers this is like if gun disappeared

#ARE THEY DEAD??? #Bro r we upping the fascism factor #STAFF THAT TAG IS A JOKE. I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF INSURGENCY

12,345 notes

🫀 gorewanker Follow

I swear they're like the septum piercing havers of cavaliering 😭😭😭

🦀 xx-0ct0g0ne-xx Follow

Ah. So you're unable to handle the pressures which are expected of the average Eighth House devotee, and as such, fall back upon insecure insults. Get a life + Praying for you + L.

(923 notes)

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

holy shit tower prince announcement this is crazy. liveblog time

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

TRANSMASC AWE??????????

(3,891 notes)

🦷 bitingyoubitingyoubitingyoubitingyoux3 Follow

(14,088 notes)

☠️ is-the-emperor-undying-d34d-yet Follow

NOT YET BUT WE ALWAYS COME BACK

[astralflower-writes]

just visiting

♡ pairing: alex karev x female! reader

♡ genre: angst to fluff

♡ warnings: small season 9 spoilers (plane crash) & family issues

♡ part two, part three, part four, special scenes

♡ check out my grey's anatomy masterlist here

going back to seattle will never be one of your plans. but, your mother had to pick seattle as one of the destinations for your so called family road trip.

to add more, you had to stay in town for a few days. it's not like you hate the city.

it's where you've met your soulmate. your person, alex.

but when you were on your last year residency, you had to leave. not only because of all the crisis that hit seattle grave mercy west that time, you were also offered a job at hopkins, your dream hospital. to start your fellowship.

fortunately, alex was also offered to start a fellowship there.

but, the plane crash happened.

he couldn't just leave the hospital. especially with what happened to arizona.

"you can't be for real y/n." he said following you onto your shared bedroom.

he proposed that morning and now, you're packing your stuff up.

"we said we'd stay!"

but, now you can't.

"is this about your family y/n? is that why you can't answer me? i swear if they're talking crap about me again i'll–"

"you want to know how they're treating me because of us?" stopping at by the doors.

"you know about this. alex i–"

"and yet you listen to them huh." scoffing at what you said.

"if you walk out of that door, we're done y/n."

after five years, you were back. you convinced yourself you were just visiting and checking the sights you never seen or had the chance to see when you were still living in the city.

you were on your hotel room when your four year old boy, lucas, who just came back from a walk with your parents suddenly threw up on the carpet.

"i don't feel good mama."

you called for an ambulance and of course it brought you to where you started your career as a doctor.

as your son was brought in the emergency room. one of your former colleague and a very close friend noticed you.

"y/n?"

"meredith!"

she walked towards you. "how are you? and you've got a kid!" she said hugging you.

"i'm fine, mer." you replied, hugging her back.

"are you staying long?"

"does alex—" she was interrupted when your son started to cry and vomit again.

you came back to his side and started to rub his back for comfort.

"no. he doesn't know i'm here." you replied shortly.

"just so you know he's the one on-call on peds today."

"and let's catch up after work." with that she hugged you again before going back to her patient.

while waiting for the doctor on-call to come down. you made the time to pray that it's arizona or another doctor will come down.

"where's the–" he stopped in the middle of the emergency room.

he certainly did not expect you to be somewhat in seattle. and of course, he did not expect for you to have a kid.

he saw the way you were talking to the child. promising something which made the kid smile. but shortly after, the kid reached for the basin and vomited again.

from that, he got out of his daze and walked towards the two of you.

"how are you feeling little champ?" he said standing on the bedside.

"i don't like it." he said turning himself towards you.

alex looked at you and asked you what happened. "he was fine before he went out with my parents. he said he ate something from the sea."

"from the sea huh." alex said examining your kid.

"i tried to ask which is it but he's really not in the mood to be specific." you said brushing his hair out of his face.

after alex looked at him more "he's already getting fluids and i already ordered some meds but i'd like to keep him overnight for observation."

you agreed. "y/n i–" he was interrupted when lucas started to call for you.

"i'll check up on him again later." he said before letting himself out of the emergency room.

after settling in and calling your parents. you had the chance to take a breather. walking in the halls with some of the staff recognizing you. you finally reached the cafeteria.

"can we talk?" alex's voice came from behind. you motioned for him to take the vacant seat in front of you.

"so...you've got a kid huh." he said starting the conversation.

"yeah. he's smart and funny..."

"i met him three years ago from a program we did back at boston. and instantly fell in love with him. can't believe that i'd be falling in love an infant though." both of you letting out a laugh.

"you know, i waited for you text or something." he spoke again.

"i waited over there too." you said smiling sadly at him.

"so you're the chief of peds surgery now huh." you said pointing at his coat. "yeah. robbins gave me the job, so she can do neonatal."

"are you staying?"

you stood up from the table before answering. "we're just visiting."

after that talk with alex, you went back to lucas' room. he's finally asleep after vomiting all afternoon.

"you can go back to the hotel and rest up." sitting at the end of the bed. "lucas' doctor, karev. isn't he that ex-boyfriend of yours?" your father asked as they were gathering their things.

"it's a good thing you listened to us cause you're doing way better than him, i mean have you seen him? hopkins is way better than this–"

"can we drop this conversation dad?" you said sighing as took as seat beside your child's bed.

"i'm just saying that you're doing way better than–" with your father not dropping the subject, it made you mad. all those years of torment of them hearing how great you are now just because you listened to them and left seattle.

"do you think i was fine after i left this hospital? i listened to everything the both of you said because i can't bear how you were treating me."

"the only good thing that happened to me over there is lucas! and don't think i didn't know what you said about me adopting him cause i–" you received a slap from your mother.

"how dare you speak to your father like that? we were only looking out for you and you adopting a kid you just saw at a program was–"

"out. i've heard enough." your mother protesting woke up lucas. "mama... where's grandma and grandpa going?"

"the-they're going home sweetie. we'll just visit them after we go home tomorrow okay?" rushing to his side so you could help him go back to sleep.

after your parents left, meredith was standing by the door. "are you okay? cause this is just my cup of tea y/n, i mean, mommy and daddy issues?"

laughing from what she said, you let her take a seat on the chair by bedside. "so you heard the whole thing."

"pretty much."

"well, hopkins was great. but you know, this place was my home, mer." sighing, and thinking that all of the things that happened today made you tired enough for days.

"i could hire you." she said nonchalantly. "are you serious?" you said in disbelief.

"you don't think i'm serious? i kinda own this place now."

"we could head down and sign the contract." looking at her, checking to see if she's really saying the truth.

"no. i–i can't." standing up and hushing your child as he started to turn again. "why? is it alex?"

"it's kinda stupid but yeah."

"what's stupid is the both of you are still in love with each other and you're not together."

"pretty sure he moved on mer. the minute i walked out on him. we were done." you said getting a cup of water and some apple slices which you presume was for your child.

"no. he still loves you."

"i left him after he proposed mer."

meredith stopped at what she was about, shocked at what she's hearing. "he proposed?"

"then i left him." you sternly added. "so that's why he always have this small box on his coat or pocket."

"what?"

"i think you weren't supposed to know that." she suddenly changed the topic about you and your program at hopkins and it turned to how you met your kid and how she loves her kids. just the both of you catching up.

the next day, meredith came back to check on the both of you for the third time. "are you sure you don't want to work back here, cause i told bailey and she's more than glad to have you back."

"mer–"

"we're moving here mama?" your kid said looking up from where he was playing with his toys.

"do you want to live here, sweetheart?" meredith asked him as she sat beside him.

"can we live near auntie mer?" lucas asked too excited. meredith looked at you with a smug grin on her face.

"bailey has an offer that tops hopkins." she said as she started to play with your kid again.

"fine. i'll talk to bailey, but i don't promise anything."

"i'll take it."

you didn't know how she convinced you to talk to bailey about your job here. but boy, meredith and bailey pulled out the big guns.

"look, i love the offer dr. bailey, but i just got here yesterday and–"

"we'll keep the position open for you dr. y/l/n, it would be really great to have you back with us." with that, you left the office wondering how you and lucas would be happier here.

to your surprise, alex was the one playing with your child.

"hey, where's aunt mer?" asking as you walked in. "she has a person to cure, mama." your kid said not looking up.

"your mama's back now, champ. i'm going now." alex said as he ruffled lucas' hair. "don't go! i love playing with you!"

"baby i'm sure dr. alex has some patients to cure too." your kid started to have tears forming on his eyes, but he tried his best not to let one tear out.

"how about we, uhh--" you can't find a pretty good excuse for lucas to feel better.

"hey how about this. you and you're mom are going home in a few hours, right?" alex asked and he nodded. "you play with your mama first, and i'll come back after curing my patients?" lucas looked at you for a signal and you smiled at him which he took and nodded at alex. "you promise uncle alex?"

alex was quite taken aback by the way he called him. the whole time the both of you were around, he always called him by 'dr. alex'

"yeah. i'll be quick."

you mouthed thank you at alex and went to your kid's side, starting to play with him.

"ma?"

"yes?" the both of you are now eating your lunch, well you're doing most of the eating.

"auntie mer said uncle alex is special to you." almost choking at what he said, you tried to hide the coughing. "she told you that?"

sipping water trying to compose yourself. "h-he is, sweetheart."

[cottoncandysprite]

Guys holy shit ok i just had a fun moment of overanalyzing a background prop. So this is on one of Laszlo's plan posters in Local News:

Transcript: "During my absence I should leave my friends unconscious of the existence of their enemy and unprotected from his attacks, exasperated as he might be by my departure. But he had promised to follow me wherever I might go, and would he not accompany me to England? This imagination was dreadful in itself, but soothing inasmuch as it supposed the safety of my friends. I was agonized with the idea of the possibility that the reverse of this might happen."

It's a quote from Frankenstein (which to be clear I have not read past the first chapter yet, but I have seen summaries and listened to plenty of infodumping about it from @goddamnlethamlet, who also helped me with this theory despite not watching wwdits), from when Victor leaves behind his family and fiancee to go build a monster bride for his creature, specifically him choosing to bring his best friend/boyfriend Clerval (yknow, instead of his fiancee. Just guys being dudes). It's also right before the creature kills both Henry and eventually Victor's fiancee on their wedding night, so that's..... worrying.

With it being associated with Laszlo by being on his plans, as well as him fitting into a scientist role this season, i think its safe to say any foreshadowing would put him in Victor's shoes. And with laszlo as the scientist, Guillermo would be his experiment, the Creature. Obviously Nadja is the fiancee and I believe Sean would fit into the best friend slot. As for Nandor, remember how I said victor planned to make the creature a bride? Well, the reason the creature lashes out and kills everyone is bc victor has a moral crisis over the bride and scraps her.

