#something tells me he'd rather have gotten to keep his father

[allfearstofallto]

What would yandere diluc or Ayato reaction towards the reader end up pregnant, yandere ayato strikes me as a yandere that baby traps the reader

SO!

This isn't exactly what you were asking for, but I was writing some headcanons of Yanderes with their children, and I don't think I'm going to finish all of them.

But Diluc and Ayato both definitely baby trap, Childe is kinda on the fence about it, and Scaramouche won't do something like that, but if you wind up pregnant he won't be upset.

Anyways! Diluc and his daughter

Yandere! Diluc x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere themes, baby trapping, mentions of pregnancy, angst

Diluc & Amelia 

Where Diluc went, so did she. Full cheeks and big eyes, she looked at the world like it was new to her. Because it was, and he wanted to show her it all. Diluc's little helper, the young lady of the house, she was known by many names, but more often than not, she was called daddy's girl. A name she responded to with an open mouth smile and a giggle.

But where was her mother, people would question. Diluc's already quiet wife hadn't been seen since her extraverted daughter was born. Those who caught glimpses of you noticed anger in your eyes and a lack of maternal love for the girl who'd cling to the hem of your dress, begging for your affection. At most, you'd turn and walk away from the girl, leaving her deflated, begging for your return. At your worst, you'd pick her up by the arm, taking her and dropping her into Diluc's lap rather harshly.

“Why do I have to keep telling you to keep it away from me?” you spat at him, not bothering to look at the big eyed face of the girl who was tearfully grasping at the jacket of her father. 

He'd coax little Amelia, wiping tears from little Amelia's cheeks and pushing her sobs, “I told you, you mustn't bother your mother,” even the way he scolded her was gentle. She nodded her head in understanding, mumbling out an apology to both Diluc and you. 

Once out of their sight, you'd cry too, you couldn't stop the tears that ran down your cheeks. She was sweet. With your hair color and Diluc's eyes, most specifically, the fact that she'd gotten your nose as well. Sweetness, you'd call her. Although, never to her face.

If you knew anything about Diluc, you knew he'd do anything to be closer to you. Making you have a child in the first place was one for the ways. His contraception not working meant that you were swollen with his spawn, meaning he'd have no choice but to dote on you for your entire pregnancy, much to your dismay.

The look of excitement on his face, the look of love in his eyes as held her, it made you sick. It disgusted you even. To the point where you were willing to isolate yourself. From him. And from her. A loving mother you wouldn't be. Not as long as her father was the despicable man that he was.

[morganwrites12672]

Abandon

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After the worst fight he's ever had with his father, Sam goes to the only person he can for comfort.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: ANGST. John is a piece of shit. Arguing. Crying. Daddy issues.

A/N: Have fun crying!

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Whenever Sam had finally gotten back from visiting her, he hadn't expected Dean and John to be waiting up for him in the small living room of the motel. He awkwardly shrugged off his jacket before tossing it over the back of the couch.

He could feel his father's eyes burning into his skin. John must be pissed off about something. It seemed like Sam couldn't do anything without upsetting the older man. His good mood vanished.

"You have something you want to tell me?" John asked, and Sam just knew. He knew exactly what John meant. There was nothing else that would have his father looking this pissed.

Sam swallowed thickly, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He looked between Dean and John. John looked pissed, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. Dean looked different. He looked almost happy, he looked satisfied. A smug smirk tugged at Dean's lips.

Dean was convinced that John was going to fix everything. He thought that his father would be able to fix this. Once all of this was over, Sam would stay. Everything would work out. If only Dean didn't put so much blind trust into his father. Maybe then he would have realized what would actually happen.

"No sir."

Sam knew that his father wouldn't be satisfied with this response. No, the older man would be pissed off. Nothing Sam said would make it right. No matter what he did his father would still probably lose his shit. This was going to be an argument from Hell.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" John growled. He pulled something out of his pocket, a letter. Not just any letter though. The letter. Sam's acceptance letter for Stanford.

"How-" Sam didn't get to finish his sentence.

"You applied for Stanford," John said. It was a statement, not a question. The evidence was quite literally being gripped in John's hand.

Sam's nerves coiled in his gut, ready to explode. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. This argument was the very thing that Sam had wanted to avoid at all costs. He wasn't quite sure how he had planned to avoid it though. Telling John might have made it better rather than the older man figuring it out, or being told by someone else.

"I'm going," Sam blurted, standing up a little straighter. He wouldn't keep letting his father walk all over him. He would go to Stanford. After everything he had sacrificed for other people, he would do this for himself. Hunting could wait a few years.

"I just want to-" For the second time that night, John cut Sam off.

"Like hell you are! I won't let you abandon this family," John snapped as he stood. He slammed the letter down onto the table. He couldn't believe the way Sam was speaking. "Would you really do that? Would you really abandon your brother and I?"

"No. Dad listen, I am going to Stanford!" Sam shouted back at John. He wasn't abandoning Dean or his father. No, he was just trying to go to college.

"It's that damn whore," John sneered. It didn't matter that he was talking about his friends daughter, he was also talking about the girl who he thought had been a bad influence on Sam. "She's been putting all of these ideas into your head. She-"

It was Sam's turn to cut John off. Hearing his father talk about her that way made Sam's blood boil. He took a steadying breath. Just yelling at his father wouldn't do any good. He needed to be somewhat logical. Though, he struggled to think of anything decent to say after what he had heard his father call her.

Dean was watching everything go down. Now that he'd seen how this argument was going he might have a few regrets. He'd seen Sam and his father argue, a lot. It had never been this bad though. Hearing what his father had to say about her though, that made Dean regret everything. Being around her was the happiest Dean had ever seen his brother. He couldn't believe that his father would insult her like that. She wasn't a bad influence on Sam, not in the slightest.

"Don't call her that," Sam said through a clenched jaw. "She has done nothing wrong! It was my idea to apply for Stanford. I am not abandoning this family! I'm going to college!"

"Don't you fucking come back! If you aren't going to do the job, and be apart of this family, don't you ever come back," John snarled.

Sam's expression changed in an instant. He felt his chest tighten, panic spreading throughout his body. He knew by looking at johns face that his father wasn't kidding.

Sam grabbed his jacket, the letter from Stanford, and his laptop case before walking out the door. He had a lump in his throat as he walked down the row of motel room doors. Looking around the parking lot, he was thankful that it was empty.

"Sammy! Wait!" Dean yelled, running out of the motel room door after his younger brother. He was panicking at this point. Things weren't supposed to end like this. He couldn't believe that Sam would leave like this.

"Don't call me that," Sam snapped at his brother, not bothering to turn around. "Leave me the hell alone Dean."

The older Winchester brother stopped in his tracks. He had fucked up, everything had went wrong. It was too late now. Sam had clearly made up his mind. There was nothing Dean would be able to do to stop his brother.

Sam walked. And he just kept walking. His jacket protected him from the ice cold gushes of wind blowing. He walked towards the only place he had left to go; her house. She was his escape. He needed her, right now especially.

The disgusting words that John had spoke of her made Sam's blood boil. He walked faster. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hiding them away from the brisk cold.

She was the best part of his day. Hearing his father call her that, and the way the older man talked about her made him sick. She deserved so much better. She didn't do anything wrong. No, the opposite. She made everything better.

The thought of her smile was only able to hinder the tears building up for so long. Sam only walked faster. His long, gangly legs could only carry him so fast though.

The walk to her house didn't take long. Sam practically ran. His eyes had long ago welled up with tears, he sniffled as he finally spotted her house. He walked up to the front porch and hesitated. It was late. What if her parents answered instead of her?

He didn't knock on the door. Instead, he sent her a quick text asking if she could open the front door for him. He prayed to anything out there that might listen to him that she was still awake. He wouldn't risk her parents coming to the door, even if he knew that they wouldn't be upset.

His tear stained cheeks glimmered in the moonlight. He wiped at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, trying to hide some of the tears from view. However, he knew that the second she opened the door that she would know. It would be impossible for her not too.

She could take one look at Sam and read him like a god-damn book. It was nice to be understood like that. Dean and his father had never actually listened to him about anything. He felt like an outsider. He don't feel anywhere near like that around her.

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard the click of a deadbolt sliding open. The front door creaked open. Standing in the doorway, there she was. Her pajama pants hung low on her hips, exposing a small section of her waist before her tank top covered the rest of her skin up. She looked tired as hell, yet she still gave Sam a gentle smile.

She stepped aside wordlessly, letting Sam into the house. Her eye brows drew together in concern as she noticed his tear stained cheeks. As Sam stepped inside, she quickly (and quietly) shut the door. The dead bolt snapped into place.

As she turned around she noticed that Sam had already began walking to her bedroom. Her house was more like a home to Sam than any other place. He did spend a lot of time here. Not that her parents minded.

Her parents loved Sam. They had always welcomed him in with open arms. And, they ignored all of the times they caught Sam sleeping over. They just appreciated that their daughter was spending time with someone her age. Having such a an odd lifestyle made it difficult to maintain friendships.

Whenever she walked into her bedroom, Sam was already sitting on her bed. His head was titled downwards, his eyes seemed to be locked on her rug. She noticed that he had discarded his shoes and jacket already. His jacket hung on the back of her desk chair, and his shoes sat in the corner of her room.

She sat next to Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He shuddered beneath her touch. More tears burned at his eyes and he fought to keep the emotion out of his voice as he spoke

"H-he found out," Sam whispered in a fragile voice. With anyone else he would have cringed at how vulnerable he sounded. He sniffled again, trying to prevent the tears from pouring down his cheeks again.

Her heart dropped. She was suddenly wide awake. That was the worst possible thing that could happen. She still remembered how excited Sam had been to show her his acceptance letter. All of that excitement had been ruined by John.

"Oh my God. . . Sam-"

"I'm still going to S-Stanford," He looked up at her as a few tears finally escaped down his cheeks. "My dad. . . my dad told me not to come back."

She didn't hesitate before pulling him into a tight hug. It was awkward since they were both sitting down but she didn't care in the slightest. Sam broke down in her arms. Hot tears poured down his cheeks.

"It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay." Her voice was gentle, the polar opposite to how his father had spoken to him earlier.

It was moments like this that made Sam realize how lucky he was to have her. He wouldn't know what to do without her. Especially tonight. His heart has been brutally ripped apart by his father, now she would work on helping him pick up the pieces.

They were always there for each other. It was something that could be so very simple that most people didn't notice it. The way that Sam would subconsciously reach for her anytime things went South, the way she always seemed to find her way into Sam's arm after a case or fight with her parents, the way she always made sure Sam had somewhere to go.

And yet, the two had stuck with the title of best friends. Neither one of them wanted to change it much, not yet anyway. There might have been occasional thoughts that definitely weren't the kind you thought about friends though.

Her warm touch brought Sam back to the present moment. It reminded him that things didn't have to be so bad. He might have lost his father, and maybe even Dean too, but he still had her.

"You can stay here until you leave for Stanford."

Sam' head jerked up. That was months away. He had planned to- he actually didn't know what he had planned to do. He would have figured something out though. No matter how hard it was.

Sam cleared his throat, "No, I can't ask your parents to do that."

"Too bad," She retorted. "You live with us until you leave for Stanford." Her voice was firm and left no room for argument.

Her parents would understand. They always did. Even if her father and John were friends, she knew that her mother would be able to persuade her father into letting Sam stay with them. Her mother was good at doing that. Nobody could say no to that woman.

"Thank you," Sam whispered. He then rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tear streaks. It would never make sense to Sam. He couldn't believe that she cared about him this much. He was a black sheep with his family. He was the one who caused problems and didn't belong. He didn't feel that way here. He felt just as much apart of the family as she actually was.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. She kept her arms wrapped around Sam. He felt like her arms were the only thing holding him together. His own father had just kicked him out! Sam couldn't believe that Dean had shown the letter. It hurt.

None of that mattered right now. He couldn't go back in time to fix things. He had to live with everything that had just happened. He had to figure it out.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. He could get through anything with her by his side.

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A/N: The biggest thanks to @tranquilitybasegrunge and @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles for beta reading parts of this for me!

Tag List: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @aidansloth @jaredpadonlyyyy @zeppette @moonl1ghtsworld @tranquilitybasegrunge

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[justporo]

My new bestie, I honestly would love to see you write Father!Astarion 🤤🤤

How would he react to the news? Would he want a little girl or boy? How would he react when they are born, and they look just like him, but pre vamp eyes?

(Vampires can sire babies, with the highest chance after they are fully well fed)

Hello my tadpole bestie and thanks for the request! Astarion as a father really seems to be on people's minds, hm?

I get it, I like it too, but let me put this out there (yeah yeah, I know it's all fictional, but let's be real for a second): I would much rather imagine this when Astarion has done some much needed healing. This man hasn't had autonomy in two centuries and really needs to find himself again and work through trauma - with Tav on his side of course. And children are a huge responsibility - mentally, physically, emotionally, financially - I imagine (I wouldn't know, I'm not a parent...). I'd really wish for him to be ready for something like that.

But the thought is incredibly sweet, so let's go:

Headcanons about Astarion being a father

When Tav tells him she's expecting, he's truly speechless for perhaps the first time in his life; and then he can't sit still: swinging from delusionally happy to overthinking and being worried; but Tav takes his hand and reassures him that they'll be in it together

Has he thought about having kids? Yeah sure, but he'd never thought of it being possible until it happened, although when Cazador forced him and the other spawn to behave like a family he'd sometimes thought about what could've been

He's absolutely overprotective when Tav's pregnant: "Oh no, no, darling, you are not carrying that around, think of the baby!" "Astarion, it's A MUG OF WATER!"

Also he adores her body that is creating such a miracle: "You're glowing, my heart. You are truly a goddess!"

If he was handsy before there are now no moments where his hands aren't on Tav's body and on her belly

When he feels the first movements, he cries, and then Tav cries and then there's just a fountain of happy tears and lots of "I love you"s

He's taking such good care of Tav; especially when she doesn't feel well or when she's exhausted - she'll get all the herbal teas and massages

Birth though is scary - for both of them; but I'm sure he'll have some friends by his side (because think about the adventure troupe waiting with him while he's pacing the room like a panther: Karlach's biting her nails off, Gale's just blabbering to distract himself, Shadowheart is praying for everything to go well, Wyll tries to calm Astarion down (unsuccessfully), Lae'zel is unusually silent with crossed arms hoping everything will be okay, Halsin's keeping the group fed and all because "Nature will make it all right")

Boy or girl? Doesn't matter at all, all that's important is that Tav and the baby are healthy and ready to receive all his love

First time holding his child - he can't even cry because it's such a miracle; "This... this is the best thing I've ever had and created!"

The tears come later when you're alone - just the three of you

He's absolutely a very loving father, caring so much about his kid - and also equally taking on responsibilities and care with Tav

When the kid's eyes become their real colour and it sparks a memory Astarion had long forgotten, he's too stunned to acknowledge what he's seeing: the kid has his eyes - the way they were before he was turned

Later, when the child's already a little bigger he loves to show them stuff, teach them, read to them; also inciting them to go and annoy Mom - which makes Tav want to push him off a cliff but also hug him to death - because who'd have thought it would ever be possible?

Alright alright - I've gotten almost off the rails with this one. Because honestly, there's a lot to imagine there. Also maybe I wasn't prepared for the things that would make me feel (and I don't mean baby fever).

Alright, hope you enjoyed this headcanons, time for me to go to bed!

[redditreceipts]

https://www.reddit.com/r/MtF/s/4O6r1DAeAq

"what about me? 🥺" i'm crying, TIMs sound so much like MRAs.

how does he somehow spin himself as the grand victim of society, and not the girls and women who suffer at the hand of his sex?

Okay so no offense, but is this guy like... intellectually disabled? I mean, it's really hard for me to comprehend that as a thirteen year-old, you don't know that as a boy, you don't go into the women's restroom. I imagine that the mom told him to go to the women's restroom when he was like six or something, and assumed that he'd stop doing that when he was older. Idk, this doesn't really sound like something that a child with a typical intellectual development would do.

Also, this story is so weird. First of all, how did he know that he should leave because he is a boy? And secondly, how do you know that your "friend" didn't tell her father to send you away because she thought that you were being weird? I remember that when I was younger and didn't have the guts to tell a friend that I was uncomfortable with them, I would tell my parents to invent some kind of excuse to get me out of that situation. If your friend was really comfortable with you, she would have sought your company by herself afterwards, right? Also, maybe the dad just sent you away because dinner was ready or the girl was grounded or something lmao

okay, this is the worst part. This is what I really hate about men complaining that the world is so "cruel" to them and that women are so cold. They keep on whining and moaning and complaining, but not ONCE do they ask why women behave this way. Do you fucking know the experience a twelve-year old girl has to make to behave in this way towards men? Do you know WHY women do that? BECAUSE IF WE DON'T, WE GET FUCKING KILLED. But instead of fucking talking to other men to change their creepy ass rapey behaviour, you'd rather complain about women being so mean.

I'd rather let a thousand men get depressed because I'm hostile towards them than give one man access to me and get raped or killed as a consequence. You want empathy? How about you afford it to the women who are afraid of you?

Oh man, and now he tries to pass it off as this super deep philosophical insight. I don't even think that he has 0 friends because he's a man, I just think that he's a self-centered crybaby. How can you be so selfish, honestly.

this is the reason why I have zero empathy for whiny men. And by that, I don't mean depressed men or anything, I just mean this self-centered, self-victimising whiny behaviour. It's so disgusting to me, and I've gotten to know so many men like that. get a grip

[elliespuns]

I wanted to ask you this since you definitely understand the tlou characters down to a T 👌🏻How do you think sarah was conceived LMAO. Like, do you think joel and sarah’s mom were already in a relationship for a while, or were they a pretty new couple n all of a sudden she got pregnant. I’m assuming it was an accident and they were using protection, I don’t think joel would be dumb enough to not use protection.

Since joel’s birthday is in September and sarah’s mom got pregnant when he was 18, he must’ve gotten her pregnant after graduating. School in the US ends around May/June, so he would’ve been 17 during graduation. I wonder if he was supposed to go to college but had to leave bc sarah’s mom got pregnant.

I have the feeling he wasn’t planning on going anyways, otherwise he would told ellie at the university that he was supposed to go to college but didn’t bc of sarah. Not to mention, by the time his birthday came when he turned 18, if he was planning on going to college he would’ve already committed to a school since decisions would’ve come out when he was 17 and still a senior in hs. anyways that was more math than i was planning on doing lol but what are you thoughts?

First of all, I love all of this. Such a perfect, thought-through analysis (what do you even need me for, hun?).

I think everything you say makes perfect sense. The only thing I see differently is the "protection" part. I do, on the other hand, think Joel was dumb enough not to use the protection. I don't know why, but something has always told me he's one of the fathers who get their first girlfriend pregnant accidentally as a result of carefree sex and then end up dedicating their whole life to the baby, be it together with her or alone, because this baby is someone now, someone he's created, and what kind of person he would've been if he didn't want it.

Protection or not, both work, I guess. Both meant he got her pregnant by accident. People had limited options and choices back then when it came to unwanted pregnancies, so I think his initial thought was anything but "We need to keep it." despite the panic he felt.

He probably didn't even want a baby, but then he slept on it and realized there was no way back, so he manned up and married his girlfriend in the hope of raising this child together. Which didn't happen because his wife probably couldn't bear all this pressure of being a young mother and left him and Sarah on their own. That's when I think he manned up to the highest of levels because there was literally no one else who would take care of his baby.

What I think is that his wife just left him in the cold. Simple as that. Some people think she died, but that wouldn't make sense with what Joe told Ellie at the university. If his wife died, he'd probably just tell her, like in a good memory of her or something. He was already sharing his feelings about Sarah with Ellie, so he would do the same with his wife. Instead, he seemed like he didn't want to talk about his wife. I've always felt like it had nothing to do with being hard for him, but rather because this topic was not something he wanted to share with a kid.

Which makes me think his wife either left him and Sarah without saying a thing or they had a fight (she could be problematic, maybe not handling motherhood that well), and he told her to leave, knowing that he'd be a better dad to Sarah alone. 

I think Joel's wife was his girlfriend back when he got her pregnant. Maybe even his first serious girlfriend. That's probably why they decided to get married. Maybe they were even forced into marriage by their parents, because you know what it was like back then. You had to be married to have a kid, because if you had a kid without a marriage, you'd be looked down on.

I will forever wonder what Joel's wife's name was, though. I just hope it wasn't Sarah.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Why Are Seers Always Cursed? (1)

Wesley Weston is a son of Apollo with the rare gift of prophecy.

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week 2024, Day three: Percy Jackson | Lake

Takes place shortly before Luke, Annabeth, and Thalia's arrival at Camp Half-Blood and while Wes is in middle school, so before the primary canon events of both series.

You can also read it on AO3

Chapter 1: Family Troubles

Next Chapter

[Warnings for implied/referenced infidelity]

Wes couldn't remember a time when his parents didn't have marital troubles. His eldest brother, Easton, claimed that their parents had been completely happy together once. Even though their mom's work as a flight attendant meant she wasn't home much, they were still happy and in love. Dad was holding down a job back then, and Easton had just started school. Kyle couldn't actually remember it, but he claimed to, nevertheless.

Then Mom came home pregnant with Wes, and everything changed.

They tried to salvage their relationship, keep the family together, but in the end, rather than staying together despite Mom's job, they only managed to stay together because she was away so often.

To his credit, Dad never took it out on Wes.

It wasn't until Wes was eight that he even knew Walter Weston wasn't his biological father. Kyle had let it slip when he was mad at Wes for winning eight games in a row of Guess Who.

He'd gotten angry and shouted, "I don't have to take this! You're not even my real brother!"

After the initial mess was sorted out, Walter took Wes aside and explained that he was his brother's half-sibling, that they had the same mother, but that Wes had a different father. He'd made sure to emphasize that he was still Wes' father, too, and that it didn't mean he loved Wes any less. And Wes had just nodded.

Everyone seemed surprised by how well he'd taken it, but subconsciously, Wes felt like he had always known.

Things settled down after a while. As Wes got older, as he learned more, he finally started to understand the real reason for the tension between his parents whenever his mother came home. Dad had forgiven her for cheating, but she'd still broken his trust, and no matter what happened, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd been unfaithful again while she was away.

Sometimes, Dad would get drunk, at a New Year's party or something, and he would get all sad and cry about losing the love of his life. Wes would help him to bed, and he would cry about how good a kid Wes was, and how he wished Wes really was his kid and it wasn't fair. And he would cry about Easton being so good in school and about Kyle having so many friends. 

It was embarrassing, but there were worse things for a drunk guy to be than sad and sentimental. At least he didn't get that drunk very often.

It wasn't until Wes was ten that he finally worked up the courage to ask his mom about his real—his biological father.

As long as he could remember, when his mother came home, she would sleep in the guest room. So one night after she finished her nighttime routine, he went in to ask her in private. Her face was covered in a pale green mask, and her hair was tucked up in a ring of curlers around her neck to preserve the shape.

"Wes," she noted when he came in, closing the door silently behind him like he thought he would get in trouble. "Hey, hon, what brings you here?" she asked. "You can't have had a bad dream already, you haven't even gone to bed yet."

"No, I... I wanted to ask you something," Wes told her. "I didn't want to do it earlier because I thought it might upset Dad."

"I see," she said.

Wes could tell already that she knew what he was going to ask, but she was waiting for him to say it.

"What... I mean... who.... Who's my real dad?" Wes finally got out. "Will you tell me about him?"

"I knew you were gonna ask someday," she said, a sad expression falling over her face.

"Will you tell me about him?" Wes implored. "Please?"

She sat on her bed and Wes sat down next to her.

"He told me his name was Apollo," she said. "But he was a musician, so that might've been a stage name. I never did get a last name from him. When we met, he said he saw me crossing the sky, following the path of the sun, that he'd seen it almost every day, and that I'd caught his eye.

"I still don't quite know what he meant by that. At the time, I thought he was clumsily trying to compare me to an angel, but I'm not so sure now. What I do know is from that moment on, I felt like I was under a spell, completely charmed by him. 

"We met a few times. I didn't mean for them to be dates, but he clearly thought they were. He would sing for me, and write me poetry, which would sometimes be good and sometimes not so much. His haiku was especially bad. Then one night... well, one thing led to another, and you were born. I never saw him again after that, so clearly he was only after one thing and once he got it he was done with me."

"Sounds like a jerk," Wes said with a scowl.

"I didn't think so then, but hindsight is 20/20," Mom replied with a nod. "In any case, my little foray with him wasn't worth the damage it did to my marriage. I regret everything about those meetings with Apollo." 

She looked down at Wes, all tense and nervous in his Transformers pajamas, and wrapped an arm around him to squeeze him into her side. "Everything but you. You were the only good thing to come out of it."

"Is it okay if Dad can be my dad instead of that guy?" Wes asked. "I don't want him to be my dad."

"It's more than okay," she said.

From then on, Wes' biological dad never got brought up. When Kyle got mad at him, he would sometimes, petulantly, refer to Wes as his half-brother, but never aside from that. Slowly, their parents finally started to truly patch up their relationship.

Then, one day, a few weeks before Wes' thirteenth birthday, he had a dream.

He dreamed that he was laying on his back in a field, soaking up the sunlight, and then the sun came closer and closer, and slowly, the sun turned into a man with golden blond hair, and tan skin, and a guitar on his back, and he knelt down next to Wes and kissed him on the forehead.

"Tell your mom I'll see her soon," he said.

Wes always woke up with the sunrise, but that morning, he awoke in a cold sweat. He waited until he could find a chance to call his mom without anyone overhearing and hoped to God that she wasn't in the air. He was pretty sure her flight had landed by the time he called.

"Hi, Wes, what's up?" she asked when she picked up. She sounded confused.

He couldn't blame her; he was confused too. "I just wanted to tell you..." he trailed off. 

Now that he was finally doing it, it seemed supremely silly to tell her that she was going to meet his bio-dad again soon. What would he even say? It came to him in a dream? That answer was funny in response to a math teacher asking how you reached a certain result, but it wasn't the kind of explanation anyone took seriously. Still, Wes felt like he had to tell her.

"I uh... I just have this really strong feeling that you may end up meeting my bio-dad soon," Wes bit out. "I don't know why, I just... felt like I should tell you."

"Honey, I haven't seen him in thirteen years," his mother reassured. "I don't think either of us has to worry about me running into him again after all this time."

"But—"

"I'll tell you what," she said. "I'll make sure to keep an eye out for him just in case, and I promise if I see him, I'll turn the other way. Okay?"

"No, you need to talk to him!"

There was a stunned silence on the line. Wes didn't even know why he said that.

"Why?"

"I... I don't... he has something important to tell you." Why was Wes still talking? Where was this coming from? Why couldn't he just shut up?