So I think in the finale, Guillermo lashes out, maybe even goes full monster mode, and somehow hurts (or god forbid kills) Nadja and/or Sean before running off, all bc Laszlo told Guillermo he would smooth things over with Nandor after his turning gets revealed but for some reason Laszlo fails or just straight up lies and doesn't do it.

Another alternate take is that this quote in particular refers to the fact that Laszlo is willingly hiding the dangerous creature (vampire guillermo) from the others as to not concern them, but in doing so is also putting them in danger because they have no warning and no defense prepared against him. Hmm.

Anyway I for one love classic lit parallels and would kill for any of this to be actual foreshadowing bc i spent way too long typing that for me to be wrong

TL;DR If they made that Frankenstein reference on purpose we are FUCKED

[sanzaibian]

This is part of the Secret TF Writers Swap, a small "secret santa" event between writers organized by the lovely @alphajocklover.

Thank you very much for organizing it !

================================================

To @fafnir19

You sat at your desk, readying yourself for yet another soul-sucking day of office work.

You may be writing loads of stories on the internet, of people growing in and out of wealth, of demons and creatures, and most of all of transformation, but back in the real world, everything feels so much more static. Yesterday’s problems are today’s problems, and today’s problems are tomorrow’s problems. A never-ending series of crisis after crisis, which somehow always swap roots yet never swap effects. You can at least consider yourself fortunate that your pay is comfortable enough so that you can weather these, even if it means having to look in the eyes of someone who has little, and answer their request for starting something greater in the negative.

But today, there seems to be some agitation in the office. A change in the routine. Something to bring you out of the intensive mundane and the boring busyness.

So you ask the colleague with which you share desk a part in today’s gossip, and what he answers may surprise you :

“Nathaniel Nostitz has come here ! I don’t know why he’s here, but I’m sure everyone wants to bag him !”

Now, as a banker, you do keep an eye on the important fortunes in your area, and the Nostitz family is one of them – if not the most important. You know that their family comes from Silesia, but that there was recently some family drama with his son, or at least that’s what the few articles of showbiz about him that some colleague forced you to read said. You don’t actually care, but you do know that such an important family coming to see a standard local bank is quite… unusual.

But you know to keep your head down and not cause unnecessary problems. You won’t be able to convince him to do anything with you, and he may be tempted to destroy your career if you’re too annoying. Therefore, you go back on working on your computer, some case of investment account or something. Boring, but safe.

That’s why you were surprised when, suddenly, you hear a deep sultry voice speaking right next to you.

“Greetings. I think I have a proposal that may interest you.”

You look up to suddenly see a middle-aged looking blonde man, impeccably dressed and styled, sporting a bit bushy beard.

Is he… actually Mr. Nostitz ? He looks quite a bit younger than you expected… and more attractive… but it may be due to him having access to all the best treatments money can pay, after all. However, as he looks right in your eyes, you suddenly understand that the proposal – a business proposal, you guess – was aimed at you.

“Oh, er…” You stumble, not having expected this turn of events. “Greetings to you too, sir… what is that proposal about ?”

He smiles when you call him ‘sir’. Somehow, this smile seems almost… predatory ? Of some kind ?

“I’d be willing to place some of my fortune in your care… therefore in the care of this bank, if you were willing to grant me a few... favors.” He smiles, trying his hardest to look innocent while he is, in effect, holding you hostage to your company’s expectations. - I… I’ll think about it, sir…” You answer evasively, taken by surprise. - Of course, of course !” He smiles, looking even more predatory and threatening than before. He gives you a black piece of cardboard paper. “Here’s my business card, for when you’ve taken your decision.”

On that not-so-subtle order to accept, he takes his leave, leaving you confused in-between the jealous and judgy eyes of your colleagues. And as expected, you’re immediately summoned by your boss. He urges you to accept without delay, promising you a share of the high profits that a share of the Nostitz fortune will bring the bank.

And the door if you dare refuse.

That’s why you’re now here, in front of this huge manor, as ready as you can manage to be to throw yourself in the lion’s den.

The manor is very big, and very beautiful. Its fine architecture betrays its age, which shows how entrenched the Nostitz familly is, around here. A butler welcomes you inside, and leads you up to Mr. Nostitz’s office, though not without ridding you of your coat. And as you stand in front of the old wooden ebony door, you gather your courage before knocking.

“Enter.” The low and sultry voice orders.

You follow suit, opening the door, and finding Mr. Nostitz reading some files on a well-organized desk, with only a suspicious brown mallet throwing the neatness off.

“Hello, Mr. Nostitz.” You start, but as you’re about to continue, he cuts you with his authoritative voice. - Greetings. So you’re here to discuss my… proposition, are you not ? - Y-yes, sir, I am.”

He puts his files down, and stands up, towards one of the racks on the wall, looking through binder after binder.

“You see… ever since my son decided that our wealth was… problematic, I had a little project in mind. And when I saw you, I knew you were the perfect candidate for it.”

Son leaving ? Wealth problematic ? You the perfect candidate ? … it seems like the family drama you desperately wanted to know as little as you could about comes back to bite you in the ass…

“I’m sorry sir, I-” You start backing off, but he cuts you once again, his mere presence silencing you. - I want to do a little experiment on you.” He says, having found the documents he was searching for, reaching for the mallet and opening it in front of your eyes. “These… potions, you may call them, have some effects that I want to study. And you’re the perfect man for it. - Sir, I’m sorry to say that, but I don’t know if I want to risk my health with an untested substance !” You start refusing, tampering it as much as you can. - Of course, your refusal is to be expected when presented with so few information.” Somehow, this felt like a jab at you. “However, I guarantee that it is safe, it has been tested on numerous animals, and it’s been proven to be safe for humans. Besides, the papers I brought out here make me liable for any disease related to this… treatment.”

At least he was thoughtful, and didn’t ask you to jump in with full faith. However, he does ask you to jump in blind, which is more problematic.

“And, this treatment…” You interject, finding an opening in the conversation. “What does it do ? - Ah, yes, a most important query.” He comments, yet again preventing you from going further in your thought. “Let’s just say that it may trigger a few… changes in your body. Most importantly, it will make you look younger.”

Changes ? Younger ? These are two keywords that draw your attention, as they usually belong to that other part of your life… You are quite a bit more excited than you should be, but the chance to experiment with at least part of one of your oldest dreams, one that felt like it could only ever belong to fiction, clouds your judgment.

Such was Mr. Nostitz’s plan.

“I… I’m interested.” You finally manage, feeling it’s safe and enviable enough to throw the remainder of your caution to the wind. - That’s perfect. Then, I’d ask you to sign those papers, please.”

You skimp over them quickly before signing, hopefully catching anything big that would be lying in the text, but you find none. Assuming that no surprises remained, you sign. On that, Mr. Nostitz smiles maliciously, yet again looking like a predator, before reaching in the mallet and drawing a small glass flask, half-filled by an opaque cyan liquid.

“Then we should start now, don’t you say ? Please drink this.” He orders with his deep, authoritative voice. - O-okay…”

You were not expecting to start this so soon, but you’re quite weak to the strength of his voice… So you drink it. It doesn’t taste good, a bit too salty to your taste, but it’s not that bad. You know foods that tasted a lot worse. As you feel it coursing down your esophagus, you start expecting some effects, standing in silence, looking discreetly at your skin. But this just makes Mr. Nostitz elegantly laugh.

“Are you expecting instantaneous results ? You should wait until tomorrow, at the very least !”

You blush of shame from this, before deciding to cut this meeting there, since the treatment has already been administered. But before you can properly address your salutations, he stops you :

“I’m sorry, but now isn’t the time to go. See, it’s already late, so you won’t be able to go back to work.” He is correct, it is 7PM already, but you don’t understand why he’s stopping you like that. - I’m sorry, sir, but I… should really go home.” You say with the utmost care, not wanting to appear rude. - My, don’t you know you that, during the duration of the experiment, you agreed to lodging here ?”

You freeze.

You didn’t know that. Was it written in the document you signed ? Did you not notice it ? You did skimp through it, but surely such a motion would have jumped to you… However, taken in surprise, you improvise, lying to try and save face.

“Y-yes, of course, but I… need to get some things from home ! I can’t stay here with only what I have on me !” Hopefully he will buy your excuse. - Don’t worry, we have everything necessary on hand here. It might not be what you’re used to, but… everyone needs a bit of luxury in their life, if you catch what I’m saying.” He snidely smiles to you. - I’ll… see what I can do with…” You admit defeat, though surrendering to luxury isn’t the hardest thing to do. - That’s great ! The butler will lead you to your room.”

On that, the butler opens the door, and urges you to follow him. He leads you through beautiful corridor after beautiful corridor, all stinking money, until you reach another door. Inside is a spacious bedroom suite, likely bigger than your first flat, even without including the bathroom. It looks quite a bit more modern than the rest of the house, but with no less old money woody tones.

The butler leaves you alone inside, where, immediately after putting down the few things you were still carrying, you rush to the bathroom. However, you’re disappointed when you look inside the mirror and… it’s still you on the other side. Well, you expect it to still be you, but still, not seeing any change does bum you down.

This taken care of, you look around the room to get a bit more familiar with it. If it’s where you’re going to stay in the near future, you’d want to know where to find things of interest.

You start by the bathroom, finding a lot of hygiene stuff, including products for the skin and for the hair, as well as multiple bottles of expensive cologne and, weirdly enough, condoms… that are too big for your dick. Great. You move to the closet, in which you find a wealth of clothes, all fitted to your size – though they’re a bit loose on you, not by much, but noticeable enough – as if Mr. Nostitz knew you’d come. However, you’re surprised by their diversity. While there of course are the dress shirts and suits you’d expect, as well as polos, sweaters and other preppy clothes, there’s also some more young – for lack of a better word – clothes like a collection of jackets, t-shirts and even tank tops.

You close the closet back up, thinking to yourself that you’d never need this much clothes, but that you appreciate the thought. Having barely closed that piece of furniture, the butler invites you for dinner. He leads you to a grand dinner room, outfitted with a long wooden table, on which only two places were set.

You take place in front of one, while Mr. Nostitz takes place on the other side. On that follows a floury of expensive dishes, served as if you were at a high-grade restaurant. While you ate each of the courses, you entertained a lively discussion with Mr. Nostitz about investment, and about how his money would be taken care of, now that it is in your care.