"What are you saying?" his mother asked. "Have you heard from him? Did he contact you somehow?"

"No it's just... I can't explain it, okay just... please mom."

After another long pause, she finally said, "Alright... if you say so, hon. I trust you."

The next time his mom came home, the day before Wes turned thirteen, she walked in the front door with a tight smile. She spoke only in short sentences. It seemed like her mind was far away, occupied with something else.

That night, Wes and Kyle heard yelling from their parents' room for the first time in a long time. Mostly their father. Walter Weston rarely lost his temper, so for him to be yelling like this, it had to be about something serious.

"Don't tell me she did it again?" Kyle said with a sneer.

Wes didn't dignify that with a response. He pressed his ear to his own bedroom door and tried to make out what they were saying. The words were muffled, and he didn't catch most of it, but he did hear a few things.

"... my kid, not his!" in his father's voice. And, "He doesn't get a say!"

Then his mother, whose voice hadn't been loud enough to hear up to this point shouted back, "But what if Wes is in danger!?"

Wes' breath hitched. Was something going to happen to him? Had his mom actually met his bio-father? Had he threatened Wes in some way? 

Wes strained his hearing to listen, but the voices had gone silent. When they picked up again, it was at a much lower volume, and he couldn't make out a single word of what they were saying. That night, he laid awake worrying, unable to sleep. When dawn broke, he gave up on trying and got out of bed.

He wished basketball season wasn't over. That would give him an excuse to leave the house and go to school for early morning practice. He scored the most three-pointers of anyone on the team, and getting praise from his coach and teammates was always a morale booster. He could really use something like that about now, rather than just stewing in his anxiety while he got dressed.

When he left his room, his mom and dad were already awake, sitting on the couch in the living room.

"Wes, honey, we need to talk to you," his mother said gently.

Wes' first thought was, 'You're getting divorced and it's my fault,' but he knew instinctively that that wasn't the case. He also somehow knew that the real reason they wanted to talk would be arguably worse.

"Why don't you have a seat, son," his father said.

He called me son, Wes thought as he cautiously sat down across from them, whatever this is must be really serious.

"I don't know how you knew," his mother began, "But as it happens, I did run into your biological father again, the day after you called me, in fact. And he did have something important to tell me. It was a warning."

"What kind of warning?" Wes asked. "Did he threaten you or something? Did he threaten me?"

"No, no... well, not quite," she said.

"He told her you were in some sort of danger," his father cut in. "I don't know if he has enemies or something and he's worried about them finding you, or what, but he said that he was sending someone to come get you and take you to some kind of, I don't know, protective custody or something?"

"He said it was a private summer camp in Long Island," his mother clarified. "Somewhere where you'd be safe and protected. He seemed very serious about this, it was unlike him. I did some research already, and it's definitely legitimate. I arranged a flight to New York for you and whoever he sends already. They should come for you as soon as the school year is over."

"That's it?" Wes asked. "Nothing about what kind of danger I'm actually in, or why? Man, if I thought this guy was a jerk before, I know he is now."

"Are you saying you won't go?" his father asked. His voice was hopeful, but his expression was conflicted. He didn't want his son to leave, but he didn't want him to get hurt either. "There's no real evidence you're in any danger aside from this random man's word."

"I don't want to take that risk," his mother said pointedly.

"I'll go," Wes said. "It's just for the summer, right? Then I can come home again?"

"That's right," his mom said.

"Then I'll go."

School ended three weeks later, and a lanky man came to pick Wes up at the end of the day. He wore baggy slacks, a dark striped button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and an unbuttoned gray vest. A flat cap covered his curly brown hair. He looked like he belonged on a street corner selling newspapers. He stuck out like a sore thumb in front of a school. 

His eyes zoned in on Wes the second he stepped out of the school building.

"Wesley Weston, right?" the man said once Wes was close enough to hear him. "Name's Melvin Barkley, your father sent me to get you."

"Don't call him that," Wes grumbled. "I didn't realize you were gonna come get me right when school ended. We gotta stop by home and pick up my bag."

"Can do," Melvin said amiably. "Lead the way."

Wes wasn't sure if he'd been sent as a sort of guide, or as a body guard, but he was particularly laid back for someone in either profession. When he walked, he walked with a strange gait, and his eyes darted around every few seconds before fixing solidly back on Wes.

School ended early on the last day. When Wes got back home to pick up his bag, the place was empty and all the lights were off. He didn't turn them on. It felt like it would be wrong somehow. 

Kyle had gone to the skate park with his friends the second the final bell rang. Easton wouldn't be coming home from his first year of college until tomorrow. Mom was on a flight to Germany right now, and wouldn't land for another eight hours. And Dad was still at work.

Wes wasn't going to get the chance to say goodbye. Instead, he wrote a note and ended it with, See you all at the end of summer! Love, Wes

[the-pink-quill]

Phee's Reaction to Non and Keng makes Perfect sense for the Character

And he's have felt very fairy-godfatherly if he had reacted any different.

Let's step back a bit, into Phee's shoes. Give up, for a moment, your omniscient knowledge of events as a viewer, and work only with the information and emotions of Phee, a 15/16 year old teenager. He's not an adult and not mature, so we will not judge his emotional response as such. He is also, far more privileged than Non, be it socially, financially, or in regard to his relationships with his family and his mental health. So, we shall keep that in mind.

Phee has no family pressuring him to prove himself, rather, from how politely his father talked to him in ep 9 despite having to cover for him in the accounts case (something which will anger any reasonable parent upon finding out their child was involved in illegal dealings), we can see he is fully secure in the knowledge that his father will back him up whenever he needs him to. His father probably also knows and is okay with the fact that his son is gay.

He is also charismatic, enough to wheedle into this friend group probably years after its formation and still have acquired enough authority to make them do something they didn't want to (the film) and take charge immediately after the fall of Por. He's also physically strong. That makes it extremely unlikely that he had ever been bullied or had to deal with bullying, and if you've never dealt with it, you don't know how hard it is for the victim.

Lastly, his family is not shown to be struggling and he is mentally sound (so far as we're shown).

Non is his boyfriend, who was, prior to the leak of the video, abnormally close to his teacher, enough for Phee to question Non about this. Despite reassurances, the doubt never went away. Phee asks Non, as any good boyfriend would, if he needs help, and Non says no.

And then the video drops. Phee is angry enough as is, as anybody, especially a teenager already frustrated with his boyfriend's secrecy would be, but then he catches him embracing the same teacher.

Again, I would reiterate that Phee is

1) a 15-year old child with the emotional and logical range of a 15-year old sheltered teenager,

2) not shown to be particularly taken with global scale activism which would be the only way he'd figure out, logically (and I would argue logic is not at the forefront of your mind when anger is the reigning emotion), that Non was being exploited.

Considering the response of the Thai public to the video and the fact that Keng wasn't immediately fired, the situation is not considered 'exploitive' by social standards. It seems to be taken for granted that the relationship was consensual. Coming from a country with similar values, let me tell you that students marrying their teachers is considered 'romantic' where I live. Heck, in my school, there was a teacher who flirted with some select students all the time, and was never fired. He was actually very popular, and it wasn't until years after I left school that I realized how problematic that was. It was not something we were taught, socially, was predatory.

Phee would have to be involved in global level activism, to see others from vastly different backgrounds talk about how problematic this behavior is, to realize that his perception of the situation was warped.

So, back to the video leak. Phee watches the video, and gets emotional fast. Despite his patience with Non thus far, he is not Buddha (if he were, he'd not have gotten involved in New's scheme). He sees proof of all his fears being proven true, and then sees, with his own eyes, further proof of the same. Of course he lashes out. Of course he leaves, because I suspect had he stayed, Keng would have gotten a lot more bruises, and not much talking would have been done.

Of course he says what he does to Non, from the innate urge to hurt him just how much he himself was hurting. In that moment, he may very well have used his knowledge of Non's insecurities and mental health issues to pointedly attack Non, because he is not thinking beyond his own hurt. And if you think you'd have reacted any differently, you're probably too old to remember what it felt like to be a teenager.

And of course he blocks Non.

If this were a reddit post, this is what it would read like:

"AITA for blocking my boyfriend after watching a video of him being intimate with his teacher, who he assured me repeatedly he was not involved with?"

Fill in the rest with Phee's knowledge of the situation (I do not think he knows about the mafia or the money he got from Keng or the true extent of the group's bullying; correct me if I am wrong) and tell me the replies, even from you, wouldn't be a resounding "Well Done!"

He finds out about a lot of things from reading Non's script, but the breakup was long before that. And I don't feel it right to blame him for a normal teenage reaction to his first relationship imploding in such a way.

Not when Chay from Kinnporsche was lauded for the same reaction.

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Seven) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @belaballs

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TWS: kinda anti-Lori, misunderstandings, a marriage of convenience, and mentions of loneliness.

[[A/N: girllllll, not another Magnolia in May chapter!!! Whoops. And actually tagging bestie @imaginemyfavoritefics properly this time, bc I did use the idea of Daryl as the courier. Unrelated but this gif of him clenching his jaw... girl. Thanks for reading !! ]]

You'd taken to writing letters -the gentle swish of your quill was calming the storm of your mind. Originally, you had garnered a sort of cold from the walk in the rain and had to heal -now, you'd stayed holed up of your own accord.

'Nonsense, darling,' Headmistress had said, fluffing up your pillows, '-you must heal from a broken heart like any other wound.'

It was fewer letters and more of a sort of journal -only for your eyes to see but sometimes addressed to someone other than yourself. It started simply with one occasionally to Maggie to make her smile, or Beth to tell her things you'd learned so she wouldn't have to, or to remind Father to eat a meal when he'd been so focused on a patient that he'd neglect himself. But then, Mr. Grimes started appearing at the header.

You couldn't remember the first time it had happened, days rather blurred after that day -especially since you were treated shortly after. And rest was all you'd really gotten then, it made the passage of time blurry.

But it became something you were rather dependent on.

'Mr. Grimes,' you wrote in the first of its kind, quill rather fluid at this stage.

'I met your wife, Lori. She's a wonderful woman, kind and perfectly poised. I would, in a different life, maybe be friends with her -seems the type to be good company. Was it always her?

You've got something special, a family with beautiful children. It's every man's dream, is it not? You were my dream. I find it a bit hard to believe she would leave that dream behind. For what is more powerful than one's love for their child? I suppose there were other circumstances that I shall never be aware of. I would've liked to have known why. I understand it's a rather personal thing, but I should be urged to hear something of the full story. I might deserve it.

But I suppose you deserve a full family more. Carl and Judith do. I wouldn't fit in. I would love the best for them, despite not having known Carl, he seems a bright boy. Deserves much of the best in life, I'd garner all children do.

I often wonder if I am to have children. I suppose I could ask you for advice one day, if so. But there's something in me that speaks differently. Like that path with you is gone. Maybe I should run off to the city and write away, become focused on my education. Pay for my father's living, and house my sister's 'til they're wed.

I don't think I could, with good conscience, leave Alexandria. I'm far too fond of the people the town, its where I grew up. And I suppose, to keep my father's clinic running under the family name I may marry. I'm not too sure that I'd marry for love, per say. Can you begin the fall in love more than once? Is it possible? And furthermore, although it is something I wish for, I'm not sure that I would like to bring children into a loveless marriage.

This is getting far too detailed of my own troubles, and for that I apologize.

I truly wish your family well. Even if there's no room for me.

Yours Sincerely,

Y/N Greene'

It was a positive experience, mostly. The smearing on that letter particularly wasn't of cathartic tears. Not quite a release of the emotions dying so tightly within your soul, it was rather grief. Loss of a life that you'd never have. Despite it being the one you desperately wanted.

You sighed, stashing away the paper with the other ones -the second desk drawer to the right, under the math textbook that had been gathering dust even before you were born.

Sure, it messed your hands, but you found it was a small price to be paid for secrecy.

"Y/N, dearest," your Headmistress hummed -voice pounding up the stairs, "-get dressed and meet me at the door in 10, will you?"

"Yes, Headmistress," you echoed, off to your feet and only touching up ever-so-slightly by the mirror. And in your rush, maybe you had forgotten to shut the drawer -you couldn't know now. It stayed open, and the telling corner of dustless papers under a dusty book was certainly one to ponder over.

At least for someone, it was.

You wouldn't know what had occurred until a few weeks later, as you sorted out your joint closet with Maggie. Gathering bows and ribbons, and straightening dresses, was a wonderful way to pass time -since your newest book was seeming to be tucked away in the carriage. You truly could not find it anywhere-

And then, there was a knock at the door.

Now, normally, this was of no notice -either for Maggie (who had gone on frequent outings with Mr. Rhee since the ball) or Father (ranging anywhere from an old friend to an urgent patient). But this was one to put a pause in your mind.

Maggie was, in fact, out -you remembered the shimmer of the carriage as it pulled away, and Father was rushed off for an emergency. And even further, Headmistress and Beth had gone out to a sort of gathering -some sort of tea party, you'd assumed. (They'd invited you, but you'd truly not wished to hear the gossip. Especially not now.)

You stilled, you were alone here then.

Well, you considered -making your way down the steps, -could be a sort of delivery. Ms. Elisa did frequently speak with friends out of town -often through letters. And Father always had an extra copy of cases delivered to his home -so he could think properly on an issue.

Satisfied with that, you approached the door with newfound confidence -fear that had stubbornly stuck there was unfounded. You twisted a bit of fabric in your dress, just to do something with your hands before swinging open the door.

And, it was a familiar face. Not one you had a name to, but one you knew -the courier.