That is, after all, the primary reason of your stay. Even if it got eclipsed by another.

Once the meal was finished, Mr. Nostitz waved you goodbye, and the butler accompanied you to your room. You did as usual, preparing yourself for bed, changing into your nightwear, brushing your teeth and all that. But as you were doing that, you noticed that your hair looked a bit… brighter than usual ?

It must have been the lighting, you think to yourself as you fall to sleep in the giant and extremely comfortable bed.

You are woken up by the butler at an early hour, as he tells you that breakfast will be served before you go to work. Ah… yes, right, you forgot, with how comfy the bed was, that you weren’t in holidays. So you stretch a bit, but as you enter the bathroom, something doesn’t look right…

It takes you a moment before you manage to figure it out.

Your hair was now blonde ! And curly !

You look out to your bedroom, but the butler isn’t here, so you look back in the mirror. God, that hair looks so healthy… You pinch yourself a few times, before you decide that you’re actually in the real world, and that this is now your hair.

A bit confused, you look in the myriad of products, and see that all the products for the hair are made for wavy or curly hair… how fortunate… So, you put some in your hair, hoping that they will make the mess that you woke up with more dignified, before continuing your morning routine as you usually do.

However, now the fact that there actually was a transformation makes you all excited for whatever comes next. You’re actually living your fantasy ! The one you thought wasn’t impossible in the real world !

Jovial, you eat, and enter the limousine, before being dropped off in front of your bank. You’re so happy about all that that you don’t even register the fact that you’re coming to work in a limousine, and sporting a healthier, curlier and blonder hairstyle than you ever had in your life. Though your colleague don’t ignore that, as you do manage to overhear people gossiping about those very things, you… really couldn’t care less. It just felt quite unimportant, really, when compared to everything else.

The day of work was over pretty quickly, and before you could even worry about going back to the manor, you see the limousine that drove you to your bank stationed in front, disturbing traffic in the meantime. You’d usually feel a bit guilty of being the reason of other’s frustrations, but somehow, you’re so happy that you just don’t care. Yet again.

As you enter, greeted by the chauffeur, it even starts feeling a bit normal, how you’re greeted with the utmost deference, how you are given privileges, how people are waiting for you…

You shake your head. This state of affairs is temporary, do not get used to the luxury. In a week, you’ll be back to your usual grind.

Arrived at destination, you enter the manor, expecting to see Mr. Nostitz, but he is nowhere to be found. That’s weird, you haven’t seen him in the whole day… you were eager to show him the golden curls you acquired… You furrow your brow at your sudden thought, finding them a bit out of character until you remember that you’re in an experiment. Of course the one responsible for holding the experiment should keep a close look on their patient.

But here you are, on your bed, not having seen him anywhere. You had the time to explore the mansion further, to write part of your next story, and relax, yet when the butler called you to go eat, you still hadn’t seen him. Taking place at the table, you also noticed that there was only one place setting. None for the elusive master of this mansion.

Adding insult to injury, before the first course, the butler comes back with a small flask, of the same kind that you took yesterday, filled in half with yesterday’s opaque cyan liquid. You sigh of frustration and take it from the butler’s hand, a bit more aggressively than you wanted to, and drink it, before unleashing your growing anger at the poor employee :

“Why isn’t Mr. Nostitz here ? He should be eating with me ! - Sir, Mr. Nostitz’s schedule is very busy, you were fortunate to have been able to share a dinner with him yesterday.” Explains calmly the butler, as if he’s seen this kind of tantrums many times. - That’s… understandable…” You answer, starting to calm down.

You eat each subsequent course in silence, trying to understand the reason of your anger. It’s not as if you really cared about Mr. Nostitz… he hosts you and runs this experiment, but you have only known each others for two days, and it’s not like it was love at first sight… After finishing your meal, you come back to your room, hoping to have a quiet evening after that feat of anger.

And as such started to create a bit of a routine for yourself.

On the morning, you checked the mirror for any change, noticing that you got taller, younger, more muscular and handsomer – for lack of a better word. You then take breakfast, ride up the limousine to your bank, slog through a workday becoming progressively boring as the days go on, and get relieved to find the limousine waiting for you in front of the building. Coming back to the mansion, you drink the flask, and then come out of your shell more and more, watching TV on the huge one in the living room, playing the latest Fifa if the urge takes you, going for a walk in the big gardens or even working out in the private gym, that seemed suspiciously new. And before sleeping, you use a progressively bigger amount of beauty products, noticing the odd few additional changes like your dick enlarging or your eyes taking on a blue color.

This life is becoming progressively comfier – not that it was painful by any means – and you feel more and more at home in the giant, faceless manor that you inhabit. Having a butler take care of you, being driven by a limousine, eating the finest foods, wearing the finest silk… all that luxury is starting to become second nature. The week flew by, and it was already time for the weekend. The last days of your experiment, the last days of a luxury that you will surely miss. And all that, without even having caught a glimpse of Mr. Nostitz.

You are now basically unrecognizable from the tired banker that came in this mansion. Now a handsome young man with blonde curls, all the fancy clothes that were bought for you fit like a glove thanks to the new muscles. As you take a last photo in front of the estate’s forest, you wonder if you should try opening an Instagram account. After all, your good looks aren’t going away, and work is just getting so boring...

But suddenly, your butler asks you to come urgently. Nonchalantly, you follow him to the mansion, where there seem to be a lot more people than usual. Is there a party of some kind happening ? You stroll in, finding Mr. Nostitz at the center of a small crowd. Finally ! He is here ! He will finally be able to see what you became !

So you hurry in his direction, drawing the ire of some of the guests. But you don’t actually care, they shouldn’t have been in your way in the first place. You are now in hearing distance from the architect of your experiment, but as you’re about to make yourself known to him, his voice overpowers you. However, it isn’t addressed to you, but rather at a guest.

“Cassandra, why must you raise this issue in a day of rejoicing !” As he told that, he looked briefly at you, noticing your presence. - Nathaniel, you cannot continue this charade ! Leandra has long passed, and even your own son agrees that you can’t continue claiming the fortune ! You are not part of our family anymore !” A well-dressed woman – Cassandra, you assume – with long curly dirty blonde hair insisted, angrily. - This son of mine isn’t able to manage our fortune, you can at least agree with me on that. Besides, I was married to Leandra, my beloved, so you know the implications. - Quit trying to act as if you’re part of our kin. We will need to see you in court, if you do not heed this last warning !” She said ominously, although it only drew Mr. Nostitz’s smile. An evil and predatory smile, as always. - If you’re talking like that… then I assume you are not acquainted with her second son.”

Second son ? You thought he only had one ! … and clearly, so did the rest of the room, who fell silent, looking at Mr. Nostitz with incredulity.

“Stop inventing excuses. If Leandra had another son, I would have been aware ! - Well, in this case, we may make introductions !”

He suddenly strides towards you, grabbing you by the arm, and as you stand there incredulous, he announces :

“I present to you my son. Leandra’s second son, and my second son. The true heir of the Nostitz family.”

A gasp of shock sleeps through the entire room, which would have included you if Mr. Nostitz hadn’t squeezed your arm at the right moment. Just what is he playing at ! Last you checked, you remember your parents, and none of them seem to belong to the Nostitz family that stands here, and you’re quite sure that Mr. Nostitz is in no way your father.

Yet, after the initial shock and denials, you hear people in attendance starting to notice similarities between you and your supposed parents. Some point out the curls like Leandra, or the blonde like Mr. Nostitz, some say your face looks like one member of the family or another, and other say you stature reminds them of Mr. Nostitz.

Out of them all, Cassandra, although she was just as shocked as the others, if not more, was the first to speak out against this assertions.

“This… is ridiculous ! You can’t just invent a new son to keep a hold of the money ! - I’m not inventing anyone. He was just… raised in another family to prevent him from being corrupted like his older brother. - This is pure and utter nonsense ! I require proof ! Irrefutable proof that he is your son, and Leandra’s son ! - All in due time, I knew you would react like that, so I prepared all the necessary prerequisites to make a paternity test. I wanted to present him to you all to continue this process.” Suddenly, he looks at you in the eyes. “Of course, my son will be enchanted to cooperate in your quest for proof, isn’t he ?”

His look was a dare. A dare to start living a life in a lie. A dare to continue living in the mansion you inhabit. Although he neglected you during your whole stay, although you have a life outside this mansion, although you have actual parents and family, you… can’t seem to be able to refuse his request.

Is it the luxury that drew you in ? Or the transformation, making you become a whole new person altogether ? Or is it Mr. Nostitz’s authority that you don’t want to defy ? Whatever the actual reason, you smirk, and cannot help but say, in the most proud and obnoxious voice that you have :

“Yes, of course, father.”

You pose, as your butler takes a picture in front of your vineyards.

You are dressed in an expensive shirt, with a luxury watch and obnoxious Gucci sunglasses. And you wouldn’t expect any less than this display of wealth. Because even though you don’t actually run those yards, your father being the one to generate all the wealth that you benefit from, you still own them. You also own a lot of other things, noteworthy between all these possessions being the Nostitz mansion.

However, now, you don’t work a day in your life. You quit you banker job as soon as the DNA test results came in, showing that you were indeed the son of Nathaniel Nostitz and Leandra Nostitz, as this life wasn’t yours anymore. Rather, you now spend your time on Instagram, modeling and throwing party after party with your new famous or otherwise wealthy friends. These activities let you earn a surprising amount of money, although it is just a drop in the ocean of all your wealth.

But you know that you are only a puppet, living a life of hedonism while your father cultivates power on your back, created with the only aim of holding on to a fortune. And you couldn’t care less. Hedonism is fun, once you give in, and it makes you happier than you have ever been. If the price for that is any sense of life achievement… then you are more than willing to pay it all.

Besides, it’s not as if you could actually say no to your beloved father.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Place your gilded crown upon my head (and carve your home into my chest)

Day 6 of Thank You, Haikyuu - event masterlist here

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader (gn) x oikawa tooru

length: 8.3k

genre: medieval royalty au !! fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: arranged marriage but they fall in looove, some vague talk of war, also some very vague talk of prostitution, guys this is as close as I'll get to writing smut ever so soak it up

a/n: tell me you can't tell how in love I am with hanamaki and how badly I wanted to make this abt him

tags: @love-and-lore

Tooru thinks, at first, that he must have misunderstood the words directed at him, that there's no crisis he could come across that would cause Hajime to cast him aside like this. But when he blinks and stares, his eyes boring into the knight until he repeats himself, Tooru knows it to be true.