"Ms. Greene," he spoke, his voice gruff and tired, much less peppy than you'd seen him before, "-I assume?"

"Yes," you answered cautiously, "-I'm the eldest Ms. Greene, why? If you're looking for Maggie-"

"No," he answered, simply, long hair moving with the motion of his head, "-Mr. Grimes requested this be given to you, the eldest."

"I can't acce-" you started but fell shut as a letter was extended to you -two letters. One a familiar sort of coffee-tinged brown -paper old and weary, you could hardly believe the quill hadn't punctured right through really. And the other, neatly folded, a pristine sort of ivory, and dark ink that somehow didn't seem to smudge at all. On the side that was exposed to you was written: Ms. Y/N Greene, in handwriting you recognized.

The one that had scribbled across the invitation so long ago-

"Who are you?" you questioned -eagerly bringing the letters close to your chest, "-And how did you get my letter? Have you been in my home-"

"Ms. Greene," he spoke -composed and calm, unmoved by your pressing questions, "-they were presented to me to mail weeks ago."

You froze, something heavy dropping in your stomach, "They? How... How many letters were you given to post?"

"A stack, no more than 10," he responded, "-the youngest Ms. Greene, opened the door for me once to deliver an invitation. The same one I 'ave been for weeks- It ain't relevant, really. She knew where I came from, and requested I bring 'em to Mr. Grimes immediately."

You paused, "An invitation?"

"More like a summonin'," he clarified, rather poised but still somewhat a bit casual, "-it's always the same request for you, the eldest, to attend to the Grimes estate."

"What?"

He paused, "It's supposed to be brought to ya, upon retrieval but... I'd guess it hasn't."

"You've-" you exhaled -a deep uncertain exhale, "-Just how long have you been delivering these?"

"Lost count."

"And-" you stuttered, a bit overwhelmed, "-and the letters, my letters they-"

"I put 'em in his hand, myself," he spoke -an ordered sort of discipline heavy in his tone with a dose of familiar twang.

"Right," you swallowed -pushing down the nerves biting up your throat at such rampant pace, he was never to see those, "-and who are you exactly?"

"Grimes estate courier," he grumbled out, a some of bitterness gathered there.

"No, no," you quirked a brow at him, "-your name? I figured as much otherwise."

He answered, rather improperly -as if he was trained in some ways and ignorant in others just slightly, "-Daryl Dixon."

"Mr. Dixon," you echoed, a sort of curiosity in your tone, "-you said he received the full stack, did he not?"

He merely nodded.

"Well, why do I only have one, then?"

The man pondered it for a second, loosely eyeing the way you held the letters like he knew what they contained (maybe he did), "I suppose he ain't done replyin' to the others."

The rest of the interaction was fairly polite, mere questions about his work -to which he complained quite vividly about the extent of it, but never shred a wrong light on Mr. Grimes. You'd gathered they were well-acquainted, even perhaps friends from youth, but you couldn't exactly pinpoint it. He didn't say anything directly, and was rather quiet around details. Well, details pertaining to Mr. Grimes, you supposed.

You'd initially wanted to search for the invitations he spoke of, but something bigger was biting you.

Your hands were quick to rush to the drawer, pulling it open -to suddenly believe it was not real. To prove that all of this was a farce, that the letters were still safely kept. But, when you opened it, you could tell.

Even still, you pushed forward holding up the book, peering underneath. It was empty, extraordinarily empty.

"No, no, no-" you urged, heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach -heavy, "-it can't be..."

Private pieces of you, of your sadness, your longing- Sent to the married man of the header.

And just back as you pushed back in your chair, the brush of tears only a breath away -your eyes caught on the letter.

It was not yours.

Yours sat just beside it, you recognized it to be the first one -all sort of crumpled and agonizingly smudged. All conflicted feelings and harsh realities buzzing under your skin. You'd written it partially under the delirium of your illness, so it was rather brash but you'd never thought you'd need to worry about it. The only thing different was how it was presented.

You remember hastily shoving it away, between book covers, under table legs, hidden in the dirt of the garden, as you tried to find a good place to stash them. You'd always been so quick to put them away, to get out the feelings and move on-

Looking at it now, though, the worn paper was smoothed out (to the best it could be) and perfectly folded. Each corner matched to another and creases were indented lightly so as to not damage the written word. It was treated as precious. Something... Something he'd rather cared for.

Something told you then to get rid of it, to throw it onto the fire when no one was looking, to stash it away, to never read it no matter the cost because you were doing the right thing and should not be swayed-

But another part of you was dreadfully curious. And dreadfully grieving the loss of a man who still lived.

It was your mail, a letter addressed to you. Wouldn't it be rather rude to not read it? If you hadn't wished the first one to be mailed, you retorted, then no.

And yet, you found yourself picking up the note with the gentlest of graces. Carefully unfolding the thick paper, slowly, timidly, like the words would jump off the page. Like they could hurt you.

You supposed they could.

Once fully opened, you didn't directly focus on the words -instead, detailing the printed bits around the top edges. It looked as though this was an official sort of paper -the same kind an invitation may be extended to. As well as a family seal printed into the bottom right corner, it seemed a little formal for the occasion but you found it didn't bother you. Not really.

Taking a deep breath, you blinked your eyes -wishing to calm your heart, even just for a moment, and started reading.

'Ms. Greene,' it started, letters crisply written in a thin but precise sort of writing. Your finger naturally went to trace over them, dotting the i's and swirling the g's.

'I must first say that it's to my understanding that these letters are rather personal to you. You weren't the one who intended to mail them, I've come to know. I know that this then, by proxy, is a large invasion of your privacy.

And I can only hope you forgive me for such a thing. Because this is my sort of last resort to reach you. I'm sure you're familiar with the invitations that have flooded your door, and although, I understand the no response for what you know, I've become quite desperate.

To be completely clear, I was nearly on my horse to your home the morning these letters arrived. To explain everything as you deserve it to be explained.

I instead am here, writing letters. I cannot tell if that's any sort of better than my original plan was but it is the decision I chose.

In terms of Lori, the situation is rather complicated. Surely, at the young age we married, she was the plan. I'd honestly not given thought to the fact that she'd ever come back. I knew her reasons, and I fully doubted I'd ever see her again. And out of respect for you, I wish for the full story to be in person.

Despite all that, I truly wished she would. I know I did. If not only to see our children, to grace me with some sort of company.

I lived a rather lonely life before you Ms. Greene. Which may seem a bit arbitrary coming from a man with a staff, but it doesn't make it any less the truth. When she left, it was quite the scandal. I never spoke a word on it, too devastated to even imagine what to say. It meant much more reclusion, even from friends I knew from youth. And then, as I'm sure you're familiar, I decided to move back to Alexandria. Atlanta only harbored negative things, and I wished for someplace more pleasant. And it was, but still despite it all, the loneliness persisted.

So this family, this full family, you speak of, it's not what Lori and I would be. It wasn't what we were when we were married. I love my children, beyond belief, but I was still lonely. And I can't imagine a full family has a lonely father.

Frankly, Ms. Greene, I was lonely until that day in the marketplace.

And on the off chance you don't understand what I mean, I ask, from the depths of my heart, don't leave Alexandria.

Yours,

Richard Grimes'

[roseshewrites]

Down The Devil's Path snippet (1922 human Alastor WIP) - ARFlanagan

"Bless me, Père, for I have sinned. It's been twelve years since my last confession," Alastor had said, the words dry in his mouth. 

A curl of his lip, a sardonic smile. People really did this. Good people, evil people, and anyone in between like himself who had his trepidous beginnings onto a path the likes of which would make someone's hair curl.

 

"It's been a long time, mon enfant.. What sins have you commited that you seek forgiveness for?" 

"No longer 'enfant', Father," he had laughed, "I've done things a child would never think to do except for an exceptionally cruel one. I suppose that was me, then." 

His laugh had been the hollow sort, echoing drily against the mahogany walls of the confessional booth. In front of him, the Father's shadow was cast across the grate, silent and listening. 

"If you're waiting for my contrition, I don't know if I have it in me," Alastor continued, "Anyway, I wanted to tell someone. Be recognized for it, maybe. I killed a woman yesterday." 

Alastor tilted his head as he grinned, waiting for the poor priest's response; if he squinted his eyes and leaned in, he could just see the dark profile beyond the grate. 

He hadn't actually done it, yet. The woman was currently tied up head to toe in his basement. An evil thing, he thought of her. Vicious, like him, and that was how he liked them; but not cruel, and especially not cruel to children who had done nothing deserving of torture yet on this earth. 

"Ah," the Priest responded, muttering something in a latin prayer and seeming to cross himself. "Is this....the first of such crimes?" 

"No, Père. The most recent of many. My first woman kill, though. I don't generally go after women. She'd done something unforgivable in my eyes. See I had witnessed her shaking her child- a four month old, mind you- and it was crying so loudly and screaming, I couldn't help myself. I saw red, and before I knew it I had taken the baby from her and sliced her throat with my pocket knife." 

.."And the child?" 

"Safe," Alastor quipped, "I'm not that much of a monster! Not yet. She's with the Ursuline Sisters in the French Quarter." 

"You said you're not here to feel contrition. Why tell me all this then?" - dear Père was having trouble keeping the tremor out of his voice. Too bad, Alastor thought with glee, he is honor bound to keep the anonymity of Confession. It's his holy duty.

"Well, I had a curiosity, really. Since number one, I don't believe I've sinned in the traditional sense- I had a question in my mind in what the lord almighty might say about my soul...I'm on my devil's path. That's what I call it. And before I go down fully, embrace it, you tell me; how much potential is there for an absolvement?"  

Alastor really didn't want to know. In truth, he didn't give a single shit. But his visit with the Ursuline Sisters had sparked a strange memory in him; of a church in his old neighborhood, St. Augustine, which he used to attend with his parents, or rather was made to attend. Even now the smoky tang of incense made his throat hurt and feel dry, the walls closed in. It was the opposite of holy. 

"I would urge you to turn yourself in," the poor priest had begged him, "There is absolution in admittance of guilt. That's your first step. What you've done..." 

"What I've done is unforgivable," Alastor finished for him, "But what's more, my lady friend tried to trick me. 'I'm expecting,' she said, when she saw how angry I'd gotten, and Père, what's more is that I hate a liar and an abuser in tandem."

She really thought she had him there; what a dolt. And to lie to someone like Alastor, who was well-versed in body language and silent ticks, who also was attuned to the smell of blood, he'd known she had just gotten her menses. He wasn't stupid. He had quite purposely left her to languish in her own blood so as to teach her a lesson.

He was growing bored with the situation, however; Père's trembling had become irksome and he could feel that hint of boiling haze which had been unlocked yesterday come over him. Maybe it was the sight of an abused child, perhaps the screams of said youngling, and better yet, an as untold memory striking a chord with him as he handed the squalling thing over to the gentle Ursuline ladies at their orphanage. 

He wanted to act fast, and so when he withdrew his pocket knife and stabbed it through the grate, giggling inconsolably at the Père's terror, he crossed himself and gave a mocking bow toward the confessional booth as he left, saying, "And there's the end of it, really! Oh stop yelling. I'm not going to kill you." 

He'd gotten his answer; absolution was a constantly changing and fluid form conducted in an ouroboros, a snake, eating its own tail in an eternal cycle. Damn foolish of humanity to make up ways to be redeemed when there was no such thing.

[hyenahunt]

Obbligato: The Punishment of Kaname Tojo - 12

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring, two years ago

Characters: ???, Ibara

Proofreading: Remi + 310mc (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Peace

???: (However, innocence is not a sin. My little brother, Kaname, has done nothing wrong.)

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

???: (However, innocence is not a sin. My little brother, Kaname, has done nothing wrong.)

(Despite that, ever since he was born, he has faced unreasonable discrimination. He's shunned by those higher than him in the industry due to violating a taboo— )

(He has done nothing wrong, yet he has fallen so far.)

(He was a brother I’d never spoken to before. And I pitied him.)

(Fortunately, I had skills and wisdom. I had to acquire both in order to survive when I'd left home.)

(And now, I could use them to help my little brother.)

(After all, I had always made a living by disguising myself as a jack-of-all-trades, and my client this time just so happened to be a family member.)

(I didn't accept it for my father's sake. I wanted to help my poor younger brother.)

???: (For his sake, I learned as much as I could about something so particular to Japan, so foreign to those overseas — I learned all that there was to know about idols, which was akin to inscrutable faith.)

(Once I had learned enough, I offered my hand to Kaname. So long as he heeded my instruction, he'd be able to bloom anew as a wonderful idol.)

(Or, that was what should have happened.)

... What is this? What is he doing? Do you know anything about this?

Ibara: Perhaps, perhaps not? If I'm to be honest, even I'm taken back by this series of events!

This gathering was organised by Mr. HiMERU and his associate, funded out of their own pockets. It has nothing to do with idol work — it appears the students are gathering entirely of their own accord.

As I have various other projects on my hands, there is no way for me to keep a constant eye on the developments within Reimei Academy, please understand.

Ibara: As a result, my response to independent activities such as this has been rather delayed.

Were this an official idol activity, or work-related, then I would have been able to detect it early on from tells such as bank account activity and so forth.

Which is why I was late to become aware of even the movements of the gatherings within the Catacombs.

Were it not for that, then I would have stepped in to put a halt to things the moment Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya began to build his suspicious religious cult-like group. After all, religion cannot be suppressed, which makes it far outside my field of expertise.

I thought we'd finally gotten a hold on that religion by way of giving them work and incorporating capitalism into the mix...

But this gathering truly was unexpected. I wonder what they're meeting about?

???: Hm. Then you and I are the same; I also came to see what, exactly, was going on.

Ibara: Oh, I’ve already made an educated guess on what might happen next, you know? However this came about, I’ve certainly predicted its conclusion!

The leaders of opposing powers meet, showing their solidarity by way of shaking hands in public. In this case, those leaders would be Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya and Mr. HiMERU.

By doing so, they will strike down the long-standing feud between their two factions.

An era of peace shall descend upon Reimei Academy.

A-ha-ha! ☆ How magnificent! It'll end as happily as a fairy tale!

Ibara: ... But unfortunately, reality isn't so sweet.

The students of Reimei Academy have already fallen prey to the anger and hatred that have accumulated throughout their lives.

Towards those that they detest with all their being, they’re unable to sweep it all under the rug, and allow bygones be bygones.

Ibara: Well, if they did all band together as friends, then I'd be in something of a pickle myself! Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya's ideology and capitalism don't mix well, after all. It sufficiently counters the latter.

That's no way to run a business, you see? I'm against the idea entirely.

The plan was to force him out of Reimei Academy entirely by pushing an unreasonable amount of expectations onto him, so much that his well-being would falter and he would drop out...

But unfortunately, it would seem Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya is stronger than expected. Not once did he break, falter, or give in. Instead, he's done the opposite: no matter how persecuted he becomes, he only rises again and again from the ashes akin to a phoenix.

What a nuisance... Though at the same time, I do respect it. If we didn't have such a conflict of interest, I'd absolutely welcome such a stupendous person as a brother in arms!

And so, despite our differences, it truly is hard to watch a remarkable man fall victim to such ruin...

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He Saw Her At Daybreak - Part 1

(Sequel series to: She Whispered To Him In The Night, not required reading to follow along with this story though.)

Summary: Aemond and Rhaena are betrothed to one another and due to wed in two days time, which makes our horny chaotic boy both very happy and very HORNY.

Warnings: SMUT, mature-ish, we're introducing more kinks into this fic!

Part 2 | Part 3.1 | Part 3.2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Ao3

Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemiandreams99 , @neocil , @readsalot73 , @nettysnest , @avidreader73 (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)

TW: Slight Somnophilia, it is consensual!

P.S. I've reworked this chapter a few times, and hope the smut still delivers!!! And there's some cute fiance fluff happening as well!

-

The sun had yet to rise while the moon still hung high in the darkness of the night sky, most likely beyond the hour of the wolf. The sound of Vhagar roaring in the distance had slowly pulled Aemond from his relatively peaceful slumber.

He couldn't sense anything bad or foreboding, he'd wager the old dragon was just hunting in the night. That or she was fending off a rather territorial Vermithor once again. He was not worried, his bonded she-beast would not cow to the slightly smaller male. And in truth Vermithor only retaliated when he felt his nesting space with Silverwing was being encroached upon. 

They would solve their disagreement, two old creatures, living relics in a way, they were bound to have their strife…he supposed.

Aemond eyed his chambers instinctively still, large and spacious, there was something so ancient and satisfactory about everything here on Dragonstone. A large selection of texts and scrolls in their chambers’ bookshelf, a bed larger than his own back in King's Landing, and a view that let him see as far as the Dragons' Mount. 

Though, by far the best part about his chambers here would be that he'd been granted permission to share them with his princess…his betrothed...his Lady wife…well soon to be. 

Rhaena Targaryen. 

His uncle Daemon, may have reluctantly come around on the betrothal itself…but he'd still been against the idea of Aemond sharing his chambers with Rhaena. Thankfully, his uncle had been overruled. Aemond's father, mother and even his elder sister Rhaenyra had all agreed it only made sense for them to have shared apartments.

Aemond had done his best not to smirk too widely at his uncle's disgruntled yet forced agreeance by the end of it all. Even though annoying the older man then would have certainly been the cherry on top, but Rhaena didn't want him taunting her father. So he'd acquiesce, the taunting mattered not in either case, he had his victory. 

He had his chosen Valyrian bride. 

Currently, Rhaena slept soundly on top of him, her soft cheek nuzzling in the crook of his neck as the warmth from her breath tickled his skin soothingly with every exhale. Her soft body was pressed against his as her legs straddled either side of his lower abdomen.

She had collapsed on top of him earlier in the night when he'd successfully gotten her to ride him for the first time. The night had been quite eventful, he'd given his Lady four perfect orgasms, even though he was aiming for five. But it seemed his sweet little wife couldn't handle that many…not yet at least. 

He'd build up her endurance gradually. 

For now, he was happy enough to keep his arms securely around her while she clung to him in her sleep. 

It had become a welcome fact that he only slept soundly when she was with him, he needed to feel her, hold her against him. It mattered not how he did so, so long as she was there resting against him somehow.

The feel of her comfortable weight paired with the warmth her body gave him. It always seemed to set him at ease, holding her close like this, hearing her soft breathing, sleepy mumbles…it soothed all his rough harsh edges. 

It also made his blood sizzle with pride, all these little moments, little vulnerable parts of her that only he'd know about. Things only he'd be allowed to see and hear from her. It was all his, she was all his. 

Day by day, his dreams and fantasies were cementing themselves into his reality. He'd taken Rhaena for himself, kissed and tasted every inch of her, possessed her, owned her. He'd secured her hand, and in just a few days she would be his officially. His Princess, his wife. 

The family had flown and sailed to Dragonstone to spend a week here all in preparation for their wedding. Honoured guests from each major house had been invited to attend their week-long celebration. Full of feasts, festivals, and a week long tourney.

All of which mattered very little to Aemond. Glad as he was that his family had granted him his Rhaena, he loathed the grand scale their wedding had taken on. He'd ranted and raged to Rhaena earlier in the week, the vapid frivolities had annoyed him to his wits end. All he wanted was a small ceremony, done in the Red Keep, just their family and a Valyrian priest to officiate it. 

Of course, his Rhaena in all her grace, had seemed to find his anger humorous. She'd kissed his cheek and shrugged that it was out of their hands. 

'Your father is the King, my father is his only brother, the Rogue Prince and my dear aunt is the King's eldest daughter, the Realm's Delight and heir to the Iron Throne…it was inevitable, Aemond. Our wedding could be nothing but a grand affair…'

Loathe as he was to admit it…it was true. For Aemond had tried, speaking to his mother and then his sister Rhaenyra. They'd both only smiled warmly at him and asked that he try and enjoy the festivities, for once they were done, he'd have his wife. 

It only made him tense and regret not having stolen his bride away, marrying her privately with only the Gods as their witnesses. For their blessings were the only ones they truly needed.

But he'd given in, he was here now, and so their wedding was only two days away.

There would be two ceremonies, one ceremony to be recognized by the Seven, the pious religion of the realm. A ceremony Daemon had been adamant they skip, for true Targaryens did not adhere to The Seven. But Aemond's mother had argued that The Seven was the realm's most followed religion and she wanted her son's marriage recognized as legitimate. As well as the fact that since she had raised him in the faith, she wanted him to respect his upbringing. 

The first point he could understand, not that he particularly cared for it, but the latter half…his mother must've missed or willfully ignored his lack of consistency with his visiting of the septa. 

It would matter not, for it seemed his eldest sister Rhaenyra had agreed with his Lady mother yet again. Bicker and argue as much as Daemon would like, in the end he would not fight his wife's wants, so he'd acquiesce. 

Aemond would quietly agree with his uncle, for the second ceremony was the one he was most keen on…their Valyrian wedding. He'd always read everything available to him about his Valyrian culture back in King's Landing, and that was purely for self interest. But once he'd arrived here in Dragonstone, Rhaena showed him their prized library. Where he was able to read even more detailed accounts of true Valyrian weddings. As well as a great deal more accurate and secret texts of their ancestors. 

He was endlessly fascinated by their ancestral home here. After their wedding, there was to be a feast and then he and Rhaena would stay here for a fortnight as their honeymoon allowed. They'd return to King's Landing to finalize their inheritance and position here, and then they'd be free to return. 

Aemond could not wait. 

Finally, he'd be the Prince of Dragonstone with Rhaena as his Princess. 

Rhaena Targaryen would officially be his wife. 

And he was quite certain that with the amount of times he'd taken her this past moon, she was also most likely already carrying his child. 

The thought both aroused him and excited him to no end. 

The thought of Rhaena swollen with his child always made him unbelievably hard. His most wanted fantasy was to fuck his lovely wife once her belly had grown with their child inside. He was quite certain her engorged swollen breasts would make him wild, feral with want. 

Even now he'd felt his cock hardening, clenched within the warmth of her sweet cunt. 

It was then he'd recalled he hadn't actually pulled himself out of her when they both collapsed from their pleasure and fell asleep. 

He clenched his jaw, gently caressing her smooth back as he peered around her shoulder and caught the devastatingly arousing sight of his thick length buried within her. 

So far within her. 

A fire was set alight within him, his need growing to an unbearable degree. Surely he couldn't just take his goddess while she slept, tantalizing as the thought was. The idea of her waking amid her pleasure was certainly spurring his wanting cock on. 

His thighs twitched a minor thrust, and gods how his cock throbbed at that. 

Squeezing his eye shut, he tried to will the feeling away. He knew he'd stretched his wife's lovely cunt so nicely just mere hours ago, but even still she felt so unbelievably tight for him, she always did. He could feel her clamped down around his girthy length, it made his entire body tense tightly. 

His mind couldn't help but replay the several times he had awoken her by pleasuring her. 

The first time, he'd used his fingers, slowly and tentatively he'd been fascinated by how responsive her cunt had been even while she slept. He'd only rubbed her softly and slowly, spreading her legs for him as his fingers caressed her gently. Oh how her cunt quivered and throbbed for him, dripping with neediness. 

She'd awoken when his thumb went from circling her little bud to slowly slipping into her drenched core. She'd whimpered when her eyes locked onto his, breathlessly saying his name as if the reality she'd entered was but a new sweet dream. He'd asked her if she wished him to stop, she'd only shook her head and begged him to continue…so he did. 

The second time he'd aimed to wake her with pleasure, he'd begun much the same way, only he one by one began to fuck her with his fingers, drawing sleepy groans and grunts until her beautiful eyes finally fluttered open, her lips caught in a sweet moan for she couldn't ignore the feelings he caused. She'd spread herself further for him, pulling him into a kiss that was both feverish and sensual as her hips had rolled against his hand with desperate need.

The third time he woke his sleeping princess by devouring her wet and wanting cunt, his lips suckling her folds, his tongue lapping up her oozing arousal before he'd lavished her sweet little bundle of nerves with due attention. When her eyes had snapped open, her shock melted into pure pleasure. She'd gripped into his hair and he'd happily grasped onto soft thighs, letting his tongue slip into her core as she grinded herself against his face frantically. For as much as he loved to possess her, he just as equally loved when she used him to reach her own climaxes. It made him feel specifically needed by her. 

At no point had she ever told him that she disliked his actions, and knowing his Rhaena, if she had…she would've told him so. And if she had told him so, he would've listened to her wishes. 

But since she hadn't, he felt nothing but his growing erection hardening. His breathing had become ragged and shaky, he certainly did not have the willpower to pull himself from her now. 

As if Rhaena could sense his turmoil…or his cock, he'd heard her moan sweetly in her sleep. Pulling herself up along his body, now snuggling in closer, her cheek resting on his shoulder as her nipples began to pebble, dragging against his chest. Her arms loosely hooked underneath his arms and around him, as if she sought to be closer than they already were.

Her hips had pressed themselves lower down against his pelvis, letting his cock sink completely inside of her. Her plush bottom grazed against his incredibly sensitive balls, forcing a desperate groan from his throat. 

Every time he took his Rhaena he was quite certain she sought to end him, for whenever he entered her he could just feel his willpower dissipate. His Princess was fast asleep and yet she still had him in the palm of her hands, and she didn't even know it. 

Aemond let his fingers sink into her silvery locs, gently kissing her temple as his other hand gripped into her lower back. 

For he could no longer help himself, when she woke she could tell him if she enjoyed it or not. He'd make sure to get a definitive answer on whether she wished for him to keep doing this or not. 

But for the moment, his needy cock felt like a burning torturous desire he could not extinguish alone. Ever since he'd bedded Rhaena, he hadn't been able to simply relieve himself with just his hand. He'd tasted what true pleasure was and he could no longer go back. 

As if a spasm had taken a hold of his hips, his hips drew back before thrusting up into his lovely wife. Doing his best to grit back his throaty groans as an overwhelming burning pleasure washed over him. He could feel her tight cunt moistening as his cock stroked her deeply, a delectable squelching sound emanating with each thrust. 

He could feel his peak building, he did not have the stamina to last long this time, with that his slow tentative pace began to increase. 

Aemond wanted her to wake, he was desperate for the beautiful little noises she always made for him, desperate to feel her perfect body writhe against his. He wanted the friction, the burn, all of it. 

As if his prayers had been answered, he finally felt his sleeping Princess' hands grip onto him, a gasping moan slipping from her as she startled herself awake. Her hands glided up and grasped onto his shoulders, nails digging in as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, "Aemond! oh…my gods," she'd whimpered. 

Her lips softly pressed a kiss to his neck, her arms drawing her body tightly against him; it felt like an allowance. He could feel her hips instinctively snapping against his, her hand slipping into his hair, grip tightening so deliciously. 

"Do you want me to stop, sweet girl?" He'd grunted against her shoulder, his body violently rejecting the offer his lips had just uttered. 