The betrayal that coils in his gut when he realizes that is painful in a way that Hajime had always protected him from. He'd forgotten what he was capable of, really, having seldom been on the receiving end of Hajime's sharp tongue. But it is there, nonetheless.

He supposes, though, that Hajime was always capable of it, and he can see it when he really considers the man in front of him. The two of them had grown up together, afternoons as children spent with wooden toy swords and sand castles morphing into long nights pouring over treaties and battle strategies, a shining sword strapped to Hajime's hip and a gilded crown perched atop Tooru's head.

There is a reason he chose to keep Hajime by his side, a reason he relies on his sharp wit and firm resolve. He just hadn't thought that he would ever have to pay the price… not like this, at least.

"We both knew this day would come, Your Highness," Hajime's voice rings through Tooru as he watches the prince lean, keeling over a bit to brace himself on the table between them, staring at the map of his nation. "Arranged marriages like this are… unavoidable."

"But not yet," Tooru snaps, his hands gripping the stone edge of the table. "We have… we had time. We still have time. This doesn't have to happen yet."

"You Highness," Hajime says it kindly, with a love that feels like a knife twisting in Tooru's ribs. "This is the best decision. A civil war in a neighbouring nation is dangerous. An allegiance like this will bring us the promise of peace no matter the outcome of the war on our borders."

"There's another way," Tooru says stubbornly, but his eyes flit over the maps in front of him desperately. "We don't need to do this. You - you don't need to ask this of me. We'll find another way." Hajime's sigh is almost imperceivable as he steps towards the Prince. 

"Tooru," he says gently. "This is the decision that must be made. Go to your father. Tell him what's been decided."

"My father is ill and bedridden," Tooru snaps. "And he doesn't - he doesn't know what's best for me or this country anymore. He will say yes no matter what I ask of him."

"I know, Your Highness," Hajime says firmly. "Which is why I will only ever present him with what is necessary… and right." Tooru's eyes, when he finally looks up at Hajime, are big and glassy, plush bottom lip quivering.

"This is not right," he chokes out. One of the knights by the entryway shifts on his feet, restless as he pretends not to look on.

"It is," Hajime insists,

"There is another way."

"Your Highness, this is-"

"You will find another way." There's a desperate tilt to Tooru's voice, a hysteria that threatens to break through that has Hajime turning his gaze sharply to the men on either side of the door.

"Matsukawa," he barks. The knight turns and stares. "Watch outside. No one is to enter." Matsukawa salutes to his captain as he leaves, slipping out and leaving just one other to look on as the scene unfolds, as Tooru crosses his arms and glares.

"Do you understand how much I love you?" Hajime says simply. Tooru straightens. 

"You have told me."

"Then please, my love, remember that it is true. Everything that I do here… I do for you. I must ask this of you… I would be a coward not to." Tooru scoffs at his words and looks away, blinking the tears back from his eyes.

"You could never be a coward," he says weakly. 

"I would be if I didn't guide you towards this decision. If I let my love for you cloud my devotion to you… there is no greater sin to me. I will not abandon my prince in his moment of need." Hajime's words are final, and when Tooru stares at him, he can't help but feel a bit of guilt swirling in his gut. How could he think that Hajime was ever doing this to cast him aside, to forsake this forbidden love that they share? Iwaizumi Hajime loves through loyalty, and it is not so often that Tooru forgets this. In this moment, Hajime bending to kneel before him, his head bowed, Tooru wonders how he ever thought his lover would abandon him.

"Please," says the knight, like a blade bowing before its master. "Let me love you in the only way that I know how. Let me keep you safe." And Tooru… well, he is often powerless in the face of his love, he finds. And this is no different.

"It will be done, then," he says simply. And in that moment, his fate is sealed.

"What if I am unwanted?" Tooru muses, a servant brushing through his hair as another smooths the silks that he wears. He watches Hajime through the reflection in his vanity mirror, the knight standing dutifully by the door of his chambers.

"Have the people not told you enough, Your Highness? You are beloved by all - there is no one who could not want you," he says honestly, but a glance towards the servants has Hajime clearing his throat and breaking eye contact with the prince, choosing to stare straight ahead, instead.

"What do you think?" Tooru asks the servant in front of him, the one who's just stepped back to admire their work. He blinks when he's spoken to, a nervousness hazing the air around him.

"Me, Your Highness? Well… it is true, of course. Your strength and beauty are known by all," the servant says politely. Tooru hums thoughtfully.

"And my fiance?" He asks bitterly, a sour look passing over his face. Hajime doesn't look at him this time, though, too aware of the watchful eyes of those attending to his beloved.

"It is as discussed, Your Highness. Your betrothed will be here shortly - a portion of your guard has been sent to… retrieve them and ensure safe travels. You will meet your fiance soon."

"Well," Tooru sighs with all the weight of a boy being adorned in a golden crown. "I suppose we'd better get on with this, then."

But as he stands and straightens his shoulders and walks past Hajime out into the long corridors of a place he once called home, Tooru can't help but feel the shackles of this life tightening around his wrists and ankles every step of the way. Hajime is dutiful as always, three paces behind him and never straying further, but with every moment Tooru feels the gap between them growing. He bears the weight of the crown on his head and wonders, in a sharp, stabbing sort of way, if Hajime feels the weight of the shield on his back and the sword on his hip, as well.

More likely, Tooru thinks bitterly as they approach the castle entrance, Hajime bears this weight better than Tooru ever could. As the commotion of a series of carriages pulling up outside clouds his thoughts, he thinks that perhaps Hajime has just always been a bit better at all of this than him.

But Hajime wonders, just for a moment, if this really was the right decision when you step out of the carriage in front of them and come face-to-face with your future husband. Your bow is… minimal, the action of someone who's grown up close enough to the throne to think it to be theirs. And as you're introduced by one of the attendees you've brought with you, Hajime takes note of you - of the way you speak, sharp and quick and clever.

Your eyes, most of all, are what startles him as they sweep across the people in front of you, settling on him for just a moment before returning to the Prince. There's a sort of hunger in them, a lust for power that he's often seen in royals. As Tooru glances towards him, Hajime knows that they're both wondering the same thing. Why would you willingly give up the war for the throne in your home nation, stepping down and allowing your siblings to continue the struggle without you, when you are so clearly hungry for that power?

"This is Iwaizumi," Tooru's voice pulls Hajime out of whatever trance he was in as he turns and bows to you while he's introduced. "He's the captain of my royal guard. He will… be yours now, as well. Your safety is in his hands. " Tooru stumbles a bit as he speaks, the reality of it all slamming into him a bit too harshly. Hajime is… no longer his alone. You are to be his spouse, his partner. His guard will be shared, his secrets will be… well, he tries not to think about it. Not yet, at least.

But his worries follow him into the evening, trailing after him as they curl into the long shadows cast by the torches on the stone walls. When he speaks to Hajime in hushed tones in his chambers after everyone's settled, you secluded to your pre-marital suite in a separate part of the castle, these worries of his seem to only grow.

"This was a bad idea," Tooru hisses. "We're going to get caught. It's - they don't seem like someone you can get a secret past, do they?"

"This is good," Hajime argues back patiently, settling Tooru with a calmness that the prince wishes he could share. "You chose well. Remember, we needed this to secure an alliance with whoever siezes the throne in their nation. They're quick and sharp, yes - but that's good. That's helpful to us, my love." 

"But what if we're discovered?" Tooru says desperately, a cracking pain heard in his voice that has Hajime moving towards him where he sits on his bed. He kneels before the prince, reaching to gently unfurl Tooru's clenched fists and release the silk bedding from his grip so that he can hold onto his hands instead, pressing kisses across his knuckles. 

"We will not be," Hajime says firmly. "I promise, my love. I will not let anything happen to you."

Promises such as that, however, are often difficult to keep - secrets becoming harder to bury under the weight of watchful eyes. As the days pass, you remain much the same as you were when you first arrived, quick and observant and upright, but… silent. Proper and polite with that razor-sharp edge of yours. It's when you and Tooru are in one of his many sitting rooms, a myriad of people having come and gone throughout the morning to speak to you about wedding preparations, that it begins to wear on the prince a bit too much. 

You're… quiet, throughout the whole thing, always looking to your fiance to answer, always letting his preferences take precedence. Tooru, for what it's worth, is trying desperately to figure out why - to try to decipher the intent behind your sharp gaze and politely folded hands. It unsettles him, eventually prompting him to huff and slouch in his chair and wave everyone away until it's just the two of you, Hajime standing where he always does by the door, always watchful, always present.

"Is something troubling you, Your Highness?" You ask as the last servant scurries out of the room and the door is shut once more. Tooru doesn't really try to hide his scowl at your words, but a sharp look from Hajime over your shoulder has him catching himself as he remembers the knight's words - as he remembers his lover begging on his knees to find some way to make this work.

"You have to at least try," he'd said. "This is your future spouse. Perhaps they are not so awful as they seem." Tooru sighs at the memory, at the way Hajime had kissed him and held him and coaxed him into agreeing. So, the prince tries.

"We'll have everything moved during the ceremony and wedding festivities," he says instead of answering your question. "So that the process doesn't disturb you."

"Moved, Your Highness?"

"Into my chambers," Tooru explains, his brows furrowing as he wonders how you're confused. "Your things will be moved into my suite when we're married because… you'll be moved in then." You look at him for a long moment then before you roll your shoulders back just a fraction, a split second of your perfect facade cracking. It's a moment of understanding, almost, as he sees the instant you show how heavily this weighs on your shoulders, as well. But it's gone as soon as it happens and Tooru's left with his lips downturned as he watches you again.

"May I speak candidly?" You ask. Tooru's frown deepens.

"We are to be married. I'm not sure why you wouldn't."

"Well," you begin carefully. "I'm not sure why we would alter our current arrangement. This is a diplomatic marriage - nothing more. There's no need for us to pretend that it's anything other than that." Tooru gapes at you as you speak, shock crossing over his face before anger burns through him. Hajime, where he stands behind you, turns and lets his gaze fall on you. You, who's come into his nation, inserted yourself into his life and his love, you cannot stand him enough to even live with him.

"We will be married," he repeats, his words a bit more venomous than perhaps is warranted, something he's reminded of when Hajime frowns pointedly at him over your head. "We could at least pretend to be able to stand one another."  You straighten back up at that, any moment of softness that had seeped into you slipping away at Tooru's outburst. 

"Your Highness," you say firmly. "I have no plans to chain you to me in any way that you do not wish. I am saying this for your benefit. I see no reason for you to cease living the way you please just because I'm here." Tooru sort of freezes at that, his gaze flitting to Hajime as the knight stands still, holding his breath at your words.