Rhaena had shook her head rapidly, her tight grip pulling his hair as a sharp sobbing moan of hers echoed into his ear. He knew his cock had stroked her nice and deep, hitting her favoured spot with perfect precision. 

"Don't you dare stop, Aemond," her voice was both needy and sharp-edged all at once. 

His pristine girl could be quite aggressive when she wished to be. He'd allow her that. 

With a satisfied grin, Aemond let both of his hands slide to her hips, ramming into her with a clear purpose. He could feel her core begin to clamp around him, she was close. His own climax rising to its peak. 

"Ñuha zaldrīzes," my dragon, she'd moaned so sultry against his neck. 

Gods she moaning in Valyrian for him. She was so close, he wanted to see his ethereal dragon when he made her cum. 

"Jurnegon rȳ nyke," look at me, his smooth voice rasped rather desperately, but she did as he asked. Pulling herself up into a seated position, all while her hips continued to ride him brutally. Impaling herself so beautifully on his thick cock, she always took him so well, no other woman had ever or could ever. 

It never ceased to amaze him how he'd managed to claim such a bride. 

The light of the morning sun was beginning to rise, dripping in through the arched windows, bathing his Princess beautifully. She truly looked ethereal, her silver locs had a glow about them as they poured over her shoulders. Her pale violet eyes gazing down upon him with a look that made his heart feel like she could shatter him and put him back together all at once. 

Her lovely tawny skin glistened and shimmered. The luscious curve of her waist and hips, her full shapely breasts heaved with every thrust, her soft thighs pressing into him. With his fingers digging into her hips so viciously, her back arching so nicely for him as his eye drank in every minuscule detail. 

He couldn't stop himself when he finally said, "Rhaena...Avy jorrāelan," Rhaena…I love you.

Aemond watched those hypnotic eyes of her widen at his words, but if she had intended on returning his words they'd be interrupted. 

She couldn't fight the beautiful sob that tore through her. Then that splendid feeling of her pretty little cunt squeezing and fluttering around him. It was what pushed him over the edge, moaning roughly, nearly a roar that held her name on his tongue.

He could feel every drop of his hot seed pouring into her, it made his entire body tingle with a burning satisfaction. She'd gasped, her face dawning a rather wondrous expression as her lovely little cunt took everything he gave her. 

Gods she was absolute perfection. 

He felt both sated and exhausted, sweating and panting even though she'd done most of the work riding him. 

Rhaena collapsed on top of him once again, resting her head against his shoulder, curling into him as she caressed his neck and then his cheek. 

He'd wrapped his arms around her immediately, naturally, held her to him like she'd vanish if he didn't. She never did, logically he knew she wouldn't, but he felt better knowing she couldn't if he held her close. 

His rapid heart beat slowly began to calm, he could feel her own heart against his chest, beating just as fast as his was. When she'd finally caught her breath, she pulled up just a little, just enough to see him. 

Her pale eyes gazed into his, stopping his heart altogether. 

"Aemond...ao jorrāelagon nyke?" Aemond...you love me?, her voice had been so soft it was as if she'd whispered it. Her brows furrowing just slightly, he was beginning to wonder if he should've said it at all. He wasn't one for words, not when it came to verbalizing one's deepest feelings. In his experience, such vulnerability was a liability, used as a weapon to be thrown back at you. 

He was sure Rhaena wasn't capable of doing such a cruel thing to him, but her questioning him…her disbelief of his words.

Did she not know it already? 

Could she not see it? 

How he'd lay down his life for her…how he'd take any life for her? 

"Is it not obvious," he'd whispered back, painfully so. 

Swallowing thickly, maybe she just didn't love him back. And he supposed he didn't need her to, she didn't have to love him the way he loved her. The way he obsessed over everything about her. He didn't need that level of intense feeling reciprocated…per se. He knew she liked him, she wanted him, and chose him above all others. She claimed him for herself, and if that was the most he would get from her…then he could accept that. 

Aemond bit his lip hard, painfully so, he threatened to draw blood. He eyed her closely, prepared for the rejection that surely awaited this brutally long silence she'd forced him to sit through. 

And even so, he couldn't even will himself to pull her off of him. He still wanted her here with him. In the end, he'd still want her. 

His lungs were primed to burst, he felt like he couldn't breathe until she responded. His jaw had tensed, his eye unmoving. His hands still frozen around her. 

Finally, her expression cracked him. Her lower lip began to tremble, her eyes welling up…

What had he done? 

"Aemond…" she breathed his name like a soft scent in the wind, far too gentle and sweet for someone like him, "Avy jorrāelan tolī" I love you too.

His throat ran dry. 

His eye widened sharply. 

His jaw went slack. 

His lips parted but any possible response he could think of died on his tongue instantly. 

He wanted to ask her if she was sure, if she truly meant it, for surely she could not. 

But no such words would leave his mouth, none at all. 

He watched as she blinked a couple of tears down her flushed cheeks, and without saying a word he'd gently reached up and wiped them with his thumb. 

Caressing her soft cheek as he pulled her back down to him. Kissing her felt like fire, like it completed the magic their words ignited. He felt that fire spread through his veins, restarting his heart once again. Rhaena held his face in her delicate hands, kissing him so sweetly, passionately, lovingly so. 

He could die right here, right now and he would've been whole…complete…happy. 

His dragoness…his perfect woman…his other half. Fuck, their wedding could not come fast enough. 

"Husband?" Rhaena pulled back, a smile tugging on her lips,"I've just realized…you went ahead and collected your fifth orgasm from me tonight." 

He'd grinned slowly at that, for the thought hadn't been in his mind when he fucked her, but it seems subconsciously he had done it. 

That burning fire within him felt quenched, sated and fed. When she reached for his cheek and guided his lips to hers again, she kissed him slowly, sloppily taking ownership of his mouth and he relished it. He nearly forgot himself entirely, falling dazed into the power of her caressing hand and soft lips. 

As much as he possessed his little dragon, he often hoped she knew just how much she possessed him. 

He was hers and he loved when she treated him as such. 

When their lips parted, Rhaena smiled sweetly against him, "you do realize I'm probably already with child, you needn't be so persistent anymore." She gently ran her fingers through his hair, an absentminded action she'd grown accustomed to doing these days. 

Aemond breathed deeply, "well…persistence is only half it. It's hard to contain myself when I need only think of you to be aroused," he smirked. 

"Mmmm," she hummed brightly, grinning proudly now, "is that all it takes?"

"You…I think you know…" he pulled her up along his torso, feeling his cock slowly slip from her, but leveling her chest above his face. She'd gasped at the loss of his length, but softly hummed as he pressed warm, claiming kisses to the swell of her breasts, "...what you do to me."

Rhaena giggled, leaning into his tender touch, "I believe I'm starting to understand and I suppose your endless wanting does have its positives. This was quite a pleasing way to wake me, it felt very nice," she'd nearly mumbled the later half of her response, her pale lavender eyes fluttering down at him as if she'd only said the most innocent thing. 

His throat ran dry for only a moment, for this surely meant he was free to wake her with his cock if the mood struck, but he supposed he should be certain, "you're fine with me taking my pleasure while you slumber?" His deep indigo eye gazing into hers.

At that Rhaena bit her lip adorably, her fingers slipping back to his cheek, caressing his scar-less cheek, "so long as you're gentle while I'm still asleep, then I quite like it. It makes my dreams…pleasurable." Her soft voice had unasked him, he could feel his cheeks burning deeply. The dying candle light surely kept that fact hidden from his wife. 

"You may take your pleasure from me, if it calms you, my dragon," she pulled herself back, lowering herself down to kiss him softly, "but do save your rough, more feral wants for when I'm awake, yes?" 

In truth he wasn't actually expecting her to agree…or want this as much as she clearly sounded like she did. He expected her to maybe accept it for when she woke she did enjoy his actions.

But…she had more than enjoyed it. And her dreams…he hadn't even thought he'd affected her dreams. He never thought his pristine little princess could be so wanting for him…always wanting for him.

"As you wish, my love," he swallowed harshly, caressing her plush bottom, grabbing a hold of a cheek. She'd gasped happily, and it steeled his erratically beating heart. Now smirking at his little wife, thinking of it truly she'd quite often let him take her anywhere. As long as they were mostly secluded she was almost always in the mood for him to fuck her, barring after the first time, when she needed time to heal. 

Well…every once in a while she did need a few days rest. 

But ever since their first time, she'd been his to have. In the dragon pits, in their chambers, quick moments in the abandoned hallways of the secret tunnels.

His wife was quite the little whore for him, he'd never expected it…but he couldn't imagine being happier. 

And now that he had the freedom to take her as many times a night as he wished, he knew she'd be sore tomorrow. He'd give her a day or two, he was a kind husband after all.

With that, he pulled her into a tight embrace, let her arms wrap loosely around his neck, as he breathed her in. 

In two days she'd be his in every way possible. He had her body, her soul, her heart…he just needed the Fourteen Flames to recognize their union and then he'd feel complete. 

He just needed their Gods to recognize his love for her.

He pressed his lips against her shoulder, part of him still couldn't believe he'd said the words to her…he'd felt it for months. He'd shown her his feelings, let her feel the way he held her, embraced her, spoke to her. He hoped she could see it in his actions, in his eyes. But to hear the words, to be completely certain of them…it made his blood sing. 

His princess, his goddess, his dragoness, his wife…she loved him. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, Rhaena slowly pulled his cock out of her, boneless as she slid down beside him. He'd groaned at the loss, but she'd only giggled, "I do need to be able to walk tomorrow, dear husband." She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his jaw, before she nuzzled in against him. 

He had a cheeky response ready for her, but he found himself rather drowsy, drifting back to sleep before he could utter it.

-

Mornings here on Dragonstone had felt mystical or magical, hazy and golden with the rumble and roaring of so many dragons. For those few hours in the morning light, Aemond wondered if this is what it felt like to live in Old Valyria…for this would be the closest he'd ever get.

If Aemond closed his eyes and forgot about the events he'd have to drag himself through today, he could almost imagine that he and Rhaena were already wed. 

That as he sank into their steaming hot bath water, sitting across from her in their tub, he could imagine they did so as husband and wife. And the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. 

Soon enough they would be. 

Aemond closed his eye, his head leaning back against the edge of the tub as his arms draped over the sides, his long legs spread around hers. Since their arrival on Dragonstone, Aemond had ensured that he took nearly all of his morning baths with Rhaena; he'd made it quite clear to the servants that whenever they sought to bring a tub to their chambers it need be big enough for two. 

He'd tell his wife that as her husband it was only natural that he should bathe with her. In actuality he just found the activity quite soothing with her. 

"You will be careful during your combat today, right?" Rhaena's light voice had slipped through his train of thoughts, "Lord Cregan Stark is a far more brutal fighter than Ser Corbray. And you were less than chivalrous with Ser Corbray."

Aemond certainly had no interest in the tourneys, but as he was their honored Prince this week, he'd rather drag himself to participate in it and win then sit on the sidelines watch the Stark hound make eyes at his wife. It was unavoidable as he saw it, so Aemond sought to make the most of it. He had coasted through the tourney thus far, for surely there'd been no true challenge for him present and then by the end of it he planned to crown his sweet wife, Queen of Beauty and Prosperity. Or something or other. He cared not for the title, just that he'd be the one to crown her. 

But she was right, he had utterly decimated Ser Corbray in their combat match yesterday. The man wielded a blade that was clearly far too heavy for him to move with any sort of speed or agility. He telegraphed his strikes, and he rarely blocked or ducked most oncoming strikes. He was a weak combatant, and a sorry excuse for opponent. But even so, the man wouldn't yield until absolutely necessary. So Aemond sought to toy with the man, brutally so, but it served him right for looking at Rhaena as if he had any chance with her. Especially now. 

But the bloody hound, Stark, was no better. He seemed quite friendly with Rhaena, always smiling at her, giving forward compliments. Forever remarking how lovely she would've looked in Northern furs. The man was bold, acting as if he was some sort of gentle giant meanwhile he meant to worm his way into Rhaena's heart with gruff kindness. Worst of all Aemond was quite certain the hound's end goal was the same as his, to crown Rhaena.

Aemond had no intention of letting that happen.

He didn't open his eye, simply enjoying the steaming water and the close proximity with his dragoness, his lips ticked upwards, "are you worried for your dragon, little wife?"

"I was worried since you entered at the start of the week, Aemond," Rhaena sighed, "people do die gruesomely at these tourneys,"

"If you think any of these weak opponents could kill me, I'd be sorely disappointed in you. Your lack of faith wounds me," he smirked, knowing she'd most likely rolled her eyes at that, but he continued on,"Corbray was weak, with a distinct lack of skill, I'm not even sure how he made it this far. Stark, I'll admit, has his height and brute strength on his side. But I studied his fight with Jacaerys, my nephew may have fought well enough. But his errors allowed me to see Stark's strengths and weaknesses more clearly." 

He could hear the water slosh in their tub as Rhaena shifted herself, "yes well, Lord Cregan Stark is a chivalrous fighter. When Jace finally yielded, they were both good sports about it." 

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for Corbray," he groaned, nudging her thigh playfully, "are you not happy that I at least went easy on your precious Lucerys in the joust portion of the rounds."

He could hear his wife's sweet laughter at that, so he peaked a glance at her, her tawny skin all glistening and glowing in the morning sun. Her beautiful smile spurring many thoughts within him.

"You always say his name as if I'm in love with him," she gently scrubbed her arms in the lavender scented water, "I've known Luke since he was four years of age, he's very much just a sweet little brother to me."