"What… do you mean?" Tooru curses himself for the way his voice wavers. But, in response, you almost smile, a quick upturn of your lips.

"The working girls employed by the royal families are famed across our nations' lines. I am not so ignorant as to be unaware of them," you say simply. Tooru almost chokes at that.

"I - I beg your pardon?" He splutters.

"What I'm saying, Your Highness," you sigh, apparently tired of him feigning ignorance. "Is that I understand how difficult it would become to continue having these visitors to your chambers, as I'm sure you do now, if I were to be here with you. I'd rather not be sent away in the evenings to bide my time elsewhere. I'd rather… well, my moving into your chambers is not a necessary part of this agreement."

You're quiet after you speak, turning your gaze to the window, to the summer sun that shines in and the sheer white curtains that blow in the breeze. You look… trapped, helpless and longing in a way that you hadn't before. Or perhaps, Tooru thinks rather painfully, he'd just never noticed.

You, with your endless pride and self-respect, who holds your head so high and your spine so straight - Tooru can't understand how you think so lowly of yourself that you expected him to keep you away from him, in a separate part of the castle alone, so that he could have affairs and live a life of his choosing so far from you.

When he reaches for your hand, tangling his fingers with yours despite your shock, Tooru feels like he's looking at you for the first time. Your hands, soft and gentle and trembling ever so slightly. Your eyes, soft and hurt in a way that only comes from fleeing a civil war. Tooru finds himself wishing he could apologize, wishing he could take back his cold, sullen gaze as you look at him. 

"I would not do that to you," is what he says instead. "I hold too much respect for you to treat you in such a way."

"You needn't have any respect for me, Your Highness," you say simply. "That was not part of this agreement." Tooru squeezes your hand gently.

"I am to be your husband. That is reason enough for me." Tooru says it like it's simple, like it's a fact written in the stars that you should already know. You stare at him unwaveringly, though, when he speaks, an uncertainty twisting in you.

"I'm not sure," he goes on. "Why you would think anything other than that. You hold onto your righteousness so tightly, I wouldn't think you'd be so willing to sacrifice your marriage like this." Tooru looks down at your hands as he speaks, at the way he twists his fingers with yours and the way that you so easily let him.

"It is all I have," you say quietly.

"Hm?"

"My righteousness. It is all I have. I have lost my nation to the war of my brothers. I have lost my home and been sent somewhere with customs different from mine, with food and weather and clothes that I barely know… all to marry a man who will barely speak to me. I have nothing left, Your Highness."

If Tooru hadn't been so shocked by your words, if a guilt and a selfishness had not burned through him, perhaps you wouldn't have been able to slip your hands from his grip so easily and stand before him. He looks up at you, all the same, his face twisted with regret. You take no notice.

"If you'll excuse me now, Your Highness, I'd like to retire to my chambers." You bow then, a proper and humble thing that has Tooru standing and putting his hands on your shoulders as you rise. You, royalty in your own right, stand before him and wait for his permission to leave.

"Why are you treating me as if I am crowned and you are not?" Tooru asks and his hands tighten on your shoulders. He wants to shake you, just a bit, just enough to rattle his panic out of himself.

"I am not anymore," you say, and you're not sure who flinches more at the waver in your voice, the flutter of your eyelids over glossy, tear-filled eyes. "I am marrying you. Your titles, your throne, your life will be mine." Tooru takes his hands off of you at that, stepping back to bow to you, ignoring the sharp, little inhale of your breath at the action.

When he rises, he glances at Hajime, and the knight straightens at the attention.  

"Iwaizumi will accompany you," he explains firmly.

"It's simply a walk to the other side of the castle."

"And your safety is my utmost priority. I've put my life in his hands many times. There is no one better to watch over you."

"He is your guard. You already gave me Hanamaki," you point out stubbornly, but Tooru just shakes his head.

"He is as much yours now as he is mine… all of this is," he says earnestly. You wonder, as you sweep out of the room with Hajime following dutifully behind, how truthful Tooru was being - how willing he will be to follow through with his promises.

Hajime, for what it's worth, is also reeling from the interaction, following swiftly behind you as you walk through the corridors as if they're your own. Although, if Tooru is to be believed, they really will be your own soon enough. He assumes, then, that you know your way around well enough to know that you are not, in fact, heading back to your rooms at all. Instead, you veer left, away from the stone walls and arched ceilings and out towards the castle gardens. 

"Your Highness," Hajime says gently. You stop slowly, a resigned sort of look passing over your face as you turn to him, like you knew this moment was coming.

"Am I to go back to my rooms?" You ask. Hajime blanches at the insinuation that he could order you to go anywhere at all. Hanamaki, where he's been trailing after the two of you, snorts at the look on his captain's face.

"No, Your Highness," Hajime says patiently, reeling himself in from the shock. "You are to go wherever you please. I merely wish to make sure you are confident in your direction." You tilt your head at that, eyeing him up and down for a moment before turning on your heel and continuing on your way.

"I am often confident, Iwaizumi," you call over your shoulder. "It is a small comfort amidst all of this." Needless to say, neither Hajime nor Hanamaki questions you beyond that as they follow you out to the gardens, dutifully walking three paces behind you as you wander endlessly through paths of flowers and around fountains and under great statues, the sun pouring and endless, golden glow onto the three of you. 

Hajime is impressed, he finds, at how long you walk and wonder and move before you finally give in to rest. The bench that you've found is shrouded by the shade of a weeping willow, a dozen or so of them scattered across this section of the garden and holding the sky's great light at bay. Hajime takes the time to look around while you sit - and pretends not to notice the way you slip your feet out of your shoes for just a moment to ease the ache that he's sure has set in. You're deep enough into the gardens that he has difficulty even remembering this place.

Hanamaki, to Hajime's firm approval, takes up residence a few feet from your bench, standing at attention solidly despite the heat and the sun shining down on his armour. As you sit, you tip your head back to look up at the tree, at the way the breeze slowly sways the branches and bathes you in shadow. The endlessness of the sprawling, open gardens and the distant horizon beyond, you learn, cannot find you here, and there is a peace to be found in this small solitude.

"I didn't know there were trees like this here," you say softly, keeping your head tipped back.

"They are not native to this area. The climate makes it difficult for them to grow here - it's only thanks to the dedication and skill of the groundskeepers that they are able to survive. But this is not their home." Hajime regrets adding that as soon as the words have left his mouth, pointedly looking away as Hanamaki tilts his head to scowl at him when he sees you clench your fists in your lap and bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"They grow everywhere back home," you say quietly, in a voice that's so soft it's almost missed by the two of them. But then, you begin to weep, shuttering sobs leaving you as you sit quietly, trying desperately to keep the outburst at bay. "I would like to be alone for a while," you say, keeping your eyes trained down to the ground.

"I am sorry, Your Highness." And Hajime does mean it. "You have been left in my care and I cannot leave you unattended here. However… privacy is something I can always offer you." With that, Hajime turns sharply to Hanamkai, who's already watching him, waiting for a command that he knows will come.

"The bridge we passed under that marks the entryway to this section - remain there. No one is to enter until you hear from me. Understood?" Hanamaki's response to his captain's command is firm, his departure from the two of you swift. Hajime, in turn, moves to stand just in front of the bench that you're seated on, off to the side so as to not obstruct your view of the surrounding gardens. He keeps his gaze trained forward, away from you and unable to look on without you noticing. 

When you weep then, there is a part of you that cries for the kindness of it all, for the steady, reliable solidness that is Hajime as he stands dutifully. The loyalty that he shows - it feels a bit too much like love, and that's something that you've found yourself desperate for since coming here.

Hajime stands for hours as you sob and sniffle and then breathe deeply to calm yourself. Through it all, he does not move, does not waver, does not look. When you clear your throat and stand, smoothing down your hair and patting your face, he does not move. 

It's not until you stand in front of him and speak that he looks at you.

"I would like to go back now… to my chambers, please," you say quietly, the solidness that he's learned to be so familiar with finding its way back into your voice.

"As you wish, Your Highness," is his response as he dips his head to bow. He does not mention the flush of your face, the redness of your eyes and nose and the way you quietly sniffle during the walk back. He offers his arm silently when you sigh, your feet aching as you begin the long trek. He does not complain when you lean a bit too much weight on him. Hajime loves through loyalty, through a constraint steadiness, and you find yourself understanding quickly why Tooru values him so much. 

That value, you learn over time, is something more than the loyalty of a knight to a prince. The pre-marital chambers that you'd been given are lavish, tall ceilings and velvet couches, the bed piled with silk sheets and cushions and woven blankets. Despite that, however, sleep evades you on the night before your wedding. 

As you roll over again, having tossed and turned the whole night, you wonder if you could make it to the ground floor from your window, if you could tie your sheets together and fling them out as some sort of line to climb down, a way out of this life and this love.

But there is nothing out there for you, just as there is nothing here. And Hanamaki stands guard just outside your door, tall and sturdy and… caring, if you're honest, trailing after you throughout your days and looking on. You can only begin to imagine his captain's punishment for him if he learned that the Crown Prince's betrothed flung themself out a window in the night.

So, instead, you rise, the sun just barely brushing over the vast horizon and giving you enough light to slip on layers of robes, the fabric laying heavily on your shoulders as you leave your chambers.

"Your Highness?" Comes Hanamaki's questioning voice as he dutifully falls into step behind you. You pause long enough to turn and look at him, at his wide, concerned eyes.

"Does sleep ever come on nights like these, do you think?" You ask. Something in him softens.

"I'm sure I wouldn't know, Your Highness, but there's not much the willow trees can't fix," he says kindly. You smile a bit, then, something that feels far off and foreign to you these days, and begin to make your way out towards the castle gardens.

As you pass the prince's chambers, however, your footsteps come to a stuttering halt. Matsukawa stands on guard outside the doors, stoically staring ahead so as not to intervene in the scene unfolding before him. Hajime stands in the doorway, having just slipped out from Tooru's rooms. He's dishevelled, his shirt untucked and his hair tousled. He looks like he's been caught, and there's a static in the air as you straighten, confirmation of the lingering theory that had been taking root in your heart making itself known.

"Iwaizumi," you say sternly. He straightens and bows.

"Your Highness," he says it quickly, but he does not move, does not rise. 

"Take a walk with me… clean yourself up first. I trust you'll be able to catch up." With that, you sweep past him, robes billowing as he remains still, waiting until you're out of sight to chastise Matsukawa for not warning him while the knight helps Hajime sort himself back into his armour.

Sure enough, you're merely entering the gardens when Hajime falls into step beside you, his shoulders heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You say nothing, merely continuing your stroll until the summer sun rises, the light peaking over the trees and illuminating the two of you, shining into the endless, open sky above.

"Tooru is kinder than he lets on when I'm near," you say honestly, continuing to stare ahead as you walk. Hajime, dutiful as always, follows your lead, walking and looking forward, beyond the flowerbeds and towards the endless, golden horizon. "And he is good - as a ruler, that is. I'm not sure our feelings for one another matter much beyond that."

Hajime bites his tongue at your words, at his urge to tell you that you're wrong, that Tooru spends his evenings speaking of you, of the wild lavender in your perfume and the sharp fire in your eyes. But Hajime knows that sometimes love is silent, and he lets this moment be whatever it is that you need. If you need to punish him for this, then so be it.

"It is a lonely life that he and I lead," you continue. "If someone were to find some kind of… companionship, something genuine and private, I…" You trail off then, just for a moment, staring out at the way the sun bathes the gardens, the way the light shines through the branches of the willow trees. "I would not take that from him - from anyone. Tooru deserves a love that is honest and real. I will not be what stands in the way of that. You have nothing to worry about."

Hajime, in a rare moment of emotion, turns to stare at you, struck by your words as he looks on at the way you blink to fight back the dampness pooling in your eyes. Something painful lurches in his heart at the sight.

"Your Highness -" he begins. 

"That is all," you say firmly, your voice wavering. "You may go back to him now. You are his… more than either of you could ever be mine." All that Hajime can do in that moment, then, is bow deeply before making a hasty exit, away from the shining light that floats around you like a halo and back through the tangled maze of castle corridors, the stone dark and cool and arching overhead.

Matsukawa is still standing guard outside of Tooru's chambers, and he stares at Hajime as he approaches, eyes searching his captain's face for any sign of pain, of the suffering that he's sure would follow a confrontation from you.

But Hajime is quiet, sullen in a way that isn't like him as he nods in acknowledgement and slips back in through the doors. Tooru, when he enters, sits up with a frown. It's not often that Hajime will come back like this after a night in his bed and Tooru knows that something must be wrong.

"Your fiance is kinder than we could've known," Hajime says softly, sitting on the edge of Tooru's great bed to stroke a hand through his hair slowly.

"What are you talking about?" Tooru's voice is breathy, his words rushed in his anxiety. Hajime just smiles, a sad, remorseful sort of thing.

"We've been caught," he says simply. When Tooru tenses, preparing to rip himself from bed in his panic, Hajime latches his arms around him to pull the prince against his chest and shush him softly. "It's alright, my love. Let me explain. And then… and then let me have their belongings moved in here with yours. Let your future have this."

"My future?" Tooru says quietly, slowly letting himself relax against Hajime's chest as the knight relays his conversation with you to him.

"Your future," he finishes with. "Perhaps it is time we stop fighting fate and let this life of ours take its course." Tooru tilts his head up at Hajime's words to look at him softly, reaching up to card a hand through his unruly hair. 

"As long as it is our life, still," he says quietly. Hajime presses a kiss to his forehead.

"It always will be, my Prince."

The wedding ceremony is, naturally, the biggest event in the nation, the spectacle of it all overwhelming even to the two of you, something that you realize as you stand at the alter looking up into Tooru's eyes, his hands gripping yours firmly as they tremble slightly. You're not sure if it's your nerves or his that are ricocheting around, but either way, the moment that your vows are spoken, it all seems to… calm, just a bit. 

When the two of you lean forward to press your lips together gently, you wonder if this was ever really so bad. The way that Tooru tangles a hand in your hair confirms that he's thinking the same thing. The polite ahem of the bishop and the joyous cheering of the crowd, however, has the two of you breaking apart, and as you stare up at him, you wonder if the nation has ever seen their future king flushed to his ears like this. You wonder if you'll ever have the privilege of seeing it again.

That, of course, brings you back down to earth - the thought of your cold, quiet chambers secluded away from him and the endless nights that you'll spend there begin to loom in front of you. As the two of you walk through the crowds of people, accepting well wishes and blessings and having flowers thrown at your feet, Tooru squeezes your hand in concern as your arm is slotted through his. He looks down at you with furrowed brows, but you smile in return, a painted-on sort of thing crafted for the masses of people in front of you.

"Smile, Your Highness," you say lowly to him, the display of him bending so that you can whisper something private in his ear an endearing one to the spectators. "Make them believe it, or this will all be for nothing." Tooru wishes desperately to tell you how wrong you are, but the facade continues through the exiting of the ceremony and all the way through to the feast that night, the hall of the castle filled with noise and cheer and festivities. 

There are fireworks somewhere outside, and you turn in your chair at the head table, as if somehow you'll be able to catch them through the window, but you catch Hajime's eye, instead, and turn back abruptly.

"We can have more," Tooru says easily.

"Your Highness?" You prompt questioningly.

"My name is still Tooru. We can have more fireworks if you wish to see them. Every evening for a fortnight in celebration." You click your tongue disapprovingly at his words.

"The people will think us too lavish," you say as you look out towards the crowds of people.

"The people will thank us for any reason to celebrate," Tooru says easily as he shrugs. But then he looks at you and it has you straightening, the way his eyes bore into you, big and honest and empathetic.

"There is no war here, my love," he says gently. "There is no reason not to live the way we do." You clear your throat and turn to sip your wine, anything to break his stare, to rid your mind of the words that roll off his tongue. My love.

"Perhaps," is all you say in response.

"Speaking of," he continues, reaching for your hand to tangle his fingers with yours. "Everything should be moved into my chambers by the time we're ready to retire tonight."

"Your Highness?" You question again.

"Tooru," he corrects gently. "Your belongings. They're being moved into my chambers."

"I thought we agreed that we wouldn't be doing that, Your Highness," you say pointedly, your voice a hushed whisper.

"It's Tooru," he repeats. "You suggested that, yes, but I disagreed." When Tooru looks at you then, you find yourself unable to look away. His eyes, boring into yours, are filled with something akin to passion, something gentle and loving and hungry swirling in them as he looks to you. "I would be a fool," he continues softly. "To keep someone like you away from me."

"Your Highness," you say desperately, shaking your head slightly as if to rid the heat from your cheeks. Tooru takes your intertwined hands to his mouth so that he can press kisses across your knuckles. Somewhere in the distance, onlookers cheer at the display, but you can't hear them past the blood pumping in your veins.

"It's Tooru," he says patiently. "And there is no part of me that wants you cast aside… tonight or any other night. If you are to be mine, then you shall be mine. And I shall be yours, in return."

"Tooru," you say firmly, your eyes wide at his sudden display. But he merely grins at his name finally passing your lips and pulls you to him gently, a hand on the back of your head as he kisses you.

This time, there is no bishop commanding it, no nation relying on it, no war held at bay by it. This time, Tooru kisses you just to kiss you, and you cannot help but let him. You cannot help but feel loved through it. 

But it is when the two of you break away that you fianlly look at him with concern. He pouts in response, a "what's wrong, my love," leaving his lips softly as you turn from him to look behind you. Hajime, standing dutifully in his place just out of reach of the two of you, looks on subtly. You expect, of course, to see some kind of sorrow in him, some sort of jealousy or loneliness painting his face. 

When he looks at you, though, his pupils blown and shoulders tense, the concealed lust in his eyes has you turning back in shock, leaning towards Tooru as he laughs and presses a kiss to your temple.

"Forgive me, my love, but you've been discussed," he says honestly.

"Clearly," you respond weakly, but you can't help but look back one more time, catching Hajime's gaze for just a moment.

"Well," you say quietly, Tooru tilting his head so that you can whisper in his ear once more. "It's a good thing the Crown Prince has such a large bed." At that, Tooru really laughs, a loud, honest sort of sound ringing through the hall as you smile at him, swirling the wine in your cup and hoping that everyone blames that for the flush of your cheeks and your husband's giddy smile.

When that laughter continues on throughout the night, into the privacy of Tooru's chambers and then his bed, you're sure that it's not the wine that's done it. You're sure that it has something more to do with the way you tug Hajime into the room after the two of you, his palm warm and calloused against yours. 

"What about Matsukawa?" You whisper as Tooru huffs somewhere behind you, the layers of your wedding robes thick and intricate against his wandering hands. Hajime stands before you, pressing kisses first to your intertwined hands and then up your arm, pausing after he places a final kiss on your shoulder, now bare thanks to Tooru's quick fingers.

"Matsukawa's loyal as a dog. He has protected Tooru and I from being found out for many years. He will protect you, as well," Hajime says softly, lips brushing against the skin of your shoulder and up your neck.

"And Hanamaki?" You ask, the breathiness of your voice peaking Tooru's attention as he smiles against your neck where he skims his lips across your skin.

"He is your private guard now, my love," Tooru reminds you gently. "Your fate is his own - your successes, your downfalls… he will not turn his back on you. Not for something like this."

"He and Matsukawa will entertain themselves in the hall. I wouldn't worry about it," Hajime says dryly. You laugh at that, an honest, real sound ringing through the room, and the two men on either side of you soften, arms reaching out to tug you closer and into bed. 

You wonder, somewhere distant in the back of your mind, how you ever sat in the darkness of your chambers, separate from the light and love that shines through Tooru's rooms. You wonder, throughout the night, why you'd spent those evenings like that, why you'd wept and longed for home when home is right here with you, in bed next to you. 

But loneliness is a stubborn, fickle thing, and it has you rolling over some hours later, poking Hajime's side gently and being met with a responding grunt.

"Is this really alright with you?" You ask him suddenly. On the other side of you, Tooru laughs, pulling the blankets further up your naked shoulder and pressing a kiss to your arm while Hajime grabs your other hand - the one that's smoothed itself over his abs and exposed stomach. He kisses across your knuckles as he watches you, your kiss-bruised lips and hair splayed across your pillow.

"I have no envy for this life of yours," he says honestly. Tooru's hand trails up and down your side under the blanket and you shudder at the touch, at the way his fingers brush over your exposed skin. "This tightrope that the two of you walk, filled with politics and customs and endless ceremony. I am content to stand right here by your side, keeping the two of you safe while you navigate this life."

Your eyes, wide and solemn at Hajime's words, grow damp as you blink up at him.

"Hajime…" you say softly as you reach for him. He lets you, of course, lets you wrap your arms around him and press your lips desperately to his for a moment before you bury your face in his neck. Tooru laughs from somewhere behind you, leaning over you to lay a series of kisses across Hajime's face.