By the end of this bath he'd have her scent on him…an intangible favour he happily took with him before every match of the tourney. Something Stark and Corbray could not have, and it smugly made him proud. Of course he also claimed her actual favour at the start of the tourney, and he most definitely proudly brandished it during every event. 

Even so, Aemond scoffed at her response, "that wouldn't put me at ease if I was truly bothered, you do realize what family we're a part of." 

At that Rhaena had giggled, truly, the angelic sound making his heart beat rapidly, "Aemond!" Her admonishment was wrapped in a bubble of laughter, so he certainly could not take it seriously. When she batted his hand, he only grabbed a hold of her and pulled her onto him. 

"You needn't worry, my nephew is of no threat to me. I'm quite certain he wouldn't know where to even begin with you," he grinned rakishly at her, her soft body slotting perfectly between his legs. 

Her nimble fingers deftly combed through the knots in his wet hair, the gentle tugs felt exquisite by her hand, "Targaryen or no, when I say Luke and Jace feel like blood brothers to me, I do mean it. I have no interest in fucking either of them." 

"Oh?" He played coy, "does Luke know that?"

"He most definitely does!" she giggled, "he literally refers to me as his sister. In either case I wouldn't trade my dragon for anyone." 

"Good. I wouldn't have allowed you to anyhow," he leaned in closer, taking her lips with a slight roughness before breaking away with a pant, "you've claimed me for life, sweet girl." 

"Good." Rhaena sighed dreamily, cupping his cheek as she drew his lips back to hers, "now be a good boy, and don't die today."

-

P.S. I'm so excited for this oneeee!!! Married Rhaemond, the babiessss!! The babies will be coming around part 4 or 5 I think, this fic is definitely going to at least be 10 parts so strap in!

I really love the aesthetic collage I put together a bit TOO much. But I'm absolute serious about married Rhaemond being kinkier!! The breeding kink is real, pregnancy kink too, the Somnophilia will be used SPARINGLY so hopefully no one was uncomfortable.

But absolutely feel free to suggest some kinks for them, I'll all for considerations!

[cryogenically-frozen]

Kiyotaka Week Prompt 6: Future

I decided instead of doing a drawing of him as an adult (I think he would become a teacher if you're curious), I would draw what I thought he was like just before the killing game started. So, basically, two years older than what we see in-game.

Yes I am aware we see him helping set up the school in the anime for lockdown and he looks exactly the same but I reject that reality and replace it with my own for the sake of this post and Kiyotaka week funsies.

Also, you can't tell me that they didn't change appearance at all in the two years they went to school at Hope's Peak.

I think Mondo would have told him something along the line of "you would look super cool with long hair" not thinking anything of it so he started growing it out. He was about to cut it short again because he wasn't sure if he likes it being longer and it had just gotten to that awful length where he can't tie it up but it also is constantly in his face.

When the school went into lockdown he decided to let it grow out until they could leave the school again. To help, Mondo gave him the headband he uses to keep the hair out of his face when he takes his make-up off.

His hair is also going lighter at the roots. His dad had told him he had gone grey at a very early age but Taka hadn't quite realised just how young his father had been talking about. He'd talk to him about it if he weren't locked in the school for the foreseeable future.

Mondo convinced him to try eyeliner. He says he isn't sure about it but still lets him do the eyeliner for him everyday. He's offered to teach him how to do it himself but, in a move suspiciously out of character, he decided he'd rather not learn and let Mondo do it.

He can't learn because he already knows. He watched very intently as Mondo did it whenever they had sleepovers.

Also, Leon pierced his ears. It was Taka's idea because he liked Leon's earrings but now he's doubting the decision. He's dreading his dad seeing because "I know he won't care but what if he does?!" If the killing game hadn't happened he would have grown to love his new studs but, for now, he's fighting the urge to pull them out and let them heal up because he doesn't want them to get them infected. Two years have not done anything for his overthinking.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

A secret shared (AO3)

Written for the @tarlosweeklyprompts word of the day prompt: Secret (though if you squint you can probably make it work for all of the prompts so far)

Some TK and Andrea bonding for you on this fine Sunday.

Also Gwyn is alive because I said so.

Also also - all of the medical stuff is based on years watching Grey's Anatomy and the like so take it with a *large* grain of salt.

------

TK hadn't meant to end up here. He'd planned to just go home after his shift. Just like everyone else.

The only problem was that home was missing something, or rather someone.

And going home to an empty house was as appealing as almost dying of hypothermia again.

So instead of heading downtown to the loft, he'd gone the other way and ended up here.

He rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.

"TK, mijo, I wasn't expecting to see you today. What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

TK forced a smile.

"Hola mama." he said and let Andrea usher him inside. "Everything is fine... I just didn’t want to go back to an empty house after work... I'm not interrupting am I?"

"Of course not sweetheart. You're always welcome here, you know that."

TK sat down at his usual place at the kitchen table, surprised to see there wasn't something cooking on the stove.

He looked around and realised something else was missing.

"Is Gabriel not home?"

"No, he's working late. Why? Do you need to talk to him? I can call him, he won't mind, you know he won't."

TK shook his head, feeling stupid for showing up on his mother in law's doorstep just because he was lonely, when she was alone too, and perfectly fine by the looks of it.

"Are you hungry? Have you eaten today? You have to take care of yourself mijo."

"I know. And I am, I promise." he sat back in his chair and a smile tugged at his lips. "Carlos made enough food to feed a small army for about a year before he left."

Andrea smiled and sat down too.

"And why aren't you at home eating it?" she asked. "Not that I'm not happy to see you of course." she rushed to say and squeezed his hand across the table.

"I'm just... lonely. I miss him. The loft is too quiet, the bed is too big..." TK rubbed a hand over his face. "I feel stupid. It's not like we've never been on opposite schedules and it's not even the first time he's been away for work."

"It's not stupid to miss your husband when he's not there. I bet Carlos is feeling the exact same way." Andrea offered. "I know I still do when Gabriel is working on a big case and I barely see him for weeks. He'll come home to change his shirt and he'll be out that door again. Barely giving himself time to breathe, let alone eat or sleep."

TK smiled.

"That sounds like someone else I know."

"Oh yes, that boy is so much like his father, it's almost scary. The girls are a mix of us both, but Carlos? He's all Gabriel."

"He doesn't see it."

"Neither does Gabriel." Andrea said and gave him a conspiratory wink. "You're staying for dinner right? I ordered pizza but I can never finish a whole one by myself."

TK stared at her in shock.

"You ordered pizza? Who are you and what have you done with my mother in law?"

Andrea laughed.

"My husband is away for work and I was feeling lonely so I decided to indulge myself and order something that's bad for me." she told him. "And then my favourite son in law stopped by to keep me company."

"I'm your only son in law."

"And you're still my favourite." she said and got up when the doorbell rang. She paid for the pizza and tipped the delivery boy more than the kid had probably ever gotten. "One slice or two?"

TK took one slice out of the box and took a bite, even though he wasn't very hungry.

Andrea asked him about his day and filled him in on the latest news on Carlos' sisters and the rest of the extended Reyes family, and TK felt himself relax for the first time since Carlos had left.

"Do you want to stay over tonight sweetheart?" Andrea asked. "You know you're always welcome to stay in Carlos' old room. I keep telling Gabriel we should get a bigger bed for that room so you boys can stay over more often. I hate the thought of you driving back late at night."

TK smiled and shook his head.

"It's fine. I have a shift again tomorrow and it's a long commute from here. I'd rather spend that time getting a little extra sleep."

"Alright but if you change your mind, the offer is there."

"I know. Thanks." TK said and forced himself to have another slice of pizza. "Does it get easier? Being married to a cop?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I'll let you know when I find out." Andrea replied. "Not a day goes by where I don't worry about Gabriel. Or Carlos. Or you." she said and gave him a pointed look. "I saw you in hospital after you'd gone through the ice... I never want to see you like that again."

"I don't plan on doing that again, trust me."

"Good. Because I don't think my nerves can handle that. You're my son as much as Carlos is, I want to keep both of you in one piece."

"I'll do my best." TK promised and nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone buzzed. He quickly checked the notification.

"Is that from Carlos?"

"No." TK sighed. "It's the rookie officer I talked into sending me updates on him. He can't keep his own phone on him when he's out there. The case is coming along nicely and Carlos is doing fine and loves me." he summed up the message.

"That's good isn't it?" Andrea asked and TK nodded, eyes still glued to his phone. "TK? Everything alright sweetheart? TK?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I uh... zoned out for a second there." he put his phone face down on the table. "I just wish I could talk to him for five minutes."

"I'm sure he will call you the second he gets his phone back." Andrea offered. "Or when he gets his hands on any working phone when it's safe for him to do so."

"Yeah..."

"And at least you don't have to wait until he can get change for a payphone or convince someone to let him make a long distance call from a landline."

"You're speaking from experience aren't you?"

Andrea smiled.

"When I was pregnant with Carlos and the girls were still little, Gabriel was away for work too. He'd just joined the rangers and he wanted to impress the other officers. He worked long hours and we barely saw him. My sister, your tia Lucy, was staying with us to help with the kids because I was huge. " she laughed. "I don't think I saw my feet at all after the fourth month. And Gabriel kept telling me I looked beautiful."

TK smiled. His in law's marriage was so different than what he remembered from his own parents. He knows they loved each other and in a way still do, but also they shouldn't be allowed near each other for more than an hour without buffer.

"I remember when I was almost 7 months pregnant with Carlos," Andrea started again. "He was a very active baby. Always moving and kicking. Sometimes it felt like he was doing somersaults in there or performing a dance routine." she smiled, allowing herself to get lost in the memories for a moment. "But then one day I barely felt him. I knew something was wrong but everyone kept telling me that he was just getting bigger and had less space to move around." she shook her head. "I could feel something was wrong. I called the doctor and they told me to relax and that my baby was just resting."

TK frowned, his medical knowledge kicking in.

"They didn't even ask you to come in for tests?" he asked, remember a call a few weeks ago where they'd rushed a heavily pregnant woman to hospital because her baby had stopped moving and she'd called 911.

"It was a different time." Andrea waved his comment away. "I convinced myself the doctors knew best but when I started having pains, I told Lucy to stay with the girls and I took a taxi to the hospital."

"Pains? Were you in labour?" TK asked, trying to remember if Carlos had ever mentioned being born premature.

"I thought I was. But Carlos still wasn't moving and I was panicking. And the worst thing was that I had no way to contact Gabriel. He was in California working a big case with the LAPD and all I had was a number for the hotel he was staying at. All I could do was leave a message for him at the front desk. "

"And did you?"

"No. I couldn't tell him our baby died through a message on a hotel notepad."

"Wait, died? I thought this was Carlos?"

"It was. But I was convinced he'd died. That my baby had died inside of me." she paused to collect herself. "I've never told anyone about this. Carlos doesn't know, Gabriel doesn't know. Even Lucy doesn't know the full story."

"I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Thank you sweetheart." Andrea patted his hand. "When I got to hospital there was a very sweet nurse on duty who listened to me and just sprung into action right away. She ordered tests and put this gel on my stomach to listen to his heartbeat. I cried when I heard it. I was so relieved he was still alive."

TK let out a sigh of relief that he wasn't about to hear about his husband's heart stopping again.

"So what was the problem?"

"His heartbeat was too slow and the position he was in meant he wasn't getting enough oxygen. At one point there were five doctors in my room arguing about what to do. Three wanted to deliver Carlos via emergency c-section, the other two wanted to wait and see if his oxygen levels would stabilise if they gave me more oxygen."

"What did they do?"

"They gave me an oxygen mask and argued over test results. And I just kept listening to Carlos' heartbeat, praying it wouldn't stop. Until Carla, the nurse, had had enough and took action. She told me she was going to try and make Carlos change position in my belly so I wouldn't have to have my baby without his daddy present."

"And that worked?"

Andrea nodded.

"After a few tries. I never cried harder than when I felt him kick again. That's when I vowed I would always do everything and anything I could to make sure he was happy and healthy and safe." she looked down at the table. "But I know I haven't always done a very good job with that."

"He doesn't blame you." TK told her, knowing her and Gabriel's lack of reaction after his coming out was still a sore spot for Carlos, but he never blamed them for any of the issues he might have gotten from that. Whether or not that was the right or healthy thing to do, TK had decided to leave to him and doctor Ryan, his therapist.

"I know. But I blame me. I never asked him about his love life. I never asked him about boys like I did with the girls... I didn't know how to talk to him about that part of him and made him feel like he couldn't talk to us, to me. If I could go back in time..." Andrea trailed off." Parenting is a hard job, mijo, you'll see when you and Carlos have kids of your own. "

TK glanced at his phone again before taking a deep breath and looking his mother in law in the eye.

"That might be sooner than you think. We met with someone from an adoption agency before Carlos went away and we've officially been approved. I got an email from our case worker earlier but didn't see it until I got the update on Carlos." he explained. "They will have to do home visits and everything when someone chooses us... But it's a first step... To us becoming parents." he beamed. "We never thought it would happen this fast."

Andrea got up and rounded the table to hug him.

"I'm so happy for you. You boys are going to make wonderful parents."

TK happily returned the hug and let his mind drift to a moment in the hopefully not too distant future where he would wake up in the middle of the night to find Carlos feeding their son or daughter, or maybe dancing around the living room with them to get them back to sleep.

Suddenly TK's phone buzzed again and when he picked it up he saw a video call request from an unknown number.