"I know," he coos. "Hajime's always like that. I'm afraid there's no getting used to it." Hajime, for what it's worth, looks thoroughly embarrassed by the whole ordeal, a dusting of pink covering his cheeks up to his ears as he murmurs something about how it's just the truth. When you laugh and poke his cheek gently in mocking sympathy, he snaps at it playfully with his teeth before rolling you onto your back and making both you and Tooru forget whatever it was that you were laughing at in the first place.

It's early morning, then, when you're woken up, the faintest bit of sun peeking over the hills and through the windows, bathing Tooru in a halo of gold as he sleeps next to you. The source of your waking moves on the other side of you, Hajime leaning to press twin kisses to your foreheads - one to yours and one to Tooru's.

You watch as he clambers out of bed and begins picking up his clothes, donning layers of fabric and then armour, building himself back into the knight that he's known to be - building himself into a shield blocking the door to the outside world. You fold your arms over Tooru's chest and lean on your hands, eyeing the way Hajime moves as Tooru wakes slowly, bringing a hand up to clumsily brush through your hair.

Hajime spares just one glance back as he slips out of the room, one shining look of love and contentment shown to the two of you before he disappears.

"Go back to sleep, my love," Tooru says gently, his eyes already closed again as he settles. "It is still early. We have time." But try as you might, the world of sleep evades you and leaves you rolling over yet again, staring at the gilded patterns of the ceiling above you.

"What's bothering you?" Tooru's voice is gentle, thick with remnants of sleep as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, turning your head gently to face him. "What are you thinking of?"

"Home," you respond easily. Sorrow flashes across his face, a touch of guilt clouding it. 

"I am so sorry, my love, for the way things turned out," he says softly.

"Are you?"

"I am sorry you had to stray so far from your home."

"But that's just my point," you say quietly, turning further to tuck yourself into Tooru's embrace. He welcomes it, of course, letting your legs tangle together under the sheets and you press your face to his chest, listening to the steady thumps of his heart. "There is a home for me here. I have strayed just far enough to build myself something new."

"Ah," Tooru says in acknowledgement, his arms tightening around you as he buries his face in your hair. "Well, don't let Hajime hear you say that. He doesn't like crying in front of his knights." You laugh at that, at the thickness in Tooru's voice and the way his words warble.

"I'm sure he'd make an exception for me," you say easily. When Tooru smiles down at you, the sunlight finally breaks properly over the horizon, shining beams of gold into the room and across your skin.

"We both would, my love," he says softly. "Time and time again."

It's over breakfast many months later that word finally comes from your family. Peace has come at last - although it is a delicate, precarious thing, you tell Tooru as you pour over the letter. One of your brothers has seized the throne and is attempting to restore the kingdom, reaching an olive branch towards you and your husband, willing to rebuild the alliance that once stood between nations.

"I'm glad it was him," you say as you fold the letter, handing it across the table for Tooru to read through - much to his pleasure. The letter had not been addressed to him. It was marked very clearly as a private letter for you alone and feels, through the weight of the paper, the heaviness of this trust that you've begun to build. "If it couldn't… since it wasn't me. I'm glad it was him. He'll do right by our people," you continue. Tooru eyes you over the letter.

"May I ask…?" he begins. You look at him pointedly. "Why didn't you stay to fight? You had other siblings who would've fit into an arranged marriage easily, so why offer yourself so willingly when it went so far against what you wished for yourself and your future?"

"Are you saying you wish for a different option, Your Highness?" You quip back. Hanamaki, standing at attention near the door, doesn't quite catch his laugh in time and is pinned by Hajime's chastising look at his obvious entertainment. Matsukawa smiles in that lazy way of his on the other side of the door at the spectacle, but Tooru just blinks, looking at you fondly.

"I would choose you in an endless crowd, my love," he says easily. "But I spend my days chasing after any glimpse I am worthy of getting into that head of yours."

"Flirt," you shoot back, but your cheeks flush all the same. You glance at Hajime, though, at the way he stands in his usual position by the two of you, his gaze fixed on you as you grow sombre. "Not all of us would've been good for the throne. Those who seek power, in fact, often abuse it. The surest way to promise safety to my people was to either take the throne for myself… or make sure that the right person took it in my place." Tooru pauses at your words, looking at you intently.

"You had a hand in your brother seizing the throne?" He asks.

"Of course," you respond easily. "It was the best decision. I also knew that a union with your nation would do a great deal of good for us. Everything I have done both here and in my life before you has been for the sake of my nation - my people. That is all." You say it like it's simple, like throwing yourself onto your sword in an act of love and loyalty is as easy as breathing.

Tooru stares - falls a bit more in love with you moment by moment until it feels as if the ground is disappearing from beneath his feet. Hajime, where is stands at his post by your side, softens so visibly that Matsukawa laughs.

Neither you nor Tooru can hold in your own laughter at Hajime's flustered chastising and Matsukawa's unbothered smile. Nobody really seems to mind. As the sun shines through the stained glass windows, bathing the three of you in colours akin to the fireworks of your wedding night, the patterns dancing in the safety of this sturdy love, you find that you really can't bring yourself to be bothered by it at all.

[bluecanvasshoe]

platonic!Arthur Morgan & teen!fem!reader

reader being female is only mentioned, like, once at the very start, rest of the story has virtually nothing to do w it

based around the end of the game!!

Arthur notices you’re upset after some sulking around, so he takes you fishing.

warnings: slight rdr2 spoilers, a little smidgen of misogyny, maybe ooc? idk, no beta reader we die like MEN 🔥, little bit of angst, comfort, NO ROMANCE‼️‼️‼️, …….lazy ending, I HAVE WRITERS BLOCK OKAY

word count: 1.5k

——————

For the past couple months, it’s felt as if nothing you have done has ever gone right.

When carrying hay-bales to the horses, your arms grew tired. Micah laughed as you dropped the feed and breathed heavily. A few months back, Hosea reminded you that, as a child, you weren’t expected to do any of the more challenging work. However, the urge to prove yourself triumphed over his lectures.

Then Ms. Grimshaw approached you in camp, reprimanding you for your insistence on doing the more “manly” tasks. As a girl of the camp who was yet to be an adult, you, unfortunately, were not saved from her pressing you about your future in the gang.

Afterwards, while practising your handiwork with a needle, you pierced your index finger. It drew blood, so Strauss gave you a bandage and a disapproving look.

The gang slowly dwindled in numbers, leaving your already fragile state of mind in a bit of a crisis. Small things piled on small things that piled on big things, and you soon found yourself dreading chores, which turned into dreading every day that followed. The feeling of thinking you were actively disappointing every living being ever drowned out any sense of reasoning.

On a clear morning, you woke up groggy. All seemed well until you were punched in the face with the realisation that you had to actually get up.

Instead of wasting the early morning away, wallowing in the sadness of your flimsy canvas tent, you sat at the dying campfire. Your heart felt heavy in your chest, and your mouth subconsciously pulled down into a frown.

Arthur, ever the early bird, awoke not long after you and sat down on the next log over. His worn and muddied boots crunched on the gravelly terrain, interrupting the chirping of birds. The sun hadn’t yet risen, shrouding everything in a dusky glow.

“You uh… sleep well, kid?” said Arthur, holding onto a steaming cup of coffee.

“Yeah,” you replied simply, staring at the fire. Strauss told you not to drink coffee; he said it was “bad for a child’s development.”.

Arthur sighed, turning his head over as he propped his upper body up, an arm supporting himself by pressing on his knee. “You’ve been acting’ strange,” he commented, “we’ve all noticed. Is somethin’ botherin’ you?”

Your voice caught up in your throat, the words that formed in your head fighting to escape and pathetically losing. “No…just tired.”

The man next to you coughed lightly, clearing his throat. “You…uh, you wanna go fishin’? I oughta' bring some food back to Pearson.”

Fishing? Now there’s something you haven't done in a while. Maybe you could get out of the camp.

“Okay,” you fidgeted with the fabric of your sleep bottoms, your eyes darting from Arthur and back to the fire. It seemed Arthur hadn’t expected you to agree, as he hesitated to find a response.

“Alright, then. Be ready in...about half an hour.”

As promised, you were dressed a quarter after six; at least that’s what your pocket watch you pickpocketed forever ago said. Hopping up onto the pony you used on rare outings, you waited for Arthur to saddle up too.

“You got all your stuff?” He asked, storing away his fishing rod and hoisting himself up, grabbing hold of his horse’s reins.

You look at your saddle bag one last time before turning to Arthur, nodding. “Yeah. ‘Been a while since I've gone fishin’, though.”

“Don’t worry about that; I'll give you a refresher.” Arthur shifted his weight before clicking twice, lightly jabbing his spurs into the side of his mount.

Following his movements, — except spur-less, as you don’t do nearly as much riding as the other men in the gang — you began to move, your horse huffing gently.

You caught up to him thanks to his slow trot, swatting away a couple mosquitoes in the process. “Where’re we goin’?” you asked, your voice raised.

“Well, you ain’t too familiar with his area,” he quickly wiped his nose with his free hand, sniffling. “But it ain’t far. There’s a nice little spot on a lake nearby. You oughta' get a couple bites.”

“Uh-huh,” you sighed, looking down at your hands. Arthur was holding onto his horse’s reins with one hand. You had trouble steering your horse with two.

Arthur slowed once he approached a patch of gravelly sand, getting off his horse with you following. He took out his fishing equipment and walked over to the shore.

“Here,” Arthur reached into his brown satchel, pulling out a block of cheese wrapped in brown parchment paper. “Use some a’ this.” Reaching over, you broke off a small chunk and murmured a hushed ‘thank you’ in return.

“‘M guessin’ you remember what bait is and how to use it, right?” he remarked, preparing his rod. “I think I got it,” you muttered, fumbling with the fishing pole but eventually hooking the cheese onto the sharp point.

“Careful there. Don’t wanna poke your finger.” Arthur joked snarkily, waiting for you to get into a similar position to his, his fishing rod held in front of his body. The bandaged finger he was referring to was sliding the small bit of bait onto the hook clumsily. “Shut up,” you grunted, getting a good grip on the pole and holding it out in front of yourself. The water moved lazily, quietly washing up and down on the sand. The calm surface showed the fish that swam underneath. Minnows dashed around quickly, the small groups of fish moving together.

Crickets still chirped in the distance as birds were beginning to sing, too. The air smelled fresh and felt dewy, a light breeze turning trees into calming windchimes.

“You wanna hold it like this,” he said, tapping his index finger against the line. You attempted the same hold that he had, but with the limited information given, you didn’t immediately get the hang of it.

“No, like- like this, with your index on the line. Should be pressin’ against the rod.” Arthur peered over your shoulder as you adjusted your fingers, pressing the thin string against the wood of the rod. Arthur nodded. “Yeah, that’s good. Now pull back the bail.”

Now, you hadn’t a clue what the bail was, but that hardly mattered. Matching Arthur’s movements, you pulled a semi-circle piece of metal back and over the line spool.

“Alright, now be careful here; don’t wanna take out an eye. Draw back your rod over your shoulder, but not too far. The farther you draw, the longer the cast,” he advised, drawing the pole over his shoulder. You mimicked him.

“Now, you throw it over your shoulder and straight forward,” he instructed, watching your movements. The bait landed about 3 metres away from the shoreline, splashing pathetically before bobbing up and down.

“Just like that. Now, you pull back the bail and wait.”

Silence filled the space between you two—a suffocating, invisible force.

Deer galloped across the lake and within the thick brush. One stopped, a buck, and stared at the two fishermen across from it. His ears twitched before he joined the others.

Loons sang, their eerily beautiful calls travelling across the calm waters. Frogs croaked in the distance, and clouds languidly drifted overhead.

“Look, I… I haven’t a clue what you’re feelin’. But just know that you ain’t alone. We’ve all been stressed. I can’t imagine what you must be feelin’.” said Arthur, turning briefly to face you.

The sun peeked over the distant treeline, slowly casting a calming light over everything in the vicinity.

“I feel like I can’t never do anythin’ right.” You croaked, voice catching in your throat and a painful ache creeping up to your jaw.

“Aw, kid… whad’ya mean?" Arthur had never been great at comfort. He could do it, of course, though he certainly had his favourites when it came to his affections.

You stared off into the lake, your reflection looking right back. “Everythin’ I do feels like a failure. There ain’t a single thing I’ve been able to do right recently.”

Arthur sighed, reeling his line back in and casting it again.

“That ain’t true. You’re a kid. You’re learning. You ain’t… supposed to be great at everythin’, and nothin’ you do is supposed to be right; it’s just supposed to teach you somethin’. This’ll go away; trust me.” He chose his words carefully, coughing to the side before continuing. “Now I know this probably ain’t what you wanted to hear. Feelin’ sad feels... nice sometimes. But it’s true. Basically everyone in this gang is an adult, ‘cept for Jack, so don’t go comparin’ yourself to anyone, ya hear? We’re all goin’ through hard times; none of this is your fault, and you ain’t a failure for anythin’.”

The sun steadily rose, framed perfectly by the view in front of you. Your horses huffed occasionally as geese flew above, honking distantly.

He was right; you didn’t want to hear this. You don’t know what you want to hear. Maybe something about how awful you are, or maybe something about how great and amazing you are. You felt conflicted, confused, and even a smidge defensive.

“But I-” “but nothin’, kid. Do with that what you will, but just... think about it. Maybe see things from a different perspective.” He rasped, clearing his throat. “Or don’t; it’s your choice. But just give it some thought.”

Silence settled between you two again, leaving your conflicting feelings to dissipate.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, watching as your bait bobbed on the water’s surface. The chill of the north was soothed by the warmth of the sun, and everything, in that moment, felt okay.

[postersofleon]

SEVEN

Leon had issues and you understood them. Tied in a world where he couldn't even trust his own government, where bioweapons are a common thing and mistrust is common. Breaking up with an alcoholic with the best option to have. However, when time passes, Chris decides to bring you to help with Leon's current crisis. When he sees you, he is ready to give endless promises now. Seven days to win you back.

notes: fem!reader x leon. leon is drunk, sad, angsty, and needy for reader, codependency relationship; chris is a sweetheart. he wants to help both leon and reader. I don't like this :( idk why. i ramble too much. EDIT! future chapters will have smut

tuesday: loving you

wednesday, thursday. friday, saturday, sunday

monday

taglist: @scarlettsbullsh

There was small, uncomfortable silence as you were driven to the small vacation place. Rebecca wore a small smile, but Chris could tell that you were uneasy. But you didn't want to give Chris a chance to even speak. What happened in China is still seen, not in complete detail, and not even the same overwhelming emotions. Yet it lingered.

Sure, everything is forgiven because everything has to during a mission, and even you have forgiven Leon. Yet you couldn't forget.

You loved Leon. With your entire body, but he wasn't the man you met back in 1999. Sure, the bitterness of Raccoon City seemed to always mask the smell of the alcohol. Then, being obligated to work for the government. This was stupid. You knew. You knew his issues. You knew why you broke up with him.

It's unfortunate. You were forced to love two different men. A man who wanted to help people and a man who wanted to get rid of the bad. Something in Spain began the trail, and two or so years formed the path. His disappointment of the government increased over and over, but why... why was he willing to point a gun to you and Chris to protect a woman who made their life's worse?-

You shook your head. No. No, don't be stupid.

Your hand began to tremble.

"Are you okay?" Rebecca asked. You simply nodded your head. Your fingers rubbed your gun hand, the knuckles, and soon your palm. A small scar in your hand interrupting the normal lines of your hand.

The car stopped.

When you look at the place... it was like going back to the old house that you once shared with Leon. Two unhealthy people trying to find peace. One found a bottle, and the other found denial. It was truly the saddest thing to remember, but the good things came rushing in. When you and Leon drank from his flask as you two laid on the bed naked. Alcohol made your bolder while Leon looser.

Walking through a couple of halls, Rebecca turned to see you and rubbed your arm, "He misses you." She promised. But you didn't need her promise when all your phone did was buzz over and over with messages belonging to Leon. Slowly and steady, you saw Leon. Nothing really changed from him. He still had his dark brown hair, which made it look worse with his grease. Your heart clenched.

"Leon," You couldn't control your mouth, "Leon..."

Leon turned to see who said his name. Your habits are trying to get better while his are getting worse. At least he wasn't drunk, drunk- he was better than the other days.

He walked towards you and hugged your body tightly. The overwhelming stench of alcohol burned your nose. All the old conversations you had of his issue bloomed again. Your hands trembled as you hugged him back. Leon kissed your neck over and over, dragging you away from Rebecca and Chris.

"I needed you. I'm sorry." Leon muttered softly.

Nothing changed. Nothing at all.

And that was the problem.

Your hands cupped his face, his small stubble of beard barely even growing into a proper beard. "How long?" You asked.

"Three days." Leon responded quickly. His blue eyes met yours, "I... I try." You even recalled the next words as you two reply together, "But sleeping is easier."

Leon turned away, his cheeks had splotches of red skin; he looked unwell. "Don't tell that... this has been every day." Your fingers traced his face lines. The ones in his cheeks, his brows when he furrowed them.

Leon sighed, "Yeah." He hugged you tightly. Little by little, he finally noticed Chris and Rebecca approaching them. He nuzzled his face between your breasts to use as cover. He was already going to start to be pissy. Your hands rubbed his back gently attempting to calm him down.

"I thought you didn't talk anymore." Chris grabbed himself a chair to sit on.

"We do. By text." You explained with a meek voice. Sure, you avoid his: "I want to fuck you so bad." Texts but not the simple hi's or when he comes to bother you.

But never these touches. Though, after dating for thirteen years, you were use to him.

Rebecca sighed softly, "C'mon," She smiled again, "Let's leave them to talk." Leon groaned weakly as he let you go. Rebecca and you left the room. You closed your eyes tightly.

Little by little tears escaped your eyes, "You... you see why we broke up?" You crotched down to your feet, feeling horrible like all those years ago. "A unhealthy relationship," Rebecca whispered softly. She crotched down beside you. "Rebecca, I still love him. I..." You cleaned away your tears. "No matter what I did helped, he didn't get better. I leave, and he is worst-"

"That's not your fault." Rebecca assured you from your codependency with Leon. The trauma of the two you made you stick against bad and good. You would've been with him still if it weren't for Chris.

-

Leon saw you be taken away from his arms. His hand itched to grab his flask once you were taken away. "Enough, Leon." Chris put his hand out, hoping Leon would put his metal flask in his hand.

Leon didn't so Chris yanked it from his hand.

"Leon, I swear," He put the flask on one of his many pockets, "Leon, I need you to listen."

Leon licked his molars, "I'm listening, Chris. Don't have to repeat it over and over." He leaned on his chair, his eyes kept glancing at the door where Rebecca took you away. Chris exhaled deeply, "A mission-" He began.

Leon groaned weakly, "I'm not going to a stupid mission. I'm on vacation." He grabbed the empty glass ready to pour more, but Chris stopped him again.

"A mission," Chris said more firmly, "Isn't a romantic getaway. It's a job. Our job." Chris made sure to keep eye contact. Leon smirked, "I'm with someone. Don't ask me out."

Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes, "Don't start-" He put his hands in front of him, "You and her shouldn't have been placed in missions so early." Chris wanted to be patient with Leon. "What you two suffered, back in Raccoon City. It was very irresponsible to make you feel you needed to save her."

Leon's face tighten. He could already smell Chris's bullshit, "Listen, I asked for her, nobody made me get her." Leon remembered the first time he saw you. You were one of the old military people of Umbrella and got send there among others who. You were like him. A rookie who was just wanted to help people, but the infected ruined your plans.

He wanted you. You understood the world like he did.

That's why you two needed to be together in every mission until two years came along. When you broke up with him, his life changed for the worst, but it didn't seem you two were actually broken up. He always told you where he was. He told you about nightmares.

"But you two ended up hurting yourselves. Jill and I never had this issue-"

Leon rolled his eyes, "I love her." He muttered softly. Every damn day, Leon saw your eyes as the gun was raised against Chris and you. Chris forgave him faster, but you...

Leon's eyes closed, "Every day I think of my bullshit," Leon opened his eyes and looked at his fingerless gloves, "I just want her back."

Chris exhaled deeply, "You need to stop drinking then." He sighed softly. This job made you an addict to whatever gave your comfort. For you and Leon, you two had each other, but Leon held his need to save people and alcohol.

It was fucked. It wasn't fair for either of you.

"She'll think forever that you prefer your dumb flask."

His throat nearly choked on his own spit, Leon's head hung low as a heavy sigh escaped his lips. He loved you so much it hurt. Little by little, tears escaped his eyes.

Slowly dripping down his face, Leon felt even more sick of himself. With his arms around your waist, you gave him a breath of fresh air- you gave him life.