He debated rejecting it but his curiosity got the better of him and he hit accept.

The screen went black for a second but then Carlos' tired but smiling face appeared.

"Hey babe." he said casually, like they'd seen each other that morning and he was just downtown at the precinct.

"Hey baby." TK happily greeted him. "Did you steal someone's phone?"

Carlos laughed.

"No, just borrowed. With their knowledge." he added with a wink. "We just caught the guy. It's all over."

"It is? Are you sure?"

Carlos nodded.

"Do you want me to put sergeant Grant on to fill you in on the case? I'm sure she'll be happy to. This is her phone after all."

"No, not unless she can tell me when I can expect my husband to be back where he belongs."

"Soon." Carlos promised. "As soon as I get my own phone back, I'm booking a flight and I'll let you know when I'll be home."

"Maybe I can convince Judd to give me lift in the rig and turn on the sirens so we can get onto the tarmac. His first official emergency as captain" TK said, only half joking.

"Please don't. I don't want Judd to lose his job this soon after he started it for misuse of city property."

"Says the man who flashed his badge to get past airport security and nearly knocked me to the ground because he hugged me so tight."

"You nearly died! In the air!" Carlos protested and next to TK Andrea laughed. "Wait, are you at my parents' house?"

TK moved the phone a little so Andrea would fit in the frame too.

"Hola mijo. TK and I are having a mother and son night. We ordered pizza."

"You ordered pizza? Who are you and what have you done with my mother?"

"I said the same thing!" TK laughed.

"I'm allowed to indulge myself every now and then." Andrea told him. "Be safe out there sweetheart, te amo." she blew him a kiss.

"I will mama. Te amo." Carlos promised.

TK turned the phone back to himself.

"And I love you too. And when you get home I'm going to teach you the meaning of taking some time off to spend with your husband."

"Already taken care of. I have two weeks off the second I land in Austin."

"Detective Strand-Reyes, we're ready to get out of here." someone said off screen.

"Ok, I'll be right there." he turned back to TK. "I have to go, but I promise I'm on the first flight out of here. Even if I have to fly in the cargo hold." he said and TK had no doubts he meant it.

"See you soon baby. I love you."

"I love you." Carlos replied and ended the call.

"Aren't you going to tell him about the adoption news?" Andrea asked.

"As soon as he's home. I want to see him and be able to hold him and kiss him when I tell him."

Andrea smiled.

"he won't hear it from me. But when the time comes, I want to be the first to know so I can go baby clothes shopping for my grandchild. And I get babysitting privileges."

TK laughed.

"Deal. Though you'll probably have to compete with my mother on that."

"She's in New York, I can take her."

[originemesis]

@hxly-fxther xxx

The light tapping of fingers was something that strangely wasn't heard in this moment as Father watched Adam pick and clean where what would be his ear if not for the mask. Father briefly wonders how long that mask has been on for, does he remember his face? Does he want to? Is it even his place to wonder such a thing? No. This Adam, he knows very well, he's had him for many cycles now, the accuracy of which he had been recruited into the Harbingers team is questionable as that was merely something the Creator neglected to keep track of.

The normal grin upon Father's features would falter in this moment as he listened to the crumbling Angel speak woe's that have not gone unnoticed. "Undermine?" That was a choice of word Father would not have picked. However, to someone who lacked to see the full picture, who didn't understand that their part was a team effort, of course he would think in such a way. "I do not get off on it, Adam. I do not expect your empathy but I do beg of you just once to be open minded as I explain. Each Cycle to me, every one that fails, pains me as much as you losing Lute. If you had built a tower, would you not want to see it stand before the harshest of weather? Imagine no matter how many times you try to build your greatest work, you know that in the end it will crumble in on itself. That is the point of these Cycles." Father was getting ahead of himself, useless words given to one who could care less. Yes, he knows, he didn't need Adam to remind him. He follows suit with Adam's own little deep breath and exhale of air. "... Adam. Tell me about her." Like the deity needed to be told, but maybe, just maybe, this would be a nudge into what he needed. If such a thing could be attained. To see such a fractured soul look to be a pane of glass art that had so much missing from the story it told originally. It broke the Creators heart.

He's not even sure what the other wants at this point. Hasn't he done what he's been called on several times to do? Then what's with the ever unhelpful appearance? Without the other harbingers in this sequestered instance, he can't quite imagine anything around him except walls of white, and it irritates him now that he's gotten used to the imaginations of others that aren't so fractured that they can't hold a cohesive environment to roost in.

"...do you even have a dick?" He wonders aloud at the tail end of the 'getting off' remark, but he settles in afterward, feathers fluffing in irritation as he listens to whatever bullshit the keeper of all universes wants to enlighten him on. It's not like he'll ever hold a candle to the other's might, so it's not like he can protest and it mean shit. Sticking it to the man is still an option, but only in subtle and passing actions like crossing his arms and tilting his face away from the other as if he has something else to observe in the distance instead of a truth he'd rather not look in the eyes. All several pairs of them.

"So you're chasing perfection in a simulation where nobody's perfect. Seems rigged." A groan and a shrug later, he'd only stiffen at the following request. Tell... about her? Another exhale and a shuddering of the fractal flesh orbiting around the red core that serves as his sun causes him to settle briefly into a whole but shuddering puzzle of himself before the thought of her starts to cause each piece to slowly pry apart and drift farther away from the center. In the broken glass shard of each fractured soul piece, the image of her plays in each. Scowling at his insufferable quips, smiling as he confides in her past a work stand point, settling in and sleeping under his wing after the effort of pulling an all-nighter fails...talons twisting in fabric and hair. As if they could meld themselves together and replace that rib that went missing so long ago.

As the shards drift further, they come to a painful stop and reflect the last moment he remembered of her- pinned into his chest with a pitchfork as the consciousness bled out of her gaze and onto his face. All while he was too broken from his beating to move out of the crater he'd been thrashed into, let alone free her from where she'd been impaled against him-...inhale, exhale...can't breathe- can't fucking-

The shards swarm like bees in place as they frantically try to find the right pattern to connect him back into place, though they struggle and form the silhouette of her several times before they manage to settle halfway into his form again, though it's slumped over now and shuddering in place of breaths. "Fucking-"

A hiss settles his form for a moment as he connects once more, shaking his head as if the extra jostling might clear it. "-what do you want from me? I'm just one guy."

[cloggedarteri]

❥girldad! ignis who nobody expects to have a child but one day is made to bring his baby along with him to the citadel due to a temporary shutdown of the kindergarten. It was not a particular secret, having a child and all but it's not something he'd go out of his way to sing to masses. i imagine ignis being a rather private person, someone who keeps his cards close to his chest. but i don't doubt there's a dimension of shame attached to the idea of him having a child, especially so young. what does it say about his willpower and priorities if people know that he has a 5-year-old waiting for him to get back home?

❥girldad! ignis who, being that this is the first time he's brought his girl to his workspace, is lokey nervous that something is going to go wrong. the day was already proving to be difficult too. he'd already wasted time rushing to the kindergarten to then find out it was closing. then his usual babysitter had canceled on him. then it was the white paint he'd stepped in on the crosswalk a block away from the citadel. then it was the damned money-stealing vending machine. literally what else could go wrong?

❥girldad! ignis who's seen rushing into the citadel with a little chocobo backpack dangling on his right arm and a little girl curled in his left. he seems ignorant to the stares he's getting as he tries to maintain a steady hold of the weight in his arms as he reaches for his wallet but it's clear that he's struggling. "give me one second, darling" he says as he places her down next to him. now no longer in the protective arms of her father, the little darling becomes acutely aware of the stares that follow her. and the weight of these eyes isn't menacing (at least they don't try to be) but the longer they hold on to her form the tighter her grip is on ignis' pant leg.

❥girldad! ignis who, after getting through security and customs and whatnot, is intercepted by regis and clarus as he makes his way to his office floor. "good mornings" are shared between them but what quickly diverts their attention is the little girl that seems to have a vice grip of ignis' wrinkled pant leg. 

❥grandpa! regis who shamelessly squeals in delight after seeing the little darling. his knees are creaking in protest as he leans down to the girls level but he'd be damned if he didn't give his little girl a sweet kiss and tender hug. "why hello my darling. i wasn't expecting you here today". and once she's gotten his attention she knows nothing is off limits. this girl knows she's the apple of this man's eye so she's going to milk regis for everything he's worth. oh, she's sleepy? okay tell whoever you need to to push my meetings back b/c my baby and i are going to go take a nap. and then after that, we'll be having our lunch date/tea party. ya know what, cancel the meetings cause we're gonna go shopping. nothing is off limits ...omg grandpa! regis don't give a damn about his responsibility when his grandbaby is in the same building as he is i kno it.

❥grunkle! clarus who isn't any better than regis. he claims to have a little bit more restraint but just barely. all he needs to crack is the twinkle of those pretty little brown eyes of hers and he's folding so so fast. i know he the kind of dude to "secretly" give her a 5 dollar bill so that she can get some goodies of her own...they're both pathetic

❥grunkle! clarus who compensates for regis' limited flexibility. neither are young but clarus can still move with relative ease. so, when the little darling says she wants to play, wants to run around the garden and explore the life that lies within it, it's clarus who'll run alongside her. it's clarus who'll roughhouse and toss her over his shoulder when she's trying to get into something she shouldn't. its clarus who'll kneel to her level and wipe the tears and snot that come from a nasty fall. he loves this little girl. he and regis both do.

❥girldad! ignis who cannot imagine what life he'd lead if not for the village he'd found within these citadel walls. as he watches his little girl get whisked away in the arms of clarus and his majesty, he cannot help but be a bit envious of their freedom. freedoms he cannot indulge in with the responsibilities that rest on his shoulders. there are people counting on his ability to work. so thats what he'll do. work. 

❥girldad! ignis who will never voice the growing seed of resentment for his duties for the time they steal from him and his child. 

❥girldad! ignis who's unaware of the eyes that follow his fleeting figure down the hallway. his steps slow as he nears the corner and the little darling can't help but hope. maybe this time he'll he'll turn around. maybe today will be our day...but as he rounds the corner out of her view, the thought perishes... and clarus doesn't make mention of the dampening of his shirt.

[marshmallowprotection]

i was just thinking about mystic messenger & landed on the thought of MC just,, having a kid when they get lured into the apartment. like, logically saeran wouldn't have chosen someone like that, but i now have the image of saeyoung doing his whole ignoring you thing while a toddler just stares enraptured at his computer

From a logical standpoint, yes. Unknown is going to choose anyone who is a liability. He is searching for someone who won't be missed, or rather, doesn't have enough people in their life to bother him or his mission. He needs to get someone to a secondary location AND get them to go into the apartment. A parent is a liability. They won't get involved in something sketchy. Now, a good samaritan who is totally clueless about their safety? He can work with that.

Even disregarding his feelings about his experience with his parents and the trauma that followed, Unknown will not pick a parent to go into that apartment purely out of principle. It adds more trouble to his situation. The RFA would add more layers to the location to keep that MC and child out of harm's way.

His intention is to make MC the largest liability for the RFA members, and to do that properly means he plans to kidnap them once they've done enough for him to get most of what he needs out of the servers. He can't have MC already have their own liabilities. They need to be the problem, they can't have problems. On top of that, I genuinely do not think he wants the trouble of dealing with MC and a child at the same time. So, it's just not a realistic choice.

But, hey, "realistic" doesn't need to be the law of the land if you are an MC with your child out there! Your comfort story is yours to imagine at the end of the day.

I do think Saeyoung would have a much harder time if you were an MC with a child, though. Imagine that. Not only does he fear that a person as innocent as you have gotten involved in this mess, but he's also just that much more afraid for a child. Children remind him of his brother. Saeran is still a baby in his mind. He will want to do whatever he can do to keep a child from even getting close to this mess... his mess.

His paranoia would make him feel even more complicated with his feelings toward you. The agency wouldn't just kill Saeran if they knew about him... if they knew about you and your child, you'd be used as a tool against him. They'd hurt both of you and Saeyoung just can't live with that. It would make things that much more complicated when it comes to your affection toward him. He's not just afraid loving you is the ticket to your death, no. He knows your kid is at risk, too.

Saeyoung Choi is many things, but he can't allow himself to let truly innocent people get hurt because of him. He'd even tell you that in a fight.

"Your priority shouldn't be me," he'd say, voice stone cold as they come. "Your priority is your kid. Don't worry about me. Keep them safe and I'll make sure that nothing chasing after me comes for the two of you."

But, in the same regard, it would be even harder for him to be mean to your kid. He just can't do it. I can't see him putting on a mean face toward a child. He'd give himself a flashback to his childhood and be out of commission for a while because of it. He doesn't want to be his mother or father, and the thought of subjecting a child to that kind of nature... cruelty, and harshness... he just can't do it. He would have to bite his tongue. That's all he can do.

He'd try to ignore your kid since that's all he'd be capable of. Even a mean voice might be enough to make your kid cry. He can't do that. He can't make a child cry even in the name of trying to make sure he wouldn't be afraid of you two getting hurt because of him. He could only try to push you away... with shame in his eyes that your kid will probably call him on if they're old enough to say something about it.

That's a conflict for him, to be honest, and it's an interesting thing to consider for someone like him compared to someone like, say, Jumin Han. But, Jumin doesn't have the level of danger that Saeyoung does in this situation. So, you having a kid would go over a lot better with him than it does with Saeyoung. I'm not saying it's impossible, but I am saying this is a situation that would need to be combed over with a finely tipped-brush to even begin to work out.